#but that could be for later if yall want more :)

[jhyoos]

REBEL GIRL

Chapter 4: Ugh! As If!

rockstar!sevika x influencer!reader

summary: reader has to suffer the consequences of her actions.

mentions: modern au, fame au, drama, swearing, mommy caitlyn, groping, kissing, neck biting and kissing, drunk truth or dare.

notes : drafts somehow deleted…and I didn’t back it up so im writing off of hopes and dreams. love yall 🫵❤️🎸

chapters : one, two, three, four

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as you made your way to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. The hot water cascaded down your body, soothing the lingering tension from the previous night’s chaos. You hummed softly to yourself, allowing the steam and the scent of your vanilla body wash to envelop you.

As you rinsed off, faint noises from the room outside caught your attention. You figured it was Caitlyn moving around, likely getting ready for her own day. Brushing it off, you continued to enjoy the quiet moment of solitude.

After about half an hour, you stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed, your skin soft and glistening from the lotion you’d applied. A fluffy towel was wrapped securely around you as you walked back into the room, ready to pick out an outfit for the day.

Your peace was short-lived when you noticed someone sitting on your side of the bed. It wasn’t Caitlyn.

“Oh…it’s you,” you said flatly, your tone dripping with irritation as you recognized Sevika lounging on the mattress like she owned it.

She smirked, leaning back slightly, her arms crossed as she watched you. “Good morning to you, too.”

Ignoring her, you made your way to the closet, pulling out your luggage to sift through your clothes. You crouched carefully, mindful of the towel wrapped around you. You knew Sevika was probably watching, and you weren’t about to give her any kind of show.

When you finally found something to wear, you stood up and placed the outfit on the bed. Turning, you noticed Sevika’s eyes still fixed on you, her gaze unrelenting.

“What the fuck do you want?” you snapped, annoyance clear in your voice.

Sevika let out a dramatic sigh, shifting to make herself more comfortable on your side of the bed. “An apology,” she said simply, her tone laced with mock seriousness. “My phone’s been blowing up all morning because of you. Maybe a little…gesture of goodwill would help. Head sounds like a great place to start.”

You glared at her, utterly unamused. “Ugh, as if!” you shot back. “And honestly, you should be happy you’re getting so much recognition. Free publicity.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed. “Fine. How about this? I’ll buy you food as an apology, and I’ll take care of debunking everything. Happy now?”

She regarded you with a skeptical expression, her eyebrow arching even higher. “Food? It better be something expensive. I’m sure a girl with a four-million-dollar net worth can figure that out.”

You froze, staring at her in disbelief. “Oh my gosh! You stalker…what the fuck? You’ve been looking me up?”

Sevika smirked, standing and stretching as she made her way toward the door. “Yeah. And your dating history, too. You’ve got pretty good taste. Might text one of them later.”

Your jaw dropped. “You—!”

Before you could finish, she opened the door and stepped out, narrowly dodging the pillow you hurled at her.

Her laughter echoed in the hallway as you stood there fuming, shaking your head. “Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, already regretting offering to buy her anything.

But as much as she got under your skin, you couldn’t ignore the faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Something about Sevika’s audacity was maddeningly entertaining, even if you’d never admit it.

After pulling on your outfit and styling your hair into something effortlessly simple, you grabbed your phone and sat down on the edge of the bed. The articles and posts about you and Sevika were still fresh in your mind, and you knew your manager was probably seconds away from blowing a gasket if you didn’t address the rumors.

You needed a tweet that was professional enough to appease your manager but also blunt enough to shut everyone else up. It took you a moment to think before your fingers began typing.

“Me and Sevika are just friends. If I’m in a relationship, I would’ve already confirmed it by now. Get off my dick and leave my friends alone.”

You reread it once, nodded in approval, and hit “Post.” Within seconds, the tweet was blowing up. Likes, retweets, and comments flooded in, most of them praising your straightforwardness.

(y/n)smaingf: This is why I love her LMAO

viseye: Ugh…I was in the middle of fanart about y’all

sevileftnut: Ya know what…Hell yeah!

You decided not to scroll too much further—no point in diving into the cesspool of opinions. Tossing your phone onto the bed, you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, ready to start the day.

When you got downstairs, the group was already waiting for you in the lobby. Caitlyn leaned against a pillar, her arms crossed, while the others stood or sat around, all wearing smug expressions that immediately annoyed you.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Vi smirked. “We saw the tweet.”

“And?” you asked, exasperated.

“You’re treating us to free food, obviously,” Sevika chimed in, crossing her arms as she leaned casually against the wall. Her smirk was just as infuriating as the rest of them.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Free food for everyone. Happy now?”

A cheer went up from the group as you pinched the bridge of your nose, already regretting your generosity. “Can someone at least order the Uber, please?”

Jinx raised a hand. “I guess I’ll do it.” She pulled out her phone and started tapping away.

Caitlyn nudged your shoulder. “You’ve got a way with words,” she said with a small smile.

You shrugged. “Someone had to say it.”

As you waited for the Uber, you dug into your bag and pulled out your mini vlog camera, the familiar weight of it a comforting tool for killing time. “While we wait, let’s make some content, please?” you said, flashing a quick smile as you powered it on. The red recording light blinked on as you turned the lens toward the group, framing yourself and everyone else in the background.

Fixing your hair in the little camera screen, you caught Sevika rolling her eyes in the reflection. “Aye, I can see you, Sev,” you said, turning your head to glare at her playfully.

Sevika leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed, her expression unimpressed. “Hurry up already, princess. The Uber’s gonna be here any minute.”

You ignored her impatient tone with a dramatic sigh, pressing the record button. “Hey, you guys!” you said in your most cheerful voice, pointing the camera at yourself. “Guess what? We’re heading to Five Guys, and I’m paying. This is my charity for the day—I’m feeding starving artists.” You smiled mischievously at the camera before panning it to the band behind you.

The group groaned collectively at your teasing. Jinx leaned into the shot with a smirk. “You do know it’s 1 v 4, right? You’re outnumbered.”

Without missing a beat, you fired back, “Oh, please. I can take you all at once.”

The air froze for a second before Vi raised an eyebrow and burst out laughing. “Woah, that sounded wrong.”

“Oh my god, you freak!” you shouted, clutching your chest dramatically as if offended. The others joined in with their laughter, the sound of it filling the parking lot and making the moment feel more alive.

“Cut the camera, Y/N,” Caitlyn teased, nudging you gently. “Before this vlog turns into a comedy special.”

You shrugged. “Hey, this is pure gold. The fans will love it.”

Sevika, still leaning against the wall, muttered, “Yeah, great. Let them see you lose your mind before dinner.”

“Sev, the only thing I’m losing is patience with your attitude,” you quipped, spinning the camera toward her. She glared at you half-heartedly, but you caught the faintest twitch of amusement in her lips.

Just as you were about to retort, the Uber pulled up to the curb. “Saved by the ride,” Vi joked, pointing to the black SUV.

You turned off the camera, tucking it back into your bag. “Alright, let’s go, starving artists. The food awaits.”

Sevika brushed past you as the group piled into the car, her hand grazing your lower back in a way that felt both accidental and deliberate. “After you, princess,” she said, her voice dripping with mock politeness.

You rolled your eyes, climbing into the back seat. “One of these days, Sev, you’re gonna wish you were nicer to me.”

“Doubt it,” she shot back, settling into her seat. The banter continued as the car pulled into traffic, and you couldn’t help but smirk, already anticipating how the night would unfold.

The ride back from Five Guys was anything but quiet. The car was filled with laughter, teasing, and the occasional groan of someone who had eaten too much. Vi leaned back in her seat, hands on her stomach, a satisfied grin on her face. “Alright,” she announced, “I think I’ve had enough carbs to fuel me for the entire night. I’m officially ready to party.”

Jinx, sitting beside her, raised her hand like she was in class. “I second that! We’re hitting the club tonight, and I’m not holding back.” She leaned forward, grinning at everyone else.

You, however, were still half-reclined in your seat, your head resting against the window as you groaned. “Y’all really have that much energy after all that food? I need at least two naps before even considering going out again.”

As the car pulled up to the hotel, Caitlyn suddenly turned to you, her voice firm. “Not so fast, (Y/N). You’re not going anywhere tonight.” You froze, blinking at her in confusion.

“What? Why?”

Caitlyn crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “Because last night was a disaster waiting to happen, and I’m not about to have you causing chaos again.”

The group laughed, but Caitlyn’s expression remained serious, leaving you groaning in protest as everyone else headed up to get ready.

Minutes later, you found yourself sprawled across the bed in your shared room, flipping through channels with one hand and scrolling your phone with the other. The TV droned on about some crime show you weren’t really paying attention to, but it was better than sitting in silence. You huffed in frustration, tossing your phone aside, just as the door creaked open.

“I thought I was locked in,” you said dryly, not bothering to glance up. You assumed it was Caitlyn coming to check on you.

“Guess I’ve got the key,” came a familiar, low drawl.

Your head snapped up to see Sevika leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She was dressed down compared to her usual style, wearing a loose black shirt and jeans. The relaxed look somehow made her even more infuriating.

“What do you want?” you muttered, sulking deeper into the bed.

She shrugged and strolled in, letting the door click shut behind her. “I’m putting myself in time-out too,” she said nonchalantly. “No one’s allowed to have fun without me.” She plopped into the chair near the bed, slouching back as if she owned the place.

You stared at her for a moment, debating whether you wanted company. But as the TV continued to drone on, you sighed, realizing it beat being bored alone. “Fine. If you’re staying, we’re making this interesting.”

Her eyebrow quirked as she watched you sit up, reaching for your suitcase. From its depths, you pulled out a bottle of whiskey, your secret stash for nights like these. You placed it on the nightstand with a sense of finality, grabbing two glasses.

Sevika’s smirk deepened as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Drinking truth or dare?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

“Exactly,” you said, pouring the amber liquid into both glasses before sliding one her way. “Unless you’re scared to play.”

“Scared?” She scoffed, picking up her glass. “You don’t know me at all, princess.”

The game began innocently enough. Sevika dared you to do a horrible celebrity impression, which resulted in a laugh so loud it made her throw her head back. In retaliation, you dared her to sing a verse from a Taylor Swift, and the sound of her gruff voice struggling through the high notes of Lover left you in tears from laughter.

“Alright, truth,” she said after finishing her whiskey, her cheeks faintly flushed.

You grinned mischievously. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done on stage?”

Sevika groaned, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. “I ripped my pants. Front and back. In front of a packed crowd.”

You burst into laughter, nearly spilling your drink. “No way!”

“Swear on it. And I had to play the rest of the set like that,” she admitted, her voice tinged with both embarrassment and pride.

“Legendary,” you said, raising your glass to her.

When it was your turn, Sevika leaned forward, her smirk widening. “Dare,” you said confidently.

“I dare you to prank call your manager,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket and sliding it over to you.

You grinned as you dialed her number, lowering your voice to imitate a stiff, formal tone. “Hello, this is Officer Jenkins with the local police department. We’ve received a complaint about you being a raging bitch. We got a warrant for your arrest.”

The sound of Lauren’s confused, half-asleep voice on the other end made Sevika snort with laughter. “(Y/N)…I’m not about to play wit—”

By the time you hung up, both of you were doubled over, Sevika clutching her sides.

As the dares and truths became bolder, the atmosphere started to shift. You dared Sevika to share her type, and her answer—“someone bold, someone who doesn’t back down”—came with a pointed look that left your cheeks warm.

“I’m not gonna lie…sounds like you’re describing yourself,” you teased, earning a low chuckle from her.

“Maybe I am,” she admitted, her gaze steady, almost daring you to break eye contact.

When your turn came, you chose dare, feeling emboldened by the whiskey warming your veins.

Sevika leaned forward, a lazy smirk spreading across her lips. “I dare you to sit on my lap.”

Your breath hitched, your cheeks heating, but you weren’t about to back down. “Fine,” you said, standing and walking toward her with as much confidence as you could muster.

Lowering yourself onto her lap, you felt her hands rest lightly on your waist. Her touch was casual, yet it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Comfortable?” she asked, her voice low, her breath warm against your ear.

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she replied, her eyes never leaving yours.

You leaned in closer, your faces inches apart, your lips hovering just shy of hers. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Sevika didn’t hesitate. Her hands tightened on your waist as she closed the gap between you, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. Her movements were deliberate, her lips soft but insistent, making your pulse race.

The kiss deepened, her tongue brushing against yours with a confidence that left you breathless. Her hands slid under your shirt, her fingertips grazing your bare skin, sending a thrill through you.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging lightly as her lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw and then to your neck, leaving a heated path of kisses that made you arch into her. She gave you one last kiss on your collarbone before finding your lips again.

Her mechanical hand slid lower, gripping your ass firmly as she shifted you on her lap, pulling you even more against her. The other hand, far from idle, slid under your shirt. Her fingers, rough yet somehow gentle, brushed over your bare skin, grazing your ribcage, going under your bra before boldly cupping your breast. Her thumb flicked over your nipple, sending a jolt of heat straight through your body.

You gasped against her mouth, your hands tangling more in her hair as the kiss deepened. Her tongue swept into your mouth, teasing and dominating in equal measure, leaving you completely breathless. You arched into her touch, your body responding to her as if it had been waiting for this moment. She pulled away and found your neck again, this time leaving love bites.

“Sevika,” you moaned breathlessly, barely managing her name as her teeth grazed your skin.

“Shh,” she murmured against your neck, her lips returning to yours in a kiss that made you forget everything—until the door swung open with a loud creak.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Caitlyn’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a bucket of cold water.

You scrambled off Sevika’s lap, your shirt hastily tugged back into place as you turned to see Caitlyn standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. You were immediately sobered up.

Sevika, by contrast, remained unbothered, lounging back in her chair with her usual smirk firmly intact. “We were bonding,” she said lazily, her tone dripping with amusement.

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, setting her bag on the table. “If this is bonding, I’d hate to see what happens when you two don’t get along.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is all your fault,” you muttered toward Sevika.

Sevika chuckled, leaning closer to you, her voice low and teasing. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

You shot her a glare, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed your annoyance. Caitlyn shook her head, muttering something about “never getting a break” as she climbed into her bed.

You grabbed Sevika by her arm, pulling her out of the chair and pushed her towards the door. “It’s time for you to go, Sev,” you said.

“Awe, but we were having so much fun,” she teased turning towards you, getting closer along with her face.

You immediately stopped her, putting a hand on your chest. “To be continued…maybe,” you said as you opened the door, gesturing for her to leave.

“I’ll take your word on that,” she added in quickly before leaving.

You climbed into bed beside Caitlyn, still feeling the heat of embarrassment from earlier. As you pulled the covers over yourself, you glanced at her. “Are you mad at me?” you asked softly.

Caitlyn let out a long groan, turning her head to look at you. “No. I mean… at least you’re standing by what you said last night.”

Her words made your stomach drop. “Oh, shit,” you muttered, sitting up slightly. “I talked about her while I was drunk? What did I even say?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, though a small smirk tugged at her lips. “Something about her being annoyingly hot and how you wanted to fuck her so bad. Seems like you were in the process of it.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but Caitlyn wasn’t done. Her eyes zeroed in on your neck, and her smirk widened. “Speaking of… how long were you two going at it? You’ve got two huge hickeys on your neck.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you sat up abruptly. “What?!” You scrambled for your phone, turning on the front camera to inspect the damage.

Sure enough, there they were—two dark, unmistakable marks standing out against your skin. “Jesus,” you muttered in disbelief, your fingers brushing over the spots as if that would make them disappear.

Caitlyn chuckled, leaning back against the headboard. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to lecture you about keeping things professional. But just so you know, I’m giving you side-eye for the rest of the trip.”

You flopped back onto your pillow, staring at the ceiling. “This can’t get any worse,” you muttered.

Caitlyn shot you a look. “Don’t jinx it.”

taglist : @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @graciebloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @artfairyyyyy

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙃𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝘽𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙙*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Comfort?

Warnings: Slight mentions of depression and anxiety. That’s about it. Sorry for any mistakes

A/N: This has been in my idea folder for so freaking long! This was 100% inspired by “Must have been the wind by Alec Benjamin” such a good song! I hope yall enjoy this!

-🖤

Neither of you really knew each other. Only exchanging pleasantries as you passed by one another. Always a small waves and a smile. You’ve barely even said a few words to one another in the almost year living in the same building. You both keeping to yourselves.

He’s noticed in the past few days of seeing you that you don’t seem yourself. Or at least the small bit of yourself that he knew of. You have seemed really down lately. He even caught you wiping your tears away when he had stepped into the elevator as you got out. He wanted to ask if you were alright but you quickly left the elevator before he could.

His apartment was right above yours he could always hear you talking softly or listening to music. It made him almost calm hearing another person at times.

He hadn’t seen you leave today like normal. You both always leaving for work about the same time. When he had gotten back from work later than normal plopping on his bed he let out a sigh. The quietness becoming deafening around him. The quiet didn’t last long, soft sobs could be heard from below. He knew it was you, he wanted so badly to make sure you were alright. He didn’t know why he cared so much but he did. Maybe it was the way your smile brightened his day. Or the way he secretly hopes to see you before work. You’ve become a daily joy in his life and to hear you crying made him upset.

He got up pacing back in forth wondering what he should do. Would it be weird to check in on you? After the back and forth in his mind he finally made it up. He was gonna check on you.

He knocked on your door, a thousand things running through his mind on what to say. When you finally answered he could see how red your eyes were. Tear stains still lingering on your flushed face. “Uh hi” he said nervously.

“Hi” you said softly back looking anywhere but his face.

“Listen I know we don’t know each other but I could.. hear you crying. Are you alright?” He stammered out.

“I- I uhm wasn’t crying.. must have.. been the wind or something” you lied.

He studied your face for a second knowing damn well that you were lying. You felt embarrassed. You didn’t like crying around anyone, feeling like a burden if you weren’t always just happy.

“Well if you want to talk I’m here” he said with a soft smile. His kind words really jabbing at you. Why was he being so nice? He didn’t know you, he didn’t have to come down. But he did. He came down to basically a total strangers place to see if they were ok. Just the pure sweetness of this made the tears flow again.

His eyes went wide his body moving before he could stop himself. He wrapped his arms around you as you cried making you sob even harder. He rubbed your back letting you get it all out. He pushed your door closed behind him, to make sure no one else would walk by.

“Ssh sh it’s alright, you’re alright” he said softly still rubbing your back. “Wanna go sit down? You can tell me all about what’s wrong if you want. No judgement. I’m here to listen” he said with that sweet smile you’ve grown fond of.

You nodded bringing him over to your couch. As you composed yourself you sighed softly. “Nothings really wrong, I mean.. it’s just..” you tried finding the words. “I have really bad depression and anxiety.. it’s just been really bad the last few days and it all just came crashing down today.” You admitted.

He listened taking your hand in his to comfort you a bit. “You still got up today though, you’re still here and that’s something to be proud of” he said.

His words comforted you even more, making you smile for the first time in a few days. He sounded so genuine.

“And I can knock another one off if you wanna” he said smiling. You looked at him a bit confused. “How about I treat you to some ice cream? Then you’ll have eaten today.. I guess it’s not food food but ice cream makes everything better” he says smiling even bigger.

“You don’t have to do that” you said.

“I know but I want to, plus means we can get to know each other more. Yeah?” He said hopeful.

“Alright” you said smiling at him.

You got yourself together wiping your face and putting on better clothes. “Oh hey, by the way, I’m changbin” he said.

“We really never introduced ourselves huh? I’m y/n” you said.

“Well y/n shall we get some ice cream?” He said putting his hand out.

“We shall.” You giggled.

After this day you both had become really close. Making movie nights and gaming nights. You both always hung out even just coming over to one another’s house to sit in comfortable silence. It was nice. Nice to have someone to talk, nice to have someone there that wouldn’t judge and just be there.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[measuredingold]

my soul is useless without you

author's note: part two to i'd walk through hell for you is finally here ! i'm not sure if i want to do a third part, but we’ll see lol but i'm currently working on something for folio 👀 as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ! also, if yall have any requests, send them my way :) i'm in the mood to write but inspiration is running thin lol

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

word count: 3.5k

cross posted on ao3 / part one

cw/tw: angst, hurt/comfort, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings But A Good Friend, reader is going through it, anxiety, hints/mentions of depression, noah is just a good guy and cares about reader a lot ( more than he realizes ), friends to lovers pining lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It's when Jolly asks Noah in-between takes if he'd heard from you recently that the anxiety finally settles in.

Because he doesn't know the last time he's heard from you. Which isn't normal.

He's a bad texter, notorious for looking at messages and making a note to reply to them later or replying in his mind, but he always makes sure to reply to you whenever the two of you aren't together. It's just always been a thing, to always have some form of communication with you when he wasn't over at yours or if you weren't at his, so it panics him when he can't remember the last time he'd spoken to you.

He goes through your messages and finds that it wasn't him this time who didn't respond, but instead it was you. Relief washes over him briefly, the guilt of forgetting to respond to his best friend vanishing, but then that anxiety comes back full force. 

You didn't respond.

You always responded.

He sends off a quick message to you, apologizing for being in studio mode and not leaving the house and asks if you're alright. He waits. They go through another take, he somehow doesn't fuck it up even though his mind isn't all the way there. You still haven't responded by the fifth take and that's when he starts to feel sick, stomach twisting with the worry of what could be wrong. 

He tries to think back to if you've ever gone this long without speaking and he can't think of a time when that has happened. 

"Earth to Noah." Jolly's voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

"Oh. Uh, sorry." 

"All good, man." His bandmate eyes him for a second before his eyes flicker towards his phone. "She respond?"

"Um. No." His brows furrowed as he stared at his phone, the black screen mocking him. "Kind of worried."

"Yeah... I am, too." Jolly murmurs. He clicks around on the screen a few times before twisting his chair around to fully face Noah, arms crossing over his chest. "You should go over there. Check and make sure she's alright."

Noah raises a brow at him. "We're in the middle of recording?"

"And?" Jolly shrugs, waving him off. "We got a lot done today, we can wrap it up. Something's obviously wrong and she might need you. That's more important than some song."

He blinks at his friend, letting his words settle in. Jolly's right, he thinks. You are more important than whatever song they're working on. That confirmation makes him feel funny, something tightening beneath his chest but he ignores it, nodding slowly. 

"Okay. You wanna come?"

Jolly shakes his head. "Nah. The both of us might be overwhelming. If you do need me then call, if not..." He shrugs again before lifting himself up out of his chair, groaning softly to himself, "...might be best for just you to go. She'd probably feel better if it's just you, anyways. You know how she is."

Noah isn't quite sure what he means, but nods along anyways. He checks his phone again and still no text, but he notices that you read the message. He should feel relieved at the sign of life but it only makes his anxiety worse, stomach twisting violently. 

"Okay. I'll text you when I get there." 

He's practically running out of the studio after that, the only thing on his mind was you. He needed to make sure you were okay. Deep down he knew that if this was him, you would've already been here, and he feels guilty all over again. He should've paid more attention, shouldn't have let this slip his mind so easily. He thinks back to your last messages together and how you were talking about your work day, overwhelmed and quite frankly, upset about it all. He should've paid closer attention.

He makes it to yours in record time, legs moving him to the door before he can even think about it. He sends up a quiet prayer to the universe that you had given him an extra key months ago and uses it to unlock the door, slowly pushing it open.

He calls out your name, but no answer.

His eyes sweep over your apartment as he enters, scanning the open space. Your kitchen looked untouched, minus the few dirty dishes that were in your sink. A few boxes of Chinese take-out and some bottles of water. He feels almost relieved. You'd been eating and as far as he can tell you'd been keeping yourself somewhat hydrated, so that was a plus. He knows how bad you can be when you get into this headspace - brain fog, forgetting to do basic things like eating and drinking water. But this... this is a step in the right direction.

His eyes move towards the living room and it's just about the same. A pile of blankets lay together at one end of the couch, pillows scattered along the length of the cushions. You'd been there quite a bit, he can tell, but other than that nothing was too bad.

Noah feels like he can breathe for just a second, eyes going straight to the cracked open door to your bedroom. He hears the faint hum of your television and hears the muffled voice of your favorite characters in your favorite comfort show. His chest tightens. You only ever watch it when things get bad inside your head, when things start to become too overwhelming and you need to cling onto something that you know. Something that won't throw any surprises at you and make things worse. 

He makes his way towards your room, ready to call out your name again as he pushes open your door but stops halfway. You're curled up in your bed, covered in a pile of blankets. He steps closer to get a better look at you and he doesn't think he's ever seen you look so peaceful. Lashes against the tops of your cheeks, lips parted. The crease between your brows is relaxed, which never happens. 

Noah takes a deep breath.

You're alright. He can see that you're safe and sound, at least for now, and that's enough for him. He shuts your door behind him and makes his way back into the main room, taking his shoes off by the door. He takes another deep breath to center himself as he looks around your space, hand finding its way to his hair. 

He decides he'll clean up your kitchen and living room. It isn't too bad, and it won't take him too long. He also just... doesn't want to leave yet. He'll wait until you wake up. Make you talk to him, ask what’s up. Probably make you eat something. Then he'll head home. 

Sounds like a good plan to him.

Even though your door is shut he still tries to be quiet, making sure to carefully wash and put away your dishes without making too much of a fuss. After the dishes, he throws away all the take-out boxes and water bottles. He even makes a note to take the trash out for you when he's all done, because he knows you would've done it for him. 

The constant reminder of you and knowing that you'd do something like this for him, and have, is the motivation he needs to continue. It makes him feel warm all over and he thinks how lucky he is to have someone like you as his best friend.

And he definitely ignores the bitter taste in his mouth at the word best friend. 

It's maybe an hour after he's finished, curled up on your couch that now has its pillows in place, and the pile of blankets are neatly folded and put away, that you finally emerge from your room. You rub the sleep out of your eyes, not noticing him on the couch at first, but when you do you make a noise of surprise that has Noah laughing.

"Hey."

He notices the slight flush of your cheeks but ignores it. "Hi?"

"I uh," He scratches the back of his neck, sending you a sheepish smile. "Hadn't talked to you in a few days. Got worried. So did Jolly. Told me to come over. Check on you. You were sleeping so I just," He throws his arms around, gesturing to the space around him, "cleaned up a little? Figured you would appreciate a clean house when you woke up so..." 

He's talking too much, he knows it, but he can't seem to stop the word vomit from coming out. Noah knows you wouldn't mind, but he was nervous, especially because all you do is stare at him without saying a word. Stare and stare and stare until you sniff, brows furrowing.

"...Thanks."

You're unusually quiet and it makes his stomach turn again. You sniff again and Noah swears you look like you're on the verge of tears, and he sits up on the couch. He watches you closely as you wring your hands together in front of you, mouth opening and closing as if you want to say something. You don't, and Noah catches the exact moment when your bottom lip trembles, and he's moving before he can even think about it.

"Hey. It's okay. You’re okay."

He tries to keep his voice soft and free of any panic, but his heart is beating so rapidly against his chest he swears you can hear it. You sniff again, head shaking as your lip continues to tremble and he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls you into his arms and presses you into his chest. You don't move for a second, but eventually your arms circle around his waist. You squeeze, tight, but he doesn't mind. He just squeezes you back. 

Your body begins to shake as the cries start to rack through you, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Noah swallows down the lump that was beginning to form, cheek resting on the top of your head. He's always hated when you cry. He himself wasn’t one for much display of emotions, but when it came to the people he cared about, he hated seeing them anything but happy. 

Especially you.

He's seen you cry a few times. Well, more than a few times. Sometimes it was over nothing, and then sometimes it was over an incredibly cute dog you'd seen scrolling on Twitter. He didn't mind those, but when it was over something serious, he fucking hated that. He never wanted you to be anything but happy, and whenever you weren’t, it’s like a piece of him breaks. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers into your hair, trying to pull you even closer to him.

“Everything.” You eventually mumble against his chest, sucking in a deep breath as you try to control your tears. “Fucking everything is wrong.” 

He fucking hates the way that answer makes him feel. His chest feels like it's on fire, and he swears his heart just fucking broke at how sad you sounded, voice muffled by his shirt. He squeezes you to his chest again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He wants you to talk about it, to tell him what's wrong so he can make it better. Noah knows it'll probably be damn near impossible to even do that, but god, he'd try absolutely anything to make your tears stop. You take a long moment to respond, trying to control your breathing, before you eventually shake your head against his chest.

"Not right now." 

"Okay.” He mumbles, raising a hand to smooth down your hair. “That's okay, we don't have to."

"Thank you."

You stay like that for a moment, in the middle of your living room. Noah doesn't plan on letting go any time soon, thinking for a split second that he wished he could keep you in his arms forever. If you were there, he'd always know if you were okay. The thought fades before he could think too hard about it when you finally pull away from him, and Noah catches sight of your slight red and blotchy face. He frowns.

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever seen you so sad. So defeated. Whatever was going on really pained you, and he wishes you'd just tell him so he can fix it. Another passing, fleeting thought, but he thinks he'd do just about anything right now to see you smile again. 

"Have you eaten?" He breaks the silence between the two of you, not waiting to hear whatever you were planning on saying.

You blink up at him. "Um... no. Not since this morning. Had some fruit and coffee." 

"I figured." He guides you towards the couch, practically pushing you onto it. You snort when he grabs a throw blanket and dumps it onto you. "Pick something to watch." 

It's not a question, but more of a command, and Noah ignores the way his chest flutters at the small smile you give him. He turned away from you, pushing whatever feeling was brewing inside of him so far down and got his brain to focus. Food. You need food. To be honest, so does he. He’d been so worried about you for the last few hours that he didn’t even think of getting something to eat. 

It takes him a few minutes of rummaging around your kitchen to settle on making something easy - instant ramen. He’s surprised you hadn't eaten it all in the week you’ve been off-grid, but thankful nonetheless. Noah's way too impatient to wait any longer to actually cook something, especially knowing you hadn't eaten anything since this morning. Every so often he looked over his shoulder to watch you, wishing you'd say something, but would find you either staring blankly at the television or your phone.

A bitter taste settles in the back of his throat every time he turns back around to the stove. He hated this, and he fucking hated that he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

He brings your bowl to you once he's finished, already making a mental note to clean up the mess he had made while cooking. You blink up at him and reach for it, giving him a quiet, "Thank you."

Noah doesn't verbally say anything, just hums out a response as he ventures back into the kitchen to grab you something to drink. When he comes back he notices you had slowly begun to eat, and he feels his shoulders finally relax. Just knowing you ate something eases him, the tension in his body leaving him completely. You're already reaching out for the glass of water in his hand that he happily hands off to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"Need anything else?"

You shake your head, peering up at him. "No. Just want you to come sit with me." 

That same fluttery feeling beneath his chest returns and he wishes he could ignore it again, but it doesn't go away. No, it stays perched underneath his chest, as if it's decided that it's making a home there and never leaving. He doesn't say anything, just nods at your request before grabbing his own bowl and a Pepsi you had in the fridge before making his way back to you.

You wait until he's settled on the couch to scoot closer to him, legs pressed flushed together. You're already halfway through your ramen and for a split second he forgets that weird feeling in his chest, instead focusing on the intense pride filling him. He was able to get you to eat, he was able to help out in some way. Knowing you were alright for the most part and it was from his doing made him feel good.

The both of you eat in silence as whatever show you decided to put on plays in the background. He’s just now realized it was The Office, and he huffs out a small laugh at something Michael Scott said. Another one of your comfort shows, something easy. 

It isn't until you both are finished with your food and Noah's back in the kitchen cleaning up that you finally speak. He doesn't hear you come up behind him, focused on washing the dishes and making sure everything's clean and good to go, so he can't help but jump when he feels your arms slip around his waist and squeeze.

"Shit." He swears, followed by a breathy chuckle. "You scared me."

You don't say anything to that, just squeeze him harder and he feels you press your face against his back. Then ever so softly, he picks up the faintest, "Thank you," muffled against his back. His face flushes, eyes casting down to the soapy water his hands were currently submerged in. He's glad you can't see the blush on his cheeks, and he fucking hopes you can't hear the way his heart is pounding beneath his chest. Can probably feel it, though, and that makes his face burn even more. 

"For what?" He manages to mumble out, resuming his efforts. Your arms squeeze his waist again.

"For being here." You sound so small. "You don't have to be, but you are, and I can't thank you enough for that."

"You'd do it for me." His response comes easily, voice nonchalant because it's true. He knows you'd do the same for him, and the thought has his stomach flipping every which way. "And have done it for me. It's the least I can do."

You're silent after that but don't part from him, and Noah can't help the smile that spreads across his lips at the feeling of you rubbing your face against him. It makes him feel warm all over, and that damned fluttery feeling in his chest is back yet again. You stay like that until he's finished with the dishes, moving with him as he shuffles to the side to dry them off. You don't pick your head up even when he manages to turn in your arms, finally facing you. 

Noah's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him and now you can rub your face against his chest. He laughs softly, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Still don't wanna talk about it?" He knows he's pressing but he can't help it, a part of him still needs to know what's wrong and how he can fix this for you.

You shake your head. "Not yet. Tomorrow, okay? I just... don't wanna think about it tonight."

"Okay." He thinks he can handle that. 

"Thank you." You say again and finally lift your head up from his chest, blinking up at him. There's still a sadness there, roaming around behind your eyes, but not as prevalent as it was earlier. He’s at least done something right. "I'm really fucking lucky to have you, you know that, right?"

The way you're looking up at him is overwhelming, Noah's throat tightening at the softness surrounding your tired eyes. You smile at him and this time it reaches your gaze, not faked but real, and his heart slams against his chest. A thought passes his mind again, something he hasn't thought of in years, and he pushes it back with a hard swallow.

"You're just saying that because you didn't have to do the dishes."

You roll your eyes but that smile never drops from your lips, and Noah thinks he'd like to keep you smiling like that for the rest of his life. 

"Shut up. I'm being serious." You're giggling now, eyes crinkling and he catches a glimpse of the real you for the first time in hours - probably days, weeks even. 

"So am I." Noah yelps when you pinch his side, your laughter growing louder. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to be nice here, asshole. You can at least try, too."

He softens at that, eyes meeting yours. He's well aware his face is on fire right now, cheeks pink.

"You already know I'm lucky to have you. Didn't realize I had to say it."

Even if he doesn't say it often, he is very lucky. So incredibly lucky to have you in his life, for sticking by him and for understanding him. For always being patient with him. Jolly reminds him occasionally how lucky he is to have you, how all of them are lucky to have someone like you in their lives. He doesn't know what the fuck he or anyone did to be so deserving of you, but dammit, he's fucking thankful for it everyday. 

You don't say anything, just continue to beam up at him and Noah can't seem to stop himself, tilting his head down to brush his lips against your forehead. He feels you press further into his chest, if it was even possible, and practically melt in his arms. 

He wishes he could keep you here forever, tucked away in his arms. He thinks there isn't much he wouldn't do to keep you safe, to make sure you were okay, and that thought alone scares him. He'd never admit it, at least not out loud, and he tucks that thought away for another time. Or to possibly be never thought of again, he doesn't know. He doesn't really care.

No, all he cares about right now is that you're okay, at least for now, and that you're nestled against his chest like it's the only place you want to be. 

And that's enough for him. 

[anqelsong]

My theory about possible dates for release of s5 (vol 1 & 2):

Im 99% sure that both of the volumes (if they even split that way) are gonna release on a Friday

•Squid game 3 is releasing on 27th june, then the whole month of july is skipped.

•Wednesday s2 is also dropping this year, Im guessing around oct/nov, perfect for halloween spirit. 31st oct falls on Friday, which would make sense to drop that day.

So that leaves us august, september and early october

Vol 1 released on may 27th (2022) and vol 2 on july 1st, 38 days later.

I doubt they're gonna release any of volumes on september 5th because its the first week of school, and the views could be much lower.

My guess is that volume 1 could be released on these dates: august 15th, 22nd, 29th.

Then, ~40 days later, volume 2 would be released on 3rd october.

I tried to be as realistic as possible, I do want summer release, but it seems more like late summer/early fall.

Anyway lmk what yall think ! ( If any1 sees it )

[pineappical]

in light of tedtrent becoming so real, im also jumping on the tedtrent epilogue 😊

there's just no way ted wouldn't keep in touch with the others (and have weekly zoom meetings just like in the christmas special) and I just love the thought of the whole team having reunions once in a while.

and going back to trent's arc in s3, the sunflowers conversation, "And your daughter?" "She's never been happier." I think it could go the same for ted.. we've never really properly saw how henry felt about his dad being in london, it's always other people that told ted his son misses him, who's to say henry would rather see his dad happy because that in turn would make him happy too? he was there to win the whole thing, right? I just know ted’s story isn’t done yet when he still hasn’t learned to let others take care of him in return and who else to pair him with than the man who blew up his career because a man was nice to him (and also because they were so. so cruel for the fakeout tedbecca scenes for that finale) 🥺

I'm no writer so just pretend these are snapshots of a slow burn fic where ted visits london for their team reunion and slowly realizes that trent has a crush on him and they kiss about it 💛

[nyctoheart]

idk what came over me but i like this series again

[sophiethewitch1]

far distant and incredibly vague spoilers for www but putting it under the cut anyways

realising for some reason that at some point in all 3 wips im currently working on you get imprisoned. i would say i dont know what that says about me but i do i really do know what it says

[lets-try-some-writing]

Please continue the Smokescreen story.

(Gore-tober Day 4 - Peaceful)

Will do!

Prompt here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

“He won’t last at this rate.” Ratchet proclaimed as he hooked up the spark stabilizer to the Matrix. Optimus sat still on the medical berth, the container placed firmly on his lap as the connectors to his spark chamber and the relic within were attached to the delicate life fluttering within its glass confines.

“If we don’t get him a protoform, his spark will go out within the next three cycles.” The doctor sighed as he took scans and began the process of collecting Smokescreen’s memory from his processors. Arcee didn’t know much about medicine, but even she could tell that they were lucky to have even that much. Smokescreen’s frame was devastated, his limbs torn to shreds and his body contorted in ways it shouldn’t have been. She didn’t like looking at what remained of his face, it reminded her too much of Tailgate as he hung in Arachnid’s grip.

“Can he be carried by a surrogate to extend his predicted lifespan?” Optimus asked seriously as he ran his digits along the container, humming a soft tune as he did so. The Prime looked… sullen. Arcee couldn’t blame him. Smokescreen was young enough that saving his spark wasn’t impossible, but he was also likely too old to be carried for very long.

“Perhaps. But that is a last resort that I prefer we not fall to. Carrying the spark of a grown mech is-” Ratchet trailed off as he finished drilling connectors into what remained of Smokescreen’s processor. The team as a whole tensed as the implications hit them. Even Bulkhead seemed to know the ramifications of carrying a spark.

The only bots strong enough to carry a spark were Ratchet and Optimus. They had the right frame specs and their sparks were in the upper echelons signature wise. But Optimus carried the Matrix and Ratchet was older than what was safe for such a thing. Arcee would have offered her services, but she was far too small a bot to take care of a spark as bright as Smokescreen. There really was no other choice except to get the rookie a new frame if they didn’t want to risk Optimus accidentally killing him or Ratchet offlining as well in an attempt to support a spark aside from his own.

Her servos clenched into fists as she watched those gathered look between each other and the container sadly. Optimus’s optics cycled in on it as he brought it closer to himself, a song softly flowing from his vocalizer in an attempt to comfort the fragile life in his care. Bumblebee’s door wings dipped low as he placed a servo on the container as well, his field wrapping around those present in grief. Ratchet simply sighed and went about his work in silence while Bulkhead muttered a soft apology.

“You shouldn’t have had to do that newbie… I’m sorry it ended up this way.” Bulkhead leaned against the wall, his face in one of his servos while his other remained in a tight fist. Arcee for her part stared at all those present in disbelief and growing rage. Were they all just going to let him die? Were they going to lose another teammate because of the Decepticons?

“I will stay with him and do my best to ensure his passing is comfortable.” Optimus, seemingly having read her thoughts, spoke gently. His entire frame seemed to radiate grief, but he did not appear inclined to do anything aside from keep Smokescreen’s spark ablaze. Arcee wanted to scoff. What was the point of keeping his spark stable if he was just going to putter out?

She couldn’t allow that. Not again. She wouldn't lose another partner. 

“Do we still have the coordinates for the Nemesis?” She broke the solemn atmosphere as she stepped forward, her expression resolute. The team regarded her sadly, but Ratchet nodded all the same.

“We do. The Nemesis hasn’t gone far since Smokescreen…” The doctor bit his lower derma and stepped back to his console to continue his work. Bulkhead and Optimus were too occupied to pay her much attention, but Bumblebee seemed to perk up.

“You think… we might be able to get him a protoform in time?” Bumblebee’s question had those gathered finally paying Arcee the attention she needed. Her digits twitched and her spark blazed with determination. Starscream made clones of himself, there had to be more protoforms on the Nemesis being held in stasis. Arcee was the smallest, and she’d managed to get onto the ship before. If she could get on and grab just one protoform, they could save Smokescreen before it was too late.

“I’ve snuck onto the Nemesis before. I can and I will do it again.” She stared up at her fellows in defiance. She would not allow Smokescreen to die without at least trying to do something to save him.

“Cee, are you sure you can do that? Megatron must be on high alert after the Omega Keys.” Bulkhead put forward his concerns, but Arcee could sense hope in his words. He wanted to believe there was a chance, and looking around at the increasingly bright faces of the team, they wanted to believe it too.

“I can. Just let me try.” The team exchanged glances, silence overcoming the base until Optimus nodded once in assent.

“I give you permission to try. Ratchet, prepare the groundbridge.”

—----

Arcee ran as fast as her legs would allow her to as soon as she got through the portal. She had no real map of the Nemesis, but based on what she knew, the protoforms would be near the Vehicons quarters. A timer ticked on her wrist, a reminder of her limited time. They would lose the Nemesis’s coordinates within a half an hour. She had to be quick, and that meant stealth was largely out of the question.

“INTRUDER!” A Vehicon screamed as Arcee threw herself into her alternate mode and pushed her engine as hard as it would go. Her tires skidded across the ground as she pushed herself down every hall she could find in a desperate attempt to locate the protoforms she knew the Cons had. 

“SHOOT HER DOWN!” It might have been Knockout who gave the order. Arcee couldn’t be sure as she started to zigzag to dodge the fire of her enemies. The timer ticked on her arm, signaling she was running out of time as she continued her frantic search. A shot hit her back, forcing her to begin moving by pede somewhere around the fifteen minute mark. 

It burned, but she couldn’t afford to waste time returning fire. She kept moving, her every system screaming at her as she ran faster than she had ever done before. She was no racing unit, and her frame reminded her of it as she at last skidded into the section of the ship holding the protoforms. 

“Finally.” She panted as she looked up at the stasis locked protoforms. She stumbled back up and reached out to input the command needed to release one. A quick hack cut precious seconds off her timer, but before long the protoform dropped to the ground, lifeless but in pristine condition. She grit her denta as she hurried to it and pulled it along by its arm. She had underestimated how large it would be.

“You aren’t going anywhere, two wheeler.” A shot flew past her helm and Arcee stopped dead in her tracks as the slag maker himself stepped into the room with all the egotistical grace of his station. A frantic message to Ratchet had her counting down the seconds until the groundbridge would open and she could flee with her gains. Until then, she had to buy time.

“The gaurdsmech needs a new frame? I imagine his tumble from my ship did inflict substantial damage onto his pitiful body.” Megatron grinned, seemingly content to take his sweet time taunting Arcee as he moved forward. The Vehicons stepped back and Arcee dragged her gains close to herself. Her field flared in warning, but Megatron merely smiled wider.

“You Autobots must be quite desperate to send such a small bot to steal from me.” The warlord mused as he pointed his blaster at Arcee’s helm. She steeled herself, her frame in front of the protoform protectively. If all else failed, the team could retrieve the protoform over her dead body. 

“Go rust.” Arcee cursed as she readied her only free arm, her blaster lining up with Megatron’s. The warlord sneered, and Arcee prepared to be blasted into slag as the groundbridge bloomed behind her. 

“I’ve got you covered!” Bulkhead stepped through and blocked Megatron’s instinctual shot. The Decepticon leader roared in outrage as Bulkhead picked her and the protoform up and threw them both threw the bridge. She grunted as she hit the ground hard where the blaster shot hit, but she paid it no mind as Ratchet rushed forward and grabbed the protoform, not paying her a bit of attention. She didn’t begrudge him that as she stumbled to her pedes once more and closed the groundbridge behind Bulkhead as he entered. 

“Thanks for the help Bulk.” She smiled as the Wrecker tumbled in and rubbed his scorched plating. Evidently, he hadn’t escaped Megatron’s wrath unscathed. 

“Hold still! If you move he may become unstable!” Ratchet’s command echoed in the base and Arcee rushed over to watch as the medic carefully paid out the protoform and imputed the medical commands needed to open its empty spark chamber. Optimus for his part stood still as a statue, the connectors keeping him hooked up to the container holding Smokescreen’s spark glowing in response to his emotional state. 

“Come on Smokescreen, don’t reject the frame.” Ratchet pleaded as he lifted the container and ever so gently lowered it so that it hovered over the protoform’s spark chamber. Arcee could have heard a pin drop with how tense the base was as Ratchet unlocked the container. 

Not a spark said a word as they all watched in terrified but hopeful awe as Smokescreen’s spark fluttered from its container and was promptly caught in the protoform. The moment it was in place, Ratchet slammed the protoform’s spark chamber closed and stepped back. Optimus grabbed the container and Arcee moved closer to watch with rapt attention. This was it. This would decide Smokescreen’s fate. 

The air was tense enough to be cut with a knife as the protoform remained still for a worrying few kliks. But then, just as Arcee began to fear the worst, it began to shift. Protomatter began to alter, facial structures started to emerge, and within another klik, the base of Smokescreen’s old frame was easy to see. Bulkhead cheered, Arcee smiled and leaned on a nearby wall, relief flooding her spark as Ratchet praised the Allspark. Bumblebee, who had remained dutifully by Optimus the whole time, whirled in joy as Smokescreen’s vents fluttered and his systems hummed to life.

“He’s accepted the frame. He will be alright.” Optimus confirming their collective relief caused Arcee to smile wider. Smokescreen would live. He hadn’t been lost like Cliffjumper.

She’d done one thing right.

[beanniiee]

rant in the tags

[s1mpsposts]

Loz Au??

I'm not sure if this would be considered an Au or a headcannon, whatever. This is just something I came up with for SS <3

What if... and hear me out... what if there were more spirits... like sword spirits but different. Like, what if they were a race created by the goddesses and the spirits on the surface numbers slowly decreased by the imprisoning war in SS. And, hear me out, what if each goddess had their own personal spirit. Like what Demise had with Ghirahim but not as toxic. Like the pearls in SU but again, not as toxic.

Some examples of different types of spirits and core/gemstone placement.

Sword spirits cores/gemstones protrude out, normally located on the chest. Like Fi and Ghira.

Guardian spirits (might come up with a different name) cores/gemstones located on the back, going inward.

The guardian spirits are the only spirits I've come up with at the moment. More to come.(hopefully)

Story??

Spirits were considered divine beings created by the goddesses that once roamed freely on the surface, collecting things that would catch their interests and try to collectas much informationas they could. Spirits are naturally curious and shy beings so they try to stay unnoticed by humans. Since spirits collected knowledge, humans would try to seek out spirits for said information.

As the Imprisoning War erupted, the numbers of spirits quickly diminished as Demise's army would try to get information and kill them. As the spirits were actively being hunted, the goddesses decided that the best way to protect them would be to send them to the silent realm. After the war, they were allowed to return to the surface, some went, and some stayed. The spirits that stayed soon became the guardian and watchers.

[amatres]

anyway my personal ranks of origins backstories just in the game by themselves is brosca and tabris at the top, aeducan at the bottom. cousland i will admit is pretty impactful but i still feel like, as wild as an option it would have been, that a cousland warden should had the option to solo rule. they are from the only other teryn in ferelden and it's even said that it was considered for bryce to rule so like! come on!

aeducan is at the bottom because it so tightly locks you into siding against bhelen, which i suppose is fair for brosca being so skewed in behlens favor bc of rica, but brosca is just Good so i forgive that, while aeducan is just suffering.

i still stand by my idea that the 'noble' dwarven origin shouldn't have been the second aeducan child, they should have been the second aeducan's second in place of gorim. that way there would have been more room for roleplay. also the second aeducan child would have been a secret third option for ruler of orzammar that you would encounter with the legion of the dead that they joined after being kicked out.

you would have to both do the legion of dead quest to give them a noble caste, and also have high as hell coercion for it to work but it would really cool and also so funny to do. that said the origin just by itself is pretty fun, love being backstabbed by my second favorite baby brother from the dragon age franchise

mahariel and the magi warden are in the 'i like them but they don't feel as impactful' as much as it hurts me. they're both just kinda there, however that said if the game let you recruit jowan into your party that would bring the magi warden up much higher. alas.

[phagodyke]

its actually nuts how missing a single vaccination has shaped my entire fucking life. like not only would I not be deaf if I had gotten it on time but I probs wouldn't have adhd either 🫣

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Crazy development in my life

[mylittlesecrethaven]

WHY IS JESSE X LUKAS MINECRAFT STORY MODE SHIT POPPING UP ON MY YOUTUBE AND WHY DO I KINDA LIKE IT

[sluttysnowangel666]

His Second Wife - cregan stark x reader (request)

summary: two years following the death of cregan’s first wife, he accepts an undesired marriage proposal to rhaenyra targaryen’s daughter. rhaenyra’s daughter, who had loved cregan the moment she first met him as a young girl, immediately loves and accepts cregan’s first child as her own. yet it is still not enough for cregan to find his own love for his new wife.

cw: mean cregan😓, widow!cregan, targ!reader, loss of virginity(reader), rhaenyra’s daughter, angst to fluff, unrequited love, sex, happy ending

do yall notice i always post a long ass story usually around midnight or later ( i’m unwell)also this is long af soz it was a detailed request and I wanted it to be to a T. this is SOO long. i prolly should have done two parts… oh well @lillithsalvatore hope you enjoy it love ❤️

“How do you feel, my love?” Your mother asked, placing a warm and comforting hand on yours.

You sighed. “Nervous.”

She gave you that warm and sweet smile of hers. “I know. I hope you know this choice was not easy for me to make, as I know this was a hard task for me to place upon you.”

“I know, mother.” You say with forgiveness, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Had it been any other lord I would have surely declined but… Starks are the most honorable among men. I know your union will be blessed by the gods.”

You give her a smile, blindly trusting her words. You had met him once, and you knew he was kind. In fact, he had left a paw shaped imprint on your heart. You thought to yourself no union could be more suitable. You knew he had married once before out of a prior marital alliance, but the marriage had been short lived, lasting only a year before his first wife died in her birthing chambers.

It took more than four moons before you arrived at Winterfell, as if every power in the world was set on preventing it. You were not a superstitious person, so you simply thought all the bad things that happened prior to your marriage was coincidence.

Each time you went to leave, something prevented you. Your mother miscarried your baby sister, Lucerys was killed by Aemond, Daemon went silent at Harrenhall, Rhaena ran away and was lost in the eyrie before revealing she claimed Sheep-stealer.

You arrived in the dead of winter, and the journey had not been kind to you. You got a chill on the way up, causing you to stop at an inn for a few nights, you had came across raiders who killed one of the many men escorting you, and your clothes were ill suited for the weather.

You did eventually arrive at Winterfell thankfully, all in one piece.

You stepped out of the carriage cautiously, eyeing the snowy landscape surrounding you. It went as far as the eye could see. You held your hand out, letting the thick snowflakes fall and melt in your hand.

“My princess.” You turn to see Cregan, walking towards you. He bows, forcing a politeness. “Winterfell is yours.”

You bow in return, “No need for such formalities, Lord Stark. This is your home, and I am honored to have you welcome me here.”

He nods, choosing to say nothing else to you.

“Please show the princess to her chambers.” He says to one of the servants, then immediately turning on his heels to leave. Your jaw falls slightly, surprised at his curt demeanor.

You compose yourself, trying to hide the slight hurt in your features before making your way to your private chambers.

You bathed immediately, welcoming the hot water against your skin. No water could be hot enough for your dragon blood, but what they had drawn up for you would do nicely.

Your wedding was a week after your arrival, the lord having given you time to settle in. You had not seen him much during that week so you chose not to bother him, assuming he was busy with duties.

When you walked down that snowy path to the red weirwood, Cregan stole a glance at you. You looked beautiful, and he felt horribly guilty for thinking it. He felt like what he was doing was betraying her.

You said your vows, swearing your love before the old gods. You smiled at Cregan and he gave you a forced one in return. Guilt wracked his whole body. He felt guilty for you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give you a union where you were loved, he felt guilty for liking your smile, he felt guilty for forgetting hers.

There was a feast following the ceremony, nothing large due to the pains of winter, but it didn’t bother you. The small gathering felt intimate, compared to southern weddings where lords and ladies travelled from all over the realm to witness it.

It was here you met Cregan’s son, Rickon.

“Hi, little one.” You said. He was only two, a fat little babe who looked just like Cregan.

“Rickon, this is my new wife.” Cregan said. The way he worded it made you twitch, it had sounded so strained. He didn’t even use your name. You told the boy the name he could call you, but he said nothing as he hid behind his father’s leg.

“I apologize.” Cregan said, his voice showing no sign that he actually was sorry.

“It is alright, my lord. He is just a babe. He and I will have time to get to know each other.” You said. Cregan tensed up, suddenly remembering again this union was forever.

“Excuse me, princess.” He said, turning and walking away with Rickon. Your heart sunk a bit. You could start to sense it now, Cregan was not in the slightest invested in your union together. You felt lost, out of place suddenly.

You sat back down at the high table, overwhelmed with nervousness. You bit at your nails and the skin around them, biting until they bled. You missed your mother dearly. Being here, in this room among strangers who didn’t care much for southerners to begin with, made you feel small.

You had sat there for an hour or two, not moving or eating once, save for your cuticles.

Cregan came to you, not noticing your nervous state. If he had noticed, he chose to ignore it. “I’ve put Rickon down… Would you please accompany me to my chambers?”

You looked at him, the nail bed of your thumb resting between your teeth. You nodded, standing and staring at the hall one last time. You locked eyes with a man, who noticed you both about to take your leave.

“Is it time for the bedding ceremony, Lord Stark?” The man asked, erupting a few cheers from the men mostly.

“No!” Cregan nearly barked the order. “There will be no bedding ceremony.”

The men in the crowd shuffled awkwardly at his outburst but accepted.

“Princess.” Cregan said, walking away and not waiting to see if you were following.

You did anyway, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. You had the sense he wanted this to be over with quickly.

He held the door as you both entered his chambers. You took in your surroundings. It was a clean and large kept room with a lit hearth and a large bed. A thought passed your mind, even though you tried to push it down.

Did he share these chambers with her?

Cregan began to take off his armor and furs, again not watching to see if you did the same, only assuming you were. If you weren’t, he didn’t care.

“Um, could you help, my lord?” You asked, referring to the laces of your white wedding dress.

He sighed, walking over to you as you turned your back to him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you tried to hide it.

His hands were gentle with the laces, not tugging at them as you expected him to. He obviously had experience doing this before.

He grew emotional as he undid your dress, but he hid it well. It was a weird sense of deja vu. Your hair looked like hers from the back and he felt like he was back at his first wedding.

You pushed the dress off, revealing the sheer linen soft dress underneath. He hadn’t moved from behind you, trying to maintain his composure. You walked away from him, lying on the bed and biting your nails again.

He finished disrobing besides his briefs, and you stole a glance at his back. It was huge, muscular and scarred.

He walked over to the bed, getting between your legs and pushing up your shift.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” He asks. “We need not consummate this if you are not ready.”

For the first time it seemed like he kinda cared about how you felt. His hand still had a hold of your shift, which was resting on your pelvic bone.

You nodded, “Is it alright with you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, pushing your shift up the rest of the way to reveal your chest. He wanted to fall on his sword for the way he kept stealing glances at your breasts.

He pushed his briefs down, and you choked on your breath at the reveal of his length.

“Oh, gods.” You mumbled under your breath.

He rubbed himself against your slit, and your heart stilled for a minute. The feeling was foreign and intense.

He gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t even realized you were still doing it, it was starting to become like breathing. A natural, unintentional habit.

Your hands fell to his biceps to steady yourself. You looked at him, but he did not meet your gaze. He instead bowed his head, watching himself enter inside you.

You dug your nails into his arm, gasping in shock. He gently shushed you, telling you it was okay.

“Please, please.” You said, not knowing what you were even pleading for.

“What?” He asked gently, his voice low and almost mimicking of your whining. It sent a shiver up your spine.

He was slow and gentle with you, not in it for any pleasure himself.

You touched his chest and his hair and his arms, and while he didn’t stop you he made no effort to touch you himself. His hands rested beside your head, holding up his weight.

Your hands found his arms again and you moaned softly, feeling your peak building in your stomach. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his head, moaning as you spilled onto him. He closed his eyes as he felt it, and guilt wracked him again.

He gently pulled out of you and stood up, immediately dressing himself into his nightwear. You pushed your shift back down and pulled the linen covers over you, immediately going back to biting your nails at his reaction.

He laid beside you, not facing you and not saying anything.

You said nothing, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how he intentionally avoided spilling himself into you.

———

It had been 3 months since your arrival to Winterfell, and you had adjusted as well as you could given the circumstances.

You did not often see your lord husband, but you were used to it. He spent a lot of his free time in the crypt where she was. It hurt, but you gave him his peace and he appreciated that you didn’t hover.

“Mummy!”

“Sh, sh, love.” You say as Rickon runs into your chambers.

Cregan did not like when Rickon called you his mother. He’d gotten upset with you a few times over it, and you assured him you would correct Rickon when it happened.

“Mummy.” He repeated. You giggled. pulling him into your lap. You shook your head and tapped his nose, saying, “Nooo. Not mummy.”

“Mummy.” He laughed, and you ran your fingers through his thick brown curls.

“What ever will we do with this mop on your head, my son?”

“He is not your son.” You turned to see Cregan standing in the door way. “And his hair is fine.”

“Apologies, my lord.” You said, curtly. He ignored your attitude.

“Come, Rickon.” He said, beckoning his son.

“No, mummy.” Rickon whined, holding you.

“Go see papa.” You told him, and with your blessing Rickon ran to Cregan.

Cregan gave you a cold stare as he left, and you returned the favor.

You were growing ever so agitated with your husband. He had welcomed you into Winterfell, but not his heart. The only time you both had shared a bed was the night of your wedding, to which Cregan had made sure not to give you an heir.

You had no one. Rickon had you, Cregan had you even if he did not want you, yet you were alone here in Winterfell.

You decided to write to your mother on Dragonstone, requesting for Jacaerys to pick you up on dragon back so you could visit your family and hopefully receive advice. You had left your dragon, Silverwing, at home. You did not want to disrespect the already hesitant northern people, and you did not want Silverwing to be cold or hungry.

That night when you were brushing your hair before bed, there was a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You looked in the mirror and saw Cregan’s half sister, Sara, enter.

“Hi, Sara.” You said. She came up behind you, taking the brush from your hand and slowly combing it through your hair. You two had formed a unique bond, given you were both considered outcasts in Winterfell. You were a southerner, she was a bastard. They were two sides of the same coin here in Winterfell.

“I heard what happened today.” She said, and you hummed mindlessly. “My brother can be a bastard.”

You smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what to do, Sara.”

“We northerners love hard, princess. We are unwaveringly loyal. The wound of losing Aly is still fresh in my brother’s heart. Give him time. He knows you love Rickon, and that scares him. I don’t know why.”

“Was Aly pretty?” You ask.

“You have a southern beauty we do not see often in the North. Aly was not a beautiful woman, but she was a fierce fighter. That is how history will remember her. She was born fighting, and she died fighting. I know you are a fierce fighter as well, princess. You are the blood of the dragon. Do not let the grief my brother holds make you feel small.” She kisses the back of your head. “Throw a fucking book at his head if he acts like that again.”

You laugh, her joke comforting you. She turns and leaves you alone, your head clouded with thoughts of Aly.

You heard back from Jacaerys within a few days that he would arrive shortly to bring you home. You had not yet told Cregan, as you knew he wouldn’t care anyway.

A few days following the letter from the raven, it was Sara’s name day. Cregan had decided to celebrate with a feast, one bigger than your wedding.

You all sat at the high table, your husband and sister in law drinking heavily. Although Cregan was a big man, the amount of ale he consumed that night seemed enough to kill a horse.

“My princess.” A servant rested her hand on your shoulder. You and Cregan both turned to look at her, and she grew nervous, not expecting Cregan to pay any attention or perhaps she would not have asked the princess the request. “Rickon has had a nightmare and wants no comfort of the maids. He is requesting you by name specifically, princess.”

You turn to look at Cregan for his approval. He gives a quick nod, which you hadn’t expected. Perhaps he only obliged since Rickon had requested you by your name, rather than requesting his “mother.”

You walked with the maid to his chambers, opening the door.

“Mummy.” He said through sniffles. You turned to face the maid.

“I thought he requested me by my name.” You said.

“That is your name, princess… to him.” The maid closed the door.

You turn to face Rickon with a gentle sigh. “You know papa doesn’t like that word.”

“Mummy.” He just says again. You walk to his bed, fitting yourself in to lay with him. He cuddles into your chest, and you play with his hair to help him sleep.

“Say it okay.” He says.

“Hm? What do you mean, child?” You ask.

“She say it okay to call you mummy.”

“Who?”

“Mummy did.”

“No, you have to call me my name, sweet boy.”

“Not you, mummy. My other mummy said it okay.”

“You confuse me, Rickon.”

“Mummy says ignore papa.” You chuckle softly.

“Sleep now, my love.” You say, and he slowly falls asleep while you hum him a soft song.

You rise, tucking him in and giving his head a kiss.

You open his door to return to the feast, and Cregan is there waiting.

You gasp, covering your mouth quickly to not wake Rickon.

“Gods, you scared me!” You whisper/yell at him. He says nothing, his eyes in a glossy and drunken haze.

You close the door, nearly standing chest to chest with him.

“I heard you sing to him.” He says softly. “Where did you learn that song?”

“He taught me it.” You say, as you go to step past him when he stops you.

“Cregan?” You say confused, turning to look up at him.

He takes your cheeks in your hands and slams his lips on yours. You freeze for a second in shock, before immediately returning the kiss. He presses you against the door, and you moan into him as you quickly grow wet with Cregan’s sudden change of behavior.

He moves to press gentle kisses on your neck, biting softly here and there. His fingers dig into your hips, grinding himself into you. You moan softly, trying not to cause too much noise against the door.

“Not here.” You moan. He avoids your eyes, taking your hand and pulling you further down the hall to his chambers. It was only your second time in his room. He lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall.

You both hadn’t even undressed, but you loved the thrill. Your husband finally wanted you after three long grueling months. He pushed your dress up to your waist as you unlaced his breeches.

He took you there against the wall of his chambers, fucking you so sweetly, fucking you in a way that would surely produce an heir.

Your moans filled the halls, and the servants began to spread word that the lord had finally moved on from his first wife.

He carried you to the bed, placing you along the edge as he stood, fucking you with sloppy and drunken thrusts.

You moaned his name, both of you drawing so close to your peak as your hands rested against his stomach. He leaned closed to you as hand moved beside your head to hold his weight, and the other moved under your lower back to lift you slightly off the bed and pull you more into him. The angle sent you over the edge, crying and moaning his name.

Your moans pushed him over, but his next words made you sick.

“Fuck, Alysanne.” He groaned, burying his head in your neck and spilling his seed into you.

You gasped, not even sure you heard him right.

He kissed your neck a few times and then rolled off you, not noticing the look on your face.

You laid there unmoving, still in your dress which was now damp with sweat, and your thighs now sticky with Cregan.

He fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, still in his clothes.

You choked back a sob, moving your hand to your mouth so he wouldn’t waken. In reality, you could’ve started screaming and he wouldn’t have woke, or even shuffled.

You exited his chambers, trying not to be sick on the way to yours.

“My sister!” Sara drunkenly yelled as she seen you in the hallway. She took notice of your disheveled dress and hair. “Oh my gods, did you and Cregan just…?”

You ignored her, but she noticed the tears on your face. “Wait, sister what is wrong? What happened?”

You slammed the door in her face, throwing yourself into your pillow and screaming.

—

“Mother would be furious if she knew you were sleeping this well past sunrise.”

You groaned, lifting your head from the pillow to find the voice in the room.

“Jacaerys?” You said, when your eyes landed on him.

“I take it the feast for Sara Snow was a success.” He says, making fun of you. Your hair was sticking to your face, wet with a mixture of tears and drool.

“I guess you could say that.” You said, wiping your hair to the side.

“You’re disgusting.” He says.

“Gods, five minutes you’ve been here and you already frustrate me! Get out!” You say, both of you immediately teasing and arguing like you had never left home.

You push him out of your room.

“Don’t touch me, wench!” He whines, smacking your arms.

“Piss off! Go harass the bloody Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’d rather harass the Lady.” You push him out of your doors, turning and pressing your back to slide down the wall.

You hear him knock again and you rise to your feet, angry. “Jace, I said-“

You don’t finish your sentence, since as you open the door it’s Sara.

“I wanna talk about last night.”

“I don’t.” You say, going to close the door on her before she pushes it back open.

“What happened?” She asks, angry. She closes the door behind her and follows you to the bed. You sit on the edge and rest your elbows on your thighs, burying your face in your hands.

“Did my brother hurt you?” She asks, worried.

“No, no.”

She rests on her knees in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Tell me what happened.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your tears, but you cannot. “We had sex.”

“Isn’t that good? What went wrong?”

“He called me Alysanne.” You sob out.

“Oh, no.” She says, moving to sit beside you and wrap her arms around you.

“I cannot stay here no longer, Sara. I am being haunted by Alysanne. I find letters she wrote to Cregan, her clothes, her weapons. Rickon thinks I am her and Cregan wishes I was.”

“I am sorry, princess.” She says, sadly. “I thought I knew my brother better than that… Perhaps, if you talk to him about these past few months things can be different. Just give it a try, yes? You have your brother here now. You can leave if things do not work and the marriage can be annulled.”

You did not even wish to think of that possibility. It would be so shameful for both of your houses. You would do everything in your power to make it work.

You cleaned yourself up and went to Cregan’s chambers, knowing he would be hungover.

And you were right.

You entered his room without knocking, finding him in a bath with a warm rag over his eyes. Three times now you’ve been in his chambers.

“You can set it on the table.” He says, not moving the rag.

“What?”

“Oh.” He says, his voice changing in tone. “I thought you were the maid.”

You say nothing, unsure of where to even begin.

“Can whatever you’ve barged into my chambers for wait until I am done.” He asks, only the question is more of a statement.

“No.” You say, angry. You walk over to him and pull the rag off his eyes. He squints at the brightness, then gagging on the air as if he might be sick. “We’re going to talk, Cregan. We’ve been married for months and I don’t think we’ve ever truly had a conversation once. It is all I am asking. You could at least give me that. You’ve given me the cold shoulder for three months, and I’m tired of it. I’ve helped raise your son, I’ve loved you and I’ve cared for you even when you didn’t want it. You owe this to me.”

He sighs, defeated. “You are right in that, my princess. I apologize. We can talk later, alright?”

“No, Cregan. We will talk now.”

“You wouldn’t rather talk when I am of a clear headspace?”

“No. Now.” You say. He sighs again.

“Say your piece.”

The words left your mind the second he said that. You had this conversation in your head many times before, but now it was here and you could not handle the heat of the moment.

He raised his eyebrow at you, as if you were dumb.

“Oh, do not do that. I thought you Starks were supposed to be the most honorable among men. This whole marriage I have been treated with everything but. You are a disrespectful man, Stark. I am truly sorry about Alysanne-“

“Do not speak to me about my wife, ever!” He yells, pointing at you.

“I am your wife!” You cry out. “You chose me, whether you were ready for another marriage or not! I left my home, my family, my dragon to be with you! If I cannot have your love, is it too much to ask for your fucking respect?!”

He goes quiet for a few moments, “You have always had my respect, princess… and I know I have erred in the way I’ve treated you these past moons. But this marriage is just a duty. Nothing more, nothing less. This marriage is not out of love… so do not expect me to love you back.”

You laugh, dryly. “You called me Alysanne last night… Do you remember that? No… I suppose you were too drunk. You never would have touched or cared for me like that sober.”

He says nothing, but his hands grip the side of the tub and his face is contorted with anger. You rise, hiding any sort of emotion on your face.

“The dead don’t need lovers. Only the living.” You said. He threw his rag at the door as you walked out, not even granting him a second glance.

The memories of last night flooded back to him, and he rested his face in his hands, crying at his behavior. He had let down Aly, his son, and you.

He did care about you, he did love you in his own way. He just didn’t know how to show it. He didn’t want to show it. If he had shown it, he only would have betrayed Aly even more.

You went down to the crypt, somewhere you had never gone before. You had no reason originally, no people to mourn.

You stood in front of her plot, staring at the statue of her. She had been a skinny girl, with long dark hair and ‘plain’ features. You thought she was a beauty in her own way. You saw why Cregan loved her.

You cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Your hand touched her statue, then you stood and left the crypt.

You said goodbye to Rickon, Sara, and then you left with your brother on dragon back, ready to be home with your true family.

———

“You’re a fucking fool, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that? Gods.” Cregan rested his head in his hands. He had sent every raven in Winterfell to Dragonstone, yet not one had responded in the weeks since you’d left.

“We’ll be lucky if the bloody queen doesn’t declare war on us for you scorning her daughter.”

“I am trying here, Sara! I’ve sent my ravens, I’ve sent men to retrieve her. There is nothing more I can do!”

Sara slammed her hands on the table. “Go and get her your bloody self, Cregan. The trip to Dragonstone will give you plenty of time for reflection.”

Sara turned to leave, and Cregan knew it was his only option of getting you back here. He would go and get you and make things right. He had to.

You had your own time for reflection, riding home with Jacaerys made you realize how much you missed being on dragon back.

Your mother of course welcomed you with open arms, but was wracked with guilt that you and Cregan’s union was not working. You paid it no mind however, spending your days patrolling Dragonstone on Silverwing.

Cregan had taken his horse and a few men to retrieve you from Dragonstone. The trip by horse was long, more than several weeks.

The entire time he rode in silence he thought of you. He thought of your last conversation and the final words you had said to him. The dead don’t need lovers. And you were right. Alysanne would not have wished to see him treat you how he had, she would not have wanted Cregan to spend his time sulking or being angry. He only wished he had realized it before he left.

He loved you. If only it hadn’t taken you leaving for him to realize. You were kind, gentle, beautiful. Traits Alysanne didn’t have but it was what seperated you from her. It had been how he was able to find his own kind of love for you, even when he didn’t consciously realize it yet. His own bitterness from losing Aly had made forget his honor.

Cregan arrived about two moons after you had left. He was aching, frustrated, and desperate by the time he reached Dragonstone.

It was dark, pouring rain, and you were playing with your brothers Viserys and Aegon when he arrived.

“Your Grace!” A knight came into the room shouting. Your mother looked up from her book. “Cregan Stark of Winterfell has arrived and requests an immediate audience with you and the princess.”

Your mother looked at you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart sank and your face went pale, but you nodded.

You met him inside the council chambers with your mother and his men. He was soaked, shivering. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, that was how nervous you were.

“Cregan.” You said, walking towards him and pushing him by his arms to the hearth to warm him up. It was another thing he loved about you, your protective nature, so he said it.

“I love you.”

“Cregan…”

“Love her?” You both looked at your mother, whose face was angry. “You love my daughter?”

“Your Grace.” Cregan said, removing his sword and bending his knee. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.”

She walked towards you both. “It is not mine you need to beg for… I sent my only daughter to you, and you spurn her for your dead wife?!”

“Mother!”

“You will not interrupt the Queen when she is speaking.” She commands you. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lord Stark?”

He stands. “I have nothing to say, Your Grace. You are right. My behavior was unacceptable. The princess deserved none of it.”

“Why are you here?” Your mother asks him.

“I’ve come to ask the princess to return home.” Your mother scoffs at him.

She looks at you, then back to him. “You are lucky it is not my decision to make.”

She turns and exits, leaving and commanding his men to wait outside the doors so you both could be alone.

You were even more nervous with just the two of you in there. It is silent for a few moments before you speak.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” You ask Cregan.

“It took you leaving for me to realize I love you.” He says, taking your hands in his. You roll your eyes, taking your hands back and stepping away.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, starting to sob.

“I know, I know.” He steps closer to you again, taking you in his arms as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Cregan.” You say, crying. “Since I was a girl I loved you. I thought you were different from other men. But, you’re just like the rest.”

Cregan cries into your hair. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

You both stand there, holding each other and crying.

“Please come home.” He says. “Let me take you home.”

“Rickon misses his mother, Sara misses her sister… I miss you, you my wife.”

You pull away to look at him, trying to read his normally stoic features. You can see he means it.

“Okay.”

———

You returned to Winterfell on Silverwing, no longer having the strength to remain apart from your dragon.

Cregan had to endure another long and grueling trip back to Winterfell, which you enjoyed knowing he was suffering while you road through the skies.

Rickon had cried tears of joy when you returned, and a week later when Cregan arrived Rickon cried again.

You and Cregan had remained in seperated chambers while you still navigated your marriage, but Cregan made a point to spend every moment of his free time with you.

But you had been keeping a secret from him.

After you returned home to Dragonstone originally, your blood never arrived. The maester determined you were with a babe, which would arrive several moons away in the dead of winter.

Your thick furs and dresses made it easier to hide from Cregan, as you were not ready to tell him.

The babe had complicated things. If you had not been pregnant, you might not have returned to Winterfell when Cregan came for you. But you knew you had a duty, and you believed if Cregan could love you then you could fix your union.

Cregan had indeed put the work in the second he arrived home. He attended to you, conversed with you, ate with you, laughed with you, but gave you the space you needed and gave you the option to be intimate with him when you were ready.

It was strangely like falling in love all over again. You blushed around each other, got nervous and flushed, made each other’s hearts race, shared a first kiss when you were both ready.

Cregan had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with you, and he regretted not taking the time to do it sooner. He couldn’t make up the time he lost being afraid. All he could do now was love you without guilt, love you without fear, love you without shame.

Normally Cregan always knocked on your chamber doors before entering, but for some reason this time he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t knock, he didn’t know if it happened unconsciously or if he was too busy wrapped up with his thoughts.

Either way, he entered without knocking and by that point the cat was out of the bag.

He said your name, greeting you with a smile, only for it to fall off his face as if it had never been there.

You were in the bath, relaxing in the burning water, but that wasn’t the problem. He’d seen you naked, although it hadn’t been for a few months by this point, but him accidentally invading your privacy wasn’t the problem either.

It was the bump in your belly that was a problem.

Your head turned sharply, covering your chest quickly. “Cregan!”

“Sorry.” He said quickly, turning around to avoid disrespecting you.

“It’s fine.” You said, dropping your arm from your chest. “You just gave me a fright.”

He said nothing for a moment, only continuing to face the wall.

“What is that?” He finally asked. You sighed, stepping out of the tub and into your robe.

You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face you now, and his eyes fell down to your other hand resting on the small bump in your stomach.

“Perhaps it’s time we talk.”

“You think?” He spits at you, immediately apologizing after. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be cross with you.”

You said nothing, walking over to the seats by the hearth hoping he would follow.

He did, and he sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your belly.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach. You nodded, untying your robe so that you were bare. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to the small bump.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have accommodated for you, made sure you were comfortable.”

“Truth be told it’s been hard for me to accept I’m truly with a child.” You say, “The reality had not set in until… well until you just now found out... I am sorry, Cregan. I should not have kept it from you.”

He chokes back a sob. “Feels like just yesterday Alysanne had Rickon.”

“He will be overjoyed to know he will have a little brother or sister.” You tell him. He looks at you, his face full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and before you can even finish nodding your head, you’re already leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much, my wife.” He says in between kisses.

His hand did not move once from your stomach the whole night.