#and there was no future for them in those places. in a way that they didn’t really live | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heavyhitterheaux · 3 days ago

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Protector (NSFW)

AN: This is long so be prepared 🫣

Synopsis: You and Joe had been infatuated with each other since you were both fourteen years old. Something happens in your senior year, causing you to have to break up with him and also making you have to hold onto a secret; giving birth to his firstborn child that he never knew existed.

Pairing: Ex-boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The sun visor in your car came down with the swift movement of your hand so you could gaze in the mirror at your appearance. After applying another layer of lip gloss, you straightened out your necklace that contained his initial which was gifted to you from him on your sixteenth birthdays.

First it was meant for him, Joseph.

Now it was also meant for the little one you two made who wasn't quite so little anymore, Julian.

And after more than ten years, you still had it.

The only time it ever left its rightful place was when you had to clean it.

You still remember the conversation that you had when the two of you were just fifteen about the future that you planned to share with one another.

The two of you were laying down in Joe's backyard on one of the many blankets that your grandmother had knitted staring up at the night sky. It was one of your favorite past times between the both of you.

“So, what are we naming our kids when we have them?” Joe asked as he looked down to see you pick up your head from his chest to look at him.

“Hmm, never thought about it until just now.”

“After we're married of course. I'll be playing in the NFL and you'll be an aerospace engineer at NASA.”

“I don't know if I'm smart enough for all that.” You replied and Joe instantly frowned from your response.

“You are smart enough. Stop talking about yourself like that and selling yourself short.”

“Fine, I'm going to be an aerospace engineer at NASA.”

“That's better and I just thought of a name.”

“Tell me. But we need a name for a boy and a name for a girl so whichever one comes first we'll be ready.”

“I like Julian for a boy. His name will start with a J like mine.”

“You don't want him to be named after you?”

“No, I want for him to be able to have his own identity.”

“Good point and I like Julian too. Now for a girl.” You said as you adjusted to make yourself more comfortable.

“Juliet since you like Romeo and Juliet so much and I have no idea why.”

“Um, correction! I like the movie with Leonardo Dicaprio, there's a difference. Because truth be told they were both stupid as hell. How can you love someone after you've known them for like 2 hours?”

“Are you going to leave him for me?” Joe playfully asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Joseph, don't be stupid. It's us until the end of time, you know that and he is way too old for me.”

As you closed the mirror, you turned around to look in the backseat to see your son looking down playing his game and you called his name to get his attention.

“Julian.”

“Yes, mom?”

He looked up at you with those same blue eyes that his father had and you quickly sighed.

“Let’s make this quick so we can get in and out. Did you still want spaghetti for dinner?” You planned on staying the night at your sister's apartment before making the two hour drive to Cincinnati to your new house. You told her that you would cook dinner since she told you she couldn't even boil a pot of water.

Just like it was when she was 14.

“I guess.” He told you as he shrugged.

“What's that look for, bubs?”

When he was quiet, you immediately knew.

“I know you're nervous about us moving and starting at a new school, but you'll be fine. And besides, you have football camp in a few weeks to look forward to, that your aunt was nice enough to sign you up for.” You told him and he sighed but nodded his head nonetheless.

After you had gotten pregnant your senior year in high school, your mom was the first one to find out and within a week, you were in Texas with your grandmother and refusing to have an abortion like both of your parents wanted.

You had been there ever since.

After finishing high school with literally a month left, you went off to go to Texas A&M University on a full scholarship and then onto Harvard online to do your masters. From that time, you stopped talking to your parents and in turn they didn't allow you to talk to your siblings, Sabrina and Ryan.

You were one of the top engineers at your job in Texas and they recently opened a new facility in Cincinnati and asked you if you would be willing to transfer to get it off the ground.

It took you three months to finally make a decision.

The final thought as to why you were willing to do it had everything to do with Julian.

He was getting older and just about every week he was asking about his father.

His father, who was in fact Joe Burrow the quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals.

Who also happened to be his favorite player who he was obsessed with.

He didn't know about Joe and Joe didn't know about him.

But that wasn't by choice.

It all boiled down to your parents as well as his, but mainly his mother.

Your younger sister had begged you to come and see her once she messaged you after she found your account on social media once you told her you were moving back to Ohio. However, you made her promise not to tell your parents. If she uttered a word, you would have no problem cutting her off because protecting yourself as well as your son was your main priority.

“Can we make brownies too?”

“With vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce on top.” You replied as you stuck your pinky finger out for him to wrap his around yours.

–

Robin did a double take as she noticed you in the aisle comparing two brands of pasta and could feel the color drain from her face.

She knew it was you, there was no denying it. You looked the same, but more mature.

She wanted to leave the aisle as soon as possible, but it didn’t quite work out that way since she also needed a box of noodles for dinner.

Hoping you wouldn't take too much notice of her, she made her way over and picked up the brand that she had always bought when you suddenly turned around and she caught your eye.

The expression that flashed across your face was unreadable as you were analyzing her. You were staring at one of the four people that had ripped your future away from underneath you.

The future that you and your boyfriend had planned in high school.

She was the first to speak and you were surprised she was even speaking to you at all. Considering what she had done.

And how much she didn't like you.

“Y/N?”

“Mrs. Burrow.” You flatly said as you threw the box of pasta in your basket.

“I… it's nice to see you.”

“Hmm.” You told her and quickly noticed that you had lost sight of Julian, but more than likely he was somewhere in the candy aisle. But to your surprise you heard his voice from behind you.

“Mom!? Can I get fruit loops!?”

When Robin set her eyes on who she assumed was her grandson, there was absolutely no denying it.

He looked similar to her youngest son except for the fact that he had curly hair which she assumed he got from you. Everything else was Joe up and down.

“You can get the small box.” You replied as you smiled at him go back down the aisle and turned back to Joe's mother.

“Does Joe know you're here?” She said in a soft voice and you were confused on why she even cared.

“What difference would it make if he did?”

“Is he…?” She asked assuming she was talking about Julian and wanted confirmation.

“He's nine and will be ten in December so you do the math and I know you see the resemblance. But for now I'm going to go so I can feed my child. Don't worry, everything is all still going according to your plan. But it's getting kind of hard to keep this a secret, right? I mean paying off your son's girlfriend's parents to keep them and her quiet about the pregnancy so that his future wouldn't get derailed.”

“Who told you that? And I did it for the both of you.”

“Bullshit. You never liked me to begin with and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out and it doesn't matter who told me. You always had it in your mind that I wasn't good enough for him. All I know is that my son is going to know his father one way or another and there is nothing you'll be able to do about it. Good luck begging him for forgiveness. I hope you have a good night.”

Without another word you walked away from her and found Julian in the next aisle holding his box of cereal and browsing the candy aisle just as you suspected.

“We're making brownies, King Julian. So, no candy.” You said as he turned around to look at you.

“But I also need a snack before dinner and who was that lady you were talking to?”

“Stop trying to change the subject and no you don't.”

“Yes I do and I noticed she kept staring at me.”

“She wasn't anyone that you need to worry about because she isn't important and you can get one other thing. Now come on, your Aunt Sabrina is waiting for us.”

“Is she younger or older than you?” Julian asked as he grabbed a Snickers bar.

Just like his father.

“Younger and how old do you think I am?”

“Well I know you're old enough to have wine so you have to at least be 21. How old is she?”

“25.”

“Oh, never mind then.”

–

“I just can't get over how big he is and how much he looks like Joe.” Sabrina told you as the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table and her gaze was on Julian in the living room watching Netflix.

“The older he gets, the more and more he looks like him. Guess who I ran into at the store before coming here?”

“Who?”

“His mother. She saw me first.”

“Oh shit. And what did she say!? I know for a fact she never liked you. Anyone could see that.” Sabrina asked as her eyes went wide.

“First she was like it's good to see you and then asked if he knew I was here and I asked her what difference would it make if he did? And I basically told her to get out my face. And you’re right, she never liked me and I know for a fact that she thought I wasn't good enough for him or dare I say it the right ‘fit’”.

“I still can't believe how everything went down and how they never told him. Like that's their grandson. You two were supposed to be end game.”

“I know and I just… I hope when I gather the courage and strength to tell him that he wants to be in his life. Julian keeps asking about him and all he talks about is how he's his favorite player. I also hope that Julian won't despise me for not telling him.”

Little did you know that Sabrina had signed Julian up on purpose for the football camp. Not only because you told her how he loved to play but because she knew that Joe was hosting it along with Ja’Marr and Tee. She was going to make sure Joe knew sooner rather than later about how his ex-girlfriend fell off the face of the earth with his kid.

This had gone on long enough and wanted to see her big sister get her redemption story.

“From what I've seen, I think Julian will ultimately be relieved. It wasn't your fault to begin with and it's not like you hid it from him on purpose. And our parents were dead fucking wrong with how they treated the entire situation and I'm sorry that happened. I know I'm not responsible, but I also lost my big sister in all of that. And I'll never forgive them for it. It was like you disappeared off the face of the earth. And I never stopped asking about you.”

“I figured that out of everyone that you would. So when you messaged me, I got excited, not going to lie.” You said being completely honest.

“I only talk to them if it's absolutely necessary. The entire dynamic changed when you left. Do you ever think you'll talk to them? Can't blame you if you decide not to.”

“Probably not the best idea to talk to the people who wanted you to abort your kid.”

“Hmm, I guess not and you make a good point. But enough about that, what have you been up to? Do you really work for NASA?”

“Yes, as an aerospace engineer.”

“Like you always wanted. You were always smart as hell and could run circles around all of us. Only thing I know how to do is hair and make up. The parents were very mad when I dropped out and went to cosmetology school.”

“At least you figured out what you wanted to do and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. There are still people who are 45 years old and don't know.”

“Good point.” You told her as she got up to get the brownies out of the oven that all three of you had taken part in making earlier.

“Oh and the day of football camp is my orientation so I won't be able to take him. Do you think you'll be able to?” You asked and Sabrina tried not to show the disappointment on her face.

“Yeah, sure.”

“But I should be there by lunch time. So I can see him play for the second half of the day. He's really excited to go.”

“Perfect! And I'm really excited too since I have never seen him play before.”

The wheels immediately started to turn in Sabrina's head and she just hoped and prayed that everything was going to work out exactly how she wanted it to.

The day of football camp, Julian had been bouncing off the walls from the moment he woke up. As promised, Sabrina stayed over the night before so that she wouldn't have a long morning in rush hour traffic trying to get to your house and then eventually the stadium on time.

To her surprise, when she got there and signed Julian in, Joe was nowhere in sight but she was still holding out hope as she looked over at Julian in his black jersey with his rightful last name across the back of it.

She learned last night that he had a jersey in every color, which had been your doing of course.

You had explained to her that every day was a battle on if the day finally arrived that you were going to tell him the truth. I mean what possible harm could it do at this point? When you were younger, you had been terrified of your parents, but not anymore and you were done keeping your son a secret.

When you finally gave birth to him on December 10th which also happened to be your birthday along with Joe's, you were instructed to not even give him the Burrow last name which was a part of the deal that was made between both sets of parents.

A deal that neither you nor Joe was a part of.

And none of them showed an ounce of remorse for what they had done.

About two hours or so into the day, Joe made his way to Paycor stadium since Ja'Marr had asked him and Tee to participate in a football camp with him for kids ages 5 to 17.

Tee had sent a text to let him know where they were and after parking his car and walking into the stadium he made his way over and was immediately greeted by the both of them.

“Joe, we think we found your long lost son.”

Ja'Marr joked with him as he gave him an eye roll in return.

“What in the world are you talking about? It is too early for your nonsense and Tee is no better for going along with you.” Joe told him and Tee held his hands up in defense.

“Now what did I do!?” Tee exclaimed while looking at him.

“An entire list so don't get me started now what kid are you talking about?” Joe asked and he followed Ja'Marr’s gaze to see.

“That one and look at that, he plays quarterback.”

“He is literally you with curly hair and freckles.” Tee added as he would glance at Julian and then glance back at Joe comparing the two.

“What's his name?” Joe curiously asked as he was watching him do drills.

It was almost as if he was looking in a mirror.

“Mm, Julian I think.”

Hearing the name out loud made a wave of emotions come rushing back towards Joe and he was trying to do his best and not be upset about it.

That was the name you two decided that you were going to name your baby boy whenever it happened.

Because Joe had been dead set on marrying you and he didn't want anyone else.

He still thought about you every day and knew that deep down he would probably never get over not knowing what happened to you and what made you suddenly break up with him for no reason.

It didn't make sense then and it still didn't make sense now and no matter how hard he tried to wrap his mind around it, he just couldn't.

He tried to move on multiple times, but he found himself always comparing his girlfriends to you no matter how hard he tried not to.

You meant absolutely everything to him and you were one of the very few people who believed that he would go on to do amazing things in college and eventually the NFL. From day one, your nickname for him was superstar or MVP.

“Wait…..” Joe started to say, but his focus was now solely on Julian.

“What?”

"Me and my ex-girlfriend picked out the name Julian for our son when we were in high school.” He said nonchalantly as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Uh? You didn't get her pregnant did you?”

“No, she definitely would have told me. But it was weird because one day we were planning our future together and the next she was breaking up with me. The entire thing never made sense. I literally haven't seen or heard from her since we were 17. What's his last name?”

“Deveraux.”

At that very moment as soon as the name left Tee’s mouth, Joe thought that he was going to throw up.

Ja'Marr and Tee both looked at him confused.

“Uh? You okay over there?”

“No. That's her last name.” Joe quietly said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I… well maybe it's a coincidence.”

“How!?! That isn't a common last name!”

“And you having a mini meltdown isn’t helping the situation either. We’ll figure it out later when camp is over. For now we need to break them off into groups based on their age and get them ready to play against each other.”

The camp was only supposed to last from 9 am until 3 pm and as promised, you were actually allowed to leave early and looked down at your phone to see that Sabrina sent you the address to where it was held. Once you put it into your GPS since you were still learning your way around Cincinnati, the Paycor stadium popped up on your phone and you did a double take.

No.

Absolutely not.

But you also thought, it was still the off season and training camp wouldn’t start for a few more weeks. The likelihood of you actually running into him was slim to none. So that way you still had time to process and run through what you were going to say to him when you actually saw him.

Because it was bound to happen one way or the other.

All because his mom saw you and will more than likely tell him but fail to mention the child that you two share.

Once you got there, you spotted Sabrina’s car and quickly backed in next to her before making your way to one of the many gates that surrounded it to make your way inside. Once you told them you were here for your son, one of them was nice enough to walk you over to the field where all the parents were gathered. You quickly spotted Sabrina and she waved you over.

“Sabrina….”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you mention that the camp was going to be held here and hosted by several Bengals players?”

“Oh, that? Um, I didn’t realize until we got here.”

“You were always bad at lying so I suggest you change your answer.” You told her as you crossed your arms and looked out towards the field and spotted Julian.

“Okay fine. I figured the sooner that Joe knew about Julian, the better. As soon as I saw that they were doing a camp before they started training camp in a few weeks, I immediately signed him up. And this was right after you told me that you were moving back here.” She whispered to you and you let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see him yet. He probably still hates me for what I did to him.”

“But that wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, he doesn’t know that. Like you didn’t see the look on his face when I broke up with him. He looked so confused and hurt and I couldn’t tell him that I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to. I was doing it because both sets of parents made me. Have you even seen him yet?”

“Yes and he cut off all of his hair and dyed it blonde…. Again.”

“I remember when I dyed it blonde for him our senior year.”

“And got it all over our bathroom. Good times.”

“But, take a deep breath. He probably misses you more than you know.” Sabrina told you as she tried giving you words of encouragement but all you were doing was trying not to have a panic attack.

“He’s probably moved on and honestly when I think about it, it’s probably for the best. Hopefully it’s someone that his parents approve of.”

“Will you stop talking down about yourself? You were his first love and I’m sorry, that doesn’t go away overnight, it just doesn’t. The two of you were attached at the hip and I know for a fact that the two of you can get back to that and raise Julian together. Also, I want to be a bridesmaid when the time comes.”

“SABRINA!”

“What?!?! I’m just being honest. “

“A lot has to occur for that to even happen.”

“How much do you want to bet he has a ring picked out for you? And I see you’re still wearing the necklace he gave you on your 16th birthday with his initial. So, I rest my case.”

Sabrina knew for a fact that he had a ring for you since the day after you left because she had seen it, he immediately cornered her in a hallway at school to see what happened. At that time, she didn’t know, but all she did know was that your room was empty and that she was missing her big sister.

As Joe had finished helping the kids in his group put on the flags to get ready to start the game, he jogged to the sideline and as soon as he looked to his left, his jaw hit the floor and he started hitting Ja’Marr’s arm.

“OW! What is going on?!”

“That’s her and her sister Sabrina. Fuck that’s her, it’s really her.”

Ja’Marr followed his gaze and saw you talking to who he assumed was your sister and his eyes went wide.

“I… wait a minute…. Y/N is black?!”

“Uh yeah why is that important?” Joe asked him as Tee had come to stand next to them.

“It’s not…. I just wasn’t expecting her to look like THAT. I thought you said Athens only had like 2 black people? Damn, she’s pretty, how did you pull that?”

“Seriously?” Joe asked and Ja’Marr held his hands up in defense.

“I should have known the way you were eating that fried chicken you had been around some seasoning before in your life."

“Wait…. THAT’S HER?!” Tee asked and they both nodded.

Tee took a moment to look at Julian, you, and then Joe and simply nodded his head.

“You the baby daddy, alright.”

“Joe, stop trying to hide behind me, YOU’RE TALLER THAN ME. And did you forget you just dyed your hair? Y/N can probably spot you from a mile away.”

“I don’t know what to do! Should I go and talk to her?”

“For one of your nicknames to be Joe Cool, that is definitely the opposite of what is happening right now. Yes! Go and talk to her when we’re done or when the kids eat lunch.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?” He asked and they both just looked at him.

“Are you a hormone raging teenage boy again? I highly doubt that she wouldn’t want to talk to you.”

Meanwhile, you looked over to where Joe was standing next to Tee and Ja’Marr, and the butterflies in your stomach instantly hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Sabrina, he’s right there.” You told her as you tugged on her arm.

“And I hear wedding bells.”

“Seriously?! Now is not the time.”

“It’s the perfect time actually.”

“What do I say if he comes up to me?”

“Uh? Hi? Have you suddenly lost all of your brain cells? For you to be an aerospace engineer, I wouldn’t actually be able to tell.”

“That’s different!”

“The kids are about to have lunch anyway so just go up to him then. You actually should have worn less clothing to be honest so he can see what he’s been missing.”

“Uh no, for one there are children around and two, I just came from my new job so that’s a definite no.”

“Changing the subject for a minute, but Julian is actually really good.” Sabrina said as he watched him run down the field for a touchdown.

“Well, look at who his dad is.” You replied as you shrugged.

“Did he always want to play quarterback?”

“Mm hmm, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“What do you think his reaction will be when you tell him?”

“I honestly don’t know. I know my baby like the back of my hand, but that I’m not quite sure about.”

“The baby who is almost taller than you by the way.”

“If he’s only nine now, I can’t imagine how tall he’s going to be when he stops growing.”

“How tall is Joe?”

“6’4.”

“Oh, so we have a little ways to go.”

When the first game had come to an end, Julian spotted you and ran straight into your arms.

“Hi bubs, are you having fun?”

“Yes! Thank you Aunt Sabrina for bringing me!”Julian said as he was still holding onto you but turned towards your sister.

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

“Mom, before we leave do you think Joe will sign my jersey for me?”

“I'm sure he will if you ask him.”

Sabrina got a small smile on her face as she saw Joe walking up behind you.

“Julian, look. There he is, go and ask him.”

As soon as she said that, the butterflies that had been in your stomach the first time you saw them were there once more.

As you turned around, you were met with the sight of your ex boyfriend that you hadn't laid eyes on in person in close to ten years.

“Um, hi Mr. Burrow, could you sign my jersey for me?” He shyly asked as he held up the orange Bengals jersey with Joe's number on the back of it. He made sure to wear the black one, bring the orange one, and the white one was hanging up in his room on the wall while the other white one was hanging up in his closet.

“Of course I can. What's your name?” Joe asked Julian as he handed him the jersey along with a marker.

“Julian and I play quarterback just like you do. You're my favorite player and I've watched you ever since you played at LSU.” He proudly told him and Joe had to laugh to himself.

Julian had literally been watching him since he was 4 turning 5 and had been intrigued ever since.

“Really? Wow, that's a long time ago.”

“I want to play in the NFL one day like you and thank you for signing it.” He confessed as Joe handed him back his signed jersey and squatted down to his level.

“You're welcome and if you practice and work really hard, there is no reason why you can't make that happen. And listening to your mom is also going to help.” Joe told him as he glanced up at you and winked.

Okay so maybe he wasn't mad like you thought he was going to be.

Julian eagerly nodded as Sabrina grabbed his hand and started to pull him in the other direction.

“Now come on and let’s get in line for some food. Your mom has something that she needs to take care of.” Sabrina said and you looked at her confused.

“Wait, what?”

She grabbed Julian’s hand and mouthed to you ‘talk to him’. Once they were both out of earshot, you heard his voice.

“It’s really you.” He quietly said and you simply nodded.

“And it’s really you.” You replied as your necklace caught Joe’s eye.

“You still have it…” He said more as a statement then as a question as he reached up to play with the charm.

“I'm wearing it for two people now. Joseph Lee and Julian Oliver. Only time I take it off is to get it cleaned and then it goes right back on.”

Joe nodded his head and looked in the direction of where Julian was standing next to Sabrina, you followed his gaze and sighed.

“Yes.” You quietly said and you immediately got a guilty look on your face.

“I…”

“There is so much that I have to tell you and cannot do it in a span of five minutes. But yes. You keep looking at him so I answered your question for you because I know what you're thinking.”

“He looks just like me. How old is he?”

“He’ll be ten on December 10th.”

“The same day as ours.” Joe replied and you slowly nodded your head.

“I know we don’t have a lot of time right now, but please understand that I didn’t break up with you because I wanted to, I did it because I was told to and being a scared teenager doesn’t leave you with a lot of options. Just wanted you to know that.”

Joe slowly nodded his head and you couldn't quite read the expression on his face.

“After the kids are done, can we go somewhere and talk? Just us?”

“Of course, I’ll see if my sister can take Julian.”

“And he has no idea does he?” He asked, referring to Julian and you shook your head no.

“So, all this time?”

“You can be mad at me because I would be too, but I moved back because I was done hiding him. He deserves better than that. I wanted for him to know you and for you to know him because that is ultimately who ended up being hurt by all this.”

“He seems like a great kid. And I expect nothing less if he came from you.”

“He is and he is exactly how I imagined that he would be. Just about everything he does reminds me of you.”

—

Sabrina took Julian without a second thought to give you and Joe time to talk when you had asked her. The two of you decided on one of Joe’s favorite restaurants in the city and made sure that the two of you got a booth in a corner away from everyone else so the goal was no one would bother him.

You were looking over the drink menu, when you could feel Joe staring at you.

“I see some things haven’t changed. Joey, it's not nice to stare.” You told him as you laughed and felt your cheeks heat up and all he did was smile in response.

“Can’t help it if you’re so pretty. Gorgeous now actually. Always been that way.”

“Smooth talker Joe Burrow definitely hasn’t changed.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as both of you were once again scanning the menu when you blurted it out.

“I took a pregnancy test on April 1st because I felt off and before I could tell you, my mom found it.”

“And then what happened?”

“She talked to my dad and in turn both of them talked to your parents...” Joe immediately cut you off.

“Wait, they knew?” He asked and you gave him a slow nod.

“I was told to break up with you and that I had to move in with my grandmother in Texas while your parents paid mine off not to say anything. I only found out about that part last year.”

Joe stayed quiet so you continued.

“So, the day I broke up with you once again, obviously not my choice, a few days later I was on a plane to Texas. My parents said the only way that I would be allowed back in their house was if I got an abortion and I was not allowed to say anything to anyone about it. Of course by now you can see what my answer had been. I haven’t talked to my parents since and I don’t plan to. Looking back on it, I would have done things a little differently.”

“What would you have done differently?”

“Made sure that I told you because that wasn’t fair. You have been thinking for almost ten years that I didn’t want to be with you anymore and that was the furthest thing from the truth and you missed out on knowing your son. We can do a DNA test too to confirm. The last thing that I want anyone to say is that I’m lying.”

When Joe remained quiet, you reached your hand across the table to take his.

“I’m really sorry and I should have told you sooner and…”

“Stop. Y/N just stop.” He told you as he used the other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I know you’re mad….”

“I am mad, but pissed off is more like it but it’s not towards you.”

“Oh.”

“You had to go through that all by yourself when I could have been there. My son doesn’t even know who I am. I mean technically he does, but not in the capacity that I want him to.”

You slowly nodded as you allowed him to let all of his feelings about the situation be known.

“My parents knew I had a kid and did everything they could in order to keep me away from him.”

“And I missed out on nine years… almost ten.”

It almost looked as if Joe was about to cry, but did his best to compose himself.

“And you named him Julian Oliver, just like we both wanted.”

“I did, but I was told that I couldn’t give him your last name since they took the money or whatever.”

“And here I was thinking that I would never see you again.”

“The feeling is mutual, except on the tv when I watch you play of course. I knew from the beginning how good you were and that you playing in the NFL was bound to happen.” You said as you smiled at the thought of you two sneaking out and going to the park near both of your houses and laying down in the grass to look up at the night sky.

“You did and told me from day one even if I didn’t believe it myself.”

“I know this is a lot to take in but…”

“Just tell me everything, it’s just better to get everything all out in the open once and for all.”

“I mean that's the majority of what happened. I lived in Texas, graduated, went to Harvard. Got a job at NASA…” You started to say as Joe cut you off.

“Wait…. Back up, you actually did it?”

“Yes, you are looking at one of the top aerospace engineers at NASA. I moved back because they opened up a new facility here in Cincinnati.”

“I'm proud of you. I always knew you would end up working for NASA.”

“Thank you and this is the first time I've seen Sabrina too. Because I told my parents I wouldn't get an abortion, I couldn't talk to my siblings anymore. They didn't come to my graduation. I mean, I moved when there was literally a month of school left. I didn't go to prom because if I didn't go with you, it wasn't happening. My grandmother was my only saving grace. I didn't want to leave her and come up here, but she told me that would probably be the best thing for Julian. When my mom or dad would call to talk to her, they never asked about me. That was when my grandmother told me that she cheated on my dad and got pregnant with me and she felt that their relationship would go back to the way it was before it happened if they just got rid of me in a sense. They don't know that I know that. So my mother literally hates me and I don’t know who my actual dad is.”

Joe looked at you in disbelief and every time he opened his mouth to say something, he immediately closed it.

“I'm sorry you had to find out that way and sorry that it even happened at all.”

Before answering, you shrugged your shoulders and waved him off.

“It is what it is.”

“Y/N, no it isn't. That is some heavy shit you've been carrying around for ten years. Have you talked to anyone about that?”

“No and I don't want to. What good will it do?”

“You know better. Priorities can include Julian, but also includes yourself.”

“I guess, but not now. It's just… it's hard trying to wrap your mind around the fact that just about everyone in your life hates you and you were essentially a mistake.”

“You've always talked down on yourself and I see some things never change.”

“Sabrina said the same thing.”

“So that obviously means that we're telling the truth. You have always been the smartest and prettiest one in the room and it's still true now.”

“Even if I am, I'll probably never see it that way.”

After the two of you spent at least 2 more hours with each other, you exchanged numbers and it would be decided when and how the two of you would tell Julian.

The thought was exciting, but Joe was also dreading it. What if Julian despised him for not being there for him as well as you?

But for now, the day ended with a lot for Joe to think about.

Seeing you for the first time in ten years

Oh and the biggest one with you and him sharing a child that you were essentially bribed and threatened in a way to stay quiet about.

Knowing that his parents knew the entire time made Joe sick to his stomach.

He also had a feeling that both Ja’Marr and Tee would have their phones in their hands waiting for an update on what had happened. Before he could send the message that he had just typed, Tee beat him to it.

Tee- 👀👀👀

Uno- Spill the damn tea and stop leaving us in suspense

Joe- He's mine

Tee- I KNEW IT

Uno- Soooo I need details on why you didn't know about this….

Joe- My parents paid hers off not to tell me and made her move to Texas to live with her grandmother. And apparently she would only be allowed to move back if she got an abortion and of course as we can all see, she didn’t

Tee- YOUR PARENTS KNEW!?

Uno- This is some Tyler Perry movie shit 😫

Joe- They knew and pissed off doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling right now. I missed out on damn near ten years of my son's life. He has no idea who I am

Tee- Technically he does know who you are

Uno- But still that shit is CRAZY. So are the two of you going to tell Julian?

Joe- Yeah, but I'm getting a DNA test first because Y/N won't take no for an answer and I get it. I know he's mine and she does too obviously but that way no one will be able to say anything about it. We have to decide when we're going to tell him. I don't know how he's going to take it.

Uno- Whatever you need from us, we got you

Tee- Ditto

Joe- Appreciate it. First thing I need to do is confront my parents and ask them why they kept this from me

About a week or so passed and Joe had been ignoring the calls from his parents. He would talk to them a few times a week, but ever since he found out they knew about Julian, he really didn't know what to say to them.

However, he did promise to have Sunday dinner with them and he planned on confronting them and getting this out in the open once and for all.

There Joe was sitting at the dinner table with his parents and pushing his food around on his plate. Both Jimmy and Robin noticed and they exchanged a glance with one another before Jimmy asked if he was okay.

“Joe, you okay over there? It's one of your favorite meals and you've barely even touched it.”

“You know what, dad? No, I'm not okay.” He replied as he set his fork down and looked at him.

“Why? Did something happen?” Robin asked and he was doing his best in order not to roll his eyes.

“Something did happen and I don’t like being lied to.”

“Who lied about something?”

“Apparently the two people who have the title of being my parents tried to hide the fact that I have a child who is damn near ten years old. So, no one was going to say anything?”

Joe looked at both his parents in anticipation as the question he asked them lingered in the air.

When both of them were quiet, he spoke up again.

“Oh, so no one has anything to say?”

“Joseph, we did it to protect you as well as your future.” Jimmy finally spoke up as Robin remained quiet.

“Protect me from what exactly? Because that literally makes no fucking sense and you know it.”

“I don't care how old you are, watch your mouth when you talk to us.” Robin said as she crossed her arms and finally looked at him.

“I can't believe you two, but especially you. When Y/N broke up with me which I learned was your doing all along I came and confided in you not knowing what you had actually done. And let me ask, were you ever going to say anything?”

“I….”

“Never mind because whatever excuse you're about to pull out of your ass isn't worth it.”

“JOSEPH LEE BURROW!”

“NO, I GET TO BE PISSED OFF NOT YOU TWO. I GOT TO MISS OUT ON THE FIRST NINE YEARS OF MY SON'S LIFE BECAUSE YOU TWO PAID HER PARENTS NOT TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT AND MADE HER DISAPPEAR FROM MY LIFE. I PLANNED ON MARRYING HER AND I WOULD HAVE DONE IT IF SHE HAD GOTTEN PREGNANT OR NOT.” Joe had been seeing red from the moment he stepped into his parents house and did not plan on backing down.

“We get you're upset, but let's calm down so we can talk.”

“You should have talked to me almost ten years ago. For now, I'm done. But answer this, forget about me for a minute. How could you do that to your own grandchild?”

“We never wanted to hurt you.”

“Hmm, funny. Because the people who did end up getting hurt were me, Y/N, and Julian. That's his name in case either of you wanted to know.”

“I saw Y/N with him about a month ago when I went to the grocery store.” Robin quietly said and Joe just shook his head at her.

“And you didn't say anything!?”

“When I saw him…. He is literally you up and down. There's no denying it. I know that us saying sorry is not going to cut it but….”

“You're right, it's not. Nothing you say is going to cut it or make me forgive you two for what you did. Y/N had NO ONE. She went through that by herself. Her parents shipped her off to Texas because she refused to get an abortion. I don't care what I would have had to do, she meant everything to me and I would have done anything to make sure that they were both okay. Now when we finally do tell him, he's going to wonder why I wasn't there.” Joe stated as he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up.

“Joseph…”

“I'm done. I don't want to talk to either of you right now.”

Once Joe was settled in his car, he immediately called you on facetime so that he would have you to keep him company on the long drive home that he had. When he pulled out of his parents driveway, you finally answered.

When Joe's face came into view, you could tell that he was upset and that something had happened.

“Joey? Is everything okay? What's going on?” You asked as you got up to head into your bedroom to be able to talk to him without Julian overhearing.

“I just left my parents house.”

“Okay? What is that look on your face for?”

“I asked them why they lied to me for almost ten years and of course no one had a good answer as to why they did it.” Joe breathed out as he pulled onto the highway.

“Oh and my mom mentioned seeing you about a month ago and failed to tell me anything. They're trying to apologize now but for what? Why even do it at this point? You knew what you were doing from the beginning.”

“I don't want to come in between you and your parents. I know how close you are with them.”

“It doesn't even matter. What's right is right and what's wrong is wrong and in this case they're dead wrong. And they also knew how I felt about you and how important you are to me.”

“Joey… hear me out for a second.”

“I'm listening.”

“Your feelings are completely valid and I'm not downplaying how you feel at all. But instead of focusing on being pissed at them, focus on finally being able to be a part of Julian’s life. He deserves you and you deserve him. I need you to be in the right and the best headspace. Do not come around him with that hanging over your head.”

“I… get it. I'm just… I can't believe that they would do that to me.”

“I know, but good news…”

“What is it?”

“DNA results are back and it's confirmed that you're my baby daddy even though we already knew.” You told him and saw a small smile form on his face.

“Now we just have to decide when we're going to tell him.” Joe told you as he sighed.

“Who knows? It might actually go better than we think it will.” Deep down you were not only trying to convince Joe, but convince yourself.

“But what if it doesn't?”

“Then we'll figure out a plan if it comes down to it. Do you want to wait until after training camp?”

“I was thinking the same thing. And maybe you two can come to the first home game of the season? And then we can go from there.” Joe's heart started to beat faster and he wasn't quite sure if it was nervousness or excitement.

“I like that idea.”

As promised, Joe made sure the two of you had tickets to the first home game of the season and the two of you were going to be directly behind the Bengals bench. Joe wanted you to be in his suite, but you told him that Julian had never been to an NFL game and needed to get the full experience.

Joe had sent you a text earlier saying that he couldn't wait to see the both of you and that the two of you should tell Julian after the game.

There Julian was next to you sitting there in awe and munching on his hot dog as he anxiously waited for the game to start. He dragged you as soon as the gates opened so he wouldn't miss anything. That was when you spotted Joe and a few other players come out the tunnel to come and warm up.

“Julian, look up.” You told him and his eyes immediately went to Joe.

“Mom! He's right there and there's Ja’Marr, Tee, and Andrei.”

“I see and look who's walking over here?” You replied as Joe began walking towards the two of you.

“I don't have anything for him to sign!”

“He signed your jersey already!”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Julian said as he slumped down in his chair and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“Hey Julian.”

“You remember my name?” He asked as his eyes went wide and Joe nodded his head as Julian stood up to stand against the railing.

“Of course I do. And your mom told me that this is your first NFL game in person.” He said as he turned to look at you and wink, making a smile form on your face.

“It is. I usually just watch it at home with my mom.”

“I hope I'm able to see you a lot more this season.”

“Well, you have to talk to my mom, she's the boss.” Julian said and you stifled a laugh.

“I definitely think that I'm going to be able to convince her.”

Julian smiled at Joe as he went back to eating his hot dog and Joe motioned for you to come closer to him.

“Hmm, I knew you would look good in my jersey, but I didn’t expect you to look this good.”

“I figured that you would like it.”

“That’s putting it lightly. So we still on for later?”

“Yeah, I'm cooking so just come by when you're done here and we can go from there. Since it's going to be after the game, I plan on making you a cheat meal. I already texted you the address.”

“I most definitely have missed your cooking so no complaints here.”

“Well ten years have passed and I've gotten a lot better.”

“That isn't all that's gotten a lot better.” Joe told you as he looked you up and down and you could feel your cheeks heat up.

“Joey, go finish warming up and behave yourself.”

“I am behaving! Just calling it like I see it.”

“I beg to differ.”

Even though the Bengals didn't come away with a win, Julian was still excited nonetheless to be able to go in person. You were now standing in front of the stove while Julian was sitting at the kitchen table and playing on his iPad that you had recently gotten him when the doorbell rang and you knew it was Joe since you could see him on the security camera.

“Bubs, can you go see who's at the door for me?”

“Yes, mom.”

Julian basically sprinted towards the door and when he opened it, his mouth hit the floor.

“Hey Julian, your mom invited me for dinner.”

“I… Uh…” He started to stutter and you suddenly appeared next to him.

“Julian, don't leave our guest waiting outside. Invite him in already.” You said as you smiled at him and he immediately moved to the side so that he could come in.

He had a bouquet of flowers in his hands and quickly gave it to you while also hugging you.

If it was left up to you, you would have stayed in that hug forever.

“Pink roses still your favorite?” He asked and you quickly nodded.

“Yes, still my favorite, but now peonies are high up on my list too.”

“I'll keep that in mind for next time. It smells good in here, what are you making?” He asked as he was now following your lead into the kitchen.

“Tacos. Always a good cheat meal and still one of your favorites?”

“Still one of my favorites.”

Watching both Julian and Joe stuff their faces with tacos was comical. It was the fact that they both fixed their tacos the exact same way and you noticed right away. Being that you were so nervous about how Julian was going to react, you didn't have much of an appetite. When Joe finished, he looked up and made eye contact with you as you then took a deep sigh.

It was now or never so let's get this over with.

“Julian, I have something that I need to tell you.”

“Okay, what is it? Are we still going to the aquarium?”

“Yes, we're still going and it's something else. Something that you have been steadily asking me about for a while.”

“A puppy?!”

“Uh no. Not exactly. Julian, Joe is your dad.” You finally said and he looked confused as he glanced back and forth between the both of you.

“Hold on, I don't get it.”

“It’s taken….” You started to say and he immediately cut you off.

“You knew this the entire time and kept him from me?” Julian asked and you knew that shit had officially hit the fan.

“It wasn't that simple, Julian.” Joe immediately spoke up as he looked at him.

“How is it not? I thought you didn't want me but you've been here the entire time.”

“The difference was that I didn't know about you, it wasn’t the fact that I didn’t want you.”

“Julian, just listen for a minute.” You said but he made a face at you.

“Why should I? What else are you lying to me about?”

“I…”

Without another word, Julian pushed himself away from the table and ran upstairs to his room leaving both you and Joe at the table looking at one another.

“Deep down I knew this was going to happen.” You quietly said as you started to play with the ends of your braids.

“I'll go and talk to him, it'll be fine.” Joe told you as he grabbed your hand and gave it a small squeeze before standing up and going to talk to Julian.

Joe took the steps two at a time and there was no denying which room was his, seeing as his walls were covered in any and everything Bengals related.

“Julian, can I come in?” Joe asked him as he stood in the hallway in front of his bedroom door.

He nodded as he angrily wiped tears away from his face.

Joe walked in and sat down next to him and sighed.

“I know you're upset, but don't take it out on your mom.”

“But she lied to me.”

“She didn't necessarily lie, she was just trying to protect you. None of this has been easy for her. And I can imagine that it hasn't been easy for you either.” Joe explained to him and Julian quickly nodded letting him know that he agreed.

“She has done an amazing job taking care of you and I'm very thankful to her for it. But now you also have me. If I would have known from the beginning, things would have been a lot different. But we can't do anything about the past. We just have to focus on the future and move forward. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Good now can I get a hug and you go back downstairs and apologize to your mom? I don't think what you said made her feel all that good. And we don't want to hurt her feelings, right? Because you don't like when people hurt your feelings right?”

“No, I don't like it.”

“Now come on so we can get some of the cake your mom made.”

“Okay.” Julian said as he quickly hugged Joe's side and nodded his head.

“I'm glad you're my dad and not Patrick Mahomes. I don't like the Chiefs and I wouldn't be able to fake it either.” Julian added and Joe had to stifle a laugh.

About a month and a half went by and Joe would spend as much time as he could with Julian on his off days seeing as though it was the middle of the season.

It was almost as if no time had passed and Joe quickly fell into the role of being a father. He made sure to call Julian every night before he went to sleep and also used that opportunity to talk to you. Your current thought process was not being sure if rekindling the relationship between the two of you was in the cards. Truth be told, that would definitely be the icing on the cake, but you weren't exactly quite sure what Joe wanted and he didn't mention it to you either. But the most important thing was him having a relationship with Julian.

And for now, you were content with that.

You were currently working from home and it was the early afternoon when your phone started ringing. Glancing down, you saw it was Joe and a wave of butterflies had hit your stomach and quickly answered.

“Yes, Joseph?

“Don't do that. Am I in trouble? You only did that when I was in trouble.” He asked and you laughed as you shook your head.

“Hmm, depends. Have you done something that would warrant you to be in trouble?’

“I don't think so, so let's go with that.”

“Everything okay?” You asked as you plugged in your laptop to prevent it from dying.

“Yeah, it's fine….” Joe started to say and then trailed off and he would always do this if he knew he was about to say or do something that you weren't completely on board with.

“I can still read you like a book. Spit it out.”

“Okay, just…. Keep an open mind with what I'm about to ask.”

“Okay, go ahead. I'm listening.”

“I want Julian to meet my parents.”

It was quiet for a few seconds and even though he couldn't see you, you were shaking your head.

“No.”

“Y/N, just hear me out. Julian has literally only been around you and your grandmother since he was born, right? For the most part?”

“And that wasn't my choice. It was decided for me.”

“He should have the opportunity to know who his grandparents are.”

“The grandparents who wanted NOTHING to do with him? Do I have that right?”

“I know, but they apologized multiple times for what they did. They know how I feel about it. I literally didn't talk to them for almost a month.”

“So, that makes it okay?”

“No, not at all and I told them that. But they are making an effort because they genuinely want to get to know him.”

“They didn't even allow me to give him the Burrow last name and all of a sudden they want to get to know him? Joey, let's be serious for a second. They probably would have NEVER told you that he even existed if it wasn't for me.”

“Y/N, I know this may be difficult for you but we can't change what happened. All we can do is move forward.”

“Your mother fucking HATES me and she always has.”

“No she doesn't! Neither of my parents hate you.”

“He's just getting to know you, give him some time to adjust.”

“Well we wouldn't be going through this if you would have told me.” Joe shot back at you and immediately regretted it once the words left his mouth.

“We wouldn't be going through this if it wasn't for YOUR MOTHER WHO FUCKING HATES ME like I said before!”

“Where did you even get that from?”

“Joseph, don't be dumb. So I'm going to open the door for her also to hate my child that she wanted no connection to from the beginning? No fucking thank you. If I don't talk to my parents what makes you think I want to be around yours when they are just as guilty? And I feel like you're downplaying what they did to me! Did to us! How can you not see that?” You asked as you felt a few tears slip out.

You should have known that it would eventually come down to this. You just didn't think it would be so soon.

As in Joe's parents wanting to be in Julian's life too.

“I'm not trying to make you upset. I just…”

“Too late because you already have. I have work to do, so bye.”

Without another word, you hung up the phone and threw it onto the couch behind you while you were doing your best not to cry even harder.

After you had hung up the phone on him, Joe was at a loss. He frustratedly ran a hand through his hair before sighing and attempting to call you back.

When you didn't answer, he came up with what he thought was the perfect idea to get you to talk to him.

A little over twenty four hours later, your doorbell rang and you checked the camera to see that it was Joe and rolled your eyes.

“Go away, Joseph.”

“Y/N, let me in so we can talk.”

“No.”

“We aren't 17 anymore stop giving me the silent treatment. I know how to bribe you.” He told you as he held up the pizza which you assumed was pepperoni in the camera.

"You're right we're not 17. Which means, I don't give in to your bribes anymore. So there's that.”

"Stop acting like you don't want this pizza and open the door. I also threw in a new telescope for good measure.”

“Wait, you got me a telescope?” You asked as you slowly cracked open the door and peeked your head out.

“You aren't getting it unless you let me in.”

“And what kind of pizza is that?” You asked as you were pointing. You already had a feeling that you knew what it was, but you needed confirmation.

“Your favorite.”

“What's my favorite?”

“What is this? 20 questions? Come on Y/N, let me in already.”

“Then tell me what's in the box!”

“Pepperoni and I got extra ranch on the side now open.the.door.”

“Hmph, fine. But hand over the pizza first.”

“No, not a chance. You're going to take it and slam the door shut. I still know you like the back of my hand.”

You sighed and finally rolled your eyes as you fully opened the door so he could step inside.

Once Joe was fully inside the house, he made his way into the kitchen and set the pizza on the table and went on the hunt to look for plates not knowing if he should take out two or three.

“Where’s Julian?”

“With my sister, so l'm by myself.” You answered as he then took down two plates and brought them over to the table. Opening the box, he slid two pieces on one of them and slid it over to you while also setting the ranch down in front of you.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The two of you were eating in silence when Joe finally broke it.

“You know that I never liked fighting with you.”

“I know.” You quietly answered as you picked a piece of pepperoni off your second slice of pizza and popped it in your mouth.

“So can we come up with some type of compromise?”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded your head before pushing your plate into the center of the table and giving him your undivided attention.

“I know what they did to us and Julian wasn't fair and I'm not trying to downplay it at all. When I finally did answer the phone and talk to them, I explained how I felt and said that they betrayed my trust which I never thought was going to happen since they're my parents. Your hesitation is valid because mine was too when they had first asked. But the more I think about it, he does need to know who his family is.”

“I get that. It's just…. The main thing in the back of my mind is him getting hurt on the same level that we did.”

“They know that if they did that, that they would never see him again and I made that very clear. Because at first when they asked, I had the same reaction as you did and I said no.”

“Okay, I will do it for Julian and I promise to play nice. When did you want him to meet them?”

“You busy Sunday? All of you can be in my suite at the stadium for the game.”

“I’m not and that sounds like a plan. The last thing I said to your mom when I saw her in Athens was ‘good luck begging your son for forgiveness’ and I also told her something along the lines of her not liking me so this should be interesting.”

“You want me to have security at the stadium on standby?” Joe jokingly asked and you smiled at him while shaking your head.

“No need. Julian is my main priority and that will always be the case. As long as he’s happy and taken care of, I’m more than content with that.”

“That reminds me. It’s going to get cold soon so I wanted to take him shopping for some winter clothes. Has he ever even seen snow before?”

“He’d like that and no he actually hasn’t and I have a feeling that he is not going to like it, but he may surprise me so let’s see.”

“I can do it on my next off day. I’ll pick him up from school so you don’t have to worry about doing it.”

You nodded your head as you were deep in thought and Joe grabbed your hand breaking you out of your trance.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just stop to think sometimes on how our lives might have been different if you had known from the beginning.” You quietly answered as Joe nodded his head.

“I do the same thing. I’m just happy that you finally decided that enough was enough and told me.”

“Honestly, I didn’t know how you were going to take it and I was scared out of my mind. I also thought you still hated me after I broke up with you out of nowhere.”

“I could never hate you, no matter what the circumstances had been. And you didn’t know how I was going to take it? He literally looks like the perfect mix of both of us. I couldn’t deny him even if I wanted to. It’s funny that Ja’Marr and Tee actually noticed first. When they told me his name and I saw you, I started connecting the dots.”

“He’s starting to look like you more and more everyday.”

“I have another question for you and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer it.”

“Go ahead.”

“Would you ever talk to your parents again? Or at least try to find out who your actual dad is?”

“It’s not on the top of my priority list and they knew where I was the entire time. If they really honestly did care about me, none of this would have even happened. Sabrina doesn’t even really talk to them and as for my other siblings, I have no idea. Who knows what lies they told them about me. I honestly think that the only people who care about me are you, Julian, and Sabrina. And I’ve always felt like that.”

“And you know I’ll never stop caring about you.” Joe told you as he kissed the back of your hand before massaging it in small circles.

“I know.” You said with a shy smile.

“But enough about that, it’s finally dark outside and I’ll get the telescope out of my car since you did hold up your end of the deal with letting me in the house and it’s evident that my bribes do still work.”

“Burrow, don’t start.” You said as you pointed to him as he stood up from the kitchen table. He held his hands up in defense before smiling at you.

“Just calling it like I see it.”

–

“Joey! That piece doesn’t go there, it goes over here!”

“That’s not what the picture says!”

“Are you looking at the picture or reading the actual directions?”

“Umm, kinda both.”

“Hand it over to the actual aerospace engineer please.” Joe did as he was told but not before he rolled his eyes and pinched your cheek making you laugh.

“I am so fucking proud of you for making it happen. I always knew that you were going to do it.”

“Thank you, Joey. I can give you credit for telling me to go for it and not sell myself short. Julian was also my motivation. I had to be able to make enough money to take care of both of us.” You told him.

“And now you don't have to worry about doing it all by yourself anymore.”

Once you finished putting the telescope together, the two of you spent some time looking through it until you grabbed one of your fluffy blankets to lay on the deck in your backyard allowing the two of you to lay on it.

It was an usually warm night in October and you figured that you better enjoy it before the winter air kicked in. The two of you were simply gazing up at the night sky which you both did often when you were younger when Joe wrapped his arms around you and you moved to lay your head on his chest.

“I can’t even tell you how much I’ve missed this.” He whispered in your ear as you nodded in agreement.

“Me too.”

“I figured that you would have been married by now and forgot all about me.”

“How could I forget about you when people were saying your name everywhere I turned? And besides, I kept up with what you were doing. I was very excited when you entered the transfer portal and went to LSU. Being a backup quarterback didn’t fit you very well since I knew how amazing you were. And I honestly thought you would have been married by now.”

“You never let me forget it either. And I wasn’t marrying anyone who would be in your rightful place. Only person that I was ever going to make my wife was you. What I told you when we were seventeen hasn’t changed.”

“Just patiently waiting for you to win MVP and I know that it’s coming. And I know Julian would want nothing more than for all of us to be under one roof.”

“I want this with you. We get to do it right this time and no one can tell us no.”

Nodding your head in agreement, Joe turned your head to face him as he leaned over to kiss you. You eagerly kissed him back as both of your hands were exploring each other’s bodies. As Joe took the bottom of your shirt in his hands, he broke the kiss and searched your eyes for permission before he proceeded. When you nodded your head, your shirt was then peeled off of your body and thrown to the side as he comfortably moved you to the side so that he could hover above you.

At this moment, you were thankful for your fenced in backyard and the fact that your house wasn’t very close to anyone else’s. So the likelihood of the two of you getting caught was slim to none.

The next piece of clothing to come off of your body was your bra as Joe started to place several feather-like kisses all over starting from your neck as he worked his way down. His tongue lightly grazed one of your nipples before taking it fully in his mouth and slowly beginning to suck on it making a quiet moan slip from your mouth. He soon switched sides before you tugged on his shirt telling him to take it off. Once he did, he added it to your pile of clothes to the left of you before moving downward and slipping off your leggings that you were currently wearing with nothing underneath.

He quickly spread your legs and settled himself in between them as his mouth finally made contact with your core.

Joe continued to pleasure you as he heard your soft whimpers and inserted one of his fingers as he started pumping it in and out of you. Your hands quickly made a way into his hair as you tried to pull him as close as possible to you.

“Shiiit.” You quietly said as Joe wasted no time adding another finger while his focus was now solely on your clit.

“Mm, Joey.”

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Joe asked as his mouth left your clit for a quick second before going right back to it.

Not being able to utter another word because of how much pleasure you were in, you simply nodded your head.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but before you could tell Joe that you were close, You quickly squirted all over his face, However, he didn’t move a muscle as he tightly held onto your legs and still gave you as much pleasure as possible.

“Baby… mmm… Joey, I can’t….” You told him as you were doing your best to attempt to move away from him so you could somewhat recover from the constant feeling of you hitting your peak over and over again, but he obviously wasn’t letting that happen.

Being as bold as he was, he held eye contact with you the entire time, making you shake your head at him. When he finally came up for air, he placed several kisses all along your thighs before moving back up your body to place a kiss on your lips, which you gladly accepted and gave him several more.

“You are such an ass.” You whispered against his lips and all he did was laugh at you.

“Now, is that how we treat someone who just made you cum not once, but multiple times?”

“Hmm, yes because I know that you aren’t going to do anything else about it, but make me cum more and make me beg for mercy like you just did.”

“Good girl.”

“I see not much has changed.”

“But I see something on you has.” He replied as he began to play with your nipple piercings before leaning down and sucking on them.

“I figured that you would like that.”

“But I know that I’m going to love being inside you more. You ready for me?” He asked as he slipped another finger back into you. He took it back out and eagerly began sucking on it as he peered down at you.

Nodding your head, Joe slipped off his sweatpants along with his boxers and lined himself with your entrance.

“I know that you don’t have a lot of neighbors, but we still need to be quiet. Think you can do that for me, baby girl?”

“Yes.”

“You promise not to make a sound?” Joe asked you as he inserted himself in you at the same time making you gasp.

“Hmm, that wasn’t quiet. Don’t let it happen again.” He whispered in your ear as he began pounding into you.

Your arms had now wrapped around his neck as his head was resting on your shoulder. It was taking everything in you not to make a sound and you knew that as hard as you were biting down on your lip that blood had probably trickled out of it.

A small moan slipped out and Joe immediately stopped his movements and picked his head up to look at you.

“I thought I said not a sound, baby girl? And you were doing so well.” He told you as he pulled all the way out before slamming his hips all the way back in making you gasp.

Joe reached down to sloppily kiss you as he continued to move in and out of you with you trying not to make a sound. Your hands went back around his neck as he movements became sloppier indicating that he was close.

“Joey…. I’m close.”

“Hold it until I tell you to.”

“But…” You quickly protested, but all Joe did was shake his head, indicating that he didn’t want to hear it and that you had better listen to him.

It was taking everything in you to not let go right then and there as he was still going, but when you finally heard his voice, you wasted no time.

“Now you can.” He whispered against your lips as both of you came at the same time. Joe made sure not to finish inside you and his cum was covering the lower half of your stomach before you sat up and caught him off guard with you taking him in your mouth.

“Oh shit, babe.”

He made sure to move your hair out of the way as you continued to pleasure him as you also kept eye contact with him the entire time. The use of your hands also helped when your jaw was quickly becoming tired.

It didn’t take long for you to taste his cum at the back of your throat once he released in your mouth and milked him until the very last drop. Once you were finished, you laid back down on the blanket as Joe laid down next to you before pulling you on top of him and kissing your forehead.

“I’ll give you ten minutes and I think we need to go inside for the second round because I know for a fact that I’m going to have you screaming.” Joe told you as he smirked and leaned over to kiss you.

It was now Sunday and as promised, it was the day that Julian was going to meet his grandparents. You were nervous to say the least, but at this point in time, it is what it is. You and Joe both compromised and you were going to uphold your end of the deal.

Julian actually didn't know that he would be meeting them. All he knew was that he was going to get a chance to sit up in his dad's suite and watch the game.

You and Julian would be wearing matching jerseys, along with jeans and your pandas to top it off.

As you were laying out your clothes to wear later, you got a facetime call from Joe and quickly answered.

“Good morning, Joey.”

“Good morning, my love. You ready for later?” Joe asked as you could see him moving around in his bedroom.

“I should be the one asking you that.” You replied as you sat down on your bed next to your outfit.

“I'm good. About to leave the house in a few. Excited to see you as always. And my baby boy of course.”

“And your baby boy is excited to see you play as always. Wouldn’t stop talking about it from the time that I told him.”

“Where is he? I want to talk to him before I leave.”

“Hold on. Julian! Come here for a second.”

“Coming mom!”

Once he came into your room, he was all smiles as he hugged you before sitting next to you on your bed.

“Someone wants to talk to you.”

“Is it dad!?” He excitedly asked as you handed him your phone.

“See for yourself.”

Once Julian saw his father on the screen staring back at him, his smile got even wider if that was possible.

“Dad!”

“Hey King Julian, I'm excited to see you later.”

“Me too! Me and mom are wearing the white jerseys with our pandas so we can match you!”

“Definitely take a picture once you two get dressed and send it to me. And Julian?”

“Yes?”

“You have to promise me to be on your best behavior today. I know you usually are, but I just needed to remind you. I have some special people coming to the game to meet you.” Joe told him and Julian nodded in agreement.

“I will, I promise.”

“And what's my one other rule?”

“Besides being on my best behavior? Listening and protecting mom.”

“Perfect. I'll see you later, little man.”

“Oh! Can we get ice cream after the game?”

“Yes, as long as mom approves.” Joe answered and Julian immediately turned to you and gave you puppy dog eyes.

“I… how can I say no to a face like that? Of course we can.”

“I want rocky road or no…. Maybe bubble gum…”

“Well there's no rush, you have a few more hours to decide.” Joe replied as you noticed that he was now outside walking to his car.

“Okay Julian, let dad go to work and you need to go downstairs and finish your breakfast.”

“But mom, I want a chili cheese dog.”

“I… Not for breakfast you aren't! I will get you one later, promise.”

“But…”

“Julian, what did your mother say?” Joe asked him as he was now driving.

“To wait until later.”

“So we need to be patient, right?”

“Yes. I'll go finish my food.” Julian said with a slight attitude which Joe quickly caught onto and shut down.

“Lose the attitude this instant or we aren't getting ice cream. Didn't we just have an entire discussion about you listening to your mom?”

He let out a deep sigh before nodding his head in agreement.

“Go ahead and do what she told you to do.”

“Okay.”

Julian handed you back your phone before heading back downstairs and you were once again left with Joe.

“He gets his attitude from you.” You said without hesitation and Joe immediately snorted.

“That is one thing that I can actually agree with. Even though your attitude is just as bad.”

“I… it is not!”

“I will never tell you a lie, babe.”

“I'm ignoring you. But good luck today and as always either way it goes, I'm still proud of you.” You told him and he gave you a small smile in return.

“So if I win, victory kisses and if we lose sympathy kisses?”

Once you had arrived at the stadium with Julian and had gotten settled in Joe's suite, the two of you were there by yourselves for about twenty minutes before his parents made their presence known.

“Hi, Y/N.” Joe's dad was the first to speak and you gave him a small smile. Robin was next to him, but you couldn’t quite read her facial expression.

“Hi, Julian, these are the special and important people that your dad wanted you to meet.” You told him and he turned around in his seat to smile at the both of them.

“This is your grandma and grandpa. Your dad's parents.”

“Wait, dad has parents?”

“Everyone has parents, silly!” You explained to him as both Jim and Robin made themselves comfortable.

Robin finally spoke and pulled you to the side to be able to talk to you.

“Y/N, can we talk?” She asked and you looked to see that Jim was explaining something that was happening in the game to Julian and nodded your head.

“Sure.”

Once the two of you were outside the suite in the hallway, she took a deep breath before saying anything.

“I… first off thank you for agreeing for us to meet and get to know Julian. Because Joe’s original answer was no and I can imagine that yours was the same thing.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I want us to be able to put all of this behind us and move forward. Looking back on what I did, it wasn’t right in the slightest despite me wanting to protect my son. You have always been there for him and I knew that you cared about him. I knew once he knew that you were back in Ohio that it would be the same thing. I don’t think telling you sorry is enough and it will probably never be enough. Joe didn’t even talk to us for like a month and a half when he confronted us about it. Even after all this time, when Joe talks about you he lights up. And he does it even more now that he knows about Julian. I hope that you can forgive us for what we did. I know that it won’t happen overnight and that it will take time, but there is no rush. We want to be a part of Julian’s life and a part of yours.”

Clearly taken aback from what Robin had just confessed to you, all you could do at the moment was nod your head.

“Thank you for telling me that. I always thought you hated me when we were in high school so that was your entire reasoning behind doing what you did. But Joe swears up and down that you don’t.”

“No, I didn’t hate you and I still don’t. All I wanted to do was protect his future and was willing to go to extreme measures to do so. I know we hurt the both of you tremendously. I still think about the night Joe came to me in tears because you had broken up with him because we had told you to.”

“I still remember the look on his face, but he told me that he doesn’t hold it against me and knew for a fact that something wasn’t right about the whole thing. One day we were planning our future with each other and the next, I was breaking up with him.”

“That was definitely a dark time for him and that didn’t help when it spilled over to him going to Ohio State as a backup quarterback.”

“I can imagine.”

“But I just wanted to pull you to the side to talk to you. Now let’s go back in and enjoy the game.” She told you as she leaned in to hug you which you quickly returned.

Once you took your rightful spot next to Julian, he turned to you and asked a question.

“Where are your parents, mom?”

“Not really all that important right now, babe.” You replied and you were actually dreading the day that he found out the entire truth as to why he only had you in his life for so long and no one else.

As the game was quickly underway, the Bengals won the toss, but deferred it to get the ball at the start of the second half. Jim and Robin were both making conversation with Julian and you had to smile at how excited he was to meet them despite your protests. But what you weren't expecting was your actual parents to walk through the door.

“Hi everyone!”

Hearing her voice was like nails on a chalkboard and your flight or fight instincts immediately kicked in. You turned around to see both of your parents staring back at you and wasted no time questioning them.

“Why the hell are either of you here?”

“Now, Y/N is that any way to talk to your parents?” The person who calls himself your father asked.

“You aren’t even my real father, so you can pipe the fuck down.”

“OKAY! WHOA! Y/N, we just reached out to them to see if they wanted to come and watch the game with us since we knew that you were bringing Julian with you.” Jim stepped in to say as he put a hand on your shoulder. Meanwhile, Julian was looking at you confused.

“No. They need to leave immediately.”

“Y/N, why are you so upset? We just wanted to meet our grandson too.” Your mother softly said, making you instantly roll your eyes.

“Neither of you have talked to me since I was seventeen when I first got pregnant with him so what in the world makes you think that you have a right to just show up out of nowhere and talk to him? I don’t even want to have anything to do with either of you and I know for a FACT, my son is not going to be around you either.”

“That was a difficult time for all of us.”

“Difficult for who? You made me break up with my boyfriend at the damn near end of my senior year when I had a MONTH LEFT and move all the way across the country to live with my grandmother. Neither of you came to my graduation or checked up on me to see how I was doing and every time you called to talk to her, she would ask if you wanted to talk to me and the answer was always no. I was literally in the hospital in labor BY MYSELF because grandma was out of town on a business trip. A FUCKING NURSE HELD MY HAND INSTEAD OF IT BEING MY BOYFRIEND OR MY MOTHER. DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO ME ABOUT IT BEING A DIFFICULT TIME FOR YOU.”

“Okay, Y/N, baby girl I get that you’re upset…”

“No, you don’t know ANYTHING and you need to….. Where’s Julian?” You asked no one in particular and everyone looked around the room dumbfounded and confused just as you were.

“He was just sitting right there. I… maybe the bathroom?”

“He never leaves without telling me because he knows better. SHIT.”

Meanwhile, Julian was wandering the hallways of the stadium by himself when all of a sudden he was spotted by Mama Tee who he met when he also met Ja’Marr and Tee after one of the Bengals home games. She spotted him too and immediately went up to him and was looking around for you.

“Julian? What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s your mom? You look upset?”

“We were in the suite and I met my dad’s parents, but my mom’s parents also came and she got really upset. They started arguing and I wanted to leave. I really want my dad right now.” He told her as tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

“I… okay. Well you can’t go to him right this second since he’s playing in the game, but I need to get you back to your mom because she is probably losing her mind. Julian, baby, you can’t walk away and not tell anyone.” She told him as she grabbed his hand and was leading him back towards the suite.

“Dad told me to always protect my mom, but I also know not to interrupt adults when they’re talking so I just left. I don’t want them here and I’ve never seen her like that. I don’t want to be around anyone who has hurt my mom.”

“Okay, how about this? Let’s dial her number so I can tell her that you’re okay and we can go from there.”

Julian nodded his head as she handed him her phone and quickly dialed your number. You answered on the first ring and he could tell that you were upset, not only about your parents, but about him also walking away from you.

“Hello?!”

“Mom!”

“JULIAN OLIVER! Where are you?! You need to get back here NOW.”

“I’m with Mama Tee. She’s walking me back right now.”

“Once you get back here, you are not leaving my sight until you turn eighteen, you understand?” You told him and he nodded although you couldn’t see him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Julian quickly handed Mama Tee her phone back and she could hear your quiet sobs.

“It’s okay, Y/N, he’s fine. Not a scratch on him. He just got upset because you were upset and he wanted to leave. Of course he told me that he wanted his dad, but I told him that he has to be patient and wait until after the game.”

“I never want to argue or deal with confrontation in front of him but all I saw was red when my parents showed up.”

“He also told me that because they made you upset that he doesn’t want to be around them and that they need to leave.”

“Well lucky for him, his wish has been granted because they literally just left. They offered to help look for him, but I said absolutely not.”

“Well, we’re outside the suite now, you can come and get him.” She told you as you quickly hung up the phone before practically running towards the door and opening it to see Julian looking at you with Mama Tee standing behind him.

Julian quickly hugged you and you were squeezing him for dear life.

“Listen to me, do not EVER do that again.” You told him as you grabbed his face for him to look up at you and he nodded.

“I don’t like seeing you upset or seeing you cry. They made you cry.”

“I… well they won’t be a problem anymore, okay? Promise.” You explained as you wiped a few tears that had fallen on Julian’s cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“Okay.”

“Now, get back in there and watch the game with your grandparents. They were worried about you too.”

As Julian went inside the suite to sit back down, you turned back to Mama Tee and smiled.

“I can’t thank you enough for spotting him and bringing him back.”

“Of course, I know he’s a good kid, and his main concern was protecting you but he also told me he knows not to interrupt when adults are talking. He got upset, so he left.”

“Yeah, that sounds like my baby. I swear that I couldn’t have asked for a better first born.”

“You and Joe definitely have one amazing kid.”

It was now close to eleven at night and Joe had tucked Julian in before coming into your bedroom and falling face first onto your bed with you laughing at him.

“Is someone tired?”

“Definitely, but not tired enough not to spend any time with you.” He replied as he moved to lay his head on your chest as you wrapped your arms around him.

“How did your talk with your baby boy go?” You asked because you immediately wasted no time in telling what had happened during the game when you saw him in the tunnel before his presser.

“He knows now that if he becomes upset, he has to tell one of us before simply walking away. He was upset and I get it, because I definitely told him to look out for you which he was doing. It shouldn’t be a problem again. But, my parents were okay?”

“Yes and they apologized about everything and also apologized about my parents because they didn’t even know the full story. They actually gave me hugs and your theory was confirmed.”

“What theory? And I’m sorry that they basically ambushed you. But you know that you have me and Julian to protect you.”

“Your mom told me straight up that she never hated me and yes my two favorite boys.”

“I told you and you didn’t want to believe me.”

“And she wants to not only be a part of Julian’s life but mine too but she knows that this all isn’t going to happen overnight.” You explained to Joe as he began to play with your necklace.

“I’m going to get you a new one.”

“What’s wrong with this one?!”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just figured I could add a few diamonds to it to give it a little upgrade.”

“Fine, not going to argue about that, but I want it in rose gold.”

“Anything you ask for, if I have the ability to get, consider it yours.”

One year later

“Julian, you want to hold her?” Joe asked as he was cuddling your newborn baby girl, Juliet against his chest and he eagerly nodded.

“Go sit down over there and I’ll hand her to you.”

As he sat down in the corner of your hospital room, he was all smiles as he looked at his dad in front of him as he anticipated holding his baby sister for the first time. From the moment you told Julian that he was going to be a big brother, he stepped into his role and took it very seriously.

“You ready? You have to make sure you support her head.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Joe gently placed her in Julian’s arms and he was in absolute awe.

“She’s so little. Hi Juliet, I’m your big brother, Julian and I love you so much already.” He told her as she cooed and looked up at him with her brown eyes.

Joe recorded the entire interaction on his phone and when he was finished, placed a kiss on top of your head.

“We really did it.” He whispered in your ear as you looked at him confused.

“Did what, babe?”

“We finally got our happy ending. We’re together, married, and have our Julian and Juliet.”

“And it only took maybe ten years.”

“Doesn’t even matter how long it took, we made it happen. Still can’t believe that everyone in the house has the exact same birthday. Now what are the odds?”

“I know like that is literally insane. Now we have four birthdays to celebrate on December 10th.”

“Now, does my wife want sushi since I know these nine months have driven you up the wall with not being able to have any.:

“Yes, please, oh my gosh. I couldn’t get her out of me fast enough. I forgot how much I actually loved it until I couldn’t have any.” You told him and he laughed as he shook his head at you.

“Mom!”

“Yes, Julian?”

“Can I request a little brother, next?” He asked and your eyes went wide as you looked at Joe.

“Um, let’s just try to focus on being a good big brother to Juliet first and then we can see.” He told him as he adjusted the flower headband that was on Juliet, a gift from her grandparents.

“JOSEPH!”

“I… what?! You know it’s hard for me to tell him no!”

“If that’s the case, I’m going to need a lot more than sushi.”

“That’s fine, how about a Birkin?”

Liked by lahjay_10, cincinattibengals, sabrinaaa, teehiggins and 2,472,097 others

joeyb_9: Finally got our happy ending. Welcome to the world, Juliet Maeve Burrow. Julian is so excited to be your big brother ❤️

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#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow smut #joey burrow #joey b #nfl imagine #nfl #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow bengals

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thewoollyviking · 16 hours ago

Text

Yes, Rose fucked up. She fucked up interpersonally with the gems and with Greg. And those choices were hers. She should be judged by those actions.

But why exactly do you think she kept those secrets? You think it’s because she’s some manipulative monsters or selfish coward?

No, it’s because she grew up under a living hell under the Diamonds.

Lemme give you some context here, friend;

According to the art books, all four Diamonds are rough around 20,000 years old. To give you an idea how old that is compared to irl history…

There are figures early humans carved from mammoth ivory and spear tip of flint that were made when the bottom of the North Sea was still a mammoth steppe in Doggerland.

Subtract the time Rose spent on Earth after the war (give or take a few centuries) and assuming the craptastic treatment she endured under the Diamonds has pretty much been the norm for all that time, and she had been abused for roughly 10-12,000 years. Rose’s pain predates written language and agriculture.

I. Do not. Give. A single. Chicken. Fried. Fuck. How sad the Diamonds think they were after losing Rose.

Oooooh booo fucking hooo Blue sulked in the middle of a human zoo Rose never even wanted in the first place.

Yellow knew she wanted to spare Earth and wanted to blow it up.

And White’s first action seeing “Pink” return was to send a mind controlled version of her original Pearl to greet her as a power move. To remind her what happens when she doesn’t control her power.

They didn’t mourn Rose. They mourned the person they wanted her to be.

And that’s made all the more clear once they realize Steven isn’t Rose. No moment to think about how Rose being gone was actually their own fault, not the act of some outside gem. Not moment to think about why Rose was so desperate to run away.

“Aww Pink’s gone? Gee that sucks. Welp, time to find a new pink!”

Fuck dude, some people mourn Healthcare CEOs more than the Diamonds actually mourned Rose.

And yet they get that nice fairy tale happy ending where they can be quirky space grandmas who think what they’re doing will ever hope to make up for the suffering they caused.

Meanwhile, Rose’s own loved ones feel like they have to apologize for daring to mention her in a positive light and say they’re making excuses for her.

Steven by the time of Future isn’t facing any gems that are actually a threat (bluebird is a joke character she don’t fucking count). He’s spent 5 seasons demonstrating why it’s better to talk about your feelings and the gems offer to help him at pretty much every turn and yet Steven chooses to forego that in favor of taking everything out on Rose.

The Diamonds have been the instigators who make every worse without fail. They’re the reason Rose came out as such a broken fucking person and yet we’re asked to pass more judgement on her for not being enough of a perfect fucking princess to solve things Steven’s way?

Rose spent her entire goddamn life clawing her way out of that pit of misery but we’re supposed to scoff at her for getting mud on her dress along the way?

What the fuck was the point in showing that Rose spent that lifetime trying to be better to just end it with “maybe her family would be better off if they just stopped thinking about her altogether.”

There’s a fucking reason this stupid fucking fandom took glee in harassing me and friends of mine for not joining them in burning Rose at the stake and it’s because of how Future, either due to time constraints or genuine creative decisions, completely dropped the ball on her.

I still love this show. But I cannot and will not ever watch Future. And if Rose ain’t there to heal, than at least let me take comfort in making the Diamonds hurt.

Sometimes I think about how and why some people had such a *bad* reaction to the end of Steven Universe, specifically in regards to the Diamonds living.

Even though they no longer are causing harm to others and are able to actually undo some of their previous harm by living, some folks reacted as though this ending was somehow morally suspect. Morally bankrupt, even.

And I think it might be because so many of us were raised on a very specific kind of kids media trope:

They all fall to their deaths.

Disney loves chucking their bad guys off cliffs. And it makes sense- in a moral framework where villains *must* be punished (regardless of whether their death will actually prevent further harm or not), but killing of any kind is morally bad for the hero, the narrative must find a way to kill the villain without the protagonists doing a murder.

It's a moral assumption that a person can *deserve* to die, that it is cosmically just for them to die, that them dying is evidence that the story itself is morally good and correct. Scar *deserves* to die, but it would be bad for Simba to kill him. So....cliff. (edit: yes, cliff then hyenas. But cliff first. Lol.)

Steven Universe, whatever else it's faults, took a step back and said "but if killing people is bad, then people dying is bad", and instead of dropping White Diamond off a cliff, asked "what would actual *restorative*, not punitive, justice look like? What would actual reparations mean here? If the goal is to heal, not just to punish, how do we handle those who have done harm?" And then did that.

Which I think is interesting, and that there was pushback against it is interesting.

It also reminds me of the folks who get very weird about Aang not killing Ozai at the end of Avatar. And like, Ozai still gets chucked in prison, so it doesn't even push back on our cultural ideas of punitive justice *that much.* and still, I've seen people get real mad that the child monk who is the last survivor of a genocide that wiped out his entire pacifist culture didn't do a murder.

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astrxq · 23 hours ago

Text

Through the Snowfall

cregan stark x reader

words: 19k

notes: You return to Winterfell after years spent in the South, where you and Cregan Stark grew up together but eventually drifted apart. As duty and duty-bound marriage proposals weigh on Cregan, the unspoken love between you slowly reignites, thawing years of silence.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the horses pulled the carriage closer to the castle. You had been away for so long – far too long – and now, standing before the very gates that had once been your home, you felt both the weight of nostalgia and the uncertainty of what awaited you inside.

As the carriage came to a stop, the familiar figures of Winterfell’s servants approached, offering their assistance.

You had not seen him in years. Not since that summer, when you were both just children with the world at your feet. So much had changed since then. You had gone south with your family, settling far from the North’s relentless winter, and Cregan had grown into a man – one bound by duty and responsibility. The boy you had known, the one who had held your hand and whispered secrets beneath the moonlight, was no longer here.

At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself of.

You took a steadying breath and stepped down from the carriage, your boots crunching softly in the snow beneath you. The gates slowly creaked open, and there he was, standing just beyond them.

Cregan stood tall, his cloak of thick fur sweeping around his legs, and his dark eyes – those eyes that had once been so full of mischief – were now cold, hard with the weight of his title, his responsibilities. The boyish grin that used to play on his lips was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was the quiet, stoic man who had taken his place as Warden of the North. His features were sharper now, the jawline more defined, the muscle in his arms and chest more pronounced. He had grown into himself in ways you hadn’t expected.

But there, beneath it all, was still Cregan.

He had not seen you yet, his gaze fixed on something distant, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to study him. It felt wrong – too intimate – but you couldn’t stop. You remembered the way his face would soften when he laughed, how his eyes would light up with excitement when he talked about the future. But those things seemed far gone now. This man, the one standing before you, was not the same as the one you had known. He was colder, harder, distant. The weight of the North had clearly shaped him.

Your heart twisted in your chest, a pang of longing mixed with the ache of uncertainty.

Before you could find the answers to any of the questions running through your head, Cregan’s sharp gaze flickered to you, and his expression softened – just the faintest of shifts. His eyes lingered for a moment, as though trying to place you. You felt a sudden rush of warmth, a recognition that burned through you in a flash.

There you were, standing in front of him, not the woman you had become, not the years that had passed between you. No. You were the girl he had once known, the one who had laughed with him in the snow, who had stolen kisses beneath the weeping branches of the godswood. You were the one who had left, but never truly gone.

His lips parted, but no words came out at first. It was as if he had forgotten how to speak, how to address you after all this time. He stepped forward slowly, his boots leaving heavy imprints in the snow, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

He breathed, your name escaping his lips like a prayer, soft and reverent in the cold morning air. The way he said it – it was as if he had been holding onto it all these years, waiting for the right moment to let it go. His voice was deeper now, rougher around the edges, but the way he shaped the syllables of your name remained unchanged.

The sound of it made your chest tighten, memories flooding back like a tide you couldn't control. Summers spent racing through the godswood, winters huddled by the great hearth, sharing stories and dreams. The first time he had called your name in that special way, just before he kissed you beneath the heart tree, both of you young and foolish and full of hope.

"My lord," you managed to reply, the formality feeling strange on your tongue. It wasn't what you wanted to say – not really – but it was what was expected. You were no longer children who could speak freely, who could ignore the weight of titles and responsibilities.

Something flickered across his face at the formal address – pain, perhaps, or disappointment. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the mask of the Lord of Winterfell. "Welcome home," he said, his voice steady now, controlled. "It has been far too long."

Home. The word echoed in your mind, bringing with it a surge of emotions you weren't prepared for. Was it still home? Could it be, after all this time?

"Yes," you agreed softly, "it has."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words, with memories neither of you dared to voice. You could feel the eyes of the servants upon you, watching this reunion with barely concealed interest. They remembered, of course they did. The whole castle had known of the friendship between the young lord and you, had whispered about the possibility of more.

But that was before. Before duty called. Before you left. Before he became the man who stood before you now, wrapped in furs and responsibility.

"You must be tired from your journey," Cregan said finally, breaking the tension. "Allow me to show you to your chambers." He gestured toward the castle, and you noticed how his movements had become more refined, more measured. Gone was the impulsive boy who would grab your hand and run through the corridors without a care.

You followed him through the familiar corridors, each step echoing against the stone walls. The silence between you was deafening, filled only by the sound of your footsteps and the distant murmur of castle life. It wasn't supposed to be like this. In your dreams of returning to Winterfell, you had imagined easy conversation, perhaps even laughter. Instead, there was this – this suffocating quiet, this careful distance.

Your mind wandered to the letters that had once bridged the gap between you. In the beginning, they had been endless pages filled with everything and nothing. Cregan would write about his growing responsibilities, his fears, his hopes. You would tell him of the South, of the strange customs and the even stranger people. Every word had felt like a lifeline, keeping you connected despite the distance.

But then the letters grew shorter. His responses took longer to arrive. Your own words became careful, measured, as if you were both suddenly aware of the growing chasm between your lives. The last letter you had received was barely a page long, filled with polite inquiries about your health and family. You had stared at it for hours, trying to find traces of the boy you had known in those formal lines.

You hadn't written back.

Now, watching his broad shoulders ahead of you, you wondered if he had waited for your response. If he had looked for your letter among the ravens that arrived each morning, the way you used to look for his. The thought made your chest ache.

"The castle hasn't changed much," Cregan said suddenly, his voice echoing in the stone corridor. He didn't turn to look at you as he spoke, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand tightened almost imperceptibly on his sword belt. "Though I suppose you'll find some things different."

"Some things are bound to change," you replied softly, your words carrying more weight than you intended. You saw him falter slightly in his stride, just for a moment, before he continued walking.

"Aye," he agreed, his voice rougher now. "They do."

Your feet slowed as you caught sight of the intricate pattern on the wall – a tapestry of sorts, sewn with meticulous care. The deep, dark blues and grays of Winterfell’s colors danced against the stone, a striking contrast to the cold walls. Stark sigils intertwined with threads of silver, the banners and colors that had defined this place for generations.

It was beautiful in its own way. Not grand or flashy, but solid.

You stopped, reaching a hand out to trace the design with your fingers. The fabric was worn, the edges frayed in places, but the overall pattern was still as strong as ever. It reminded you of the very essence of Winterfell – rough around the edges, but still standing, unyielding in the face of time.

"Beautiful," you murmured, more to yourself than to Cregan. Your fingers lingered on the edges of the stitched lines, feeling the texture beneath your touch.

Cregan's footsteps slowed, and you could sense him watching you, though his gaze remained ahead. His tone was casual when he spoke, but you heard the faintest edge to it. "The women in the kitchens were mumbling that Winterfell has lacked a woman's touch for far too long," he said, his voice dropping slightly, as if he were uncertain whether to continue.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him now, though he still hadn’t turned to face you. There was an odd, almost sheepish quality to his words, something that didn’t quite fit with the man you had known. "They said this was an attempt to make Winterfell feel less..." He hesitated, as though searching for the right word, his hand tightening on his sword belt. "Rocky, I suppose."

You chuckled softly, the sound unfamiliar in the stone silence of the hall. It felt strange to laugh here, in this place that had once been so full of warmth and laughter, but something about the idea of Winterfell being made to feel less “rocky” made the edges of your mouth twitch upward.

"Less rocky," you repeated, your eyes flicking over the tapestry once more. "Well, it does have its charm, I think. I can see what they were trying to do."

Cregan’s lips twitched, the first flicker of a smile you had seen on his face since you had arrived. The small, fleeting change made your chest tighten with something you couldn’t quite place. The tension that had settled between you – so thick, so charged – seemed to shift ever so slightly. Just enough for you to catch your breath.

"You’ve always had a way of seeing things in a different light," Cregan murmured, his voice quieter now. He finally turned, his gaze meeting yours, a brief flicker of something you couldn’t define in his eyes. It was gone before you could grasp it, hidden behind the stoic expression he had perfected over the years.

You felt a sudden warmth spread through your chest, an ache that wasn’t painful but still lingering, soft and unyielding.

"Just a matter of perspective," you said, your voice low, before your gaze returned to the tapestry. Your fingers lingered for a moment longer before you let them fall.

Cregan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he let the silence stretch again, this time a more comfortable one. And for the first time since you had set foot in Winterfell, you felt as though you could breathe.

You passed the entrance to the great hall, and memories flooded unbidden into your mind. The feast days of your youth, when you and Cregan would steal extra sweets from the kitchen and hide beneath the tables, giggling as the adults searched for you. The winter nights when you'd sit side by side before the great hearth, sharing stories and dreams while the snow fell outside. The last feast before you'd left, where Cregan had barely spoken two words to you. You remembered how he'd sat at the high table, his face a mask of stone, while you'd picked at your food and tried not to cry.

Neither of you had known how to say goodbye, how to bridge the growing distance between you. It had been easier, perhaps, to say nothing at all.

And then the letters had come. His first, and miraculously, your own, arriving near the same time. Both of them apologies, scrawled in the uncertain hands of youth. He’d written of regret for not saying goodbye, of how his words had caught in his throat when the time had come. You’d said much the same, weaving a wry joke about your shared failure into the letter, trying to mask the sting of leaving.

Now, walking these same halls with him, those memories felt sharp as a blade. The silence between you was different this time – heavier, laden with years of unspoken words and buried feelings. Your footsteps echoed against the stone floors, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of your heart.

"Your father writes that you've settled well in the South," Cregan said suddenly, his voice carefully neutral. He didn't look at you as he spoke, his eyes fixed ahead.

"I suppose," you replied, matching his measured tone. "Though it never quite feels like home."

He glanced at you then, something flickering in his dark eyes. "No?" There was an edge to his question, one that made your breath catch.

"No," you said softly. "The South is... different. The people there, they don't understand..." You trailed off, unsure how to explain that everything there felt too bright, too loud, too shallow. How you missed the quiet strength of the North, the honor that ran deep as roots in frozen ground. How you missed him.

"What don't they understand?" Cregan asked, his voice lower now, almost gentle.

You stopped walking, turning to face him. The torchlight cast shadows across his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity in his gaze. "The North," you said simply. "What it means to be of the North. To have its blood in your veins, its winds in your dreams."

Something shifted in his expression then, a crack in his carefully maintained facade. "You always did understand," he murmured, so quietly you almost missed it.

The words hung between you, delicate as frost on a window pane. You remembered how he used to say that – 'you understand' – whenever you'd find him in the godswood, wrestling with some new responsibility his father had placed on his shoulders. You'd sit together beneath the heart tree, and you'd listen as he spoke of his fears, his doubts, his dreams. You had understood then, and somehow, despite the years and distance, you still did.

The rest of the walk to your chambers passed in relative quiet, but it was a different kind of silence now. Less strained, though still careful. Each step felt like walking through memories – some sharp and clear as ice, others soft and blurred like snow falling at twilight.

Your chambers, when you reached them, were exactly as you remembered. The same heavy wooden furniture, the same thick furs on the bed, the same view of the courtyard through frost-kissed windows. Someone had already lit a fire in the hearth, and its warmth reached out to you like an old friend's embrace.

"I hope you'll find everything to your satisfaction," Cregan said, standing in the doorway. His frame nearly filled it, and you couldn't help but remember how you both used to slip through these same doors as children, playing hide and seek in the endless corridors of Winterfell.

"Thank you," you replied, turning to face him. The firelight cast shadows across his features, softening them somehow. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of the boy you had known, hidden beneath the lord's stern facade. "It's... exactly as I remember."

His eyes met yours, and something flickered in their depths. "Not everything changes," he said quietly, and there was a weight to his words that made your heart skip a beat.

Before you could respond, he straightened, his expression shifting back to that careful neutrality. "The evening meal will be served in the Great Hall. I..." he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "I would be honored if you would join us."

"Of course," you said, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at the invitation. It was nothing more than courtesy, you told yourself. The Lord of Winterfell doing his duty to a guest.

He nodded, his hand resting briefly on the doorframe. For a moment, it seemed as though he might say something more, but instead, he simply inclined his head and turned to leave.

"Cregan," you called out, surprising yourself. He stopped, his back still to you. "I... it's good to see you again."

He remained still for a long moment, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand clenched at his side. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost rough. "And you, my lady. And you."

Then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the crackling fire.

***

The next morning arrived with a gentle knock at your door. The sound pulled you from your thoughts – you'd barely slept, your mind replaying the conversation in the godswood over and over again.

"Come in," you called, sitting up in bed. The door creaked open to reveal a young woman with warm brown eyes and a sweet smile. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, her movements quick but graceful as she bustled into the room.

She bobbed a quick curtsy. "Good morning, my lady. I'm Mira. Lord Stark assigned me to be your handmaiden during your stay."

There was something warm and genuine about her smile that immediately put you at ease.

Your heart fluttered at her words. Of course he would be – Cregan had always been thoughtful in these small ways, even when you were children. Some things, it seemed, hadn't changed.

"Thank you, Mira," you said, watching as she moved to open the heavy curtains. Morning light spilled into the room, making the frost on the windows sparkle. "You don't need to curtsy every time, though. I'm not..." You hesitated, unsure how to explain that you weren't really anyone of importance here, not anymore.

Mira turned to you with a knowing look that seemed beyond her years. "Lord Stark said you might say that," she said, a small smile playing at her lips. "He also said I should ignore it."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "Did he now? And what else did Lord Stark say about me?"

"Nothing directly, m'lady," Mira replied, moving to your wardrobe to select a dress. "Oh, these southern fabrics are beautiful," she exclaimed, running her fingers over one of your dresses. "Though you might want something warmer for today. Lord Stark mentioned he'd be showing you the grounds himself." There was a knowing glint in her eye as she said this, though she tried to hide it by busying herself with your hair.

"Did he?" you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral. Your heart, however, had other ideas, picking up its pace at this news.

"Oh yes, my lady. Quite insistent about it too." Mira’s fingers were gentle as she worked through your hair, braiding sections in the northern style. "Begging your pardon, but... well, he's never taken such interest in showing guests around before. Usually leaves that to the steward, he does."

You caught her eye in the mirror, and she blushed, realizing perhaps she'd said too much. "Not that it's my place to say, of course."

"It's alright, Mira," you assured her, watching as she expertly wove your hair into the intricate northern style. Her words had sent a warmth spreading through your chest, despite your attempts to temper your expectations. "The castle can be quite confusing for those who aren't familiar with it."

"Oh, but you are familiar with it, aren't you, my lady?" Mira said, her fingers never pausing in their work. "The older servants, they speak of when you were here before. They say..." she hesitated, then continued more softly, "they say you used to know every corner of Winterfell, just as well as Lord Stark himself."

You swallowed hard, memories flooding back – of hide and seek games that had taken you through every secret passage, of races through the corridors, of quiet moments in forgotten corners where you and Cregan would share dreams of the future.

"That was a long time ago," you said quietly, though your heart ached at the truth of it.

Mira hummed thoughtfully as she finished with your hair. "Time doesn't always matter as much as we think it does," she said, with that same wisdom that seemed far beyond her years. "Especially not within these walls."

She moved to the wardrobe again, pulling out a dress of deep blue wool, thick and warm, with delicate silver embroidery along the sleeves. "This one, I think. The color..." she smiled slightly. "Well, Lord Stark has always favored blue."

Your cheeks warmed at her words, remembering how Cregan had once told you, in one of his early letters, that blue reminded him of the day you'd first kissed – how you'd been wearing a blue ribbon in your hair, how it had come loose when he'd pulled you close.

As Mira helped you dress, you couldn't help but wonder what this tour of the grounds would bring. Would it be formal and distant, like your first meeting at the gates? Or would there be moments, like in the godswood last night, where the walls between you seemed to crack, just slightly?

"There," Mira said finally, stepping back to survey her work. "Perfect." She paused, then added with a slight smile, "Lord Stark won't know what hit him."

"Mira!" you exclaimed, but you couldn't help laughing. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and for a moment, you felt like a girl again, getting ready for a feast where you knew Cregan would be watching. The handmaid’s youth seemed to catch onto you.

"He’ll be waiting in the courtyard," she said as she gathered up the discarded linens and fabrics.

With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts – and your racing heart. You moved to the window, the cool glass pressing against your palms as you gazed outside. The morning sun sparkled on the fresh snow, turning it to diamonds, and in the courtyard below, you spotted him.

Cregan stood with one of his men, his dark cloak billowing slightly in the breeze. Even from this distance, his commanding presence was unmistakable. Yet, it wasn’t his authority that held your attention – it was the way he kept glancing toward the entrance to the keep, as though waiting, hoping… for you.

The thought sent another flutter through your chest, both thrilling and terrifying. You lingered at the window for a moment longer, watching the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the easy strength in his posture as he gave quiet commands to his men. This was Cregan as you had always imagined him growing into: steady, capable, and deeply rooted in the land he ruled.

What you hadn't imagined – what you couldn't have known – was how it would feel to see him like this, to be on the outside looking in. Once, you had known every expression that crossed his face, could read his thoughts in the set of his shoulders. Now, watching him from above, you felt both achingly close and impossibly far away.

Taking a deep breath, you turned from the window. The dress Mira had chosen was perfect – warm enough for the winter air, but fitted in a way that made you feel more confident than you had since arriving. You smoothed your hands over the fabric one last time, trying to calm the nervous energy that seemed to hum beneath your skin.

The walk down to the courtyard felt both too long and too short. Each step brought you closer to him, and with each step, memories seemed to rise from the very stones beneath your feet. Here was where he had caught you when you slipped on the ice one winter morning. There was where you had hidden behind a pillar, trying not to laugh as he searched for you during one of your games. Every corner held a piece of your shared past, and you wondered if he felt their weight as heavily as you did.

When you finally stepped out into the courtyard, the cold air bit at your cheeks, but you barely noticed it. Cregan had turned at the sound of your approach, and the look in his eyes when he saw you made your breath catch in your throat.

For a moment – just a moment – his carefully maintained facade cracked. His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as though he had forgotten whatever he had been about to say. You saw his hands clench at his sides, then relax, as though he was physically stopping himself from reaching out.

"Good morrow, my lord" you said softly, proud of how steady your voice sounded despite the way your heart was racing.

"Good morrow," he replied, and though his voice was controlled, there was a warmth to it that hadn't been there yesterday. His eyes lingered on your hair, and you wondered if he recognized the northern style, if he remembered how he used to tease you about your southern braids.

The man he had been speaking with quietly excused himself, though neither of you really noticed his departure. For a moment, you just stood there, the morning sun painting everything in soft gold, making the frost sparkle like scattered diamonds around you.

"You look..." Cregan started, then seemed to catch himself. "I hope you slept well?"

"Well enough," you answered, though in truth, sleep had been elusive, your mind too full of him, of memories, of the way he had looked at you in the godswood. "Though some things haven't changed – I can still hear the droplets at night."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "The dripping pipes," he said, a trace of amusement softening his voice. "I’d forgotten how loud they can be.” He paused, his brows drawing together slightly. "I'll see it so they’re fixed. You should be able to rest without such distractions."

"Oh, there's no need for that," you said quickly, waving a hand in dismissal. "There are surely more pressing matters for the Lord of Winterfell than a bit of dripping water."

Cregan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps," he replied, his voice even, though there was a flicker of something – determination, maybe – in his tone. "But you’ve only just returned, and I’d rather your stay be... comfortable."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself studying the frost-dusted cobblestones at your feet. It was a small thing, this concern over a leaky pipe, but it felt like more. Like a reminder of the boy who had once made you a crown from pine branches because you’d lost the ribbon in your hair.

"I’ll manage just fine," you said softly, meeting his gaze again.

He regarded you for a moment longer, then inclined his head. "As you wish," he said, though you didn’t miss the way his lips pressed into a thin line, as if he wasn’t entirely ready to concede the matter. "But if it keeps you up again, you’ll tell me."

You nodded, though you knew you wouldn’t. The dripping didn’t matter – not really. What mattered was this, standing here with him, feeling the frost-kissed air between you and the weight of all the unspoken things you could not bring yourself to say.

"Shall we?" Cregan gestured toward the path that led around the castle walls. As you fell into step beside him, you noticed how he shortened his stride to match yours – another small thing that spoke of memory, of habit.

"The grounds have changed somewhat since you were last here," he said, his voice taking on that careful neutrality again. "We've expanded the glass gardens, added new training yards for the guards."

"And the old oak?" you asked before you could stop yourself. "The one by the east wall – is it still standing?"

Cregan's step faltered slightly. You both knew why you were asking – it had been your spot, once upon a time. Where you'd meet in the early mornings, where you'd carved your initials into the bark one summer afternoon.

"It is," he said softly. "Lost a few branches in last winter's storms, but the old thing's stubborn. Refuses to fall."

A smile tugged at your lips. "Some things are like that," you murmured. "Too stubborn to give in, even when the world tries to break them."

His eyes met yours, dark and intense. "Aye," he agreed, his voice rougher now. "Some things are."

You walked in silence for a moment, the snow crunching beneath your boots. The morning air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and woodsmoke.

"Do you remember," you started, then laughed softly, shaking your head. "Gods, I feel like that's all we've done since I arrived. Remember this, remember that..."

"Is that so terrible?" Cregan asked, his tone lighter than you'd heard it yet. "Remembering?"

"No," you admitted, watching your breath cloud in the cold air. "Just... different. When I was in the South, I tried so hard not to remember. And now..."

"Now?"

You gestured vaguely at the castle walls, the snow-covered grounds, at him. "Now it's like every stone has a memory attached to it. Every corner holds some piece of... of us."

Cregan was quiet for a long moment, and you worried you'd said too much. But when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost vulnerable. "I never tried not to remember," he admitted. "Perhaps I should have. Might have made things easier."

"Easier isn't always better," you said quietly, remembering all the times you'd convinced yourself that forgetting would be easier, only to find yourself dreaming of northern winters and dark eyes filled with laughter.

He turned to look at you then, really look at you, and something in his expression made your heart skip. "No," he agreed. "It isn't."

The wind picked up, sending a few loose strands of your hair dancing. Without thinking, Cregan reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked the wayward strands behind your ear. The touch was fleeting, gone almost before you registered it, but it left your skin tingling.

"I..." he started, then stopped, his hand dropping to his side. "Your hair – the style. It suits you."

You touched the braids self-consciously. "Mira did it. She seems quite skilled."

"She is. Though I suspect she had an easier task than most, given her subject." The words seemed to slip out before he could catch them, and you saw a faint flush color his cheeks.

"My lord flatters me," you said, trying to keep your tone light despite the way your heart was racing.

"Cregan," he said suddenly, almost fiercely. "Please. When we're alone, at least – I can't bear to hear you call me 'my lord' again."

The raw honesty in his voice caught you off guard. "Cregan," you repeated softly, and you saw something in his expression crack, just slightly. "Old habits are hard to break, I suppose."

"Some habits," he said, his voice low, "are worth breaking. Others..." He trailed off, his eyes finding yours again, and the intensity of his gaze made your breath catch.

The moment stretched between you, the cold air around you seeming to warm under the weight of his words. You opened your mouth to respond, though what you would say, you weren’t entirely sure. But before the words could form, he stepped back, breaking the connection.

As you walked beside him, you found your attention drifting from his words about the castle grounds to Cregan himself. You couldn't help but study him, drinking in all the ways time had changed him. The boy you'd known had grown into something else entirely – something that made your breath catch and your cheeks warm despite the winter chill.

There was a scar now, thin and silver, that curved along his jaw and disappeared beneath his beard. You wondered about its story, about what battles or trials had marked him while you were away. His hair, longer than you remembered, was pulled back in a neat bun at the nape of his neck, though a few strands had escaped to frame his face. You remembered how it used to fall in his eyes when you were younger, how you'd always wanted to brush it back.

A servant hurried past with a bundle of firewood, and you couldn't help but notice how Cregan towered over him. He'd always been tall, but now... The thick furs draped over his broad shoulders made him seem even larger, a true northern lord in every sense. You watched as he gestured toward the battlements, explaining something about recent reinforcements, and the way his muscles moved beneath his clothing made heat rise to your cheeks.

Gods, you needed to stop this line of thinking. You turned your face away slightly, hoping the cold air would cool your burning cheeks. You had no business noticing how his size made your mouth go dry, how his deep voice sent shivers down your spine that had nothing to do with the winter chill.

"The glass gardens have doubled in size," he was saying, his deep voice rumbling through the morning air. "We can grow enough vegetables now to–" He stopped suddenly, catching you staring. "Is something wrong?"

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, caught in your obvious appreciation of him. "No, nothing's wrong. I just..." you fumbled for words, trying to ignore the knowing glint in his eye. "The scar. On your jaw. I was wondering..."

His hand went to it almost unconsciously, fingers brushing over the mark. "Ah. A disagreement with a wildling raiding party two winters ago. Nothing too dramatic, though the maester feared it might leave a mark."

"It suits you," you said before you could stop yourself, then immediately felt your face flame hotter. Gods, what were you doing? Commenting on his scars like some swooning maiden?

But Cregan's lips twitched, almost smiling. "Does it now?"

You looked away, suddenly very interested in the frost patterns on a nearby wall. "I only meant... that is..." You took a breath, trying to gather your scattered thoughts. "You look well. The years have been... kind."

His low chuckle made you look back at him, and the warmth in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "Kind isn't the word most would use," he said, his voice softer now. "But thank you."

A gust of wind swept through the courtyard, and you couldn't help but step closer to him, seeking shelter from the biting cold. He shifted instinctively, his broad frame blocking the worst of the wind, and suddenly you were very aware of how close you were standing. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, to catch the scent of leather and pine that clung to his furs.

"You're cold," he said, his voice rough. It wasn't a question.

"A little," you admitted, though in truth, the heat rising in your cheeks could have warmed all of Winterfell.

He moved as if to remove his cloak, but you quickly shook your head. "Don't. I'm fine, truly. Just... adjusting to the North again."

His eyes searched your face for a moment, and you saw something flicker in their depths – concern, perhaps, or something deeper. "We should head back inside," he said finally. "I've kept you out here too long."

"I don't mind," you said quickly – too quickly perhaps, given the way his eyebrow arched. "That is... the tour is lovely. I'd like to see more of what's changed."

"And what hasn't?" he asked softly, and you knew he wasn't talking about the castle anymore.

You met his gaze, feeling your heart thunder in your chest. "Yes," you whispered. "That too."

He was quiet for a long moment, just looking at you, and you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for... something. Whatever this tension was between you, it felt like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to either snap or sing.

A servant hurrying past with an armful of firewood broke the moment, and Cregan stepped back slightly, though his eyes never left your face. You immediately missed his warmth, the shelter of his broad frame against the wind.

"My lord," the servant bobbed a quick bow as he passed, and you saw Cregan's jaw tighten at the title.

"The godswood," he said suddenly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Do you remember the path we used to take? Behind the heart tree?"

Your breath caught. Of course you remembered – it had been your secret route, a hidden trail that led to a small clearing where you could be alone, away from watchful eyes and whispered expectations.

"Yes," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Would you..." he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Would you walk it with me? After the midday meal, perhaps?"

Your heart leapt at the invitation, even as your mind warned you to be careful. This wasn't like when you were children, when stolen moments in secret places held no consequences. You were both different now, bound by duty and expectations.

And yet...

"Yes," you said again, watching as something like relief flickered across his features. "I'd like that."

He nodded, and you caught the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "Good. That's... good."

Another gust of wind swept through the courtyard, and this time you couldn't suppress a shiver. Cregan's expression immediately shifted to concern.

"Come," he said, gesturing toward the keep. "Let's get you inside before you freeze. I won't have it said that the Lord of Winterfell let his guest turn to ice on her first proper day back."

You fell into step beside him, noticing how he angled his body to shield you from the wind as you walked. It was such a natural gesture, so unconsciously protective, that it made your chest ache with familiarity.

"I'm hardly so delicate," you protested, though you couldn't help but smile at his concern. "I did grow up here, you know. The cold isn't foreign to me."

"No," he agreed, his voice softening. "But you've been in the South for so long. The North's winters have grown harsher since you left."

"And its lord more protective, it seems," you teased gently, then immediately wished you hadn't when you saw the way his expression shuttered slightly.

You continued walking, Cregan pointing out changes to the grounds – new stables here, reinforced walls there – when something caught your eye. Hidden partly behind an old oak tree was a wooden swing, its ropes frayed and rusted chains creaking softly in the wind. Your heart clenched at the sight of it.

"Oh," you breathed, halting mid-step. "It's still here."

Cregan followed your gaze, and you saw something flicker across his face – memory, perhaps, or regret. "Aye," he said quietly. "Though it's seen better days."

You walked toward it, your fingers trailing over the weathered wood. "You made this for my tenth nameday," you said softly. "Spent weeks on it in secret, if I remember correctly."

"Nearly took my thumb off with the saw," he admitted, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. "Father was furious when he found out I'd been sneaking tools from the forge."

Without thinking, you settled onto the swing. It creaked ominously under your weight, the chains groaning in protest. Cregan stepped forward quickly, concern etching his features.

"Careful," he warned. "It's not as sturdy as it once was."

As if to prove his point, one of the chains gave an particularly loud groan, and you quickly stood, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

"I think it’s had its last ride," you said, brushing your hands over your skirts, as if to dust away the lingering memory of it. But your smile faltered when you saw the look on Cregan’s face – not amusement, but something deeper, heavier.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from catching on the faint scar that curved along his jaw. It was subtle, but now that you’d noticed it, you couldn’t look away. It hadn’t been there before.

“You didn’t tell me about the scar,” you said softly, breaking the quiet.

Cregan stiffened slightly, his hand brushing against his jaw as if reminded of its presence. He didn’t stall, but his expression darkened, and his voice, when he finally spoke, was tight.

“It had been months since we last spoke,” he said, a sharp edge to his tone. “When would I have told you?”

The words hit harder than you expected, and you faltered, your breath catching in your throat. He glanced at you then, his expression softening, regret flickering in his eyes.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with all the letters that hadn't been written, all the words that hadn't been said. You shifted your weight, suddenly unsure where to look or what to do with your hands.

But Cregan, ever the diplomatic lord, didn't let the awkwardness linger. He cleared his throat softly and gestured toward a nearby archway. "The kitchens have been expanded," he said, his voice deliberately lighter.

He began walking, offering his arm so you could step around the swing to step beside him once more.

You were grateful for the change in subject, embarrassment creeping up your neck at having mentioned the letters – or lack thereof. Of course he hadn't written to you about the scar. The easy intimacy you'd once shared in your correspondence had faded long before that.

"The kitchens can feed twice as many now," Cregan continued, his voice steady and controlled. "Though Old Nan still complains they're too small when feast days come around."

A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. "Old Nan's still here?"

The mention of the old septa that raised you brought a grin to your face.

"Aye. Still terrorizing the kitchen staff with tales of grumkins and snarks." There was warmth in his voice now, the tension from moments before beginning to ease. "She asked about you, you know. When she heard you were coming."

"Did she?" You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at the thought that people had spoken of your return, that they had remembered you.

Cregan nodded, ducking slightly as you passed under a low archway. "Said the castle hasn't been the same since you left. Too quiet, according to her."

You laughed softly, though the sound held a touch of sadness. "I doubt one person's absence could make such a difference."

He stopped then, turning to face you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "You'd be surprised," he said quietly.

The godswood was quiet when you reached it, the kind of silence that seemed to press against your skin, ancient and knowing. Snow crunched beneath your feet as you made your way to the heart tree, its red leaves rustling softly above.

Without hesitation, you made your way to the base of the heart tree, your boots crunching softly in the fresh snow. The spot was as familiar to you as breathing – how many afternoons had you spent here, talking and dreaming and simply being? You gathered your skirts and settled down, the thick wool protecting you from the cold ground as you straightened your legs out before you.

Cregan remained standing, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the filtered sunlight. His eyes were on you, dark and unreadable, and for a moment, you felt like that young girl again, looking up at him with a heart full of dreams neither of you could quite voice.

You patted the ground beside you, a silent invitation. His lips quirked slightly – the ghost of a smile – and he let out a long breath, as if releasing something he'd been holding onto. Then he lowered himself to sit beside you, his movements careful and measured, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile between you.

He sat close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, yet far enough that your shoulders didn't quite touch. Always careful, always maintaining that proper distance. But here, in the sacred quiet of the godswood, even that small space between you felt charged with possibility.

You leaned your head back against the heart tree, turning to study his profile. The weak winter sunlight filtered through the red leaves above, casting dappled shadows across his features. He must have felt your gaze because his lips curved into a smile – not the careful, measured expression of Lord Stark, but something softer, more genuine. Something that reminded you of the boy who used to sneak lemon cakes from the kitchen just because he knew they were your favorite.

"What?" he asked, his voice quiet in the sacred silence of the godswood. He turned his face to you.

"Tell me about Winterfell," you said softly. "About you. I want to know everything I've missed."

He was quiet for a moment, his fingers absently playing with a fallen leaf. "Where would you like me to start?"

"Anywhere," you replied. "Everything. The castle, the people... you."

Cregan let out a breath, his smile turning slightly rueful. "It's strange, isn't it? How many years we wrote to each other, sharing every detail of our lives, and now..."

"And now we're practically strangers," you finished when he trailed off.

"No," he said quickly, turning to look at you properly. "Never strangers. Different, perhaps, but not..." He shook his head, searching for words. "You could never be a stranger to me."

The intensity in his voice made your heart skip. "Tell me then," you urged gently. "Tell me about the man you've become."

He was quiet for another moment, considering. "It's not very exciting, I'm afraid. Most days are filled with ledgers and petitions, training yards and council meetings. The North demands much of its lord."

"And does its lord ever get to breathe?" you asked, noting the way his shoulders seemed to carry an invisible weight.

A soft laugh escaped him. "Sometimes. In moments like this." He glanced at you, then quickly away. "The godswood... it's still the only place where I can truly think. Where I can just be Cregan, not Lord Stark."

"Is it very different?"

"More than I expected," he admitted. "Father tried to prepare me, but..." He shook his head. "There's always something that needs attention, someone who needs guidance or protection or justice. The responsibility of it all... sometimes it feels like drowning."

"And yet you swim," you observed quietly.

He smiled slightly. "What choice do I have? The North needs its Stark."

"And what does Cregan need?"

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you saw him stiffen slightly. For a moment, you thought he wouldn't answer. But then he turned to look at you, really look at you, and there was something in his eyes that made your breath catch.

"What I need..." he started, then stopped, swallowing hard. "What I need hasn't changed much since we were children."

"And you?" he asked softly, shifting slightly to face you better. "What has life been like in the South?"

Your fingers found their way to your hair, twisting a loose strand that had escaped Mira's careful braiding. It was an old habit, one you'd never quite broken, and you noticed Cregan's eyes following the movement.

"You still do that," he said, a gentle warmth in his voice. "When you're thinking."

You dropped your hand, surprised. "Do what?"

"Play with your hair." His smile grew softer, more reminiscent. "You used to do it during lessons with Maester Walys. Drove him half mad, watching you twist your hair instead of paying attention to his histories."

A laugh bubbled up from your chest. "Gods, I'd forgotten about that. Though in my defense, his lessons on the Andal invasion were dreadfully dull."

"As I recall, you preferred the stories about the First Men and their battles," Cregan said, his eyes twinkling with remembered mischief. "Especially the bloody ones."

"Still do," you admitted, then sighed, your smile fading slightly. "Though there wasn't much call for such tales in the South. It was all... different there. Prettier, perhaps, but..."

"But?" he prompted when you trailed off.

"Softer," you said finally. "Everything was softer. The winds, the words, even the people. My septa spent three years trying to teach me proper Southern graces – how to sit, how to speak, how to be a proper lady." You rolled your eyes, remembering the endless lessons. "She was horrified when she found out I knew how to use a bow."

Cregan's laugh was deep and genuine. "I remember teaching you. You were a terrible shot at first."

"I got better!" you protested, playfully indignant.

"Aye, after you nearly took my eye out with that first attempt," he teased, and for a moment, it was as if no time had passed at all. You were just you and he was just Cregan, sharing jokes beneath the heart tree.

"The South sounds... peaceful," he said after a moment, though there was an odd note in his voice.

You looked at him thoughtfully. "It was. Beautiful and peaceful and utterly..." you searched for the right word.

"Boring?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Empty," you corrected softly. "It was empty."

A comfortable silence fell between you, broken only by the whisper of wind through the heart tree's leaves. You could feel Cregan shifting beside you, as if wrestling with something he wanted to say. His fingers drummed against his knee – another old habit you remembered from when he was nervous.

Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice taking on that formal, lordly tone he seemed to use as armor. "I trust your time in the South was... that is..." He stopped, started again. "Were you... did you find..." He let out a frustrated breath, and you could see him struggling to find the right words.

"Are you trying to ask if I'm betrothed, Lord Stark?" you asked, unable to keep the hint of amusement from your voice. The sight of him – the formidable Lord of Winterfell – stumbling over his words like a green boy was oddly endearing.

A flush crept up his neck, but he met your eyes steadily. "Yes. That is... I merely wondered if anyone had... if you had found someone worthy of your hand."

You almost laughed at the formality of his phrasing, but something in his expression – a vulnerability you rarely saw anymore – stopped you. "Almost," you admitted softly. "Once."

You saw his jaw tighten, though he tried to keep his face neutral. "Almost?"

"Mm. A second son of some noble house or other. Kind enough, I suppose, but..." you wrinkled your nose at the memory. "Dreadfully dull. Could talk for hours about horse breeding and nothing else. Father arranged it, thinking it would be a good match."

"But it wasn't?" Cregan's voice was carefully controlled, but you could see the tension in his shoulders.

"No," you said simply. "I couldn't... it wasn't what I wanted. Who I wanted." The last part slipped out before you could stop it, and you quickly looked away, focusing on a patch of snow near your feet. "Thankfully, Father listened when I told him I couldn't go through with it. Sent the poor man away with apologies and a fine horse as consolation."

You felt rather than saw Cregan relax beside you, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The rigid set of his spine softened, his breathing seemed easier, and his hands unclenched from where they'd been gripping his knees.

"That was... kind of your father," he said finally, his voice much lighter than before. "To consider your wishes."

"It was," you agreed, chancing a glance at him. The relief on his face was poorly concealed, and something warm bloomed in your chest at the sight of it. "And you? Has the Lord of Winterfell found himself a lady yet?"

Cregan's laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating. "No," he said quietly. "No lady yet."

"The northern lords must be pressing you," you observed. "An heir is important."

"Aye," he agreed, but there was something in his tone – something that made you look at him more closely. "Duty demands it."

You watched him carefully, noting the way he avoided meeting your eyes. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken things. A snowflake drifted down, landing on the sleeve of his fur cloak, and you found yourself watching it melt.

"And what do you want?" you asked softly. "Beyond duty?"

Cregan turned then, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something – something important, something that would change everything.

But the moment passed.

"The North needs its lord," he said finally, the carefully constructed walls sliding back into place.

You knew better than to push. But something in you – the part that had always known him best – recognized the deflection for what it was.

You couldn't help yourself. "I bet there are plenty of ladies who'd be eager to become the Lady of Winterfell," you teased, nudging his shoulder gently.

Cregan rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Hardly," he said, trying to sound dismissive.

"Oh, come now," you pressed, leaning closer. "A handsome lord, strong, kind, with that scar making you look..." You paused, choosing your words carefully. "Roguish."

He blushed – actually blushed – the color rising from his neck to his cheeks. "Roguish?" he repeated, sounding half-embarrassed, half-amused.

"Handsome," you clarified, watching the flush deepen across his cheeks. "Very handsome. Any lady would be lucky to have you."

Cregan ducked his head, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usual composure. "You're teasing me," he said, but there was a softness to his voice that suggested he was enjoying it.

"Not teasing," you insisted. "Truly. You've become..." You paused, searching for the right word. "Impressive."

His eyes met yours then, dark and intense. "Impressive," he repeated, something unreadable in his tone.

"The scar especially," you added, unable to resist. "Makes you look like a proper man. Experienced."

A low chuckle escaped him. "Is that so?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the furs you were wearing. "Absolutely."

Cregan laughed, the sound deep and rich, but it carried a faint note of disbelief. "You’ve a silver tongue, you know that?" he said, shaking his head.

"Your father always said so," Cregan continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "In his letters, he mentioned That it was one of the northern qualities the maesters hadn’t managed to weed out of you."

Your smile faltered at his words, the lightness in your chest giving way to a cold weight. Cregan had been exchanging letters with your father. And not to you.

For a moment, the quiet stretched between you, filled only by the sound of the wind brushing through the trees. The warmth you’d felt before seemed distant now, replaced by something far colder, deeper.

You forced a smile back onto your lips, though it felt thin and brittle, you could feel the tension creeping into your own tone. "I didn’t realize my father had written to you so much."

Cregan shrugged, his gaze fixed ahead as though the snow-covered path held answers he didn’t want to give voice to. "He worried for you. Wanted me to know you were well."

You forced yourself to stay composed, even though you felt like you were unraveling with each passing moment. "I see," you replied, your voice quieter than before, barely more than a whisper.

Cregan’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, his expression unreadable, before he let out a soft breath and looked ahead once more. The snow had begun to fall more heavily now, dusting your hair with a thin layer of frost, and you felt its bite despite the warmth of your cloak.

The tension between you both hung thick in the air, but Cregan’s attention shifted to the road ahead. "The wind’s picking up," he murmured. "Perhaps we should head back inside. You’ve got snow in your hair."

You brushed a hand through your hair absently, the cold snowflakes falling in delicate clusters against your skin. "It’s nothing," you said, though you were grateful for the suggestion. The chill was creeping into your bones, and you knew it would be better to seek warmth.

"I have court matters to attend to," he continued, his voice now more businesslike, though there was a hint of hesitation in his words, as though he wanted to be certain you were well before leaving. "You should get some rest by the fire. You’ll need to warm up properly."

You nodded, despite the lingering weight of the unspoken words between you. "I’ll be fine. Go take care of your business, Cregan. I’ll make my way back."

He hesitated, glancing at you once more, but then seemed to make up his mind. "I’ll escort you back to the castle," he insisted, his tone firm, though there was something softer beneath it – a reluctance to leave you alone in the cold.

"You’re needed elsewhere," you replied, though it came out sounding weaker than you’d intended. "You don’t need to worry about me."

"I’d feel better if I did," Cregan muttered, the frustration in his voice soft but there, like he couldn’t help himself.

The simplicity of his request caught you off guard. You nodded again, your chest tightening at the thought of him staying when he clearly had things to attend to. "Alright," you said quietly. "Thank you."

The two of you began walking back toward the castle, your steps crunching softly in the snow, the weight of your shared silence once again settling over you. The distance between you felt palpable, but there was a quiet, unspoken comfort in his presence – just enough to keep you from feeling entirely lost in the cold, both outside and within.

By the time you reached the castle doors, the snow had gathered in thick layers on your shoulders, and Cregan’s expression had softened, though his lips were set in a line of determination. "I’ll see to it that you’re properly warmed," he said, though it wasn’t quite an order – it was a promise, quiet and steady.

You gave a small nod, allowing yourself a moment to lean into his offered care, even if you couldn’t fully bring yourself to acknowledge the ache still pulling at your heart. "Thank you, Cregan."

As you parted ways, you couldn’t help but feel the absence of the earlier warmth between you both, but perhaps, in time, that too would return.

***

The evening had settled over Winterfell, soft and quiet. You sat before the looking glass, your nightgown a pale shimmer against the stone walls. Mira's fingers worked deftly through your hair, weaving a loose braid that would keep it from tangling during the night.

"You're fidgeting, my lady," Mira said softly, her hands never stopping their careful work.

"Am I?" you replied, watching your fingers twist together in your lap.

She hesitated, then added quickly, "Begging your pardon. It's not my place to comment."

You turned, meeting her eyes in the mirror. There was something in her gaze – a kindness, an openness that invited confidence. "No," you said quietly. "It is your place. If anyone's."

“I... I think I might need a friend." you added.

She met your eyes in the mirror, her expression kind but respectful. "If my lady wishes to speak, I am here to listen."

A soft laugh escaped you – more a breath than a sound. "I'm not certain I even know how to explain it."

You took a deep breath, watching Mira's hands continue their careful work. "Things feel different now," you began slowly. "We were children when I left. Practically strangers now. I worry we won't..." You trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.

Mira's eyes sparkled with something between mischief and understanding. "The older staff tell stories," she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "About you and Lord Stark when you were young."

"Oh?" you prompted, curiosity getting the better of you.

She grinned, finishing the braid with a practiced twist. "Old Martha in the kitchens says Lord Stark was unbearable after you left. Sulked for months. Would hardly speak to anyone, spent all his time in the training yards or studying maps. As if working himself to exhaustion might stop him from thinking about your absence."

Your heart clenched. "That sounds like him. Always trying to hide his feelings behind duty."

"Not very successfully," Mira added with a knowing look. "The servants could see right through it. How he'd ask about every letter that came for you, how he'd stare at the ravens as if willing them to bring word of your return."

You turned fully now, facing her. "And what do you think?" you asked softly. "About all of this?"

Mira's smile was knowing, far beyond her young years. "Some stories are written in the stones of Winterfell," she said. "And some bonds aren't so easily broken."

The candle flickered, casting shadows across the stone walls. Outside, the wind whispered against the windows, carrying with it the promise of another cold northern night. And in that moment, surrounded by the weight of memory and possibility, you felt something shift – subtle, but undeniable.

The Great Hall was nearly empty when you arrived, save for the handful of servants preparing for the midday meal. Cregan was already seated at the high table, a stack of ravens and correspondence spread before him. As you entered, he looked up, immediately rising to his feet.

Your breath caught. Such a formal gesture – and yet, there was something in the way he watched you that felt anything but formal.

He had deliberately placed your plate directly beside his, a clear and intentional choice that made your heart race. The other seats remained conspicuously empty, leaving just the two of you.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, gesturing to the seat. "I thought we might discuss the estate while we eat."

But his eyes said something entirely different. They spoke of something more – of memories, of unspoken words, of a connection that hadn't been severed by time or distance.

You sat, acutely aware of how close you were. Close enough to see the slight furrow of his brow as he glanced down at his correspondence, close enough to catch the familiar scent of leather and woodsmoke that had always been uniquely his.

"Ravens?" you asked softly, nodding toward the papers.

"Always," he replied, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "The North never sleeps."

Cregan's fingers brushed against the ravens almost absently, sorting them with a practiced movement. You noticed how his hands had changed – no longer the soft hands of a young lord, but strong, calloused from years of sword training and managing the vast Stark lands.

"Troubling news?" you asked, watching him carefully.

He glanced up, something soft passing across his features. "Nothing we cannot manage," he said, pushing the papers slightly away. His focus shifted entirely to you – a deliberate choice that made your breath catch.

Cregan's attention shifted, a deliberate softening in his demeanor. "The cook prepares an excellent northern mushroom soup," he said, his voice careful, almost tentative. "Would you like me to have some brought out?"

The request was simple, but there was something underneath it – a desire to bridge the distance between you, to create a moment of shared experience. You noticed how he watched you, waiting, his fingers absently tracing the edge of a raven's parchment.

"I would love that," you replied, matching his careful tone.

A servant appeared almost immediately, as if summoned by some unspoken command. The soup arrived steaming, rich with the earthy scent of wild mushrooms gathered from the forests surrounding Winterfell. Cregan waited until your bowl was placed before you, a small gesture of courtesy that felt both familiar and strange.

"Do you still prefer it with a touch of dried thyme?" he asked, reaching for a small herb container near the table's center.

The question surprised you – a moment of intimate knowledge that seemed to slip through the carefully constructed walls between you. How could he remember something so small, so insignificant?

"You remember," you said softly, more a statement than a question.

His hand paused, hovering over the herbs. For a moment, vulnerability flickered in his eyes – the briefest glimpse of the boy you had once known.

The soup was indeed excellent. You took a careful sip, appreciating the warmth that spread through you. "The kitchens have been busy, I see," you commented, glancing around the nearly empty hall.

Cregan nodded, a slight smile touching his lips. "There's always work to be done. The harvest preparations are nearly complete, and we're discussing trade agreements with the eastern holdfas

"Challenging negotiations?" you asked, genuinely curious about the day-to-day complexities of running Winterfell.

He leaned back slightly, his posture relaxing. "The Mormont representatives drive a hard bargain. But fair. They always know exactly what they want."

A comfortable silence settled between you. Not the charged, uncomfortable quiet of earlier, but something softer. More natural.

"Have you tried the new apple preserves?" Cregan asked, gesturing to a small dish near the bread. "The orchards have been particularly good this year."

You reached for a piece of bread, spreading a thin layer of the preserve. The sweetness burst across your tongue – tart, with just a hint of cinnamon. "Delightful," you murmured.

He watched you, something warm in his eyes that had nothing to do with formality. Just two people, sharing a meal, finding their way back to something that felt like friendship.

The hall's quiet was suddenly interrupted by a young servant bursting through the doors, a raven clutched in his trembling hands. "My lord," he called, breathless, "a message from the Southern houses."

Cregan's posture stiffened, his hand instinctively reaching for the parchment. The servant, clearly nervous, began reading with rapid, almost frantic speed.

"Lord Stark, House Blackwood proposes a most advantageous marriage alliance. Their daughter, Lady Roslin, comes with a dowry of–“

But Cregan wasn't listening. His eyes had darted to you, a flash of panic crossing his features.

The words hit you like a physical blow. Betrothal. Marriage. The very things you had discussed in the godswood days earlier, when Cregan had spoken of duty and legacy with such careful restraint.

Your chest tightened, a sudden and unexpected ache spreading through your lungs. The memory of that conversation in the godswood came rushing back – the way he had spoken about the responsibilities of his position, the need to secure the Stark line. You had listened, understanding but not wanting to hear.

Now, watching Cregan's reaction, something shifted.

His panic was not subtle. It radiated from him in waves – a desperate, almost violent rejection of the proposal. His eyes darted to you repeatedly, as if checking, measuring your response. The servant's words dissolved into background noise, drowned out by the thundering of your own heartbeat.

You watched a muscle jump in Cregan's jaw, saw how his hand clenched into a fist on the table. The movement was quick, controlled, but underneath lay something wild. Something that spoke of a emotion far more complex than simple aristocratic disinterest.

"Enough," Cregan said sharply. "That will be all."

The servant blinked, confused. "But my lord, the details of–“

"I said. That. Will. Be. All." Each word was clipped, controlled, but underneath lay something else. Something that made the servant immediately bow and retreat

The silence that followed was deafening.

You cleared your throat, attempting to lighten the moment. "Another potential bride?" The words came out more strained than playful, an uncomfortable edge cutting through your attempted humor.

Cregan's response was deliberately casual. "Just another proposal," he said, reaching for his goblet. "Nothing of consequence."

But something in his tone didn't quite match his words. You studied him carefully, noting the way his fingers gripped the goblet just a fraction too tightly.

He looked at you then, something sharp in his gaze. "He should not have read such details in front of a lady," Cregan said, redirecting the conversation with practiced ease. "It was inappropriate."

Yet his fingers still gripped the edge of the table, betraying an emotion his voice refused to acknowledge.

A muscle twitched in Cregan's jaw – the only hint of the emotion roiling beneath his carefully constructed surface. "Winterfell requires careful consideration," he said finally, his voice low. "Any alliance must serve the North's interests."

You leaned back, watching him. The words were precise, calculated. But something underneath them vibrated with an energy that spoke of something more complex than mere political strategy.

"Of course," you replied, your own voice matching his careful tone. "A lord's duty is never simple."

His eyes flickered to you – a quick, almost imperceptible movement. For just a moment, something raw and unguarded passed between you. Something that had nothing to do with lords, duties, or alliances.

Then it was gone, buried beneath layers of propriety and carefully maintained distance.

A servant approached, interrupting the charged silence. "Shall I clear the plates, my lord?"

Cregan nodded, his attention already drifting to the stack of correspondence that still waited. But his fingers, you noticed, had stopped tracing the edges of the parchment.

You leaned forward, a sudden urgency in your voice. "What do you want, Cregan?" The question hung between you, more loaded than simple curiosity.

He went very still. The kind of stillness that spoke of years of control, of emotions carefully locked away. "Want?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"But it does," you pressed. "Duty cannot consume everything. There must be something beyond these walls, beyond these endless responsibilities."

Cregan's laugh was soft, without humor. "Wanting something doesn't make it possible. Marrying someone you see as a friend, a confidant, a love – it isn't fair if those feelings aren't returned." His eyes met yours, raw and unguarded for just a moment. "Not to her. Not to anyone."

You straightened in your seat, his words echoing in your ears. Her. There was someone. Some lady who had captured his attention, maybe even his heart.

Your throat tightened, though you forced yourself to maintain composure. A small, unsteady smile curved your lips. "So there is someone." The observation was light, playful even, but your heart wasn't in it.

Cregan froze, a faint blush creeping up his neck and spreading to his cheeks. He opened his mouth, perhaps to deny it, to clarify, but no words came. Instead, he fumbled for his goblet, his fingers trembling slightly as he took a long sip.

His reaction only confirmed your suspicion. You leaned back in your chair, trying to ignore the dull ache settling in your chest. Had it happened while you were away? Had she been here all along?

"I see," you murmured, doing your best to sound unaffected. "I suppose it's no surprise. A man like you, Cregan... well, you'd be difficult not to love." The words were meant to sound teasing, but they came out softer, more wistful than you'd intended.

The blush rising to his cheeks told you everything you needed to know. Your chest tightened further, but you pressed on, determined to hide the sting of the revelation.

"I should have guessed," you said, your voice gentler now. "Someone must have caught your attention while I was away."

Cregan’s brows knit together, his confusion flickering across his face, but you didn’t notice. You were too busy willing your tone to stay even, your smile to remain steady.

"I hope she’s kind," you said quietly, your gaze dropping to your hands. "You deserve someone good, someone who sees you as more than just Winterfell’s lord." You forced a laugh, though it sounded fragile to your own ears. "I’m sure her feelings are mutual. After all, who wouldn’t love you, Cregan?"

When you dared to look up again, his expression gave you pause. He was staring at you, his eyes wide, his lips parted in shock. There was a flicker of something raw there – something you didn’t understand.

You shifted uncomfortably, misreading the look on his face. "Don’t look so surprised," you joked softly, hoping to dispel the tension. "You’ve always been easy to love."

His mouth opened as though to argue, but no sound came out. He shook his head slightly, the words caught somewhere between his mind and his tongue.

You misinterpreted the gesture as embarrassment, and it only solidified your assumption. Your heart ached at the thought that he had found love in your absence, but you swallowed it down, determined not to let it show.

"Truly, Cregan," you said with a small, bittersweet smile, "I pray she makes you happy."

For a moment, he looked as though he might correct you, as though he wanted to say something – anything. But before he could say so, a servant returned to refill his goblet, breaking the fragile tension between you.

The interruption left the conversation unfinished, and Cregan seemed almost relieved for the escape. He straightened, clearing his throat, and turned his attention to the correspondence before him.

"Perhaps we should speak of lighter things," he muttered, his voice tight.

You nodded, forcing a smile and willing your heart to steady itself. But as you turned your gaze to the snowy window beyond, you couldn’t help but wonder. Had you not left Winterfell all those years ago... could it have been you?

***

The chamber was quiet save for the faint crackle of the hearth. Mira moved around the room with practiced ease, tucking the sheets and fluffing the pillows. You sat at the edge of the bed, absently combing your fingers through your hair, lost in thought.

Mira glanced at you, her brow furrowing. "You’re awfully quiet tonight," she said softly, her tone edged with curiosity.

You blinked, startled from your reverie. "Am I?" you murmured, your voice distant even to your own ears.

She hummed in response, smoothing the blankets with care. "I’m used to you chatting my ear off about this or that. You’ve barely said a word since dinner."

You offered her a weak smile, one you knew didn’t reach your eyes. "Just tired, I suppose."

Mira paused, hands stilling on the sheets as she studied you. Then, as if deciding not to press, she turned to the hearth. "At least you’ll have some peace tonight. The pipes won’t be keeping you awake anymore."

You frowned slightly, confused. "The pipes?"

"The ones you always complained about," she said, glancing over her shoulder with a knowing smile. "The awful rattling that kept you up at night? Lord Stark ordered them fixed. Must’ve had the builders working day and night; the noise is finally gone."

The words hit you with an unexpected weight. He’d done that... for you? You fought the urge to frown, your fingers curling tightly around the comb.

"That’s..." you started, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you forced another weak smile. "That’s kind of him."

Mira nodded in agreement, clearly oblivious to the turmoil stirring inside you. She gave the sheets one final tug before straightening with a satisfied nod. "There. All ready for you."

You thanked her quietly, slipping under the covers as she bustled about, tidying the rest of the room before leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The quiet was oppressive now, no longer punctuated by the familiar rattle of the pipes. You lay in bed, staring up at the canopy, your hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. Every time you closed your eyes, the events of the day replayed in vivid detail—Cregan’s hesitation, his blush, his confusion. The weight of the word her.

With a frustrated sigh, you turned onto your side, clutching the sheets in your fists as if the fabric could somehow anchor you. Your mind wouldn’t quiet. The absence of the pipes’ metallic groan only amplified the thoughts swirling in your head.

Was it possible he truly cared for someone? Had she been here, right under your nose? Or perhaps he’d met her during your absence. The ache in your chest tightened, an unpleasant mixture of longing and regret.

The sheets twisted with your movements, and you pushed them aside, only to pull them back moments later. Sleep continued to elude you, as did the answer to the question you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

The hours stretched on, the fire dimming to embers. You lay still, your hands gripping the blankets as you stared into the shadows of the room.

The ache in your chest grew unbearable, a knot tightening in your throat as you fought back a sob. You hugged your pillow close, burying your face in its softness. The fabric smelled faintly of Winterfell – of cold pine, frost-bitten stone, and something warmer, something unmistakably him. It was the scent of home, and it only made the ache sharper, cutting deep into your very core.

Your mind drifted to a time when the world had felt simpler, before duty and distance had complicated the bond between you. You had been six-and-ten, with a blue ribbon woven through your hair that day – a gift from Cregan himself, given with the playful claim that it made you look like the proper ladies from the love stories you adored.

He had tugged at it gently, his grin boyish and mischievous. "Look at you," he’d teased, his voice low enough to make your cheeks burn. "All dressed up like some lady in a tale. What do they call them? The ones who make knights lose their senses?"

You’d rolled your eyes, though your face was aflame. "You’re being ridiculous, Cregan. It’s just a ribbon."

He had leaned closer then, his voice dropping further. "Do they kiss in those stories of yours?"

Your breath had hitched, your face impossibly warmer. You’d nodded shyly, unable to meet his eyes.

"Then you must know how to do it," he said, his grin turning into something softer, more uncertain. "Right?"

You had barely managed to stammer out a response before he added, his tone barely above a whisper, "You could show me."

It was a suggestion that had hung between you, daring and unspoken. Cregan had waited, his eyes locked on yours, and you’d felt the world narrow to just the two of you.

Finally, your trembling hands had reached up, your heart racing in your chest as you leaned closer. His lips had been warm, soft against yours, the faintest brush that left you breathless and giddy all at once.

"I think I understand now," he’d murmured when you pulled away, his voice thick with something new, something you hadn’t yet named.

He had grinned then, you had laughed nervously, unsure of how to respond, but something about the way he said it stayed with you. Even now, the memory lingered, vivid and bittersweet.

Despite the now-silent pipes, sleep remained elusive. You tossed and turned, the quiet somehow more deafening than the previous metallic rattling. Each time you closed your eyes, images flickered – Cregan's blushing face, the hint of a woman he might love, the unspoken tensions of the day.

The hearth's embers glowed dimly, casting long shadows across the room. Hours passed, marked only by your restless movements and the occasional distant sound of a castle settling. Your mind churned with questions, with memories, with the painful possibility that Cregan's heart belonged to someone else.

The next few days passed in a blur of whispers and hushed conversations. Cregan was conspicuously absent, his presence reduced to fleeting shadows in the corridors of Winterfell. The servants spoke in low tones about the mounting pressures of winter – folk from distant holdings coming with requests, urgent matters of land and survival that demanded the Lord of Winterfell's constant attention.

You caught glimpses of him – a pale face passing quickly down a corridor, the hem of his fur cloak disappearing around a corner. When your paths briefly crossed, his eyes seemed distant, preoccupied. Dark circles had begun to form beneath them, speaking of sleepless nights and endless responsibilities.

On the fifth day, you heard the kitchen staff discussing the lord's missed meals. "Hasn't taken proper food in days," Old Martha muttered, her weathered hands kneading bread dough with practiced movements. "Working himself to the bone, he is."

The corridors were quiet as you made your way to his study. Servants moved with hushed efficiency, careful not to disturb the lord's work. When you reached the heavy wooden door, you hesitated, the wrapped cakes warm in your hands.

A sound from inside – something between a sigh and a frustrated grunt – made you knock softly.

"Enter," came the response. Weary. Distracted.

Cregan sat behind a massive oak desk, surrounded by maps and correspondence. Candles burned low, casting long shadows across his face. He looked up, surprise flickering in his exhausted eyes.

"I thought you might be hungry," you said softly, setting the cakes down beside a stack of ravens.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, the faintest smile touched his lips – so brief you might have imagined it.

Cregan devoured the first cake in three quick bites, his hunger evident. Crumbs scattered across the correspondence, but he seemed beyond caring. The second cake disappeared almost as quickly, though this time he paused mid-bite.

"Forgive me," he said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I should have left one for you."

His fingers brushed the remaining crumbs, a gesture so vulnerable it made your heart clench. The candles flickered, casting shadows across his weary face. Exhaustion lined his eyes, etched into the corners of his mouth.

"I'm not hungry," you assured him softly. "You needed them more."

He looked up then, truly looked at you – and for a moment, the mask of the Lord of Winterfell slipped. You saw the boy you had known, vulnerable and real, beneath the weight of his responsibilities.

"Thank you," he murmured, and the words held more meaning than a simple acknowledgment of pastries.

"I'll get more," you said, your voice soft but firm. "The kitchens are worried. They'd be more than happy to prepare extra for you."

Cregan's eyes flickered to you, a mixture of exhaustion and something deeper – vulnerability, perhaps. You moved closer, taking a seat near his desk, unable to ignore how the candlelight caught the sharp lines of his face, softening them despite his obvious fatigue.

"You look terrible," you murmured, the words coming out more tenderly than you intended.

A ghost of a laugh escaped him. "Always so direct," he said, but there was no bite to the words. His hand, strong and calloused, hovered near one of the lemon cakes.

"When was the last time you slept?" you asked, leaning forward. "Truly slept, not just dozed over these endless documents?"

He didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched between you, filled with the soft crackle of candles and the rustle of parchment.

"The North doesn't rest," Cregan said finally, "and neither can its lord."

You reached out – almost without thinking – and touched the back of his hand. "Even lords need to rest," you whispered.

"I apologize," Cregan said softly, his eyes meeting yours. "For not seeking you out this week. The preparations for winter..." He trailed off, gesturing to the scattered documents. "I've had no free time."

His voice carried a weight of genuine regret, something deeper than mere politeness. You saw the exhaustion in his eyes – not just physical, but something that ran much deeper. The burden of lordship, of responsibility, etched into every line of his face.

He glanced at you, his hand reaching out to yours.

Cregan's hand lingered beneath yours, his rough skin warm despite the chill in the room. His fingers curled slightly, as if reluctant to let go. For a moment, he studied your face, his gray eyes softening in a way that made your heart ache.

"You need to rest," you whispered, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. "This isn't sustainable, Cregan. The North can’t thrive if its lord collapses."

His lips quirked into a tired half-smile. "The North has seen worse, and so have I."

You shook your head, resolute. "That doesn’t mean you have to shoulder it alone."

Cregan’s gaze fell to your joined hands, his expression shadowed with something you couldn’t quite name. "Stay," he said quietly, the word almost swallowed by the low crackle of the fire. "If you’re here, I’ll rest later, I promise. But I can’t leave this unfinished."

You hesitated, torn between pressing him and yielding to his request. "You’ll rest if I stay?"

He nodded, the motion small but earnest. "I just–" He paused, taking a breath. "I just need to finish reviewing these accounts. Winter's coming faster than we expected, and the stores–"

You stopped him with a gentle squeeze of his hand. "I’ll stay," you said, rising from your seat. "But I’m holding you to that promise."

The faintest smile returned to his lips. "Of course you are."

You glanced around the room before pulling a chair closer to his desk, settling beside him. The firelight painted the space in shades of amber and gold, casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to dance on the stone walls. The papers spread before him were marked with hasty notes and calculations, the weight of Winterfell’s survival laid bare in ink.

"Why do you do all this yourself?" you asked after a moment, watching as his quill moved swiftly across a sheet of parchment. "Surely you have a steward or a squire to help."

Cregan glanced at you, a faint furrow appearing between his brows. "I trust my people, but some things..." He sighed, setting the quill down for a moment. "Some things, I feel, need my own hand. If I make a mistake, it’s on me, not them."

You tilted your head, considering his words. "And if you work yourself into the ground? What then? Who will lead Winterfell?"

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned back to his work, his silence speaking volumes.

"You’re stubborn," you murmured, leaning back in your chair.

A soft laugh escaped him, surprising in its warmth. "You’ve known that for years."

The quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. You watched him work, the steady scratch of his quill and the occasional rustle of paper filling the space. Every so often, you’d ask a question or make a comment, and he’d respond, his voice low and steady.

"You’re good company," he said after a while, his tone almost wistful.

You smiled faintly. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."

Cregan’s hand paused mid-stroke, and he looked at you, his gray eyes heavy with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. "I appreciate it," he said softly. "More than you know."

You nodded, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest despite the cold that seemed ever-present in Winterfell. "I know," you replied, just as softly.

For the first time in days, Cregan’s shoulders seemed to relax, if only slightly. And though he returned to his work, the lines of exhaustion on his face didn’t seem quite as deep.

The flicker of firelight played across Cregan’s profile as he returned to his work, quill scratching softly against the parchment. You shifted in your chair, leaning back to watch him in silence for a moment. Despite his focus, you could see the tension in his jaw, the set of his shoulders as though bracing for the weight of another crisis.

"You know," you began lightly, your tone purposefully casual, "when we were younger, I thought being Lord of Winterfell meant sitting by a roaring fire all day, drinking spiced ale and ordering people around."

Cregan huffed a quiet laugh, though his eyes remained on the paper in front of him. "It’s not quite so glamorous," he murmured, dipping his quill into the inkpot.

"You don’t say." You crossed one leg over the other, resting your elbow on the arm of the chair. "I used to imagine you perched on the high seat, glaring down at people like one of those stern kings from the old stories."

He glanced up at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Did I look the part?"

"Not remotely," you said, grinning. "You were lanky back then, all knees and elbows. Hardly the imposing lord you are now."

That earned a real laugh, low and warm, though his quill never paused. "I don’t recall you being particularly regal yourself," he said, his tone teasing. "Always running about the grounds with your skirts hitched up, trying to climb trees with the boys."

You gasped in mock offense. "I was adventurous!"

"You were a menace," he countered, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet yours. The faint smile on his lips softened his usual stern demeanor, and for a moment, you saw the boy he used to be.

"I wasn’t that bad," you protested, though you couldn’t suppress your smile. "And for the record, I never fell out of a tree, unlike a certain someone."

Cregan shook his head, his attention returning to his papers. "That wasn’t a fall–"

"Of course it was," you said, leaning forward, your smile widening. "And the bruise on your back that lasted for weeks was what? A badge of honor?"

"I was defending my territory," he said, feigning seriousness. "You shouldn’t have dared me to climb higher."

"I didn’t think you’d actually do it," you shot back, laughing softly. "You were always so eager to prove yourself."

Cregan’s smile lingered, though his eyes remained focused on the page in front of him. The steady rhythm of his quill filled the silence that followed, but you could tell he was listening, the subtle way his head tilted in your direction giving him away.

"You’ve always been like that," you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. "Taking on more than you should, trying to carry everything yourself."

His quill paused briefly, and he glanced up at you. For a moment, you thought he might argue, but he said nothing, returning instead to his work.

The hours stretched on, the only sounds in the room the faint crackle of the fire and the relentless scratch of Cregan’s quill. His hand moved steadily, though every so often, you noticed him flexing his fingers, rolling his wrist as if to stave off cramps.

You’d long since run out of things to say, your stories and observations dwindling into companionable silence. Reclining in the large chair near the fire, you twisted a strand of your hair idly between your fingers, a book resting forgotten on your lap. The words on the page blurred as your gaze kept drifting back to him, his broad shoulders hunched over the desk, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Eventually, even his steady movements began to slow. The lines he wrote became less precise, his head dipping forward briefly before jerking upright again. You watched as his hand faltered, the quill slipping from his grasp to roll across the desk.

“Cregan,” you murmured softly, but his only response was a faint, sleepy exhale.

Pushing the book aside, you rose and crossed the room quietly. He’d fallen asleep where he sat, his chin resting against his chest, the exhaustion of the past days finally overwhelming him.

You hesitated for a moment, standing over him, taking in the quiet vulnerability etched into his face. The fur-lined coat draped over his broad shoulders seemed heavy, pulling him further into his slumber. You couldn’t leave him like this – not slouched over his desk with papers and ink threatening to stain his hands and face.

“Cregan,” you whispered again, a little firmer this time. He stirred slightly, his head shifting but not lifting, his breath still slow and even.

Carefully, you reached for the edge of his coat, tugging at it gently. “Let me help,” you murmured, even though he was barely awake to hear you.

He made a faint sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, as the weight of the coat slipped from his shoulders. His hand rose sluggishly, as though to stop you, but his movements were slow, clumsy with exhaustion.

“Shh,” you said softly, reassuring him. “Just sleep.”

He relaxed again, his arm falling limp to his side as you folded the heavy garment and set it aside. The firelight danced across his features, softening the hard lines of his face, and for a moment, you allowed yourself the indulgence of staring. His hair fell slightly over his forehead, his lashes dark against his cheeks.

You retrieved a blanket from the nearby chair, shaking it out and draping it carefully over him. His shoulders rose and fell in deep, steady breaths, and when the blanket settled around him, he shifted, leaning slightly into the warmth.

You stepped back, watching him for a moment longer. This was a side of him few ever saw – unguarded, peaceful, free from the burdens he carried so stoically.

The papers scattered across the desk caught your eye, maps and letters blending into a mess of ink and parchment. Gently, you moved them aside, stacking them neatly so he wouldn’t wake to chaos. As you worked, his voice, low and rough with sleep, startled you.

“You don’t have to stay,” he murmured, his eyes still closed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied softly, smoothing the blanket over his shoulders. “Not tonight.”

A faint smile ghosted across his lips, and he sank further into the chair, his head tilting to rest against the high back. His trust, so rarely given, felt like a fragile gift, and you vowed silently to guard it well.

But then your gaze drifted back to the desk, to the maps and letters you’d stacked neatly. Though they no longer formed the chaotic sprawl they once had, they still told the story of his tireless dedication to his people. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for sitting idle while he worked himself into exhaustion.

You moved quietly to the desk, careful not to disturb him. His quill lay where it had rolled, a small blot of ink marking the wood. You picked it up, turning it over in your fingers before setting it aside.

You took a deep breath and reached for a fresh sheet of parchment. Your penmanship wasn’t as firm and practiced as Cregan’s, but it would do. Carefully, you began drafting words, drawing on the knowledge you’d gleaned over years of watching your family and Winterfell’s stewards handle similar matters.

The work was steady, methodical, and strangely satisfying. You found a rhythm in the scratch of the quill, the gentle dip and lift as you shaped words across the page. When you paused to stretch your fingers, you glanced at Cregan, still deeply asleep, and felt a quiet sense of pride.

Hours passed this way, with you answering letters, organizing correspondence, and marking key points on the maps spread across the desk. The fire had burned lower by the time you reached the last of the documents, and your eyes were heavy with fatigue, but the pile of completed work was a small victory.

As you set down the quill for the final time, you leaned back in the chair, letting out a long sigh. The room was silent now, the hearth’s embers glowing faintly. You turned to look at Cregan, still draped in the blanket you’d placed over him.

Gathering your own blanket from the chair by the fire, you settled back into the seat near the desk. The weight of the evening tugged at your limbs, and as your head rested against the chair’s back, you let your eyes close, the peaceful quiet of the room lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

When morning came, the first rays of pale winter light filtered through the high windows, painting the room in soft gold. Cregan stirred before you did, his brow furrowing as he blinked against the light. His gaze fell first to the neatly stacked papers on the desk, then to you, curled in the chair with the blanket wrapped tightly around you.

For a moment, he simply watched, his expression unreadable. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. Rising from his seat, he moved quietly, tucking the blanket more securely around your shoulders before turning to the desk.

His hand brushed over the stack of completed letters, and his smile grew, this time tinged with something deeper – gratitude, perhaps, or something he didn’t yet have the words to name.

***

The days stretched on in a quiet rhythm, each one a seamless continuation of the last. The work he had to clear piled up slowly but steadily, and you remained by his side, helping in ways that became second nature to you. Cregan's exhaustion never fully left him, but his gratitude for your presence was unmistakable in every quiet glance and every word of thanks.

One evening, as you sorted through the last of the papers, you glanced up to find him standing near his desk, his movements slower than usual. He was watching you with a softness in his eyes that made your chest tighten, though you couldn’t place why.

“I’ve never properly thanked you,” he said, his voice low, almost as though he were speaking to himself. “For everything you’ve done. For being here.”

You shook your head, the words ready on your lips to tell him it had been nothing, that it hadn’t been a bother, but before you could speak, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small box. He held it out to you, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment as he placed it in your palm.

A breath caught in your throat as you opened the box, revealing a silver necklace, simple yet striking in its beauty. The pendant was shaped like a jewel – graceful, lifelike, its features finely crafted. It was a gift that spoke volumes, and for a moment, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“I…Cregan, you don’t have to do this,” you began, your voice soft, almost shy. “I haven’t done anything to deserve–”

But he shook his head, a steady, quiet determination in his gaze. “You have. You’ve done more than anyone else would. Please, let me show you how much it means to me.”

You looked at the necklace again, the glint of the metal catching the firelight. You knew it was something important to him, something he wanted to give.

“Will you… put it on for me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan’s eyes softened, the edges of his lips lifting just slightly as he nodded. Without another word, he moved behind you, his presence solid and comforting, the space between you shrinking with every step.

You felt a shiver stir in your spine as his fingers brushed through your hair, pushing it aside with an ease that belied the tremor in his touch. His breath, warm and slow, fanned over your neck, and for a moment, you felt entirely suspended in time, the world outside fading to nothing.

His fingers, though steady, trembled slightly as he reached for the clasp at the back of your neck. The weight of his touch, the gentleness with which he handled you, stirred something deep within you.

The necklace settled against your skin, the pendant cool and delicate against your warmth. He paused, his fingers lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary, tracing down your arms with such care that it made your breath catch in your throat.

He didn’t stop there. His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you toward him in a fluid, natural motion. You couldn’t help but let your body lean into his, your back gently meeting his chest as his arms encircled you, drawing you closer.

The proximity made your heart race, the feeling of his warmth sinking into you, of his breath coming in shallow gasps against the back of your neck. His fingers tightened, holding you against him with an almost desperate tenderness.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice thick with the weight of years. “All these years… I’ve thought of you, always. Every choice, every turn I took, you were there in my mind, in everything I did.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the rawness of his words seep into your very bones. You didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to say. So, you turned slightly in his arms, your movements slow, almost uncertain.

When your eyes met his, there was nothing but the quiet understanding between you – the unspoken weight of everything that had come before, the years lost, the space that had once been between you now filled with something unshakable.

“Cregan” you mumbled, feeling drunk under his gaze.

Cregan’s grip on you tightened, his thumbs caressing your waist with a desperation that made your heart thrum erratically in your chest. Every inch of him pressed so close to you that you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, stirring the fine hairs on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You felt him lean in, the whisper of movement before the softness of his lips brushed against your temple. It was a fleeting kiss, gentle, but it carried the weight of everything he hadn’t said in all the years you’d been apart. He lingered for just a breath longer than necessary before he shifted, his lips grazing your forehead in a tender, aching caress.

His lips were dangerously close to your ear now, the words slipping out of him like they had been trapped for far too long.

“You have no idea…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the rawness of it making your breath hitch. “I’ve been waiting. Yearning for you. For this. For so long, I thought I’d never have the chance to tell you how much I’ve missed you, how much I’ve thought of you every damn day since you left.”

The words hung in the air, vibrating with an aching honesty. His fingers, trembling just barely, traced down your waist once more, as though grounding himself in the reality of having you so close – of having you back. He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling against your back, a steady rhythm broken only by the uneven, ragged breaths he couldn’t quite stifle.

“I never stopped,” he breathed against your skin, his voice raw, the words shaking in a way that left no room for pretense. “Never stopped thinking of you… hoping.”

You could feel the thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips, the way his body betrayed the quiet control he always exuded. He was on the edge – teetering on the verge of something too big to contain.

And still, his hands held you, his touch reverent and soft, as though he feared that if he held you too tightly, you might disappear again. But his voice, filled with so much raw emotion, was the only thing that seemed to hold you in place now.

Cregan's breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the weight of his words. He didn’t pull away, keeping you pressed against him as if grounding himself in the moment, in you.

“I prayed,” he whispered, his voice low and raw, almost as if he hadn’t said the words out loud in years. “Every damn night, I prayed you’d come back to me. That I’d see you again.” His hands tightened around your waist, his touch like a quiet plea. “I hated not writing to you. I thought... I thought I was intruding on your life. Your days were moving forward without me. And I didn’t want to burden you with my silly updates, my silly thoughts. You deserved more than that.”

His voice faltered slightly, as though the years of regret were finally surfacing, one painful word at a time. He inhaled shakily, and in that breath, you felt the storm within him – years of loneliness, of yearning. You felt the weight of his absence as much as you felt the yearning now.

Shaking your head, you pulled away just slightly, enough to look up at him. His gaze was soft, searching, like he wanted to see every corner of you, to memorize every inch. “No,” you murmured softly, your voice trembling, “You wouldn’t have intruded, Cregan. It was... it was also me. I stopped writing, too. I–”

He cut you off before you could continue, his voice sharp with a quiet intensity.

“No,” he said, the word firm yet gentle. “I won’t let you apologize for that. I should have fought harder. I should have been better.”

His hand moved up, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing the line of your jaw. “But we’re here now,” he whispered, his nose nuzzling softly against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet, intimate space between you.

You held your breath as his face hovered near yours, the proximity making your heart race faster than you could control. His nose rubbed gently against yours, a tender, almost desperate gesture that made everything inside you tighten. It wasn’t just a kiss he was searching for – no, it was a connection, something deeper. Something he had longed for, too.

Before you could open your mouth, before you could argue against him or even properly collect your thoughts, his voice broke through, raw and full of an ache you could feel deep in your chest.

"Please," Cregan breathed, his grip on your waist tightening almost imperceptibly, as if he feared you might slip away if he didn’t hold you just right.

His forehead pressed gently against yours, his eyes closed as he let out a ragged breath. "Be mine. Be my wife."

The words were a quiet plea, as though he had been holding them in for so long they had become the very air he breathed. The desperation in his tone was unmistakable, the weight of his years apart from you crashing into the room, suffocating the space between you both.

“I’ve lived all this time without you, but I can’t... I can’t do it anymore,” he continued, his voice breaking, softer now, but no less desperate. “I can’t go on pretending I’m fine. I need you, by my side, with me.”

The world around you seemed to still, and in that stillness, his words hung in the air, vibrating with everything unsaid, with all the years of silence, of waiting, of hoping. His thumbs brushed over your sides, his hands moving slowly, reverently, as though he was trying to make sure you were real, that you were there.

His eyes met yours then, open and wide, full of emotion, of vulnerability, of something deeper than anything either of you had said before.

“Please,” he whispered again, his lips almost trembling with the weight of his longing. “Say yes.”

Your words were lost, choked in the rawness of the moment, but it didn’t matter. You reached up, your hands trembling slightly, but steady enough to cup the roughness of his jaw. Your fingers lingered there, as if memorizing the feel of him, before sliding down to his neck. You could feel the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, the thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

And then, without thinking, you tangled your hand in his hair, pulling him down to you with a sudden, desperate need that mirrored his. His breath caught in his throat, a soft exhale escaping him as his lips finally met yours.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if neither of you could quite believe this was real, as though the years apart had made both of you afraid to believe it could be so simple. His lips moved against yours in a delicate, reverent rhythm, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to vanish entirely.

He let out a low, guttural moan at the contact, his hands tightening around you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet room, raw and filled with all the longing that had been kept at bay for far too long. You could feel his body tremble against yours, the warmth of him seeping through the space between you, desperate, desperate for this closeness.

Without a word, he moved, backing you gently toward the desk, his hands never leaving the curve of your hips as he guided you. His lips never left yours, the kiss growing deeper, more insistent, more consuming with every passing moment. As his hands cupped your face, pulling you to him, his movements were sure, as though this was where he was always meant to be – right here, right now, between you.

The desk pressed against the backs of your legs, the cool wood contrasting sharply with the heat of his body against yours. Your breath hitched, a soft exhale escaping you, and your lips parted just enough to speak.

“I thought… I thought you’d found someone else,” you whispered against his mouth, the words tumbling out in a fragile breath. “I thought that night would take me away… take me away from everything.”

His lips moved against yours, a soft but urgent reassurance, before he pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mix of vulnerability and anguish. "No," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "It couldn’t ever be anyone else." He kissed you again, quick and urgent, as though trying to erase the gap the years had made between you.

When he pulled back again, he was still so close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged and uneven. He looked at you, his eyes dark with something that went deeper than desire, something that spoke of all the pain and longing he’d carried in silence.

“I felt sick,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, but the words cut through the air between you like a blade. “When you told me about your father… about the man he almost married you to – someone who wasn’t me.”

His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing along your cheekbones as if he needed to feel you, as if he was trying to convince himself that this was real, that you were here, that he was here with you.

"I couldn’t breathe," he continued, his voice faltering for a moment before he found the strength to finish. "I couldn’t bear it. All that time, I was praying... praying that I could have you back, that I could have this with you."

His lips found yours again, urgent and desperate, the kiss breaking only when the need to breathe became too great. His hands still roamed, never straying far from your waist, your hips, as if afraid of letting you go.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, the air between you heavy with the intensity of the moment. A soft, playful smile tugged at the corner of your lips, the tension in your chest giving way to a warmth that spread through your veins.

"You fixed the draining pipes," you said softly, your voice laced with amusement, though the smile on your face remained genuine.

Cregan froze for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion before his lips quirked in a slow, knowing smile. "What?" he murmured, still breathless, as if struggling to connect your words with the whirlwind of emotions and touches that had just passed between you.

“The pipes," you repeated, your fingers grazing lightly over his chest, trailing downward to his broad shoulders. "The ones that didn’t let me sleep. You fixed them." You chuckled, the sound light and teasing.

His lips twitched as he stared down at you, his eyes still dark with unspoken emotions, but there was a softness there too – a warmth that mirrored the one blooming in your chest. "Ah," he said, his voice low but with a hint of amusement now, "so that’s what you're thinking about now?"

You raised an eyebrow, the playful spark in your eyes matching the teasing tilt of your lips. With a laugh, he let his head fall on your shoulder.

His weight, warm and solid against you, felt like a grounding presence, a reminder that you were no longer drifting, no longer alone in the silence that had once kept you apart. You could still feel the gentle tremor in his hands, the lingering pull of his need, but now it was different, softer somehow – gentle, like the quiet after a thunderstorm.

"You’ve always been impossible," you murmured, your voice teasing, but there was a softness beneath it that only he could hear, only he could understand.

He lifted his head from your shoulder, his lips curling into that familiar half-smile that still managed to take your breath away. "Only for you," he replied, his voice thick with affection, a trace of humor threading through the rawness that still clung to his words.

The silence was no longer heavy with unspoken words, but filled with the promise of what was to come. And as he held you, as his fingers brushed against your skin in the most tender of ways, you realized that this, at long last, was home.

taglist: @smurfelle @elliaze @sillylittlepenguin181818 @lustrz-anna @lovelyteenagebeard @misshale21 @cecestea @n4tsha @inspirationquxxn @rin588 @anoravx @bbubbllejisoo @vividxpages @bucksplum @earth4angels @mattnott @princess-of-the-fandoms @shabnam2005 @nsr-15 @reeseelise @teasweeter @ginarely-blog @bpcr3yes @creganstarkk @st6rmbrn @marg141205 @shesneverreallythere @mother-homunculus @ohhdearmargot

#hotd cregan #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark oneshot #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x female reader #tom taylor #cregan stark fluff #cregan stark fanfic #cregan x you #cregan x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house stark

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 days ago

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Hi, sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if your planning on updating Congratulations! It's Triplets anytime soon? Because I kinda wanna see what happens once they actually sit down and talk through their misunderstandings because honestly although jazz is probably too busy to go through with it now she was training herself to be one of 2 courses in college which was either neurology or phycology so I figured she'd be the first to recognize that they need to have a sit down and talk with everything laid out or at least partially laid out, it being a really long really difficult conversion with tears trauma flashbacks and probably cake (because let's be honest this convo needs comfort food) and by the end of it they might not even fixed all the misunderstandings they had but it's a start in the right direction :)

"I'm sorry the kids threaten you. They can be a handful," is the first thing out of Jasmine's mouth. She is holding a glass tray with delicious-smelling lasagna, wearing a teal dress that hugs all her curves and seems dolled up for a night out.

She marches right by him, her long red hair falling into wavy curls down her back like waterfalls. They sway with her movement as she leads the way to the dining room.

On the table is a dinner set for two, red candles lit, and the lights dim. It makes him think of all those silly scenes in romance novels he consumed growing up. Jasmine places the tray in the center of the table alongside a salad. She carefully pours some bubbling water into two champagne glasses, humming.

Once done, she turns towards him, taking off the apron wrapped around her front. It reveals a nice but modest view of a split on her dress ending on the edge of her midleg.

"I told them to get you so we can have a dinner date. Bruce offered to babysit for the night." She proclaims, crossing her arms. "I want to see if there is a future for us or if the god of time is just an idiot."

Jason is so stunned by her beauty that he can't find any words to respond. He feels like she just pulled out a live fish and threw it at his face. While he's busy gawking like a fool, the three children squirm in his arms before he feels little hands fumbling around the edge of his helmet.

He jerks his neck away, a warning of bombs on his lips, only to bite his tongue when Dan bypasses his security to pull off the helmet with a laugh. At the same time, Dani reaches up to rip the mask off his face, fast and stiff enough that he swears she was a professional waxer in a past life.

He lets out a yowl, barely able to shift his words from a swear into a substitute. Danny pats his cheek, apologizing for his sibling's lack of manners. Dan doesn't seem to care because he scrambles off Jason's shoulders, head inside of the helmet that was too large for him, and races down the hallway.

"I'm unstoppable!" He screams in glee. Two seconds later, he rams into a wall, hitting it at full force due to the helmet blocking his view. He bounces off the drywall with enough force. He lands on his rear and a soft grunt.

Dani takes that chance to hop out of Jason's arms. She runs at a speed he's sure kids shouldn't be able to reach without having the Allen family gene, tackling Dan before his son can get up. In a tussle that looks too violent for five-year-olds, Dani rips the helmet out of Dan's hands and books it down the hallway, cackling like a loon.

"No! Dani! Give that back!" Dan demands, leaping to his feet and running after his sister. The voice modifiers of their outfits make them sound darker than usual, but it does not make them sound threatening.

Danny sighs heavily. "I better go stop them before that thing blows up. Treat my mom well, or I'll be forced to hurt you."

He patted Jason's cheek again, carefully climbing down to the ground. Despite his words, he calmly walks out of the room, hands tucked into his Prince of Gotham suit pants as if he were going on a casual stroll. The second he reaches the door, he grabs the handle and tugs to close.

Just as it's about to seal, he points two fingers toward his green glowing mask eyes and then points them aggressively at Jason. Once his warning is received, he finishes closing the door.

Jason is left standing in the room, confused out of his mind. It all happened so fast that he was unsure if the kids planned that exit or if they were honestly just like that. It burns to not be sure.

He should.

He is their father.

"Well, sit down. We have a date to get through." Jasmine commands, pushing some of her red hair out of her face. She levels an even calculating stare on him, making him feel she is more prepared for a business meeting than anything romantic. "Let's see what the god of time has in store for us."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Congratulations! It's Triplets #The Fentons can be overwhelming #Jazz is treating this as a trail from Clockwork #She cooked them a meal #Jason has no idea what the hell is going on #The kids showed their real crazy in those few seconds #anger management ship

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anakinstwinklebunny · 3 days ago

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PRINCE!ANAKIN HEADCANONS 👑

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Prince!Anakin who was a ruthless, meticulous, arrogant.. yet somehow with a heart. For others he was simple a wise and intellectual future king

Prince!Anakin whose marriage between him and you was arranged to solidify an alliance between your two kingdoms, a necessity driven by political and military pressures. Anakin, now King after the recent death of his father, was resistant to the idea of marriage, especially one born out of duty rather than love. He had always been wary of love, having seen the toll it took on those around him, particularly his own family.

Prince!Anakin who refused to consumate your marriage at the beginning

Prince!Anakin who, at the beginning, highlighted the true reason of your marriage and put you in the other part of the castle so you two wouldn't see each other

Prince!Anakin who is known as a formidable and stern ruler, deeply dedicated to his kingdom. He built emotional walls around his heart, vowing never to let anyone close enough to hurt him. When you first arrived at court, he treated you with cold politeness, making it clear that this marriage was a political arrangement, not a romantic one. And yet, in contrast, you entered the marriage with hope, a believer in fairytales and the possibility of finding love even in an arranged union. Despite Anakin's cold demeanor, you remained kind and patient, trying to find small ways to connect with him (but after his countless cold responds you grew yourself impatient and sharp in tongue, although he was your king, so..being nice had to be in place..at least in public)

Prince!Anakin who, over time, began to notice your unwavering optimism and the light you brought into his otherwise pragmatic and calculated life. He admired your strength and the way you handled court politics with grace, but he kept his distance emotionally, afraid of what letting you in would mean.

Prince!Anakin who felt somehow attracted to you, even if he didn't plan this marriage, he didn't want to be married to you, yet there was just something about you he found unique, alluring and he couldn't help but be drawn to your presence (which was very frustrating and weird for him)

Prince!Anakin who whenever you asked for something he always came up with 'ask for anything and it'll be given to you. Even the half of my kingdom' thing

Prince!Anakin who, after your relentless asking, took you hunting;

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, are you sure this is an appropriate place for the queen?" one of the men spoke, clearly uneasy.

Anakin shot him an irritated glare, his patience wearing thin. He was acutely aware that the hunting grounds weren't exactly the safest place for the queen, especially given her delicate condition. But there was little he could do about it now. He’d much rather have her safely ensconced in the palace, yet the situation demanded otherwise.

His frustration mounted as more and more people questioned his decisions. He knew what he was doing; he didn’t need anyone else second-guessing him.

"Are you questioning my decision?" he snapped, turning his horse to face the man directly. The intensity in his eyes made it clear he wasn't in the mood for dissent.

The man visibly flinched, his face paling. "I—I’m merely pointing out that, perhaps, hunting isn't a... lady-like activity for the queen," he stuttered, his voice wavering. The courtiers around them shifted uncomfortably, their gazes dropping.

Anakin's hands tightened into fists around the reins of his horse. The growing annoyance was palpable in his stance. He had been patient long enough, but this was the last straw.

"Who's the king here, me or you?" he growled, his voice low and dangerously firm. His eyes narrowed, the simmering anger barely contained. He understood the risks; it was precisely why he hadn't wanted her to join. But her presence here was a necessity, and he wouldn’t tolerate any more questioning of his authority.

Anakin watched with growing concern as you struggled to ride your horse. Despite his efforts to focus on the path ahead, his gaze kept drifting to you. He saw your difficulty and felt a deep, instinctive urge to help you, to lift you onto his own horse and spare you this struggle. His grip on the reins tightened as he forced himself to look away.

"Stop that horse; you’re going to hurt yourself," he muttered, bringing his horse to a halt.

You wrestled with the reins, your legs trembling as you finally managed to bring the horse to a stop. Breathing heavily, you glanced over at him.

Anakin's eyes scanned over you with concern. You were clearly struggling, sweat glistening on your skin, the gorset clinging uncomfortably. Despite your evident distress, you still looked captivating, and it was driving him to distraction.

"Can you get down yourself, or do you need help?" he asked, his voice firm but laced with concern.

"I think I can manage," you mumbled, attempting to dismount. You nearly stumbled as you got down, and Anakin's brow furrowed, expecting you to fall. To his relief, you managed to stay upright, though he couldn't hide his frustration.

He shook his head and approached, knowing it was too risky to let you continue riding alone. Your struggle was wearing him thin, and he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt.

"You can’t even get off a horse without almost falling," he said with a scoff.

You shot him a defiant glare, walking over to him "Not all of us are as skilled at riding as you are, Your Highness," you retorted with a touch of sarcasm, your voice dripping with mockery.

He helped you onto his horse, his hands steady as he guided you into the saddle. As you settled in, your hip brushed against his, sending a jolt through both of you. Your heart raced, and you had to look away, struggling to steady your breath.

The accidental touch ignited a fierce longing in Anakin. He let out a small, strained laugh, trying to remain composed. He positioned himself before you, his body pressing against your back as he mounted the horse behind you.

"Take the horse back to the castle," he instructed, his voice low and firm.

As he took the reins, his presence pressed against you, the tension between you palpable. Every movement seemed to heighten the charged atmosphere, and both of you were acutely aware of the closeness.

Your hands tightened around his waist, your body pressed firmly against his back. The sweet vanilla scent of yours filled his senses, and he could feel the warmth of your curves against him "Hold tight. This won’t be a slow ride," he said, his voice rough and low.

You gasped as he urged the horse into a faster pace. "I thought we were going hunting?" your breath warm against his ear.

The closeness of your voice managed to sent a shiver down his spine. Yet, he pushed those distracting thoughts aside and focused on guiding the horse through the hunting grounds.

"It’ll take a while to reach the animals," he replied curtly, the horse’s speed increasing.

"Slow down for—"

He smirked when he felt your grip tighten around his waist. Your face was buried against him, and he could almost feel your fear. It was both thrilling and maddening, and he could hardly ignore how much he enjoyed your closeness.

"Stop whining," he said, amusement lacing his voice.

Your fingers this time dug into his skin with your voice tinged with panic. "I’m not whining!" you protested, your breath hitching as the horse made another sharp turn.

He felt your fingers leaving an imprint on his muscles. The sensation only heightened his awareness of how tightly they were pressed together. He found himself wishing she would hold on even tighter.

"You’re going to leave marks on my stomach with your fingers," he said in a low, almost teasing tone, not easing the horse’s pace.

With a scoff, you dug your fingernails in a little deeper. "Good. Maybe it’ll teach you to slow down a bit."

As you arrived at the wooden hunting cabin nestled in the forest, Anakin led the way inside, with you following closely. The two courtiers stayed outside, leaving you alone.

"Do you know how to use a bow?" Anakin asked, his gaze fixed on a collection of hunting gear.

"Yes, my father taught me," you mumbled, your attention drawn to the array of stuffed animals lining the walls.

Anakin moved to the shelves, picking up various pieces of hunting equipment. He tried to stay focused, but he couldn't ignore the way your beautiful, the prettiest he had ever seen eyes wandered around the rustic cabin, intrigued by its contents. In some way, he wanted his gaze on him, only on him

"So, I assume you're quite skilled with the bow?"

"The last time I held a bow was ten years ago. We'll see," your tone light but confident.

He walked over to you, extending the bow toward you. His gaze lingered on you, noting how your hair was tousled from the wind and those eyes sparkled with curiosity. As he held out the bow, your hands brushed lightly, sending a subtle jolt through him.

"Let’s see if you haven’t forgotten how to shoot," he said, his voice carrying a playful edge.

you couldn't help but roll your eyes with your lips curling into a teasing smile. "Careful, Your Highness. I might mistake you for a doe."

Anakin’s brow arched in amusement. Your sarcasm was endearing, and he had to suppress a smirk at the thought of you aiming a bow at him. He moved a little closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Would you shoot me in the heart, my little doe?"

"Absolutely, I would."

A slow, teasing smirk spread across his lips at your response. The intensity in your voice stirred something primal within him. He found himself torn between wanting to silence you with a kiss and reveling in your boldness.

"Or would you aim right between the eyes?" he challenged, his tone a mix of amusement and desire.

"I’d not dream of anything better, Your Highness," you whispered with venom "i’d watch as crimson red liquid overwhelms your face while you beg for mercy, choking on your own blood."

Anakin shivered at your words, the mix of irritation and arousal making his control slip. You were infuriatingly charming, and your fierce spirit only made you more tempting. Yet, he wanted to shut you up, but he was equally captivated by your daring. His expression hardened a little due to your boldness

"You’re a little minx, you know that?"

"Oh, Your Highness," you replied with mock sweetness, "I’m your worst nightmare," and with a final glare, you turned and walked away, leaving him in the cabin.

Prince!Anakin who, one night, after a particularly stressful day dealing with court matters, found you in the royal gardens, talking softly to a group of children about a fairytale. Something about the way you spoke, the softness in your voice, and the way the children adored you, made him pause. For the first time, he truly saw you—not just as his queen, but as a woman who brought warmth and light into a cold, stone palace.

Prince!Anakin who slowly began to fall in love with you without even realizing it. He found himself seeking your counsel on matters of state, not just because you were his queen, but because he valued your opinion. Your presence became a comfort to him, a constant in his life that he didn’t want to lose. Yet, he struggled with these feelings, as they contradicted his vow to never love.

Prince!Anakin who, in time, began searching for your presence in every place, your voice in every conversation, your eyes in every crowd

Prince!Anakin who sometimes appeared in your chambers at night;

"Leave us," Anakin commanded, his voice firm, though laced with an undercurrent of urgency.

The maids exchanged quick glances but obeyed, slipping out of the room and leaving them alone in the softly lit quarters. Her room was a sanctuary, filled with warmth and quiet elegance, but the atmosphere now was thick with unspoken emotions and the heat of longing.

The moment the door clicked shut, he moved with a sudden, desperate urgency, closing the distance between them. His lips crashed against hers, the kiss searing with the force of everything he’d been holding back.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you both tumbled onto the bed, his weight pressing into you. "Your Highness—why the rush?" you teased, breathless and amused, though your heart pounded in sync with his.

He didn’t respond with words; instead, his lips trailed down your neck, each kiss more fervent than the last. The feel of your skin under his mouth was intoxicating, each soft gasp from you spurring him on. He had held back for so long, but now, he was overwhelmed by his need for you, by the depth of his desire. It was as if all the weeks and months of pent-up emotions had broken free, and he was helpless to resist.

"Can’t wait," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a raw hunger that sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved to pin you beneath him, his grip firm yet reverent, as though he was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

He looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that took your breath away. The world outside this room ceased to exist; all that mattered was the heat between you, the undeniable pull that had finally won out over duty and decorum.

"Neither can I," you whispered back, your hands sliding up his arms, feeling the taut muscles beneath his clothing as he leaned in, capturing your lips once more.

"Doe, what are you doing?" he murmured, his morning voice raspy and thick with sleep.

"You're in my bed and already reading papers," you mumbled, pressing soft, lingering kisses to his shoulder

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he felt your lips on him. Your touch was one of his favorite things, a soothing balm against the constant demands of his royal duties. But then, reality intruded, and a sigh escaped his lips, the weight of his responsibilities settling back onto his shoulders.

"I have meetings all morning," he said, his tone carrying a hint of frustration, the thought of leaving you so soon already souring his mood.

"Just show up a little later," you whispered against his ear, her voice a playful challenge. "Aren't you the king?"

His eyes fluttering shut as he savored the feeling of your breath on his neck. The temptation to stay was overwhelming. All he wanted was to remain here, wrapped in your warmth, to forget the world outside. But the demands of the crown were relentless, and he knew he couldn’t shirk his duties, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Wish I could stay here with you all morning," he mumbled with a sigh, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your arm. His voice held a slight edge of grumpiness, the conflict between his desires and his obligations clear.

"We can make it quick," you whispered into his ear

He could practically hear the smirk in your voice, and he knew you had him exactly where you wanted. He was already running late, but with your body pressed so temptingly against his, all thoughts of duty and meetings started to fade.

In one swift motion, he turned, pinning you beneath him on the bed "How quick?" he asked, his voice a husky growl

"Ten minutes?" you grinned

He scoffed, a smirk curving his lips as he leaned in closer, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress, trapping you between his strong arms. You were a temptress, and he knew you could very well be his undoing, but right now, he didn’t care.

"Ten minutes?" he repeated, his hands sliding further up your thighs, fingers brushing against your heated skin. "Now you're just underestimating me," he murmured before capturing your lips with his, sealing his surrender.

Prince!Anakin who moved you back to his bedroom, with no care if in other places the queen has her own bed to sleep in

Prince!Anakin who had his own moment when he realized just how much he cared for you—perhaps during a crisis when you were in danger, and he found himself terrified at the thought of losing you;

Anakin sat in his dimly lit office, his mind consumed by the latest stack of documents that required his attention. The weight of ruling often bore down on him, but he carried it with the strength and resilience expected of a king. Yet, as he heard the soft but urgent footsteps approaching from behind, he felt a strange unease settle in his chest. He looked up, finding his old counselor standing before him, a grim expression etched across his face.

"What is it this time?" Anakin asked, his tone impatient as he set the papers aside.

The counselor hesitated for a moment before speaking, "It’s the queen, your highness..."

Anakin’s eyes narrowed instantly, his heart skipping a beat. The mention of you, his queen, brought an immediate sense of dread. His voice turned sharp, almost cutting. "What about her?"

The counselor’s face paled, his voice almost trembling as he replied, "Her condition has worsened."

Anakin shot up from his chair, the fear and panic he had buried deep within now clawing its way to the surface. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. He fixed his counselor with an intense gaze, the demand in his voice barely masked by his rising desperation. "What do you mean ‘worsened’? What has happened?"

"She’s been battling a high fever for the past two days," one of the maids interjected softly, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "Her wounds... they’re not healing as they should. Her condition is deteriorating, your highness."

Without another word, Anakin stormed out of his office, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He moved with a speed fueled by fear, every step echoing the growing terror that he might lose you. When he reached your chambers, he pushed open the door with a force that sent a gust of air rushing into the room.

There you lay, on the grand bed that now seemed to dwarf your frail figure. Your skin was pale, marred by the angry red wounds that refused to heal, and your breaths were shallow, labored. Every whimper, every groan that escaped your lips felt like a dagger to his heart.

Anakin crossed the room in swift strides, his hand immediately finding its place on your fevered cheek. The heat of your skin burned against his fingers, and the sight of you in such agony nearly brought him to his knees. The fierce king, known for his strength and resolve, felt utterly powerless in the face of your suffering.

"Leave us," he commanded, his voice laced with authority, though his eyes never left you.

"Your highness, but—" one of the maids began to protest.

"I said leave us!" he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. The maids exchanged uneasy glances before hurriedly leaving the room, closing the door behind them.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your shallow breaths and the occasional soft moan of pain. Anakin sat down on the edge of the bed, his heart breaking as he took in your weakened state. You looked so fragile, yet even in your pain, there was a beauty about you that took his breath away.

"It’s so painful..." you whispered, your voice hoarse, barely audible.

Anakin felt his chest tighten, a deep sense of guilt and helplessness washing over him. He gently stroked your fevered face, his thumb tracing the contours of your cheek. "I know, my love," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m so sorry... I wish I could take this pain away from you."

He carefully pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as if his embrace could shield you from the torment ravaging your body. He held you close, feeling the intense heat radiating from your fevered skin, the trembling of your weakened frame. It was as if holding you tighter could somehow anchor you to him, keep you from slipping away.

"Shh, I’ve got you," he whispered into your ear, his voice a soothing balm against the storm of pain that wracked your body. He gently caressed your hair, his touch tender and full of the love he struggled to express in words.

With a wet cloth in hand, Anakin carefully dabbed it against your wounds, the coolness providing a fleeting relief. He moved with a delicate precision, his fingers trembling slightly as he worked. The sight of your suffering was unbearable, yet he forced himself to remain calm, to be strong for you.

"I’m here," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he pressed the cloth against your fevered skin.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he closed his eyes, silently praying for your recovery. Anakin, the king who had faced countless battles, was now facing his greatest fear—losing you, the one person who had made his life worth living.

And in that moment, he would have given anything, sacrificed anything, to see you smile again.

You closed your eyes, your voice small and strained as you spoke. "You shouldn’t look at me... I’m revolting."

"Revolting?" The word was almost laughable to him. Even now, when you were so weakened by illness, you were still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. "You’re not revolting. You’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful," he said with a quiet intensity, his fingers brushing tenderly against your cheek.

"Have you seen my arms?" you asked, your voice tinged with bitterness.

He glanced down at your arms, at the wounds that marred your once flawless skin. The sight of them filled him with a deep sorrow, but it didn’t change the way he felt. "Yes," he replied, his tone unwavering. His fingers gently traced the inflamed skin, his touch feather-light as if afraid to cause you more pain.

You flinched slightly, the tenderness of your wounds evident. "Does this look beautiful to you?" you muttered, disbelief coloring your words.

Anakin let out a soft, almost incredulous scoff. How could you not see what he saw? Even with the pain and the sickness, you were still the woman who had stolen his heart, the woman who made him believe in something beyond duty and power. "Yes, it does. You’re beautiful, no matter what. Sick, wounded, healthy—it doesn’t matter. I will always see you as the most beautiful woman in the world," he declared, his voice firm, eyes burning with sincerity.

He saw the doubt flicker in your eyes, and it pained him deeply. How could you be so blind to your own beauty? To the strength and grace that still radiated from you, even now?

He leaned closer, his fingers drifting down to trace the delicate line of your collarbone, his touch reverent, almost worshipful. "You have no idea how stunning you are," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, meant only for your ears. "Even like this, you take my breath away."

Prince!Anakin who's one of few hobbies was making love to you;

he loved to tease you about heirs. he brought it up often, with a playful tone, but deep down, the desire was real and intense. The thought of you carrying his child, your belly round, your breasts swollen ignited a fierce, possessive longing within him. He wanted to see you like this - pregnant and full of new life

"gonna give me heirs, hm?" he whispered with his pace quickening

your sweet, breathless moans only spurred him on. You were so beautiful beneath him, your flushed cheeks and heaving chest making you look even more irresistible, if that's possible

"you'd look so goddamn stunning with my heir inside you, sweetheart" his voice a rough murmur

his cock, all envelopted by your squishy walls, moved deeper to reach his, and yours, edge "you'd be mine, completely. Carrying my child, you'd belong to me in every way"

"am i not yours already?" you panted

his lips connected with yours, making sure to nipp on your bottom lip "you are mine, love..but having you carry my child..it's a whole other kind of mine" he groaned, his large hands moving over to your hips

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

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linklethehistorian · 2 days ago

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Hi — OP here. I wanted to highlight some of the tags that I thought were worth showing from y’all insightful folks (especially those in other countries) who have been reblogging:

Also, since I’m getting a few people reblogging and/or commenting like I’m fearmongering and saying the situation is already doomed:

This was NOT my intent. I am well aware of everything that’s required for this to get passed. I’m well aware it’s a slim shot of it happening. This does not make it a non-threat. Listen to the voices around you — even those who do not live in this country. Listen to them, and take heed of their warnings. They know this situation by heart, from experience. They’ve seen it all before.

Listen to the people who know their history, who know history in general of situations that were similar. They speak the truth.

Me telling you that this will not be the end was not fearmongering and it was not an attempt to be demoralizing and it was not treating the situation like, or implying it was, an inescapable Armageddon. I know it sounds terrifying, but that’s because it is. And people need to see that. They need to think about it. They need to know what is at stake in the event this passes, however unlikely those odds may or may not be.

It was a warning. A call to action. A “unless we both as a country and as individuals act to stop it here and now, this will happen.”

The reason why I did not bring up the odds is largely because I was in a hurry to get this out, because I wanted to alert people as soon as I could. Because this it’s important. As I have said previously, this post was made very early in to this becoming public knowledge. There weren’t many places talking about it yet and I wanted to do so before people started flooding in with the dangerous, downplaying “don’t worry, it’s a 0% chance” rhetoric that would convince people it wasn’t worth acting against and that they didn’t have to do anything, because they’d think they could trust it would all just be okay.

And you should never just trust that it will all be okay, if there’s something you can do to help ensure that. The odds of the situation are ultimately entirely irrelevant when it comes to the necessity to act. You should always treat situations like this like if you don’t act, no one will.

As I have said in another post, while it’s understandable people want to comfort themselves, there is no such thing as a 0% chance, and there is also no such thing as slim odds unless you act in every way you can to ensure the odds are, in fact, as slim as you believe and hope them to be, and spreading anything along those lines is to play an extremely dangerous game that only helps your enemy.

We are not omniscient. We cannot read the hearts and minds of each individual member of congress and head of state and know in an instant how they feel, nor can we see the future. Betting on odds to save your life and your fate and the lives and fates of everyone you know and love when you could be doing something to at least help those odds is a fool’s game.

Do your research. Know your odds, if it helps to comfort you. Check out the links the kind people in the reblogs and comments have sent or offered you and listen to those around you.

But don’t ever assume that you don’t have to act. Especially on important matters like this.

Yes, part of the reason this bill got passed may have been a distraction tactic to get you to look the other way from other things going on; HOWEVER, THIS DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY LESS DANGEROUS OR A NON-THREAT.

Multiple things can be a threat at once. Something can be both a distraction and a serious attempt to alter the course of the American future. You can care about multiple things at once. You don’t have to choose. But if you do choose only a few, certainly don’t choose to ignore the amendment that could permanently alter how America runs and allow this man — or people like him — to have a grip over this country for 12 years each, and pave the way for lifelong dictatorships.

Thanks for your time and all the reblogs that help made this post spread. My blog is not super popular, so I never could’ve dreamed this would fly away like it has, but I’m so happy that it was something important like this that took off.

I love you all. We’re in this together. Protect your country in any way you can. Be safe. There is hope, but it’s hope we need to help carve out by our own hands. Not hope we put blindly into the hands of others.

Source

Transcript:

“BREAKING: A constitutional amendment has been filed allowing President Trump to seek a 3rd term in office.

"No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than three times, nor be elected to any additional term after being elected to two consecutive terms, and no person who has held the office of President, or acted as President, for more than two years of a term to which some other person was elected President shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice."

It was filed by Congressman Andy Ogles (R-TN).

Don’t let this slip by unnoticed. This is not just “one extra term”, it’s a warning shot. It’s a red flag. It’s an omen.

They are slowly turning up the heat in the pan. Do not be the frog who sits denying it’s getting hotter.

One extra term will become two, two will become three, and three will eventually give way to lifelong reign of each president.

Fight. Fight for God’s sake.

Contact your local representative of congress. Convince them we do not want this.

We are going to end up in a dictatorship.

@ikiyou

Please help spread this. I don’t usually get political and I don’t usually ask for assistance but this is important and you have more reach.

#linklethehistorian #my thoughts #thoughts #us politics #politics #reblog #non fandom #nonfandom

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miwiheroes · 8 hours ago

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okay time for my rant

i feel kind of upset that i know that a lot of people will be disappointed with season 5 byler because they have this one view: past byler moments need to be referenced.

assuming that it is endgame (bc yeah ofc it is), i don't think that will be enough for everyone, which i totally get <3 like if they do it in a poorly written way (i.e. no depth into mike's queerness or a cheating plot on el) i would totally get not being happy with it. but i know that some people will think that it's not that good because they may not reference past byler moments??

like some things that i've seen people hope for are understandable. for example, wanting a kiss with heroes in the bg, or wanting a mention of the painting. those make total sense because the writers set those things up in a way that implies it'll be referenced later on.

some things i just don't stand by. for example, wanting them to show ANY reference to them meeting each other for the first time, any reference to the crazy together scene. those are already canon moments. it's almost as if people needing these scenes to be referenced is a kind of insecurity in the existence of those scenes in the first place? like we need to them to be rehashed in order to make them like- double canon in a way?

now, i totally get wanting this to happen. for the reasons i have just expressed and the fact it would be really cool. but what i don't get is: saying that the new season's byler would be poorly written without a reference to a past moment.

i can almost see it now, post byler endgame, people getting mad there was no reference to their first meeting, people getting mad they didn't reference 'lets start a new party'. them saying it was poor writing. me going:

honestly......... i think it would be better written if they didn't reference these. More specifically, if the miwi flashback isn't them meeting each other for the first time, i would be equally as excited, because it means a NEW THING for us to reference, a new thing for me to explore in analysis.

the writers will hopefully give us some new lines. new soundtrack songs. new things to analyse and make memes about. i don't neeeed them to say they're crazy together for the third time*.

so if i catch anyone calling writers who have made an effort to create new, romantic, beautiful scenes that deepen the complexity of byler's relationship bad writing just because they didn't reference old moments, i am going to have an aneurysm <3 and then giggle in heaven, because why ur working urself up over literally nothing, i'll be sat, positive and happy, looking at fresh and new things to obsess over.

if you feel attacked by the post, im sorry, i just want to get you guys excited because no matter what we are getting new byler content, new lines and new complexities. sorry for making u feel bad in the future for criticising writers for taking the hard way out, and writing new lines LMAO

and in the possibility that they do reference these old moments, i'll also be happy, i just hate the idea that some people won't be happy if they don't do it, if that makes sense

*if you're wondering what the second time is, it's when mike gives will that post it note with the line on it.

#thanks for listening to my ted talk LMAO #does anyone agree with me i swear im not going insane #byler #byler nation #byler endgame #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things

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shukraastro · 11 hours ago

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Direction of your spouse

With this technique you can find out from which direction your future spouse will come from. This means in which direction they are located/living as compared to where you are living.

For this method you look which planet rules over your 7th house in your D1 chart and you can also include your Darakaraka in this technique, I have seen that it work as well.

Your 7th lord planet and your Darakaraka planet will tell you the direction of your spouse. Each planet stands for a specific direction. And you basically find the mutual point of those directions or the mutual direction of which these two planets tell you. I hope you know what I mean by that.

Do not include Venus and Jupiter as traditional wife and husband planets because that would mean for everyone that their wife or husband comes from the same direction as everyone else's wife/husband. Only take Venus or Jupiter if they are your actual D1 7th lord or Darakaraka.

With your 7th lord and Darakaraka if you end up getting all directions or completely opposing directions in the end, because some planets give mid-directions, it will be either one or the other of those planets that will be significant (that's the tricky part there). You also look at the house number where your 7th lord and Darakaraka is placed in.

The 1st, 4th, 7th and 10th house indicate that you will/need to initiate some sort of movement to meet your spouse, like when you go to another city for work or family/friends trips, visiting relatives in a different city or whatever the circumstances are.

The 2nd, 5th, 8th and 11th house indicate that your spouse is fixed to your location, so they will be local to you, from the same place as you live and you could basically bump into them randomly at a bank/school/restaurant/cinema/club/social meetings and such.

The 3rd, 6th, 9th and 12th house indicate that you have to travel (truly travel) to foreign places in order to find your spouse, crossing boundaries of land, seas and even borders. The 3rd and 6th houses typically indicates short-distance travel, while the 9th and 12th houses indicate long-distance travel, journeys to faraway places involving cultural/religious and geographical differences.

Now the directions of each planets:

Sun is East

Moon is North-West

Mercury is North

Venus is South-East

Mars is South

Jupiter is North-East

Saturn is West

Let me give an example:

Someone I did a reading on had this alignment. She had her 7th house in Cancer, so Moon was her 7th lord and it was in her 4th house. She went with her family to visit their relatives who live 2 hours away from her city and her husband was also a guest there and she met him through them on that day. She was traveling to the North-West direction compared to her local place. And her husband was from the same city as her relatives, who were living 2 hours away from her. The husband was a work colleague of the relatives son. So she was the one who initiated movement and it happened with her family and through the connections of her family.

Let's do a predictive example:

Before I get hundreds of requests on him let's take Jungkook straight forward. His 7th Lord is Mercury and his Darakaraka is Moon. Mercury is North and Moon is North-West that combined makes North-West. Both planets are placed in his 9th house. So he will have to travel to foreign cultural/religious/geographical places and cross borders in order to meet his future spouse. And compared to his current location he has to travel to the North-West direction.

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

I hope this was helpful, I hope I could explain it in an understandable way.

Thanks for reading. 🌺

#sidereal astrology #vedic astrology #astro notes #astro observations #future spouse #darakaraka #navamsa

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e-vay · 15 hours ago

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A Guide to My AU ("Evay AU")

Hello! I make art for anything and everything I love, but if you follow me you'll find that a large amount of my content is centered around my own Sonic AU. I thought I'd make a handy little guide for those of you who are new and just learning about my AU or for those of you who have been following me but might want a refresher.

★This guide is a living document that will be continuously amended as I make changes and additions to my stories. ★

♡♡♡♡♡♡

OVERALL PREMISE

My AU centers around Sonic & Friends through adulthood as they navigate relationships, careers, marriage and family. The primary genres are "slice of life" and "romantic comedy" with some action/drama interspersed throughout. My AU mostly follows the video game canon and the IDW canon with some elements from Sonic Boom and Sonic X tossed in and then I created my own characters and stories to fill in the gaps. My AU DOES NOT include the Sonic Cinematic Universe, Archie comics/characters, Fleetway comics/characters, Sonic Prime, SatAM, the OVA, Sonic Underground, the 1992 Manga, etc.

SPECIAL NOTES

In my AU, I depict "Classic" versions of the Sonic cast as their younger selves with their "Modern/Boom" versions being older.

Although my canon does not include Archie/SatAM, I do refer to Sonic characters' classification as "Mobians" and the planet they are on is referred to as Earth/Mobius interchangeably. I credit this as simply "cultural variation" between humans and Sonic characters but they all originate from the same planet.

MOST IMPORTANTLY please remember this is a fanmade AU. Nothing I say, write or draw influences the Sonic franchise or canon in any way. I'm just here to have fun and I hope you enjoy the ride!

KEY

For the timeline below, Canon Sonic characters will be highlighted in blue and my original characters will be highlighted in pink.

If there is a comic or written fic that corresponds with an element of the timeline, I will include it as a hyperlink.

ABRIDGED TIMELINE

Project Shadow is created and suspended.

Domino and Phlox meet. Sonic is conceived.

Domino raises Sonic to approx. toddler age until she loses her life in a flash flood. Sonic is left alone to fend for himself and eventually represses his memories of Domino to cope with the trauma.

Clay Rose and Lulu Petula meet. Together, they have Amy and she lives with her parents until her fortune cards lead her to meeting Sonic.

Majority of the game/IDW canon takes place.

CC (originally labeled as "Code Compiler") is a spherical/ovoid robot created by an independent inventor (no relation to the Robotniks) to assist with production. CC's intelligence rapidly evolves and she gains sentience much to her creator's dismay. After a struggle, the inventor powers her off and the workshop falls into disrepair. The building is marked condemned and CC's chassis remains hidden within the rubble.

Amy begins her pursuit of archaeological studies.

A mystery woman going by the name "Light" (who is secretly Aurora from the future) appears and warns Sonic & Team of an oncoming threat that is hellbent on killing Shadow before wreaking havoc on the planet. Light claims she was sent here with the task of protecting Shadow but is not forthcoming with any other information about herself or her 'previous team'. Light & the Team work together to fight off 'the threat' and along the way Shadow develops a romantic interest in Light who also has strong feelings and an allegiance to him for reasons he does not know. Upon defeating the villain, Light must return to where she came from. Shadow tries to discourage her and even asks to accompany her, but she insists that if she stays any longer, she risks causing catastrophic damage. She departs and Shadow vows to find her again.

Rouge and Omega join Shadow in his search to find Light. After combing the globe with no luck, their quest takes them off-world and they go on an interplanetary journey. The three become mercenaries to fund their space expedition.

Knuckles bulks up! His goal of spending time away from Angel Island did him some good!

Sonic and Amy begin a romantic relationship.

Sonic moves in with Amy.

Tails establishes Yellow Sky Industries, a company where he can begin sharing his gadgetry with the world as well as partner up with other innovators to put their genius to good use.

Sonic and Amy get engaged. Upon hearing the news and growing homesick, Rouge and Omega return home, leaving Shadow to continue his journey on his own. While attending the wedding festivities, Knuckles and Rouge rekindle their budding romance.

During one of Eggman's many failed attempts at world domination, he falls victim to a near-fatal accident of his own making. Sonic rescues him, but Eggman loses his right hand in the process. Eggman is forced to reconsider his health and kickstarts some moral dilemmas for him. His attempts at world domination begin to dwindle.

Cream departs home to pursue humanitarian/Mobianitarian(?) efforts

Rouge uses her mercenary wealth to develop her own mining and jewelry business (she does not give up thievery). Knuckles is initially hired on as head excavator, but this job is only temporary until he secures enough money to fund a dream project of his.

With his own money and with the support of Yellow Sky Industries and his friends' investments, Knuckles develops the Young Heroes Program - a nonprofit youth organization. He works full time as a trainer at the program to help empower kids and strengthen the community. Sonic assists YH as needed, but is not a full-time volunteer.

Sonic and Amy decide to start a family. Aurora is conceived.

Rouge and Knuckles get married.

In one last ditch effort to regain Sonic's attention and to encourage Sage to follow in her father's footsteps**(See note), Eggman kidnaps Amy. This triggers her to go into labor early and Aurora is born. This is the nail in the coffin as far as Eggman's villainous efforts go and he makes an unspoken agreement with Sonic to 'retire' from villainy. He still plans to regularly annoy them by inserting himself into their lives. (**Note: This comic was made before Sage was introduced to the game canon. In retrospect, Sage would have been a part of this story and part of the reason Eggman decided to kidnap Amy, no matter how much Sage discouraged him. Sage instantly bonds with Aurora and vows to be her lifelong friend.)

Amy takes on a second job as an interior designer to support her family while Sonic becomes a stay-at-home dad and focuses most of his time and attention on raising Aurora.

Once Aurora is old enough, she begins attending the YH program. This is the closest Sonic will allow her to participating in any adventures.

Ruff Hyena is born

As a defense mechanism against constant bullying from her peers, Aurora’s light powers begin to manifest.

In addition to attending the Young Heroes Program, Aurora begins a mentorship with her Uncle Tails for optics/physics lessons in order to better understand her powers.

Aurora begins to experience premonitions in the form of dreams. Amy does her best to help Aurora hone this skill, but without much success.

Tumble Hyena is born. Ruff and Tumble are abandoned and left to fend on their own before ending up in the foster care system. They remain there for many years.

Aurora develops a crush on a boy named Kyle and they go on a few “playdates”. Aurora invites Kyle over to the house to meet her parents and Sonic does not handle it well. After an argument, Aurora and Kyle agree to not hang out together anymore.

Knuckles and Rouge adopt Ruff and Tumble.

Aurora ages out of the Young Heroes Program. Sonic discourages her from venturing out on her own and convinces her to work for YH instead.

After receiving a heartfelt message from Rouge, Shadow resigns from his quest and returns to Earth. He decides his new mission will be to get to better know the world Maria had always spoken so highly about.

Feeling “stuck” in her life, Aurora broaches the topic of moving out to be on her own. Sonic talks her out of it.

While reconnecting with The Team, Shadow is introduced to Aurora. He instantly recognizes her as the woman he’s spent the last several decades looking for, but doesn’t understand how that’s possible and she is adamant they have never met before. While telling Sonic and Amy of his world travel plans, Aurora offers to be his guide around town as she knows every inch of it. Shadow takes her up on her offer and the two quickly develop a friendship.

Shadow decides it doesn’t matter if Aurora is the Light he formerly met or not. He asks her on a date. Remembering how badly things went the last time one of Aurora’s “boyfriends” and Sonic interacted, she accepts Shadow’s courtship but only if they can keep it a secret for now. Shadow is wary of this, but agrees to her terms.

Keeping secrets from her parents begins to take a toll on Aurora, to the point she is getting sick. She tells Shadow she can’t keep lying to her family, so she tells him they shouldn’t see each other anymore. In hopes to “fix” the situation, Shadow meets with Sonic and Amy to ask their permission to date Aurora. This immediately escalates into a battle between Sonic and Shadow. Aurora intercepts the fight and, heartbroken, she tells Sonic that as much as she wants his blessing, she doesn’t need it, and is going to continue to date Shadow. Sonic, Amy and Aurora have a heart-to-heart to try and reconcile things, but Sonic makes it clear that though Aurora is a grown up and can technically date whoever she wants, she has to follow certain rules while she’s still living in their house.

Tails purchases an abandoned factory to expand Yellow Sky Industries. There, he finds the deactivated CC. He powers her on but she is severely traumatized and significantly damaged. He repairs her and after understanding how advanced her intelligence is, he offers her a job as his lab assistant.

CC quickly develops romantic feelings for Tails.

Knuckles, Rouge, Ruff and Tumble legally change their last names to “Motley”

In her pursuit to become “Mobian,” CC fabricates herself a Mobian-like body.

As Shadow and Aurora’s relationship progresses, they begin to explore more of the world together.

Tails and CC host a charity banquet. Things go awry.

Aurora gets her first apartment. She also begins a singing career.

Tails and CC officially begin a romantic relationship.

Aurora begins to have recurring premonitions about Shadow being in danger. She puts her musical tour on pause to stay vigilant.

A dangerous, mysterious entity appears and attacks The Team, severely wounding several members and nearly killing Shadow. Before the threat can be defeated, it retreats by escaping via time travel where it plans to successfully kill Shadow. With most of The Team out of commission or fearful of altering the timeline, Aurora travels back in time to save Past Shadow and the rest of her family. To protect her identity, she goes by the name “Light.”

Sonic and Shadow reconcile their differences. Sonic becomes noticeably more accepting of Shadow and Aurora’s relationship.

Shadow and Aurora get engaged and move in together.

Aurora continues her musical career.

Shadow and Aurora get married.

Ruff ages out of the Young Heroes Program and in the hopes to follow in Knuckles’ footsteps, he becomes a crime fighter. When Tumble isn’t helping his brother fight crime, he’s working on his own mechs.

Eggman digitally uploads his consciousness to Cyberspace so he can live indefinitely.

Shadow and Aurora decide to start a family. They have their first litter of triplets: Piper, Zane and Nova.

Shadow and Aurora have a second litter of twins: Aster and Blitz. At this time, Shadow uses the wealth he’s amassed to construct a large house that can accommodate their growing family.

Shadow and Aurora have a third litter of triplets: Cinder, Diamond and Boon.

Sonic and Amy return to a life of world traveling.

In addition to attending the Young Heroes Program, Shadow trains all of his children in how to best use their powers for the greater good of the planet.

During a fight, Cinder critically wounds Diamond with his “Stellar Tantrum” power. Boon uses his powers of healing to restore Diamond to full health without any scarring, but Cinder never forgives himself. He becomes withdrawn and distances himself from his family members from this point on.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

You can learn more about my AU by looking through My Art tag, referencing "My (Major) Comics" Directory, or by looking through My AU tag.

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chukys-mouthguard · 19 hours ago

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eternal sunshine

-> sequel to ‘dumb & poetic’

we both know i couldn’t change you

1k words

genre -> angst/fluff

featuring -> quinn hughes x female reader; mention of nils hoglander

note -> not exactly proofread but needed to get something posted for you lovelies cause it’s been a minute 🤍

The image of Quinn walking out was one you’d never expect to erase from your memory. How easy it was for him to walk away from you, how little fight he’d put up to salvage things.

And despite what everyone said or thought, there was no changing him. His true colors had been shown and there was no going back. Though you had tried.

Despite the way he’d walked out and given up on you, something in you still felt like it was your fault. Like it was something you needed to apologize for or try hard to fix though you knew what the end result would be.

Text messages had gone unanswered but read, countless apologies falling on deaf ears as Quinn became cold. Eventually telling you to stop apologizing and being sorry for him no longer loving you. The words cutting like a knife, the idea of things being so easy to forget or toss aside something you couldn’t understand.

Once upon a time you saw yourself being with Quinn forever. The home you two shared maybe being filled with a family of your own one day. The future seemed so bright and exciting, then so quickly fell apart around you.

Moving out while he was gone on a road trip to make things easier on you, taking the steps to remove all the photos of you two from their frames since Quinn would probably never notice them and do it himself. Leaving your WAGS gear behind for Quinn to either toss out himself, or give to the next girl that would apparently soon take your place.

He never struck you as the type to move on quickly, which is why it made it so much more painful.

Photos of them plastered all over her social media, seeing her wearing his name and number; it broke your heart. While you’d grown close with so many of the wives and girlfriends, going to Canucks games weren’t the same. You’d go to show your support of Quinn’s teammates whom you’d grown close with, only to be reminded of how much you loved going and supporting Quinn. Despite the amount of Hughes jerseys that would fill the stands, and people chanting his name, you were always the loudest. You were always his number one fan, and now you simply blended in with those who’d cheer when he scored or made a great play. Having to put emotions aside and treat him like any other player.

But as time went on, it got easier. Your heart ached less and less when you saw him, the fear that would wash over you when Quinn got hurt began to subside, and you found a reason to start to be happy again.

As you waited with J.T Miller’s wife Natalie in the family area after another home game, you couldn’t help but notice Quinn’s new girlfriend. Her hand painted denim jacket adorned with Canucks colors, logos, and Quinn’s number making it painfully obvious who she was. You were sure she was a nice girl, but that didn’t change the fact that it still hurt how quickly she’d seemed to have replaced you.

And as Quinn soon appeared from behind the locker room doors, you watched as her face lit up. The same way yours used to when you’d see him, no matter the outcome of the game. You too were always so excited to see him.

A soft smile came across his lips as he noticed her, slowly walking over to wrap her in a hug. His eyes shifted their gaze from the floor immediately to you. But rather feeling your heart skip a beat, or your emotions start to overwhelm you, you simply offered him a smile before turning your attention back to the locker room doors as they opened once again.

And as he walked out to greet you, it was as if you’d forgotten Quinn existed. The interaction was washed from your mind as Nils grinned from ear to ear, wrapping you in a hug as you congratulated him on a great game. His arm remained wrapped around your waist as he kept you by his side while he talked to you and Natalie.

The entire situation not one you’d ever seen yourself being in, not the type to ever move on from Quinn with a teammate of his. But while you weren’t looking for anything like this to happen, with Nils it had somewhat fallen into place unexpectedly.

The two of you had always been friendly, as like many of Quinn’s teammates you had come to know each other well. Of course you never necessarily thought about or looked at Nils as anything more than a friend. But when things began to take a turn with Quinn, he was someone you confided in. Especially when Nils had been one to notice the changes in the two of you himself.

He’d helped you get things settled into your new place, never trying to make a move or shoot his shot with you. Just simply being there. Whether that was to surprise you with flowers and takeout on a rough day, sitting with you while you cried on your couch, or finally being able to bring some happiness back into your life.

Nils had done all of that and more.

The look on Quinn’s face as he’d seen you on Nils arm wasn’t one you expected. Despite how cold he’d grown towards you and moving on himself, he looked heartbroken. Sure, you could’ve moved on with anyone but of course it being his teammate would sting significantly more. And maybe now he’d started to feel the pain you felt the day he’d walked out on you.

He watched as the two of you headed off towards the parking garage, his girlfriend snapping him from his thoughts as she’d noticed him paying her little attention.

“Quinn, hello? You okay?”

Her smile was a bit uneasy, as she wasn’t sure what had Quinn looking so down. But he softly chuckled as he shook his head, placing a kiss on her head before leading her towards the garage.

“No, but, I will be.”

#quinn hughes x female reader #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #nils hoglander fluff #nhl imagine #nhl fics #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb

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genderqueerdykes · 2 days ago

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im feeling so stressed about transitioning under the new regime. i need to get my gender markers/passport/name changed legally but i am not on hrt and do NOT pass at all, so i feel unsafe with the correct docs. i have an appointment for hrt, but thats not for another month. by that time it will be too late to update my docs. ill be visibly trans with my birth gender/name which also makes me feel unsafe. i feel like im being forced to rush my transition or stay in the closet for the rest of my life. i do not have the confidence to be visibly trans as i live in an extremely red part of an extremely red state. i feel miserable and dont know what to do

remind urself its ok to be scared rn. it's very frightening. it's okay to feel unsafe rn. hopefully things don't pan out like that and you have to stay in the closet

we don't know what will happen for sure, n that's the scary part. we don't have control over the future, but we got control of the present and we can do what we can to influence the immediate future.

those laws n bills are still subject to the judicial processes of the house and senate and they can get strangled or killed there. trump isn't special, he thinks he is, but realistically, he still has to contend with them whether or not he wants to . he had to last time, this time will be no different. n u know what? if it is different? n he does put that shit into place asap? well guess what? everyone's calling for "revolution": nows ur chance babes, get started! gather! organize! resist! revolt!

for now what you gotta do is remind urself that it will never be illegal 2 be a trans person on the inside. u being trans, referring to urself as trans, acknowledging that ur trans will never be illegal and yes that IS something you can hold on to for dear life. it's a place to start. they can't take away who you are on the inside. start talking to other trans people and start building plans. look into queer resource centers in your area. look at colleges for these, though you may have some elsewhere. ask ur trans friends where they get their hrt.

going stealth or trying to pass for a cis man and/or woman doesn't mean u are not trans. a lot of trans people have to do this, and if u have to do it for safety, that is completely fine. that says nothing about ur actual gender. it sucks to do, but it doesn't change who u are on the inside, a lot of trans people have 2 do this

i hope things improve for u. i hope you're able to connect with some other queers in ur area and come up with some plans. do whatever u can to make sure that u can get hormones started if that's what u want. like chase it n don't let go. just do it. they can't take the hormone out of ur body. but they also can't magically know ur on hrt. this is just my stance. u can decide not to. but i say NOW is the time to pull the trigger.

get on hrt. do it. now before u literally fuckin can't.

hopefully not much changes if anything at all. i'm not impressed with Dumbass' speeches. he's a lot of hot air. he's about making an impression. but i'm not impressed by the bluff. best of luck. PLEASE remember to stick together right now. when things are stressful in the real world like this, we HAVE to band together. we have to figure out how to sort out THIS situation.

stop fighting with each other n realize that there is literally a way bigger threat n tryin 2 figure out if a stranger has a pussy or a dick. like cmon this shit is on a subatomic level of importance rn, u gotta have some priorities. snap out of it & focus.

#asks #answers

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inbloomwriting · 1 day ago

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Everything to me - Chapter 3

Chapter three - Raspberry

Chapter 1 II Chapter 2

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. Sorry it took so long to update this. I tagged everyone who showed interest in future parts and/or asked to be tagged. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

Jamie sleeps like a rock. It’s a new discovery for (Y/N) as she tries to unravel herself from his tight grip. She doesn’t remember falling asleep cuddled up to each other, in fact, she doesn’t remember falling asleep at all. It’s like one moment they were talking about the baby and the next she wakes up to the sun pouring in through the window and Jamie’s quiet snores filling the room. And his arms wrapped around her like a vice.

God that man is clingy.

And, whereas with any other man, this would scare her off, there is something about Jamie that makes the whole thing endearing.

Maybe it’s the fact that they are not dating, not even trying to. It takes some of the pressure off. All she has to be is a good mum and a good friend and while those two things are hard enough as they are, at least there are no romantic feelings involved, no expectations to uphold when it comes to being a girlfriend, a partner.

Jamie sleeps like a rock, doesn’t even so much as twitch when she slips from his grip and rests his arm back on the side of the bed she used to occupy just moments earlier. Even the squeaky floorboard doesn’t wake him as she makes her way downstairs.

A sweet smell permeates the air and makes (Y/N)’s mouth water. This heightened sense of smell is both a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse. Most smells make her nauseous these days. Not today though, this one just makes her hungry. It smells of sugar and vanilla and all things sweet and warm.

Simon’s smiling face greets her as she rounds the corner into the kitchen. She wonders if this man ever stops smiling. He’s the personification of a ray of sunshine.

“Good morning, come have a seat. I’m making waffles.”

Waffles. (Y/N) can’t remember the last time someone made her waffles for breakfast. Dad did, sometimes when she was little, and stayed with him for the weekend. But then the waffle iron broke and he never got around to buying a new one. So pancakes and bacon it was. Beans sometimes. Sausages if he was feeling particularly fancy.

“I’d love some, thank you! It smells amazing.”

“Yeah? Oh, thank god. I was afraid the smell would be too much and make you feel sick. Only realized that after I poured in half the vial of vanilla essence though.”

The sheepish look on his face puts a smile on (Y/N)’s face. It’s nice someone cares about those little things.

“Never had to deal with anyone pregnant so I don’t know these things but I had a quick Google last night and it says 8 weeks means a heightened sense of smell. Also, the baby is the size of a Raspberry.”

If she didn’t know any better, (Y/N) would swear that Jamie and Simon must share some DNA. Both of them so clumsy in the way they care but infinitely endearing.

“Yeah, Raspberry or Blueberry or Kidney Bean. So tiny."

“Crazy isn’t it? To think it’s gonna be a proper human soon enough.”

She nods her head in agreement as Simon places a plate stacked with two thick fluffy waffles before her.

“You’re telling me. I know this is all happening inside my body and it’s still insane to think about. Doesn’t feel real.”

Simon regards her with soft eyes. There is warmth in there but something else. Something she can’t quite place. Georgie had the same look last night. Like they know more than she does. And fuck, maybe they do. They’ve done this before. Lived enough of life to know what the hell they are doing.

“Are you alright? “

(Y/N) was never big on sharing her feelings with anyone, let alone strangers. Life, and both her parents really, have taught her that talking about your feelings only makes you vulnerable. And being vulnerable usually ends in pain. So what you do is you take your insecurities, your fears, your sadness and you put it in a tiny little box and then you put on the lid. You tie a ribbon around it with a neat bow on top and then you take that box that holds your feelings and you bury it. And then you spend your whole life living like the protagonist in an Edgar Allan Poe story and that box becomes a beating heart under the floorboards of your life.

And the beating never ever stops.

“Sure. I’m good.”

She thinks he knows she’s bluffing but lets it go anyway. Opening up to Jamie is scary enough, takes up enough of her bravery. Simon is lovely and if she was another person altogether she’d love to share her worries with him, he seems like the best listener. She’s not someone else though, she is just herself and she can’t bring herself to talk.

“Okay. Just want you to know that if you need anything or — anyone. Georgie and I are always there to help. I know I’m not Jamie’s real dad but I do feel like that is my son. I don’t have children of my own and I only met Jamie when he was a pre-teen already so I don’t know much about babies but if you guys let me I am sure I can be a phenomenal grandad. My mum always used to say I was already born a little old man so this feels like I finally get a chance to be what I was always supposed to be. My time to shine has come.”

A harmony of their laughter fills the kitchen. God, is this whole family made up of the sweetest people on this entire planet? Do they make them in a damn factory or something?

“I will hold you to it. When the baby is screaming and I need some sleep I’ll come drop them off with you then.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready with some bedtime stories and lullabies.”

“You are sweet, Simon. And I really appreciate the offer. God knows Jamie and I don’t know the first thing about being parents so we can take all the help we can get.”

“Do you want to hear a secret?”

“Sure.”

“No one knows what they’re doing. As long as you try your best that’s all that matters. Kids are forgiving if they know you care.”

People always say that but there’s a little part of (Y/N) that believes those words to be untrue. Did her mum try her best and this was the outcome? Or did she just not care to do more, to be better? And which of those scenarios would be worse?

Jamie’s sleepy voice pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. “Morning, love.”

He places a soft kiss on the top of her head. So sure, so unbothered as if they do this all the time. Is this what it feels like? Being able to show your feelings and show affection without wondering what consequences it may bring? Without fearing that it makes you too vulnerable?

His hand finds her stomach and gives it a soft rub “And good morning to you, baby.”

It will never not be endearing to her to hear him talk to the baby. And neither will the way he pronounces the word ever lose its magic to her. That is his pride and joy there. His babeh.

“Aw Waffles, sweet!”

As Jamie plops down next to Simon and stuffs his face with vanilla waffles, leaving a slight dust of powdered sugar on his lips, (Y/N) is certain that all his worries are unjustified.

Jamie is all his dad and none of his father. Every inch and every fiber of him is a product of the love that Georgie and Simon have raised him with. He is them in the way he smiles and cares and the way he feels joy so freely and unabashedly.

And if only a smidge, only a sprinkle of that love is extended towards her child, that kid is gonna grow up so adored it won’t know where to put all of that love.

“Think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Like pregnancy barf or meeting mum nausea? “

Leave it to Jamie to put a smile on her face even when the world around her seems to crumble and fall.

“You gotta stop calling it that.”

“Alright, but you have to tell me which one it is so I know if I should hand you a barf bag or give you a pep talk. I’m getting awfully good at them if I dare say so myself. Learned a lot from Ted, yeah?”

If this was just the pregnancy making her nauseous everything would be so much easier. Ginger drops and rest would do the trick. But this is so much worse. This sharp feeling cursing through her veins, gnawing at her bones and devouring her like a hungry wolf. There truly is no one capable of breaking your heart like your own mother.

“Let me hear that pep talk then.”

As he navigates the car up the long driveway, flanked by big ornate mansions with brass iron fences and perfectly symmetrical hedges, Jamie regards (Y/N) from the corner of his eyes.

“Okay, well you don’t need to worry. Things are gonna be just fine. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause mums love me and middle-aged women love me. It’s cause they think I’m charming,” he says and glances at (Y/N) for a second. That radiant cheeky smile of his taking over his features. Oh, she hopes their kid gets his smile. “Which I am.”

“So charming, really.”

“You’d know,” Jamie replies and nods his head in the direction of her belly.

His laughter echoes through the car as she gives him a soft slap against the shoulder. There’s just something about Jamie that makes life feel a little lighter, a little more effortless. Even if it's just for a moment, just pretend. It does take the heavy weight off of (Y/N)’s heart for a second.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the gorgeous white house (Y/N) pointed out to him when they turned into the street. The lawn looks immaculate, the hedges are trimmed to perfection. This plastic palace all grand and gaudy. It never felt like home even though (Y/N) spent most of her life growing up in these very halls.

But really what is it that makes a house a home? Love and laughter and memories you want to return to. This is just four walls and a roof.

“Hey,” Jamie speaks up and places a hand gently on hers. “It’ll be alright but even if it won’t it will.”

“Huh?”

“I mean — look if she reacts badly, that sucks. But you have me, yeah? Always. Me and Rebecca and my Mum and Simon. Once we tell them I know the team will be obsessed with our baby, they’ll love her so much.”

“Or him.”

“Or him, yes. Ted is going to freak out, I know he’s going to want to hang out with our kid all the time. Roy? He’s already the best old geriatric uncle the world has ever seen. He won’t admit it but he’ll be really happy for us. Sam, Issac, Keeley, Higgins? All of them will be just a call away if we need help. I’m not sure about coach Beard though, he scares me not gonna lie.”

“I think he’s hilarious actually.”

“It’s because you’re smart and understand his jokes.”

“You’re smart too!”

“Nah, I just talk a lot and hope I end up saying the right thing. Anyway, what I mean is, this is your mum, yes, but in the big picture, she is just one person. And if she doesn’t love our baby there are so many other people who will. This baby will never, not for one second have to wonder if they are loved, because they are. So much.”

And as easy as it is for him to make (Y/N) laugh, as easy it seems to be to make her cry. Good tears though. Tears that say “I believe you that things are going to be alright”. Tears that say “thank you.”

“Jamie Tartt, of all the footballers that could’ve accidentally knocked me up, I am so glad it was you. You are going to be the best dad.”

“And you’re already the best mum. Well tied with my mum, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

(Y/N)’s childhood home feels cold, Jamie notices. There are hardly any pictures and those that are there are posed and awkward. He can tell it’s (Y/N) on those pictures but they don’t feel like her. There is no happiness in them, no joy. None of that sarcastic charm she exudes. He passes by a lifetime of being told how to sit and how to smile and what to do and probably what to say as well. It makes him feel miserable. And it puts things into perspective. It makes sense now, her worries and fears. If you grow up surrounded by nothing but the cold you eventually start wondering if you’ll ever be capable of creating warmth.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” (Y/N)'s Mum asks as she sits down at the head of the table. There’s something scary about this woman. She demands attention like a god-given right. She extends nothing in return. Her eyes are sharp and intense. It makes Jamie feel like she can see right through him down to all his insecurities and faults. She’s fucking terrifying.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He hates the way (Y/N)’s voice has become so small and timid ever since they stepped foot into this mansion. Hates that there is nothing he can do to make it better and take this weight off of her. Nothing but be there. So he does that at least. Be there in all the ways he can be.

It’s so silly really, how his heart beats just a little faster when he touches her hand underneath the table. When she welcomes the soft gesture. When she returns his gentle squeeze. And when she links her fingers with his.

So silly. Stupid little treacherous heart.

“Well, I gathered that much. I just wish you would’ve called ahead of time so I could’ve made some food.”

“Made some food? Since when do you cook?”

The look her mother throws at (Y/N) could freeze a lake solid. It’s mean and chilling and Jamie wishes he never would’ve pushed (Y/N) to come here. Hates himself a little for putting her in this situation.

“I did attend several cooking classes last year. See, if you’d visit me a bit more often you’d know that.”

And if she wasn’t such a raging bitch, maybe (Y/N) would visit her more often, Jamie thinks. Fortunately, he’s gotten much better at impulse control lately, well ever since Ted arrived really. The old Jamie would’ve blurted out those thoughts with no care of any consequences.

The old Jamie probably wouldn’t have stepped up to be a dad though.

“Anyway, I would’ve liked a little warning. Especially if you’re bringing someone.”

Being at the receiving end of that icy glare feels awful, Jamie decides as (Y/N)’s mother regards him with a mix of disdain and humor. Her eyes sparkle with a sense of smug superiority. Jamie is used to people underestimating him. They think he’s stupid. Some dumb footballer with straw filling the places where a brain should be. Quite honestly it doesn’t bother him, never had. He’s the first to admit that he can be dumb when it comes to certain things. He’s no poet and he has never been particularly good at math. But this woman and the way she looks at him rubs him the wrong way. She knows nothing about him and yet she thinks she’s got him all figured out. Flesh and bones and all.

“Yeah uh, sorry about that. It was a spontaneous thing really. We would’ve called — “

“Sure, whatever you say. James was it?”

His name sounds like venom dripping from her lips. James. He hasn’t been James since the moment he was born and Georgie first kissed his tiny head and whispered “You’re my little Jamie.” Not that he remembers that but it’s a story his mom has recounted to him many times.

“Jamie, yes.”

“Right, Jamie.”

An uncomfortable silence settles upon the room. It crawls into the cracks and crevices of their conversation. It spreads and festers and discomfort grows around them like mold on damp walls.

“Mum, we’re here because I wanted to tell you I’m pregnant.”

The confession shoots through the silence like a bullet. Cuts through it like a knife through a flimsy ribbon. If this was a movie they’d put in a freeze frame or underlay the scene with some dramatic musical score. But this is real life and it comes with no editing and no soundtrack.

No, it just comes with a bellowing laugh from (Y/N)’s mother. It’s not the kind of laughter that makes you want to laugh along. The kind that makes you feel like sunshine has erupted inside your ribcage and wraps you in a warm blanket. It’s not like (Y/N)’s laugh. This one is mocking. It’s ridiculous. It’s meant to make you feel small and dumb. It breaks his heart to know this is the laughter (Y/N) grew up with.

“You can not be serious. Pregnant?”

A short, quiet “Yes.” leaves (Y/N)’s lips. Jamie gently squeezes her hand in return. I am here. He says. I will always be here. She squeezes back. He hopes it means “I know.”

“You stupid little girl.”

(Y/N)’s hand grabs his more tightly. A lifeline to hold on to. Crescent moon shapes stamped into his skin. But if this is the price he’ll have to pay in order to be a good partner in all of this then he’ll pay it 10 times over. Of all the things in this world, all the ways to describe her, stupid is not one Jamie would ever think of.

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that.”

Maybe a little bit of old Jamie is still there. The good parts. The protective, opinionated parts maybe. Not reckless but brave.

“She is my daughter and I will talk to her as I very well please. But you’re right. She is not a little girl, she’s a grown woman. Which makes this even worse. You should know better, (Y/N). Getting pregnant by some — some guy.”

“Some guy? Excuse me?”

“Well you’re not her boyfriend, are you? You are just some guy with no obligation to her. And if you wake up one day and realize what a massive mistake you made then you can just leave. She’ll be stuck being a mother forever.”

It boils his blood to hear those vicious words hurled at him and (Y/N). Mistake? Sure this baby wasn’t planned but they’re not a mistake. Not for one single second did Jamie think of his child as a mistake. A surprise. A shock even. But never a mistake.

“I know you don’t know me and quite honestly I don’t think I want to know you either but I can tell you one thing. That is my baby and I love it now and I will always love it. It is not a mistake. You can judge me, you can judge her and you can judge our decisions but stop talking about my child like that. That is just uncalled for. I know my word doesn’t mean anything to you but I was here from the moment (Y/N) told me she was pregnant and I will be here for the rest of my life. That is a promise.”

She has the audacity to scoff at him and completely ignore everything he just said. Instead, she moves her cold hard gaze towards (Y/N).

“What do you want me to say? Congratulations? Well, you’re not getting those here. Your father would be so — “

Before she can finish the sentence a shrill screeching sound cuts her off as (Y/N) pushes away from the dining table.

“I gotta get out of here.”

“Oh, what is this now? You’re just going to leave because you don’t get the reaction you hoped for? I can pretend if that’s what you want me to —”

“Mum, I am not running. I need to go! I am nauseous as fuck and if you don’t want me to empty my stomach onto your dining table just let me leave. I didn’t come here asking for your approval, I just thought you should know you’re going to be a grandmother. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go throw up in your bushes.”

Jamie is hot on her heels, grabbing both their jackets and (Y/N)’s bag in the process as he rushes after her. Though even in the chaos and hurry he doesn’t miss the look of absolute shock and bewilderment on the older woman’s face. It feels like a small victory but it does paint a little smile on his lips.

“Oh don’t do that. I’m disgusting.”

“I’ll be watching you push out a whole damn baby. This is nothing compared to that.”

If it weren’t such an absurd situation, that comment probably would’ve sent her spiraling but really it’s the least confusing part of today. Of course, Jamie wants to be around for the birth. Now that he mentioned it, (Y/N) thinks she shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, he’ll be there. He’s been there for it all so far of course he’ll be there when the baby enters this world.

It’s almost a little dreamy and magical to think about. Almost. Because life doesn’t let her think too much about it before it sends another wave of vomit up her esophagus.

“I don’t mind holding your hair while you puke, you're growing a whole human it’s the least I can do. But I gotta ask you something.”

“What’s that?” (Y/N) asks and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater. Desperate times, desperate measures. At least that’s how she tries to justify it to herself.

“Is that hedge purposely cut to look like a dick?”

He nods towards one of the boxwood trees at the edge of the property that (Y/N) has no doubt her mother hired a gardener to trim and shape and care for.

“Holy shit, it does.”

“And cut too. You think your mum knows?”

And suddenly the nausea is gone and forgotten about and in its place, a flurry of giggles takes over.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jamie asks once they both calm down a little.

Is she okay? Not really but this too will pass and it’s not like she expected anything else from her mother. Ever since (Y/N) was a little kid she remembers her mother dulling all her joy and whimsy. Why should things be different now?

“No. But I will be.” and when he takes her hand in his and places a soft kiss on her knuckles, for the first time since turning into this very street, she truly believes in those words.

“Good. Now do you wanna go home or do something else?”

“Home sounds good but uh — do you want to stay? Watch a movie or something? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Another kiss to her knuckles sends her heart into a little frenzy. Teeny tiny somersaults all around her ribcage.

“Yeah, can I pick? “

“Fuck no.”

“Alright, was worth a try.”

“It was a dream? That’s it?”

The ending credits to The Wizard of Oz play on her little TV screen as (Y/N) and Jamie sit on her couch, a bowl of microwave popcorn long devoured and now empty resting between them.

“I mean, you can interpret it however you want.”

“Meh, didn’t like that one very much. Next time we should watch the Muppets treasure island. That’s a good one.”

There truly is something so sweetly endearing about Jamie’s childlike qualities. His unintentional goofiness and his ability to make even the worst day turn into an okay one. An “all in all kinda good” one.

“Okay, fine. Next time we’ll watch the Muppets. It just — my dad had the Wizard of Oz on DVD. One of the few movies he had. So whenever I’d stay with him we’d watch it together. I think I just wanted to feel close to him today.”

“Hey,” Jamie chimes up and gently nudges her shoulder with his. “I didn’t know your dad but from what you said about him he seemed like a fun guy. A good guy. So I think your mum is wrong. He’d be proud of you. I know that.”

And for the second time that day (Y/N) thanks whatever cosmic power there is for putting Jamie in her life. For making him the person who goes through all of this alongside her. For making him her partner in this crazy adventure. For making him the father of her child.

“Thanks, Jamie. I really appreciate that you stood up for me and the baby. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just froze. Every time I talk to her I want to say so many things but they get stuck somewhere on the way from my brain to my mouth.”

“It’s okay, I get it. It’s like that with my dad too. We’ll just have to be each other’s voices then I guess.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me.”

He does it again then, that tiny insignificant kiss on the top of her head. It means nothing.

But it means everything.

“Hey uh — I’m not really tired yet. Do you wanna start that Muppets movie now?”

“Uh yeah? Absolutely. I’ll never say no to Kermit. He is THE frog.”

Just a little while later, while Kermit and Miss Piggy sing a love song on screen while hanging off a cliff, (Y/N)’s eyes fall shut, her head resting gently against Jamie’s shoulder.

For the second time in less than 24 hours (Y/N) falls asleep in Jamie’s arms. And though she might not realize it right then, she has never felt more safe and secure ever before.

Maybe things really will be alright.

“Now I know that life can take you by surprise, And sweep you off your feet. Did this happen to us, Or are we just dreaming? Love led us here.”

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