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imaginedisish · 6 months ago

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Savior Complex (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys! Here is the request I said I'd write. I hope it's what the anon wanted. It's quite long...and maybe a little different than my other Logan works...so I hope you guys enjoy. Inspired (obviously), by "Savior Complex" by Phoebe Bridgers.

Summary: You are willing to give up everything, including your own life, to save your found family. Logan, however, is not willing to let you do that. And he finally shows you why.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!! Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, friends to lovers, hurt to comfort, mutant!reader, omega!mutant!reader, fem!reader/afab!reader, allusions to death, canon typical violence, cursing, likely some grammatical errors, and I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,549 eeeeeesssshhhh

“Stay down!” Logan yells, his body hunched over yours, shielding you against the trunk of a thick tree.

You try to push him away. “We need to move!” You protest, shoving at him to no avail. He’s more solid than the tree at your back, firm, unwavering. Bullets fly overhead, swishing through the air. You listen to the sounds of triggers clicking and guns cracking. “I need to get out there!”

Logan presses himself further into you, his chest flush with yours. “You are not going anywhere,” he spits, his eyes trained on you. He’s studying every shift in your expression, every twitch in your shoulders and every flinch you make at the firing of a gun in the distance.

“Logan,” you say, trying to stand up straight, to force yourself from his hold. You raise your voice. “I’m going out there, and you are not stopping me.” You brace your hands at your sides, ready to use your powers if necessary. “Now is not the time to be the overbearing, protective friend, okay?”

Logan refuses to let up, unleashing his claws and digging them into the tree on either side of your body, caging you in, trapping you in place. “Well, isn’t that just too bad?” He mutters cockily, that shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Because I’m not going anywhere, princess.”

You swallow, flexing your palms, stretching your fingers down to the ground. “I’ll give you one second to reconsider that decision.”

He laughs, too self-assured for his own good. “And what are you gonna do—”

“Sorry, bub,” you chide, sarcasm heavy in your voice as you interrupt him. “But your second is up.” You shut your eyes, reaching towards the ground. Thin, black shadows—spirits—slip up through the blades of grass, nipping at Logan’s legs, wrapping around his ankles tightly.

He looks down as the shadows pull him away from the tree, his claws slipping from the bark with little to no resistance. More shadows emerge, twirling around his wrists and yanking them down to his sides.

“No!” He protests, thrashing as you step away from him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He cries out, trying his best to break free from the tight hold of the shadows.

“Using my powers,” you say nonchalantly, putting some distance between you and Logan as you step backward. You smile. “Spirit weaving. Started calling it that the other day, actually!” You’re gloating off now, showing off, manipulating the spirits to tighten around him.

You can see the irritation on his face—the fury written across his furrowed brow. “Oh! How cool!” He is far beyond sardonic—his voice a mocking jeer. “Now let me fucking go!”

You purse your lips, pretending to consider the thought as you backpedal through the surrounding trees. “Yeah…” you trail off. “I don’t think so. Think I gotta get a head start first.”

And then you make a break for it, sprinting through the trees, cracking the branches scattered along the forest floor. You can see the mansion in the distance, the government agents rounding up the children. The sight sets off something deep inside you. You can feel the anger in your heart, squeezing tightly, dread filling your stomach. You’ve let go of your hold on Logan, your focus now on something far more important.

You have to save the school. Your friends. Your family. You’re not an Omega-level mutant for nothing, after all.

You take a step closer to the school, grass dying underneath your feet as your boots tread along the ground—the bright green blades turn brown as you give in to your anger. Somewhere in the distance, a familiar voice calls your name, but it’s too late for that—too late to stop you now. Your eyes flicker closed and open again, changing colors as your powers take control: your left eye white and your right black—representing life and death.

My dear, Charles is suddenly your head. You must restrain yourself. You must back down.

“No,” you call out, your voice multi-dimensional, bassy and high, light and heavy. “It is time they learn we are not to be taken advantage of.”

It is too dangerous, my child, his voice bounces around your mind. Charles works hard to convince you, showing you visions of your death, of the potential consequences of your actions. This is not you. This is your anger.

“I know what I’m doing,” you protest, your voice echoing across the field.

The agents watch as you stalk across the lawn, spirits following closely at your ankles like a thick, massive cloud of black smoke.

Your name rings out from behind you. You can feel the tug of the familiar voice, the desire to turn around and see that face, to hear him call your name again. But you stifle the feelings down, struggling to ignore the way your heart begs to see him—Logan. You can feel yourself caught in the middle, split in two.

A tear slips down your cheek as you walk forward, closer to the agents. Their guns point at you—hundreds of fingers on triggers, aiming carefully with squinting eyes. You can see they’re no longer paying attention to the children. You’ve given the students their chance—their way out. You can see it in their faces; they know. They’re just waiting for your signal.

Spirits cloud your fists, climbing into your palms, eager for a fight. You bend your knees, digging your heels into the ground. The grass between you and the government agents has long since died. You can feel the tension, feel the spirits rumbling in the air and in your hands.

“You wanted a fight…” You pause, your voice a crack of thunder. “I’ll give you a fucking fight.” The spirits whisper in your ears, their hums filling the air. They aren’t dead; they’re drumming, living things. It’s time. Oh yes, it’s time. Go!

“Now run!” You scream to the children, unleashing the spirits across the lawn. You sprint across the field, black shadows knocking the agents over and throwing them away. You guide the spirits with your mind, directing them with the flick of your wrist and the point of your finger.

You’re bloodthirsty, searching for the mission’s organizer, hunting tirelessly for their leader. The spirits know what you want—what you need—and swarm around a man at the back of the lawn—the man following the children.

The spirits pick you up by your knees and your shoulders, lifting you into the air and towards the man. You fall to the ground right behind him.

You smirk hatefully, extending your fingers toward his ankles. Shadows surge him, threading around his legs, twisting up his stomach, and wrapping tightly around his throat.

“W-who the fuck are you?” The agent chokes out.

You cock your head to the side, grinning widely. The spirits goad you along. Tap his little head. You know you want to. Take his life. Go on. Take it. One tap to his temple—that’s all it would take—and his life would be yours. It’s something you’ve never done before, something you’ve been able to resist in the past. But this time, you can’t help it.

“Who am I?” You repeat condescendingly, laughing manically. You lift your hand, inching closer to his forehead. “I,” you pause, your fingertips brushing against his skin. “Am death.” Your white eye flickers out, turning pitch black.

This is what the Professor had always been afraid of.

“Don’t!” There’s that voice again, tugging at your heart. “Please, don’t.”

You keep your hold on the agent as you turn around. Logan. He’s in front of you now, approaching you slowly. Behind him, spirits wreck the other government agents, sweeping them up, throwing them away, holding them down. The other X-Men fight off the few remaining agents easily.

“I am going to finish this,” you say, struggling to hold on to your powers. Your hatred and anger fade at the sight of Logan—wearing the uniform he said he never would, his hair a disheveled mess, his hand slowly extending out to you.

He shakes his head, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “It’s already over,” he says firmly, taking your hand. You turn around and see that the government agent is passed out on the ground, likely from the pressure of the spirits choking his throat.

“If you hold on any longer, you’re gonna hurt yourself, princess.” Your eyes flicker at the nickname, your grip loosening on your powers. You can feel yourself slipping, fading away.

“H-have to f-finish the job,” you stutter, fighting against that tear in your heart.

Logan pulls you towards him, his thumb brushing soft circles to the top of your hand. “Think you already did, sweetheart.”

“N-no, she didn’t,” you hear a voice mutter from behind you. BANG! A gun cracks, and there’s suddenly a stinging sensation in your side. You turn, and the government agent is freed from your hold, his gun aimed at your head now.

“NO!” Logan shouts, but you ignore him, your powers flooding back to you. The spirits swarm the agent again, winding up his body and holding him in place. The shadows trail up your body too, coming to where the bullet hit your side and pulling the metal shell out.

You fight through the pain, pressing your pointer and middle fingers to the temple of the agent’s head. “This might hurt a bit,” you mumble, taking a deep breath and stealing his life force. “Just taking retribution.” His veins darken as your wound closes, taking only enough of the man’s life to heal yourself.

You sigh with relief as the wound becomes nothing. You lift your fingers from the agent’s head, and he slumps down to the ground. He’s truly incapacitated now, passed out cold.

You turn around, and Logan is still standing there. He approaches you again. You suddenly feel overwhelmed and woozy. It was too much, you realize.

Your eyes flicker again—black, white, normal, shifting quickly, shakily, like power going out in a thunderstorm. “L-Logan,” you stammer, hunching over, your hands on your thighs. He crouches down, letting you lean into him.

“Hey,” he whispers reassuringly—but you can hear the secret panic in his voice. “I’ve got you.”

The others call your name in the distance.

“I did it,” you whisper.

The spirits disappear from the field, slipping back under the ground.

Logan’s eyes are glossed over. “Yeah, you did sweetheart.” You fall fully into Logan, his arms wrapping around you, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

And then everything goes black.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Still in here, Logan?” It’s Charles.

“Yeah,” Logan’s voice is raspy, tired. And it’s close, like you could reach out and strum the sound waves. “Are the kids okay?”

“They’re all safe and accounted for,” Charles says. “And Hank is handling the government side of things. It was an unsanctioned attack.” Silence settles over the room, the pause strained and tense. “She’s going to be okay. You should get some rest.”

“I’m staying.”

“Logan—”

“I said I’m staying.” And then the door shuts.

Your eyes slowly open, and you realize you’re back in the mansion—in your room, your bed. Logan notices immediately, standing from the chair next to your bed and rushing to your side.

“Hey,” he soothes, his hand reaching out, gently cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch involuntarily. It’s an instinct—something you simply have to do. “You’re awake.”

“No visit to the lab for me, huh?” You joke, sitting up a bit as your memories flood back to you. You’re surprised that you don’t feel any injuries or soreness.

Logan swallows nervously. “You were…” he trails off, his eyes searching yours. “Earlier. All day, actually.” His thumb brushes against your cheek. “Everyone was worried about you.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “I’m alright. I don’t feel a thing.”

But Logan isn’t swayed. You can see the fear in his eyes, the stress in his shoulders. “You should’ve let me hold you back.” He’s serious, his voice firm and steady. “You could’ve gotten hurt…” He struggles to get the words out, his eyes grazing up and down your body. “You could’ve died.”

“Logan,” you mumble, sitting up. “I did what I did because I had to,” you pause, your heart squeezing at the look on his face. “I’d give my life for this family. I would—”

“You’re not giving your life for anything; do you hear me?” He cuts you off, furrowing his brows, his other hand cupping your cheek now, too.

You close your eyes at the feeling of his touch, the warmth of his palms. “I would give my life to save you.” The words slip freely from your lips. You’re so sure of that fact, so impossibly certain.

He pulls you closer to him, his hands sliding from your face to the nape of your neck. “I won’t let that happen.”

“Logan I will always—”

But he cuts off your protests. “Enough of your fucking savior complex.” His voice is shaky now. He pulls you into his chest, and you let him. His arms slip down your back, pressing you tightly to him. His lips are at the shell of your ear. “I am not losing you.”

The vulnerability of his words shocks you, your breath catching in your throat. “You won’t,” you promise, burying your face into the center of his chest.

“I almost did,” he chokes out, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. His words kill you, your heart aching at the sadness in his voice.

You lift your head from his chest, looking up at him as he looks down at you. He’s massive, towering over you. You can smell him on your clothes, on your skin—tobacco and pine and musk. There’s a shift in his expression, in the tension in the room. His chest heaves under his beater.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, your hands sliding up his stomach, trailing over his abs. He relaxes into your touch, the stress leaving his shoulders. He leans over you, his forehead pressing to yours. The contact and the closeness are dizzying, your mind hazy as Logan’s fingertips ghost the sides of your waist.

He swallows harshly as his lips brush against yours—a whisper of a kiss. “Wouldn’t even give you the chance,” he mumbles. You can feel the charge in the air, the anticipation. There’s a look on his face, and you recognize it immediately. You feel it too.

Longing. Need.

His lips capture yours, engulfing you like a fire. His hands slip under your shirt, exploring your skin. He’s breathing you in, and you’re breathing him out. You’re suddenly one extraordinary machine, working together, moving against each other in time.

Logan pushes you down to the mattress, his lips still on yours, the kiss becoming rushed and frantic. He climbs on top of you, his bare arms caging you in on either side of your head. You spread your legs for him, giving him room to settle in between. You can feel his erection strain against his jeans as he rocks into you. The friction feels good, but it’s not enough. You grind against him, needy for more.

“Fuck,” he pants between kisses, lowering himself down onto his forearm to close the gap between you. His free hand finds the hem of your shirt and slips underneath, his fingertips trailing up and down your body. He’s still rutting into you, his cock nudging against your needy core.

You grab at his back, pulling on his beater. “L-Logan,” you stutter, his fingers bumping into the bottom of your bra. You arch up into him, giving him the space he needs to bring his hand to your back and unclasp it. He sits up, quickly pulling your shirt up and over your head, slipping your bra off, too.

He lays you back down, hovering over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand drifts up to your breasts. He squeezes softly, his thumb tracing over your nipples. “Beautiful,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck, biting your pulse point. “So fucking beautiful.”

His soft bites turn into kisses, trailing down your neck to your collarbone. He kisses in between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, stopping just above the hem of your shorts. You swallow, nodding frantically as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs in one fluid motion.

You’re exposed to him—bare. He settles back in between your legs, his mouth just inches away from where you need him most. His breath fans across your clit, a jolt of electricity sparking a fire at the base of your spine. You can feel the ache between your legs growing.

“Please,” you beg, Logan’s name hanging on the tip of your tongue as you look down at him. He presses a teasing kiss to your clit, his eyes focused on you, on every move you make. “Logan, I need—”

You’re cut off by his tongue—a long, flat stripe licking through your folds, up to your clit. His tongue flits out, flicking lightly before starting all over again. “Gonna take my time with you, pretty girl,” he murmurs against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice coursing through you. Your walls squeeze down around nothing, begging for more, begging for release. “Gonna make you feel good.”

He spreads his palm against your inner thigh, nudging you open for him. His nails dig into your skin, fingers trailing up closer to your core. “Please,” you whine. “Want you.”

Logan’s fingers finally meet your folds, his tongue flicking your clit and pulling it between his lips, sucking softly. “Tastes so good,” he mumbles against you. “So fucking sweet.” Two fingers nudge your entrance, testing the waters, spreading you open slowly.

You open your mouth to beg for him again, but then he’s thrusting inside you—knuckle deep—his fingers stretching you out. Your walls flutter around him as he pulls out and pushes all the way back in. His swirls circles into your clit, his tongue lapping at you, savoring the taste of you.

He slides his free hand under your back and to your hip, hoisting you closer to him as he buries his face into your cunt. There’s a hunger in his eyes. No, it’s so far beyond hunger. He’s starving—starving for you and only you. If he could live inside you, he would.

He’s relentless as he sucks your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you. He can feel you shaking underneath him, trembling. His thumb draws gentle, comforting circles along your hip. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers in between thrusts. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.” Your muscles contract around him at the words, his praises overwhelming you.

He's getting you there—the fire spreading, creeping in, ready to consume everything in its path. “’M’so close,” you moan, overstimulated and fucked out. Logan doesn’t slow down, his fingers hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. You can feel yourself coming undone, unraveling before him.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he soothes between laps. “Come on my tongue, just like that.” And then you’re letting go, coming around his fingers. Fire washes over you, beat after beat, pump after pump. It hits you in waves, the sensation crashing into you as Logan works you through your orgasm.

He’s whispering praises as he savors your taste on his tongue. So good, sweetheart. Letting me take care of you. I’ve got you. So fucking pretty.

His thrusts slow down, gently rubbing at your walls before sliding out. But his tongue is still working at your clit, lapping softly. “Could eat you out for hours, princess,” he says, licking another long stripe through your folds. “Maybe I will.” You can feel him smile against you.

But you need him, need him closer—as close as he can possibly be. “Logan,” you call out, already close to coming again. “Want you now,” you plead.

He licks one more long stripe before lifting his head. He sits up, staring down at you as he lifts his beater up and over his head. You stare at his chest, the way his muscles flex as he breathes. Your arousal glistens on his lips, his chin.

He unbuckles his belt and slips it from the loops, casting it to the ground with a loud clank. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, tugging them down his legs along with his boxers. His cock springs free, and he is so much bigger than you ever imagined he’d be. You swallow at the sight, and Logan smiles.

He is so cocksure, but maybe he deserves to be.

He lowers himself down over you, once again balancing on his forearm. His free hand trails up your sides teasingly before resting on your hip. “Gonna go slow, princess,” he whispers, biting your bottom lip and then stealing a kiss. “Nice and easy.” His hand on your hip disappears, leaving you suddenly cold and empty without his touch. But you know where he’s going—know that he’s wrapping his fist around the base of his cock. You spread your legs for him, inviting him inside.

He nudges against you, sliding up and down your folds, feeling you. His tip bumps against your clit, sending a shiver down your spine as you squirm underneath him. He finds your entrance again, his head slipping in, and then pulling back out.

His teasing is too much. You need him, more than anything, ever. “Please, Lo. Need you inside—”

Your words get stuck in your throat as Logan thrusts deep inside you, his cock rubbing against your walls, stretching you out. You moan his name, arching your back, your breasts pressing against his chest. He stays there for a moment, his cock throbbing inside you, giving you a second to adjust to the size of him. But it’s not enough—you need him to move. You lift your hips, searching for more friction.

Logan pins you down, his free hand stilling you at your waist. “Wanna take my time with you,” he growls, sliding out and thrusting back in. “Wanna feel every inch of you.” He’s setting the pace: slow, but building. Once he’s sure you’re not going anywhere, he lifts his grip from your hip and brings his hand down between where your bodies connect.

He finds your clit again, still swollen and overstimulated, and starts to work slow, gentle circles into it. You’re already close, already almost at that edge.

Logan’s thrusts become rougher, deeper. He rocks into you, plunging himself down to the hilt as he flicks your clit. He swallows your moans with a kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You open your mouth, letting him inside. You’d give him anything—absolutely anything he wanted. He never even has to ask.

“Yours,” you breathe into the kiss. “All yours.”

“F-fuck,” he curses, rutting into you, your words goading him along. “Mine,” He growls, his hips snapping faster, his pace quickening with every thrust. “All mine, pretty girl.”

And then the confession spills from your lips. You can’t control it. “I love you.”

Logan pounds into you harder. “I love you, too.” He can’t control himself either. You squeeze around him, the words practically pushing you over the edge. “Needed you this whole time, sweetheart. The whole fucking time.”

You throw your head back, exposing your throat to him. He buries himself into the crook of your neck as he pumps in and out of you, biting down on your pulse point again and then licking away the pain.

“Can feel you getting close, darlin’,” he coos, his fingers still stroking your clit. Your walls flutter and contract around him. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

Your chests heave together, one single breath flowing between the two of you as he thrusts deeper. You’re slipping, letting go, crashing beneath him. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him closer. “Lo…” you trail off, unable to form a sentence.

“Love it when you say my name, sweetheart,” he grunts. “Say it again for me.”

“Logan,” you whine, your legs wrapping around his waist as he fucks into you. You can’t hold back anymore. It’s too much. And he knows.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says, rubbing at your clit. “Let go for me.”

You do, clenching down onto him, pulling him deeper. He groans at the feeling, his pace faltering as you come around him. You’re melting into the sheets, your muscles tensing and relaxing, white-hot heat spreading across your vision.

“Fuck,” Logan groans, working you through your orgasm. After a few more slow, languid strokes around your clit, his hand slips from your core and up your body. He squeezes your breasts before sliding his palm behind your back, lifting you up for better leverage. He fucks up into you, pressing you closer to his chest.

You tighten your legs around his waist, keeping him in place. He knows what you’re asking him for. “Inside?”

“Yes,” you murmur. He brings his lips to yours as he comes inside you, filling you up. He’s so warm, so solid. You cling to him as he finishes, not wanting to let go. His pumps slow until he’s still inside you. He holds you there for a moment, your foreheads pressed together.

Logan carefully pulls out. He rolls off you and pulls you with him so that you’re lying on your side next to him. He wraps his arms around you, keeping you pressed against his chest. Your legs tangle together.

The intimacy of the moment suddenly sobers you, and memories of today come flooding back. You can feel the tears brimming in your eyes. Logan notices immediately.

“Hey,” he whispers, panic clear in his voice. “It’s okay,” he soothes, running his hands along your back. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry…” you trail off, burying your face into his neck. “I’m so sorry for scaring you, for hurting you, for putting myself in danger. I just—”

“I know,” he interrupts you. “It’s okay, don’t cry. I’m here.”

“I won’t leave you,” you vow. “I promise.”

“Don’t promise,” he says softly. You look up at him, a sad smile spread across his face.

You furrow your brows. “Why?”

He swallows. “Because I would’ve done the same for you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’d tear the world apart for you.” He pauses. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smile, your tears subsiding. You take a deep breath and recall something he had said before. “So, who has the savior complex now?” You joke.

“Me,” he says back, half joking, but half serious, too. You can hear it—the honesty, the intention. “I’d do anything to save you.”

“It’s not gonna come to that.”

“But when—” he stops himself. “If it does, I’ll be there.” He pauses. “I will always choose you. Always. Every time.”

Always. Always. Always.

It’s all you can think about as you fall asleep in Logan’s arms.

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yvvxs · 7 months ago

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Words of Affirmation...

‎ ‎↪ ft. argenti. arlan. aventurine. blade. boothill. caelus. dan heng. dr ratio. gallagher. gepard. jing yuan. luka. luocha. sampo. sunday. welt.

"You're beautiful." Argenti always tells you. It was true, and he would never lie about that to you. Because he found you beautiful, like a shining star in the sky that will never die out.

"Are you alright?" Arlan would ask, inspecting you for any wounds or injuries you may have had after the fight with the Antimatter Legion. It wasn't an easy task fighting them off, but he would make sure you were unharmed.

"I would wager everything for you." Aventurine would say, looking into your eyes. He cares about you, and he'd bet everything away just for you, your wellbeing, your happiness. He would give up the cornerstone, his IPC background, everything he ever owned just for you.

"Being with you makes living a bit more bearable." Blade admits, crossing his arms stubbornly. But below that facade, was a soft heart for you. Which loved you so dearly.

"Yer worth more than ma bounty." Boothill grins. To him, even a minute of your time, a minute of being in your presence was something more precious than any bounty he's had on his head.

"Let's have some fun!" Caelus says excitedly, pulling you by the wrist as the two of you go around the place, finding fun things to do together. Pranking people, going through trash cans, breaking some laws.

"Take a break if you need one." Dan Heng reminds in the middle of one of your trailblazing expeditions. He would be there to protect you from any possible dangers that would hurt you. He promises that silently.

"You did well." Dr. Ratio praises after the two of you study together. Your brain fried from all the information that you learned. But he made sure to give you a reward after all the work that you've put in.

"Here's a drink for you." Gallagher slides a glass your way, a personalized mix that was suited to your tastes. He remembered how sweet, how thick, and even how strong you liked your drinks. Making one just for you.

"I'll protect you." Gepard spoke, holding his weapon out beside himself. A silent reminder that his shield was there to keep you safe from any harm. And he'd make sure justice was served to those who have hurt you.

"Let's take a nap together." Jing Yuan requests, holding his arms out for you. He was finally done with his pending tasks, and it was time for a well-earned break with his beloved.

"You're pretty strong!" Luka encourages as the two of you train together, even if it's just for fun. He enjoys being with you, and swears you're strong enough to take him down.

"Shall we take a stroll?" Luocha invites you to go around with him. Spending some time together, not having to worry about any other pressing matters that the two of you had.

"Your dear Sampo Koski would never break your heart." He reassures you, making sure that you remembered that always. He would rather let himself get caught by the Guards than let him do that to you, ever.

"Would you like some tea?" Sunday offers, but he's already pouring the first glass for you. He loved you, and he'd make sure you were happy when you were with him.

"I'm proud of you." Welt smiles softly after you fix one of the problems at the current stop the Express was at. He really, really was, and he always will be. He just wanted to remind you of that fact.

↪ Some of them aren't very good at WoA so I'm sorry if this was subpar.

Masterlist || Do not repost nor feed to AI. Reblogs & Comments are much appreciated.

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kooberryfields4ever · 7 months ago

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lucky

hello !!!!!!! was not expecting this to get as long as it did nor did i expect the turn but what can i say i am a creature driven by self satisfaction……… :( anyways originally this was gonna be like a 1k max drabble bc i rewatched jks sleepy eepy sweetie live and he was twitching and looked so pretty that i HAD to write something domestic !!!! but i am an ANIMAL and thinking about jungkook sleepy in the morning made me feral😇 hope u enjoy!!!!!!!!

wc: 2500+

content warnings : fluff & smut below the cut, light nipple play, fingering, jungkook has a cute panty kink(?), jungkook is an unstoppable force, unprotected piv sex, gendered terms (the word “girl” is used & detailed desc of female anatomy), messy orgasm

MDNI !

You’ve been awake for ten minutes now, just watching Jungkook twitch in his slumber. It’s early morning – a little after 8:00AM – and he looks so unbelievably beautiful under the gentle sunlight flittering through the blinds. With a soft smile on your lips, your eyes trail over his eyebrows, paying attention to how they raise and drop in his unconsciousness, moving down to his relaxed jaw and the divots of his shoulder blades when your gaze lowers. The gentle rise and fall of his back as he breathes and the fist that keeps clenching and unclenching while you lay beside him makes your smile widen. Jungkook is a breath-taking sight, looking so at peace while you observe him. His muscles are softer in their unflexed state and you can’t help it when your finger finds his right triceps and paints shapes over it. His tattoos are next on your list of targets, and soon your wandering finger is tracing the inked motifs like you’re re-carving them into his skin, following the lines and curves of the patterns as if they were new to you.

They are very much not new to you, though. You think you’ve studied them over a hundred times, committed them to memory, made them so indelible in your mind that you’re sure you could redraw them perfectly if he ever asked. You chance at moving your touch to his fingers, watching his face amusedly when you lift his hand to inspect them and he furrows his brow. The soft letters adorning the bones of his joints are met with the pad of your thumb as you stroke them adoringly, fighting the desperate urge to kiss his calloused palm when the tips of your fingers press against the rough skin. Your fingers don’t get to explore for long before he opens a single eye suspiciously, curling his fingers around your hand to stop you.

“Good morning,” his voice is deeper, sluggish, yet gentle still through the rasp. “You having fun?”

“I was,” you smirk, intertwining your fingers with his instinctually, “until you so rudely interrupted me.” His thumb rubs your knuckles sleepily, bringing them to his lips for a chaste kiss, turning onto his back, pulling you closer to his chest and tucking his other hand behind his head.

“Mm, my bad.” Comes his short reply, blinking his eyes open once again to find yours. His fingers card through your hair when you sit up on your elbows, leaning against his solid frame. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip while you allow yourself to continue observing him from above now that he’s awake.

“Do you know you twitch a lot in your sleep?” You ask, reaching over to rub some sleep from the corner of his eye. Your thumb runs over his cheek, then down to his lower lip, dragging it down playfully and watching it bounce back when you let go abruptly. He shakes his head slightly to answer your question but sits quietly, content to just let you fiddle, fondly mirroring the smile you offer him when you lean forward to press your foreheads together. “I should’ve filmed it. You almost knocked me out.”

“Instead of leaving me in peace?” He quirks a brow, tilting his head back to press a kiss to your lips quickly before lowering it again. “I don’t think I’m capable of hurting you, even if I’m unconscious. It’s written out of my biological code.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “As if I would’ve let you anyway, we both know I'd win in a fight.”

Your lips chase his naturally, and he hums sweetly when you connect them again, smirking. “Is that a challenge?” He mumbles into your mouth, you feel his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer still before flipping you onto your back effortlessly. He continues kissing you like that.

“Because I really beg to differ,” he ruses, trailing a hand down to the back of your thigh to hold your leg up against his hip. “Think I’d win in a heartbeat.” Another kiss. “How easy was it for me to get you like this?” His hips move against yours in a slow motion, making you very aware of a growing presence between his legs as it presses against you through all your layers of clothing.

“You play dirty, that’s why,” you joke back, pushing your palm against his forehead. He moves away from your lips to attach his mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone delicately, the same way your fingers did to him minutes ago. “Caught me off guard, that’s- that’s not fair,” the small moan that leaves you after your stutter is unintentional. Curse Jungkook and how easily your body gives in to his ministrations. You loathe the way he seems to revel in it too, snickering when he moves his hips again.

You lean your head back against the pillows when he pushes your tank top up over your tits and you can feel his lips enclose around your nipple. It’s not a fair fight, Jungkook knows that. Knows that when his teeth brush against the darker flesh it’ll pebble against his tongue. Knows that when his hands slip down past your waist and hips, your legs will spread instinctually for him. Knows that when your fingers tangle in his hair, he’s got you.

“Could die between your tits,” His muffled voice knocks you out of your pleasured trance, and you hum in acknowledgement. He’s resting his face between your breasts rather lovingly now, kissing the skin between them with a hand on your waist. The hand tangled in his hair falls to his nape, scratching at the baby hairs grown out from his last haircut.

“I wouldn’t encourage you to.”

“Couldn’t be the worst fate.”

His response has you rolling your eyes, “No, a worse fate would be me beating you to a pulp because you thought you’d win in a wrestling match against me.” He chuckles, looking up at you and resting his chin on your chest with a soft pout.

“Seemed to like my approach a second ago,” he murmurs, crawling back up your body to kiss you again. There’s no underlying motive behind it, he just really likes your lips on his. You give in because, despite your argumentative nature, you like his lips too. He kisses you lazily, knee slotted between your legs, half-heartedly holding his body up to stop himself from leaning all of his weight on you. Your arms drape naturally over his shoulders and around his neck to keep him there, and you can feel his smile against your lips.

“You still hard?” His only response is the subtle grind of his hips against yours in affirmation and a slight lowering of his hand on your waist, on a slow but steady mission.

“Should I be offended that you don’t seem to be doing anything about it?”

“Gettin’ to it, jus’ let me kiss you.” He licks into your mouth sweetly, chasing the taste of you. Tries to pull you impossibly closer when you chuckle, spurring him on even more. He bites your lower lip, his wandering hand finally slipping past the waistband of your pyjama pants and brushing over your underwear. You can feel him smirk when he finds the small bow on the front, parting from your lips to slip your pants down to get a good look at them. They’re childish, pink and polka dotted and old; you’ve had them since before you and Jungkook even started dating but hardly wear them anymore.

“Cute.” Is all he says, and you roll your eyes before reaching down to pull them off. He grabs your wrists, meeting your eyes sternly. “Keep ‘em on.”

You slip your hands from his grasp, nodding hesitantly but obediently. You watch him curiously when he focuses his entire attention on your clothed pussy, entranced by it, pressing his fingers against the damp fabric to watch it cling to the shape of you, darkening with your arousal.

“Fuck, they’re so cute, baby,” he babbles, not really even speaking directly to you, just thinking out loud, “can I fuck you with them on?” He asks sweetly, kissing your chest and keeping an eye on you as he waits for your answer. You nod, combing your fingers through his hair when he peppers more kisses across your tits as a thank you. He pushes the fabric aside slightly to gain access to your pussy with no restrictions, not hesitating to sink his middle and index fingers past your opening. He knows you’re wet enough, preening when he hears your breaths turn to soft moans. He’s so familiar with your body now that curling his fingers up against your g-spot is second nature to him. You encourage him wordlessly, watching him work while his head still rests on your chest.

He knows you, so when you start to tighten around him and your moans turn into held breaths, he withdraws from you. You go to protest, furrowing your brow annoyedly, but he shushes you.

“Gonna have you come on my dick, baby.” There’s a brief pause while he separates from you to push his boxers down and take your pyjamas bottoms fully off too, grunting when he strokes himself languidly above you before rubbing his tip between your dripping folds, still fascinated by the panties he made you keep on.

“So pretty,” he coos, and for lack of better judgement, you nod. “So fuckin’ wet, love when you get like this for me. All for me.” He’s egging you on, coating himself in your arousal and pressing his forehead to yours when he sinks the mushroom tip of his cock past your opening. It’s calculated and slow, you think it’s to tease you, to prolong your frustration even longer; truthfully, it’s because Jungkook is embarrassingly close and wants to make himself last as long as he can.

“You wore these the first time I fucked you,” he admits, sinking deeper into your walls and breathing against your lips, “all I could think about for the rest of that week was getting to fuck you again, you were so perfect.” He pulls out slowly, before pushing back in, deeper this time. You let out a half-moan, half-breath, and he repeats until he’s fully seated inside of you.

“Wanted to fuck you with them on then, too, thought they were so cute.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Thought it was pervy, thinking your panties were cute and wanting to keep them on,” he chuckles, kissing you gently and quickening the pace of his hips to fuck you faster, “think you would’ve thought I was a creep, wouldn’t have let me. Was easier to make you think I just wanted to take my time undressing you.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

“Mm, you’re well trained now.”

His words get him a slap at the back of his head, and he laughs with you. The amusement doesn’t last long however, and soon he’s hiding his face in your shoulder to piston his cock in and out of you. You curse under your breath, letting him grip your thigh to guide your knee to your chest, wanting to fuck you deeper. He tuts, frustrated at the fact that he can’t get as deep as he wants, and soon your knees are over his shoulders with his hands holding your hips while he fucks you vigorously. He’s grunting animalistically, his tip prodding your cervix over and over, the corona of his cock rubbing deliciously against your g-spot every time he pulls back.

“Touch yourself.” He instructs from your shoulder. It’s gentle, you know he doesn’t mean to come across as commanding but you like it anyway. You’re quick to obey, of course, and soon you’re trailing a hand down to your own pussy to start rubbing at your clit. He wants you to finish, that much is apparent, and you assume it’s because he’s trying to hold off his own orgasm for you. It’s wordless between you when you feel the familiar band in your stomach begin to tighten, and your free hand wanders across his broad back, digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades in such a contrasting way to how you were so gentle only ten minutes ago. He grunts, knows you’re close because you’re clenching around him and he can feel you holding your breath. He kisses your collarbone as silent encouragement, and a few more strokes has you coming undone around him, finally releasing your breath and pulsing around him in a way that has you nearly pushing him out.

“Gonna come, where you want it?” He asks quietly, knows your answer but wants to hear it. You always want it inside, and Jungkook is always more than happy to oblige.

“On my panties.” Comes your surprising reply, and Jungkook’s pupils dilate to proportions you didn’t think were physically possible. He stops moving, dropping his grip on your hips to brace his hands against the sides of your head and hold himself up above you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he jokes, dipping down to kiss you fervently, picking up the pace of his hips again, “you’re so fucking perfect, you want me to come all over your panties, baby? Want me to make a mess?”

You’re not stupid, you know as much as the next girl that if there’s anything a man likes more than coming inside, it’s staking his claim. Of course, semen washes off - but the thought of Jungkook painting your panties white even makes your stomach flip. You nod, and he doesn’t need any more persuasion before he pulls out of you and sits up in order to stroke himself, a singular goal in mind. Your panties are still tucked to the side so he can see all of you as his fist pumps his cock quickly. You observe him, his cock is still wet from your arousal and his tip is so swollen and red that you’re unsure how he lasted even this long. As expected, he doesn’t last very long, and soon thick white ropes of come are shooting from his tip and coating your pussy and the fabric of your panties. He’s shuddering, curling over on himself before collapsing beside you on the bed.

“C’mere,” he pants out, slipping his arms around your middle and pulling you toward him, “this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

“Really wasn’t, I was doting on you.”

“Feeling me up is ‘doting’ now?”

You push him away playfully, but he keeps his grip on you, laughing when you turn around to get away from him. He pulls you back towards him and spoons you.

“I was being cute and you made it pervy, like always.” He can hear the pout in your voice, so he mumbles something in agreement. Knows there’s no winning here when he just came all over your panties like some kind of neanderthal. He rubs his hand over your belly, kissing your shoulder blade affectionately to keep you close. Your own hands cover his, intertwining your fingers once again and snuggling sweetly into him.

a/n 🗒️ as always tysm for reading !!! if u have anything to say pls do i love to hear from ppl and reflecting on criticism is my driving force 💆‍♀️ reqs/asks are open !!!!

#koob navi #jungkook #jungkook hard hours #jungkook hard thoughts #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook soft thoughts #jungkook soft hours #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x yn #jungkook x reader #yn x jungkook #reader x jungkook #bts hard hours #bts hard thoughts #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction

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lcriedlastnight · 5 months ago

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five times lando takes the lead + the one time you do | lando norris

○ tw: swearing, lando being cute, someone might find this a little toxic but i don’t so shh○

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c: 5k of me projecting. it was my birthday today so here’s a present!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

1.correcting your posture.

you had told lando way back at the start of the year that your new years resolution was to fix your posture. you didn't expect him to really take in what you were saying because he was swamped with work emails and all the other shit he had to do to get ready for pre-season. it was a simple passing comment, hell you guys weren't even official when you had told him about it. why would he remember something so insignificant about someone he was casually seeing?

well you just assumed that he wouldn't, maybe that was just because you can't really remember anything small thing he had said to you in the very early days of your relationship so it made you feel bad if he did.

it was safe to say you did not do well with your resolution and had almost completely forgotten that you had even made it a resolution in the first place but it seemed like lando hadn't.

it was a race week this week and you had the privilege of joining lando this. before jetting off halfway across the world both lando and oscar had been asked to join zak and andrea at mtc just to go over some things about the car and the upcoming race. to be honest you didn't really know why but lando had asked if you wanted to come and you didn't even think before you accepted.

it was very busy as lando drove you in towards the the car park in his flashy car, it always made you feel like a pop star when lando drove you around and lando did it because he knew you loved pretending the paps were following after you after they discovered you with your new man (lando). he found it cute.

"c'mon then, sweetheart. let's get this over and done so we can get on the plane." lando says as he holds a hand out to help you out of the car. you and lando were heading straight to the airport after this 'meeting' so you were both in clothes more on the comfortable side. both repping some sort of mclaren merch of course. yours was most likey stolen from the driver himself.

you both meet oscar as you walk in. he's by himself so you ask about his own girlfriend and if she was attending the race. oscar shakes his head sadly, telling you she's focusing on her studies and you can't help admire her for that. you have always had a soft spot for lily, just like lando has for oscar you're sure.

a member of staff heards the three of you into a meeting room where zak and andrea are already waiting. seeing them both next to each other always makes you a little nervous for some reason, you never know why and lando loves to make fun of you for it. they both greet the three of you with smiles and you feel lando move himself closer to you, not wanting to show basically any pda in front of his bosses but wanting you to know he was here and still thinking of you. he ends up so close to you that your arms are grazing against each other.

zak starts the meeting off and you can't lie, you aren't listening one bit but you hope to god lando is because oscar is asking questions and nodding his head like it's important. you worry though when his hand comes to the small of your back to rub there slowly. oh there is no way that boy is listening to a word that's being said. god help him.

you try to listen in for lando because he clearly cannot be trusted to do it himself. it's difficult to understand but you have a whole flight to ask your boyfriend what it all means as you catch him up.

you actually feel like you're on a roll and actually taking in what both men are talking about when lando throws you off completely. his hand that was resting on the small of your back comes to lay in the middle of your shoulder blades, ultimately straightening your posture. you already feel it at the bottom of your back and you feel the urge to sag back down again but lando's other hand is forcing you to stay in the position that he wants. it makes you feel warm but you try to push it to the back of your mind as you mentally take notes for the incapable boy.

the meeting wasn't too long, which now made sense in your mind as to why they didn't ask you all to take a seat but lando made you stand like that for the rest of the meeting. zak and andrea wish you both a safe flight before bidding everyone goodbye. oscar turning in his spot to exit the room and lando's hands forcing you to do the same. halfway down the corridor he removes both his hands and grabs your hand with one of his, now free ones. every time you drop your shoulders down you feel a little nudge and you are straightening up right away. lando squeezes your hand every time you do what he silently asks.

once you both are back in the car and lando is driving you both to the airport, that is when you ask him about it.

"what was all of that about?" you ponder, eyes flitting all over his pretty face as he drives like it's his second nature (it one hundred percent is).

"didn't you say you wanted to straighten your posture up?" lando questions, like he actually looks confused on why you would ask him that. he's acting like it was a common occurance but it doesn't piss you off, no instead you just smile. you just can't believe he remembered something so small and boring about you and tried to make it happen when you forgot about it.

the flight was filled with you trying to explain what it was exactly that zak and andrea had told you and oscar in the meeting room at mtc.

2. he keeps you feeling safe.

it was a really good race for lando today, he had begged you to come out clubbing with him which had made no sense to you whatsoever because wasn't going out clubbing a way to de-stress without your girlfriend? well it didn't matter what you thought because lando was literally on his knees in front of you in your hotel begging you to come. of course it was a joke and he was doing it get a laugh out of you so you would accept his offer but it really set you off balance seeing lando like that.

he was supposed to be the one that made you feel like getting to your knees and begging for something, joke or not. getting a taste of the roles being reversed made you wish for the way it usually was with the two of you. you didn't do too well with change.

"okay, okay, if i agree will you get up?" you ask him, the change clearly sends waves of discomfort through your body and because lando knows you too well, he knows this.

lando smirks up and you and replies with a simple, "yeah."

that's how you end up jumping into a quick shower to get yourself ready for the night ahead. lando is also in the hotel bathroom while you're showering. he makes sure to make his presence known as he clatters about, searching through his toiletry bag for his (your) favourite cologne. you love the homely feeling that rushes through you as lando makes conversation with you as a way of staying close to you when you're getting ready. he never fails to make you feel wanted.

you don't know how this is the first time since you had started dating lando that you were both going clubbing together because you were sure it was known worldwide that he loved a good night out. it made you feel special that he wanted you to come with him tonight. and to celebrate an amazing weekend, not just for lando but for the whole team. you hoped oscar and lily would be making an appearance, you had missed spending time the girl and you were both a little more introverted than some of the other wags, so you knew that if she was there you would have someone the entire night. not that you were expecting lando to leave you alone - you were just planning for a worst case senario.

lando walks over to you as you're standing in the bathroom trying to slip in a pair of earrings he had actually gotten you before you had even started dating, in front of the vanity mirror. you were struggling, you couldn't remember the last time you had a reason to wear earrings, never mind ones this fancy.

the brunette's arms snake around your waist as his chin sits on your shoulder, admiring you from the mirror. you looked beautiful to him everyday but in this dress? he remembers picking it out for you when he was at a boutique in japan earlier this year and just imagining you in it made his heart race. this had been the first time you had worn it besides the time you tried it on for him after he brought it home for you.

"look at you. don't know how i'm going to keep my hands off of you tonight, love." lando speaks into your shoulder, leaving soft, gentle kisses in his wake. his words make you flustered but you have no time to respond because lando is talking again.

"osc and lily are outside in a car waiting for us. i'm pretty sure max is coming out too." lando murmurs, a subtle demand for you to hurry up and get downstairs, which you blindly follow.

your eyes light up at the mention of your fellow mclaren wag tagging along. lily, like you, was never one for clubbing and to be honest neither was oscar but you knew how great of a weekend this was for mclaren and weren't too surprised the young australian wanted to join you and your boyfriend in the celebrations. you were surprised that his girlfriend was coming though. surprised and elated.

lando just smiles at the delight in your eyes before giving the back of your dress a light tug to get you moving. minutes later you're clinging to his arm as you are both exiting the fancy hotel lobby and out into the mild evening. you see the car waiting for you as soon as you leave the spinning doors.

the ride to the fancy club was filled with you chatting away to lily, the poor girl couldn't get a word in edgeways but she didn't seem to mind much, just listening to your work stories with a grin on her face, nodding when it was polite to do so. if you didn't know someone you were proper shy and never mustered up more than a simple sentence or two, but if you knew the person? god, let's just hope they brought earplugs because it was almost impossible to shut you up.

the night had been going perfectly and to your knowledge it still was. you were stood up at the bar with lando while you waited on your drinks and lando was talking to some guy, you didn't listen to his name because to be quite frank, you didn't really care what it was.

as much as lando was one for showing you off and wanting to constantly have his hands on you, he was never one for doing it in public, where he couldn't control who see what. it just never sat right with him so he just kept it as minimal as possible with hand holding. you knew this so of course you didn't try and force him to do anymore, even though you were a very clingy drunk.

so when lando comes to stand directly behind you and wrap his arms around you, just like back at the hotel in front of the mirror, it shocks you. you knew lando was barely drunk so you had no clue why he was getting so touchy with you, especially when he was mid conversation with someone. you don't want to interrupt his conversation by asking him why so you just lean into his touch and continue waiting. it isn't long before the bartender slides your drinks across the table, apologising for the wait. you shrug it off and spin in lando's hold to give him his drink.

"thank you, love." lando smiles and presses a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. in your intoxicated state it makes you all blushy and giggly. you're sure you hear lando make up some excuse about having to leave before he's leaving the man at the bar and moving you back to the booth, back to all your friends. as you sit down at the edge, lando stands in between your legs, looking down at you with what can only be described as heart eyes.

"what was all that about?" you ask him, gentle eyes peering up at his. lando's gaze darkens just as touch as you question him about his sudden urge to touch you and hold you close. he shrugs before putting your drink onto the table and pulling your head close to his stomach.

"he was staring at your arse." lando answers simply, voice filled with possessiveness. you don't even respond, just smile into his loose fitting t-shirt. you notice your makeup stains it but lando wears it proudly, wanting everyone to know you are his.

3. he tells you what to do (in a sweet way)

a lot of people thought that lando telling you what to do and basically bossing you about was weird. you didn't think so but apparently almost all of your friends thought so. it wasn't like lando was mean about it, he was so fucking sweet to you all the time it literally made you melt sometimes. the way that anyone thought that lando wasn't head over heels in love with you baffled you to no end.

to explain, lando knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew what you wanted to eat before you had even realised you were hungry. you were so easy to read to him, but that meant that the driver also knew how indecisive you were and how anytime you were faced with a decision that was even mildly difficult your brain, quite literally, short circuited. it was something that up until you met lando and he had gotten to know you, that had caused you major problems. but now with lando here, he made the decisions for you because he knew what you wanted even when you didn't.

neither of you really stopped to think about how it would look to someone outside of your relationship because, well why would you? to you and lando, anyone else's opinion on your relationship didn't matter. at the end of the day it was what made you and your boyfriend happy. and this way just worked for you both.

the first time you noticed other people maybe gave a second thought to what you and lando had was when you were invited to a close friend of your sister's baby shower. you both had grown up together and since your older sister couldn't make it due to being on holiday at the time, she had invited you and told you to bring someone along with you. you didn't really know that men weren't really that common at a baby shower so you, of course, asked lando to accompany you.

you had to ask nicely for lando to take the most normal looking car he had so you two didn't stand out too much, not wanting to be the talk of someone else's baby shower. that would make you feel horrible.

your sister's friend cheers your name as she opens the door after you give a few polite knocks. you stand hand in hand with lando and you will never forget the look on her face when she saw him standing with you. you knew it wasn't because she recognised lando, but because there was a literal man at her baby shower. a man she didn't even know, nonetheless.

"hi. uh come on in?" it's phrased as a question, it's how you know the poor girl is still puzzled. you feel a little bad no matter how funny it is.

she leads both you and lando to a beautifully decorated gazebo, filled with baby pink banners. well at least you now know she's having a girl. you feel bad for lando more and more as you sit down on the free seats by the entrance and realise there are no other males here at all. you had to make it up to him later, you supposed. you told him as much but he shook his head and said he was going to have fun. you doubted that but let him believe it anyway.

a few drinks in and the previous tension that was lingering from not really knowing anyone here had disappeared and you were now chatting away now you had some of that liquid courage.

just as you finish up your conversation with the girl on your right (you know it's horrible but for the life of you, you can't remember her name) lando turns to you and says, "go and get a glass of water." and if that didn't raise a few eyebrows then you doing so without any hesitation whatsoever, would've.

what everyone didn't know though, was that you didn't want to get drunk at a baby shower and although you felt just the appropriate amount of drunk for an event like this, lando knew that anymore would tip you over the edge, hence his instructions. and you follow because why would lando tell you to do something if it wasn't in your best interest? you did have to admit though it was funny watching everyone silently lose their shit when you two did this. you both agreed it would never get old.

4. he helps you through a crisis

it was clear to anyone who knew the both of you that in your relationship, although you were both prone to worrying and panicking, you trumped lando. he had even begun to suspect you had some sort of unknown anxiety disorder from the silly little things you worried about.

the thing that shocked him most though was that you thought it was normal to feel like that, normal to worry about silly little things that don't really matter that much in your day to day life. ever since you had started waking up on your own you had set at least ten alarms on your phone and it annoys the fuck out of lando but he has never mentioned it to you because he knows the reasons behind it and yelling at you will do nothing but make you worry more. why do you set so many alarms for the next morning? well, because you may sleep in of course! lando understands that, of course he does, even though he doesn't really get the whole being worried about being late thing, he understands. it's when you set ten alarms when you both don't have any plans the next day. and when you sleep through every single one of them because he tired you out the night before. it killed him.

so it was safe to say you were a worrier, much more than your other half. even though you worry an abnormal amount, lando knew how to keep a level head and even learned how to talk some sense into your more sillier worries. this one wasn't one of those though.

you were due to start your brand new college course and god if you hadn't gone through every single situation that could go wrong in your mind about a million times until you had made yourself mentally sick. lando, obviously, noticed this and took you out for a day of buying new clothes and supplies that you would need for your course. bless his heart for trying to distract your horrible mind.

"what about here? does this do cute clothes? i liked that outfit they had at the window." lando mentions as he gestures to some store you had never set foot in before.

"not sure." is all you reply with. lando's not quite sure exacly where you are in your mind but he knows your travelling down that horrible, panicking road quite quickly and he needs to find a way to get your mind off of it and onto something else.

unfortunately, he isn't quick enough and you're halfway to a panic attack and right in the middle of the shopping square is the last place you want to have it. lando's thumb is swiping across your hand trying to ground you but it's not enough, you can feel the heavy pressing on your chest, like cement is filling it up.

lando can always tell when you're about to go into a panic attack. you either get quite and shut him out, trying to push him away (for some reason unbeknown to him) or you get mean and say a lot of stuff that you don't meant at all and regret almost as soon as you say it. this time you were quiet so lando tries to lead you somewhere less busy, wanting you away from everyone's eyes.

almost as soon as you're alone your breathing picks up and you just let yourself panic. you sink to the floor as you heave in breaths but lando is quick to follow you down to hold your hands and try and will you back to him.

"hey, c'mon now love. you know what to do. give me five things you can see." lando says, voice all warm and syrupy. it makes your insides melt and weirdly makes you feel better already.

although this way is a lot less demanding and raises a lot less eyebrows it's one you appreciate a ton, maybe even more than the others. it made you feel seen, like he actually knew you and wanted to help you even when you were at your most vulnerable and needed a helping hand into getting back to your normal, bubbly self again.

5. he distracts you without even knowing (he knows)

it's been said by many people many different times throughout the course of yours and lando's realtionship that you both know each other inside and out. it's so easy for people, like his fans who only get a glimpse into your time spent together, to see that you know each other like the back of your hand.

there is one specific moment that goes very viral on tiktok that you have to admit, anytime one comes up on your for you page you give save it to your favourites to watch during those times when you miss lando just a little more than usual.

lando can tell when your mind isn't one hundred per cent focused on something, just like you can tell when he is letting his mind wander to what film he was going to force you to watch later on that evening. the tiktok that had went viral was a prime example of this. lando's best friend, max had went live at the flat you and lando shared. you were supposed to be studying for an assignment you had to complete at the end of the week but instead both boys had ended up distracting you from your studies. it didn't bother you at all, or else you wouldn't have sat in the same room as them. okay maybe you would've but it wasn't your fault you were obsessed with your boyfriend.

max was answering some of the questions that were popping up in the chat as lando sat alongside him, chiming in whenever he felt it necessary. his eyes were focused more on you and what you weren't doing. you could tell by the stern look in his eyes that he was trying to tell you to get back to studying or else he would kick you out of the room so you would actually work, and you didn't want that so you put your head back down and try to focus.

it doesn't last longer than five minutes because max is then making a funny joke about the amount of times lando had tried to fix his toaster and failed and it kept you fairly distracted, much to lando's chagrin.

a few more stern looks were thrown your way and every time you focus back on your work, only to get distracted again minutes later. lando had never seen you so easily distracted before, it was actually quite amusing if he wasn't so bothered about you actually studying so you could pass the class and the assignment.

the next time lando sends you a look over the camera you aren't even watching him, eyes pretending to read whatever was on your own computer as you smile and try to hold a laugh in at whatever max was saying. this pissed lando off to an extreme he knew he shouldn't be at. he was just worried for you, you had told him the night before about how tonight was the only night you could pack this much studying in. he knew he shouldn't have let max stream here tonight. he knew his friend would serve as a great distraction from something you didn't even want to do in the first place.

once max quietens to read the stream you hear three firm taps on the table and although you have never heard anything of the sort before in your life, you just know it's lando telling you silently to get on with your work without saying it in front of the stream and making you both look bad. you wanted to keep some parts of your relationship out of the limelight and this one was one of them.

you shuffle around in your college bag and find your headphones, slipping them on to let yourself fully concentrate. the sight pleases lando and not just because you picked up on his silent gesture and actually listened to him but because you were doing what you said you had to get done today. lando was a firm believer in setting small goals, like studying for an hour, and achieving them. you knew for a fact that once max left, lando would be showering you with praise and kisses.

+1 you tell him what to do

you knew the dynamic in the relationship and you were not big on change at all nor were your instincts anything like your boyfriends. you always wanted to listen and never tell others what to do. you used to do that and you were called bossy, so you vowed never again.

you were quite happy with lando and how your relationship was but there was some times where you had to put a foot down and actually make a decision because this was something that lando maybe had no clue about.

you had just gotten home from what seemed like one of the most gruelling shifts at work and all you wanted was to come home and crash in lando's arms. all the way home your brain kept repeating, thank fuck it's friday and i don't have to anything tomorrow.

once you finally arrive home, it feels like entering the gates of heaven. that is until you notice that lando isn't in any of his usual places when you return home and instead is in front of your vanity mirror, applying some moisturiser on his face. he only does that when he's going out. the thought of him leaving right now makes you want to flip out but instead you keep calm and enter the room.

"hi, love." lando greets as soon as you slump into the room and trape towards him. you quite easily fall into his embrace. it's then that you notice he's wearing his going out clothes and that he was almost definitely going to be leaving you tonight. you nearly tear up just thinking about laying alone in your bed tonight because were you fuck in the mood for joining him tonight, not after the shift you just had.

you mumble back something you're sure can be considered a greeting and you rest your head in the crook of his neck. lando's arms move around your back as he hums all soft and gentle like. it's almost like he's trying to lull you to sleep while you're standing with him. you also catch a whiff of his aftershave and it makes you want to cry, he smells so good and exactly like how lando is supposed to smell. you need him to stay with you tonight.

"you goin' out?" you mumble once more, it's a miracle he can even hear you, but he does as he responds just as nicely as he did before. it almost makes you forget that he is planning on leaving you.

"yeah, it won't be a late one." he tells you.

you don't respond just let yourself rest in his embrace and cling on tighter every time he tries to pull away, telling you that he's going to be late if he doesn't leave right now. as if you actually cared. once it gets to the point where lando is desperately trying to get you off of him, that's when you finally speak up.

"you're not leaving me tonight. i need you here." you don't ask, you demand it. if he left you right now you were so sure that you would cry so hard and not stop until he came home. you were also in no state of mind or just state in general to be taking care or a drunk or even a tipsy lando. as much as you loved that version of your boyfriend, all you wanted tonight was to fall asleep in his arms to some dumb film that was on comedy central.

"i'm not?" lando questions, amused. before he can even say anything more your hands are gripping him harder and in turn that pulls him closer to you.

as it turns out lando isn't too keen on leaving tonight either and you both end up ordering a takeout and getting some snacks to have a cute night in with one another. it was exactly what you needed after this hell of a week. you didn't think you were even being demanding but lando always joked that this night was the most demanding he had ever seen you and he knew for a fact he loved it and wanted to see more of it. one thing lando loved more than anything was learning knew things about you.

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hivemuthur · 20 days ago

Note

Hii! Could I request a Viktor x reader fic where the reader commissions an elevator be built in the academi/wherever his lab is, so viktor doesn't have to climb so many stairs and than getting stuck in the said elevator with viktor. I'm thinking reader with mild claustrophobia, love confession, whatever you see fit? (Smut/fluff, whatever) Thank youu❤️❤️

~🍒

Dear Anon, thank you for a lovely request! ❤️

Five Things

viktorxgn!reader mature! kissing, or rather making out, reader suffers anxiety attack, fluff!

author’s note: If you help me find an artist of this drawing I will be eternally grateful! Artist found, image description updated! Thank you! Can you tell I am obsessed with his neck?

word count: 2,7K

—

“Can you at least tell me if my current state of restriction leads to something beneficial?” Viktor whined, his hand clasped in yours as you blindfolded him and led him through the academy corridors.

“Trust me, it will be very beneficial,” you said matter-of-factly, not noticing the smirk on his face. The flirt dared to chuckle at that, and you shot him a look, a force of habit. “Maybe not as much as you think, whatever clatters around that head of yours.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know, dear friend,” Viktor mused, squeezing your hand tighter, his thumb ghosting over your index finger and sending goosebumps up your arm. Friend, of course—you were friends, and that was fine.

When you finally got there, mindful of all the plant pots, benches, and other objects cluttering the hallways—apparently, people would lose shoes, books, or once-bitten sandwiches—your face was beetroot red from all the teasing and handholding. You thanked the gods that all Viktor could see was the inside of your scarf.

“Are you ready?” you asked after clearing your throat.

“Depends. I trust you endlessly, so if you have led me to something dangerous, I am very much unready. If—” he accentuated, lifting his finger, picturing what kind of expression was painting itself on your face right now, “it’s in fact something very beneficial, I would like to think myself always ready for that.”

“You talk too much, mister,” you let out a strangled chuckle and began undoing the knot at the nape of his neck. Your fingers brushed the skin at his hairline, and Viktor shivered despite himself. A smile bloomed under your nose, as you tried to steady your breathing. “Here we go.”

You were still standing behind him, peeking over his shoulder, but you couldn’t see his expression. When no comment came for a while, you asked hesitantly, “What do you think?”

“You did this?” he mumbled quietly. His hand travelled to his back to find yours and lead you next to him. “How?”

“I didn’t do this exactly,” you said humbly, lowering your eyes to stare at your shoes. “But I might have bullied some people, who bullied other people, who commissioned other people to make it. Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? I… have no words.” The squeeze of his hand strengthened again as he walked up closer to study the ornamentations.

The elevator was not only functional but also beautiful. The outside frame was made of mixed metals, resembling both the design of the academy’s historical rooms and the specific curls and bends of hextech equipment. The inside was carefully crafted from deep, warm varnished wood.

You let out a breath you had been holding for far too long and laughed. “Well, I have to thank Janna for that miracle later,” you teased him.

Viktor’s mouth didn’t move an inch as he turned to face you and pulled you into an unexpected embrace. His cheeks were faintly pink when his arms cradled you, and you could feel the press of his cane’s handle against your shoulder blade. Letting out another breath you’d been holding, you relaxed into it and wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing in the scent of parchment and oil that clung to him.

“Should we… test it?” he offered playfully, his amber eyes sparkling with excitement.

You hesitated, but the way his hand remained clasped around yours melted your resolve. “Alright, but only if you don’t start analysing every bolt and rivet,” you teased, trying to keep your voice steady.

As you stepped into the elevator together, your heart began to beat faster. The space, while beautifully crafted, felt far too confined. The warm varnished wood and intricate metal details seemed to close in around you the moment Viktor gently pulled the handle to close the door. It slid with a deep metallic groan, settling into place with an audible clunk.

Your breathing hitched slightly, but you kept a smile plastered on your face, still holding his hand as if it were a lifeline.

Viktor, utterly delighted, hummed appreciatively as the mechanism engaged. “Remarkable. The craftsmanship is truly exceptional—the balance of form and function. And these gears, see the way they interlock? It’s as though—” He paused mid-sentence, glancing down at you. “Are you alright? You’re gripping my hand rather tightly. Not that I am complaining of course.”

You blinked up at him, your chest tightening as you struggled to keep calm. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

Viktor’s brow furrowed in concern, but before he could press further, the elevator lurched and trembled under your feet. A hollow metallic thud reverberated through the space, and then… nothing. The lift shuddered and stopped.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath, your hand darting to the handle. You tugged on it once, then again, harder this time, but it wouldn’t budge. The handle jammed in place, as immovable as the walls surrounding you.

“Wait, hold on,” Viktor said, his voice calm but curious as he leaned forward to inspect the mechanism. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stuck,” you replied quickly, trying not to sound panicked. Your hand dropped from the handle as your fingers fidgeted at your side, searching for something to grasp. “It’s not moving. It’s… oh gods.”

You started breathing faster, each inhale sharper than the last.

“Hey,” Viktor said softly, his tone gentle now, his attention fully on you. “What’s going on?”

“I—” you hesitated, your voice catching as you looked at him. You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but there was no hiding it now. “I might not be… the best in small spaces.”

His face softened instantly, the corners of his mouth dipping into a sympathetic frown. “You’re claustrophobic?”

“Maybe a little. And this…” You gestured vaguely at the enclosed space, the walls that felt closer with each passing second. “I don’t know. It’s just—”

“Alright, alright,” Viktor interrupted gently, turning fully to face you, his hand squeezing yours where it rested against his chest. His voice was soft but firm, grounding. “Breathe with me. Slowly, pomalý,” he murmured, his tone warm, almost coaxing. “I need you to try and name five things you can see.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, frustration flickering in your chest as you stared at him, willing him to drop the exercise. But his steady gaze told you he wouldn’t budge. Reluctantly, you glanced around.

“Um… a broken handle,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, though your voice betrayed your unease. “Uh… my shoes,” you added, but the words wavered, cracking like brittle glass.

Viktor’s hand shifted to pull you closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours. His breath, soft and warm, fanned across your face, calming one part of you, while unnerving the other. “Very good,” he said quietly. “Three more things. Anything you can see,” he encouraged, a faint smile lighting his features, his amber eyes bright with reassurance.

A strange lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down and tried again. “Your buttons… your hands… your freckles,” you blurted out quickly, the words tumbling over each other before you could stop them. It wasn’t until the words were out that you realised everything you’d named had been Viktor.

He let out a quiet sweet laugh, his chest moving against your hand. “Very good,” he said again, his voice laced with amusement. “Now—four things you can touch.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, making your heart stutter.

You inhaled shakily, closing your eyes to concentrate. “Wood… uh, the metal,” you began, though your throat tightened as you spoke.

“Good,” Viktor said soothingly. “Two more. Don’t overthink it—anything you can touch, no matter how small.”

You hesitated for a moment, then exhaled a resigned sigh. “Your hair… and your hand,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Heat crept up your cheeks, and you silently prayed you could blame it on the anxiety instead of… well, him.

Viktor’s smile softened, a hint of understanding dancing in his expression. “Very good,” he said simply, his hand steady in yours.

“Now—three things you can hear. Take your time,” he added, lowering his voice, the soft click of his tongue echoing faintly in the confined space.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze, and felt your chest tighten for a different reason entirely. “The metal cracking,” you said after a moment, your voice strained as you took a shallow breath. “My heavy breathing… and your voice.”

“You’re doing so well,” Viktor murmured, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles along your skin. “Two things you can smell,” he continued, his voice dipping lower as he shifted ever so slightly closer, the space between you shrinking. His nose nearly brushed yours, and you felt your lungs hitch, though now it had little to do with the cramped elevator.

“Oil… and parchment,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyes fluttered shut.

There was a faint noise from Viktor—a soft clearing of his throat—and you felt warmth bloom across his cheeks, his flustered reaction oddly comforting. At least you weren’t the only one affected by the closeness.

He leaned in just a fraction more, his cheek brushing against yours, the soft skin of his jaw teasing under your ear. His heartbeat was rapid under your intertwined hands, the rhythm betraying his otherwise steady demeanour. “Last one,” he murmured, his breath brushing your earlobe. “One thing you can taste?”

Your eyelids cracked open, your gaze falling on the column of his neck, mere inches away. For a heartbeat, time froze. Before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed your lips to his skin and whispered, “You.”

Viktor exhaled sharply, the sound trembling as it escaped. Without breaking position, he propped his cane against the wall and brought his hand to your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. You leaned into his palm, a quiet hum slipping from your lips.

His face hovered close to yours, his breath mingling with your own as he murmured, “Now I find myself in need of calming some anxiety.”

“Well, why don’t you name five things you can see, then?” Your voice slipped back into a teasing lilt; the tiny space of the elevator forgotten, replaced by the infinitely smaller space shared between the two of you.

“Hmm,” he mused, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Your ear,” he murmured before placing a soft, lingering kiss on your earlobe. “Your neck,” he added, brushing his lips gently against it. “Your eyes,” came next, accompanied by a featherlight peck on your brow. “Your nose,” he whispered, dropping another kiss just above its bridge. His tone deepened as he concluded, “And your chin.” He placed the final kiss there, smiling as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Very well,” you breathed, the places his lips had touched burning and tingling with an intensity that left you dizzy. “Now, four things you can touch, was it?”

“Your skin,” he replied immediately, taking a deep breath as his hands framed your cheeks, his thumbs brushing your jaw. “Your neck,” he chuckled softly, letting his palms glide down the sides of your throat, the light pressure sending a shiver down your spine. “Your collarbones,” he added, his thumbs pressing firmly against the delicate ridge, “and your shoulders.” His hands lingered there, warm and steady.

“You’re doing so well, Viktor,” you teased lightly, your eyes fluttering shut as you focused on his touch. “Next, three things you can hear.”

“Your voice,” he said, his thumb brushing against your lower lip, the faint scrape of his nail sending a ripple of heat through you. “Your breath,” he added, his gaze locking with yours, quiet intensity simmering in his amber eyes. After a brief hesitation, his hand moved to rest over your sternum. “And your heart. A very loud little thing,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower.

“We’re almost done,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he pulled you closer, his hands firm at your waist. “Two things you can smell.”

Viktor’s arms caged you in as he leaned in, his face burying in the crook of your neck. His voice rasped, “Your hair… and your skin. My favourite smells.” He inhaled deeply, his breath ghosting across your neck, his lips brushing faintly against your tendon. You felt his nose press against your skin as he trailed his open mouth along your neck, leaving a path of heat in its wake.

You swallowed hard, your body bracing for the last part. “A thing you can taste?” Your voice was quiet, barely audible.

“You, hopefully,” Viktor murmured, cupping your face gently as his lips brushed yours, tentative at first. His mouth was warm, tasting faintly of green tea, and when you glanced up, you noticed his ears were flushed red, his cheeks dusted a deep pink.

One of your hands found its way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair, while the other settled on his hip, where his vest shifted to reveal a sliver of skin beneath. At your touch, Viktor groaned softly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips as he tilted his head and let his tongue glide across your upper lip.

Your brows furrowed briefly, your eyes fluttering closed as you parted your lips to let him deepen the kiss. His hands slid from your cheeks to cradle your waist, one slipping up your back to press against your shoulder blades, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

His weight leaned into you, his breath filling your lungs with warmth, and a soft moan escaped your lips. Viktor echoed the sound, his chest vibrating with it, and the sensation rippled through you, your heart fluttering wildly against his. Your lips felt swollen under his, your fingers tugging at his hair to keep him anchored against you.

He obliged, pressing into you further as he guided you back a step until your back met the cold wood of the elevator wall. His lips left yours to travel down your neck, the heat of his mouth searing into your skin as he pressed soft, insistent kisses. He sucked gently at the base of your neck, pulling a startled giggle from you, and when he seemed satisfied with the mark he left, he dragged his tongue flat against the spot before returning to your mouth.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, his lips moving with an intensity that left you dizzy. Yet, even in his eagerness, Viktor’s touch remained steady, his hold on you firm but reverent, as though you were something precious to him. When you finally felt yourself running out of breath, Viktor pulled back just enough, a translucent string of saliva still connecting your mouths.

“So… um…” you whispered, your breath shallow and quick. “I take it you like your present?”

Viktor brushed his nose gently against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he nodded eagerly. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice low and hushed, “yes, very beneficial... very good gift. Possibly the best one anyone's ever given me.”

You hummed contentedly, settling yourself more comfortably in Viktor's arms, your head resting against his chest. The warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart, was enough to make you forget the rest of the world. But as the seconds passed and the kiss-induced haze begun to clear, reality seeped back in. You tilted your head up, suddenly aware of your position—still trapped in the elevator.

"So... how long do you think we're going to be stuck here?" you asked, the playful hint still lingering in your voice.

Viktor's lips twitch into a small smile, his hands gently stroking your back as he leaned closer. "Well, how long would you like to be stuck here?" he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You blinked, confused for a moment. "What do you mean? You know how to fix it?"

His smile widened, and there was a slight glint of guilt in his eyes. "Well, I'm an engineer after all," he said, his tone almost sheepish. "I knew the minute it broke."

"Viktor!" you exclaimed in mock offense, lightly batting his chest with your hand. "You knew the whole time?" He chuckled softly, his gaze softening as he looked down at you, clearly amused. "What can I say? I like a little... suspense."

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #request #viktor x gn!reader #viktor fluff #viktor x reader fluff

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giamee · 8 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍!

... aka something super self indulgent because i'm going insane right now

༊*·˚ featuring ➻ the hsr men

༊*·˚ gia's notes ➻ this is probably gonna get posted way after exam season is over but here it is!!! my coping mechanism!!! i have 3 exams in 8 days im gonna explode bro. and before that i had a THREE HOUR STATISTICS EXAM 😀😀

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 MAKES SURE THAT YOU SLEEP COMFORTABLY.

you've been running yourself into the ground recently with revision- yes, it's important and you need to study to get good grades, as he is more than aware of due to your multiple stressed rants to him when he suggests that you take a break.

it doesn't bother him, not really. he knows that you're beyond stressed right now and don't mean to be so snappy. he just wants to make sure that you're still taking care of yourself despite everything.

he's in your dorm room, not really making much noise, scrolling through reals with his phone on mute, just present to keep an eye on you and get you to take a break whenever it's been a little too long since you've moved from your desk.

it's some time where it's debatable whether it's very late or very early- both of your sleep schedules are fucked- and there comes a little thunk from your desk that interrupts the otherwise silent room.

your boyfriend glances up, smiling in triumph as he sees that you've finally succumbed to the nap that he's been trying to convince you to take for the past... 36 hours? something like that.

and now that your body has finally given in to exhaustion, he springs to action.

you'd been studying for days, you'd done more than enough for your upcoming exam, and a solid few hours of uninterrupted sleep is exactly what you need right now.

he slips off of your bed, his movements quiet and calculated as he sidles up next to you. your glasses are smushed against your face, and he gingerly removes them as gracefully as he can. you stir a little as he does so, and he grimaces, waiting for you to settle again.

it looked like you would wake up if he carried you to your bed- looks like he'll have to improvise.

he snags the fuzzy blanket folded neatly at the foot of your bed, wrapping it around your sleeping form still sat at your desk as best as he can. he then takes one of your smaller pillows, coaxing it between you and the solid wood of your desk as best as he can before admiring his handiwork.

hopefully, you wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck.

and finally, as a cherry on top, he places a kiss to your squished cheek and sits back down to let you take a well-deserved nap.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ BLADE, gallagher, BOOTHILL ++ your faves!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 IS YOUR PERSONAL ASSISTANT WHILE YOU'RE STRESSING.

you don't have to lift a single finger when he's around. luckily for you, his exams finished a lot earlier this term than yours did, leaving him ample time to help you as much as he is capable of.

and what an attentive boyfriend he is! amidst all the stress, you can't help but swoon for him all over again because of how attentive he's being towards you. he just wants you to help you study and not worry about anything else!

if you're hungry, he'll have a plate of food ready for you before the request has even left your mouth. your back or neck is aching due to being hunched over? his strong hands are rubbing circles into the muscle, making you sigh contentedly as the stiffness melts away.

he's honestly like an angel in your time of need.

you feel guilty about how one-sided this all is, but he merely smiles, giving you a quick kiss and assuring you that he understands and just wants you to do well. you almost cried because of how sweet he was being.

once these exams are over, you're definitely going to make it up to him.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ GEPARD, jing yuan, sunday ++ your faves!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ACTS AS YOUR TEMPORARY STUDY PARTNER.

despite not doing your degree, he's clever, and he knows enough without googling to help you out when you revise.

he's an advocate for the "teach someone about a subject until they understand it as well as you do" and luckily for you, he's all ears... and even if he does get some things a little quicker than your fried brain can explain, he still bites his tongue and plays a little dumb to probe you further with questions to test your understanding.

it'll help in the exam.

you've decided that this is way better than being cramped in a booth in the library- you have the freedom to wave your arms around and pace the room, to fully illustrate your thoughts and knowledge as he flips through the colourful flashcards that you made, reading the answers on the back of each of them, grilling you on the questions like a tiger mum.

he'll be damned if you don't get an A.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ dan heng, DR RATIO, welt ++ your faves!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DEFUSES YOU WHENEVER YOU'RE GETTING TOO STRESSED.

in the days leading up to your exams, it was best to describe your stomach as a pit of nerves. it was honestly distracting you from revising, all the pent up anxiety that churned within you until you were on the verge of a meltdown.

and while you may be too stressed to realise all of this and do something about it, your boyfriend's watchful eye realises this.

and so he does what he does best- he makes you feel better.

he pulls your body to rest against his where he lies in your bed, his large hand drawing comforting circles up and down your spine- and after a few minutes he can feel you melt into him, your body finally releasing the pent up stress that it's been holding for too long.

"it's ok to take a break, honey."

you sigh into him, and he hugs you tighter.

"c'mon, let's go outside for a few minutes. it'll help you feel a lot better."

you shake your head.

"you wanna just stay here for a bit?"

he feels you nod against his chest.

"ok, then let's do that."

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ SAMPO, luocha, AVENTURINE ++ your faves!

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... do you want somebody like i want somebody?

the sweet and caring nature of the hsr men is also shown through them being your roommate <3

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moonstruckme · 4 months ago

Note

remus x touch starved! reader ❤

i want him to hug me so badly 😭

Me toooooooo! Unsure if this was a request but thanks for sending and potentially for requesting haha <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 707 words

Remus’ foot is touching yours. It’s incidental, thoughtless. You’re sitting on opposite sides of the couch, facing each other as you both read your books, only you’re not reading anymore because all of your attention has been stolen by the way your boyfriend’s foot is lightly pressing yours into the back cushion. The slightness of the contact, the smallness of it, it isn’t nearly enough, and yet you don’t think you could take any more.

The other side of the couch seems a thousand miles away.

“You alright?” Remus asks. You look up to find him studying you over the top of his book.

“Mhm. Why?”

“You just seem like you might be cold.” You look at him bemusedly, and he nods to the blanket around your shoulders. “You’ve wrapped yourself up fairly tightly there.”

You look down. You’re holding the blanket closed with a near vice-like grip, cocooning yourself in warm snugness.

“Oh.” You ease your grasp on it. “Sorry, I didn’t even notice.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Remus replies easily, sitting forward and clasping a hand around your ankle. “Should I go turn the heater up?”

Every nerve in your being has directed its attention to your ankle, your boyfriend’s fingers braceleting it loosely, casually. One finger moving slowly up and down as though to placate you. Your chest aches terribly.

Some of it must show on your face, because Remus frowns. “What is it?”

“What?”

“You look upset.” He leans forward, his touch coasting up to your knee. His frown deepens. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

“Nothing.” You close your eyes, feeling silly. Shake your head. “Sorry, nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s really stupid.”

Remus shushes you admonishingly. “I doubt that. Will you tell me?”

“It’s just…” You push out a breath, not quite able to look at him. “It is, it’s silly. I feel like I miss you, but you’re right here.”

Remus gives you a contemplative look, his lips downturnt. You almost want to laugh just so he’ll take you less seriously. You feel far too exposed.

“That doesn’t sound silly,” he says after a moment. “I think…I know what you mean, sometimes. Maybe there’s something we’re missing.”

“Like what?” you ask helplessly.

He considers you. “Could we have a hug?”

Now you do laugh. “Yeah,” you say, though you don’t move. “Of course, whenever you want.”

“Whenever you want, too,” Remus reminds you. He takes the initiative, setting his book down and moving across the couch toward you.

His arms come around you almost tentatively, one hand moving across your back while the other settles itself between your shoulder blades. You give a little shiver at the contact, and he strengthens his hold, your own fingers bunching in the material of his jumper. That ache in your chest begins to feel like a sort of fracturing.

“I might cry,” you warn him wobbily. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus’ surprised chuckle jostles the first couple of tears out of you. “Oh, sweetheart.” He palms the back of your head. “I’ll try not to, but are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” You clutch him tightly. “This helps.”

“Okay,” he says softly.

Remus lets you cry it out. He holds you, shuffles closer on the couch, presses his lips to the top of your head. When you’re done and you pull away to press a salty kiss to the corner of his lips, he picks up your fallen blanket and draws it around the both of you.

Your legs are all tangled together, bent knees and coarse hairs and the jut of an ankle bone into your hip. Remus looks into your eyes with a steady fondness.

“Do you feel any better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. “Sorry, thank you.”

“Why are you always sorry?” There’s a bit of teasing in his voice now, softened by the brush of his lips against your nose. “You can always ask for hugs, you know. You should.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to.”

“Okay.” Your face feels warm, but you feel a thousand times lighter. “I will.”

“Good.” He gives you a little smile. “Can we do another now?”

“Remus,” you smile back at him, “I’m really fine.”

“I believe you. This one’s for me.”

996 notes · View notes

hisfavegirl · 2 months ago

Text

Betrayal And Grief - Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

summary : The worst thing happened to your marriage with Aemond, you can't see him like before. You keep distancing yourself from Aemond and give yourself enough time to forgive him.

Warning : mention of blood, jaehaerys death, mention of miscarriage.

You stepped into Alicent’s chambers, the soft glow of the fire casting warm shadows across the room. She sat gracefully by the hearth, her posture poised but visibly tense. The teacup in her hands trembled ever so slightly as she raised it to her lips. Her eyes, sharp and calculating as ever, shifted to meet yours the moment you entered.

“Come in, my dear,” Alicent said softly, setting the teacup down on the small table beside her. She gestured to the chair across from her. “Sit with me. We have much to discuss.”

Her tone was gentle but firm, and you could sense the weight of the conversation that was about to follow. You stepped forward, smoothing the folds of your gown before sitting down. Your heart felt uneasy, unsure of what she could want from you at this hour.

For a moment, there was only the quiet crackle of the fire. Alicent studied you, her eyes searching yours as if she were looking for something — doubt, fear, or perhaps resolve. Then, she spoke.

“You are aware of the events unfolding around us,” she began, her voice low but steady. “With Viserys gone, the realm is more divided than ever. Sides have been chosen, and war… war is inevitable.” Her gaze didn’t waver as she leaned forward, her expression serious but motherly. “You are no longer just my daughter-in-law. You are part of this family, and your role will be crucial in the days to come.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and inescapable. You could feel the weight of expectation being placed upon your shoulders. You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond.

Alicent reached for your hand, clasping it firmly in hers. “You have done well, my dear. Supporting Aemond, standing by him — it has not gone unnoticed.” Her eyes softened slightly, but her grip remained strong. “But there is more to be done. You must remain vigilant, for enemies are everywhere. Our family is under threat, and I will do whatever it takes to protect it… to protect you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew she meant every word. Alicent Hightower had always been a protective mother, but tonight, she seemed more determined than ever.

“Do you understand?” she asked, her eyes piercing into yours like daggers.

You nodded slowly, fully understanding the weight of Alicent’s words. She was not merely asking for your loyalty — she was commanding it. Her gaze bore into yours with unwavering resolve, a quiet but undeniable assertion of power.

“Good,” Alicent said firmly, releasing your hand but letting her fingers linger for just a moment longer. Her eyes softened with something akin to affection. “You are wise beyond your years, my dear. Aemond needs someone like you by his side. This family needs you.”

Her words lingered in the air like a silent vow. You knew that from this moment forward, there would be no turning back. To remain by Aemond’s side was to anchor yourself to the cause of the Greens, to Alicent, to Aegon’s claim to the throne.

“You are one of us now,” Alicent continued, her voice quieter but no less firm. “No matter what happens, you must not waver. If he falls, you help him rise. If he falters, you steady him. And if anyone threatens him” — her eyes darkened, sharp as a blade’s edge — “you crush them.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, not out of fear, but from the weight of responsibility that had now been placed upon you. This was not just a marriage anymore. It was a bond forged in duty, in politics, and in war.

“I trust you to do this, for him, for our family,” she said, her gaze softening only slightly as she raised her teacup once more. “Now, go. Rest while you can. The days ahead will not be kind to any of us.”

You rose from your seat, your legs feeling heavier than before. As you walked to the door, you glanced back at her. Alicent was already gazing into the fire, her face a mask of quiet contemplation. For a moment, she looked older, wearier, like a queen burdened with too many crowns.

With a deep breath, you left the room, knowing that your place had been set. No matter what lay ahead, you would remain at Aemond’s side. Whatever happened to him, happened to you. And whatever fate befell this family, you would be bound to it — for better or for worse.

You pressed a hand to your temple, feeling the dull throb of pain growing stronger with each step. Your other hand rested on your stomach as a wave of nausea washed over you, sharp and sudden. The weight of the day’s stress, worry, and hunger had finally caught up with you.

Reaching the door to your chambers, you leaned against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady your breath. The world around you tilted slightly, making it harder to focus. You hadn’t eaten since the morning, too consumed with thoughts of Aemond’s journey and the unease lingering in the Red Keep.

Pushing the door open, you stumbled inside, closing it behind you. The familiar warmth of the chamber greeted you, but it felt stifling now. You sat on the edge of the bed, fingers digging lightly into the fabric as you tried to ground yourself. The pounding in your head grew worse, and the nausea refused to subside.

“Foolish,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head slowly. You knew better than to neglect your health, especially now. With a hand on your stomach, you reminded yourself that it wasn’t just you who needed care — your unborn child depended on you too.

Taking slow, deep breaths, you reached for the small bell on the bedside table, ringing it softly. Moments later, a servant entered, bowing low before you.

“Bring me something to eat,” you said, your voice softer than usual but still firm. “And water. Quickly, please.”

The servant nodded and disappeared without a word. You leaned back against the headboard, closing your eyes. The weight in your chest felt heavier than before. It wasn’t just hunger, exhaustion, or illness. It was the growing dread that had settled there ever since Aemond left for Storm’s End.

You curled your arms around yourself, seeking the comfort you wished he could provide. But he wasn’t here. And until he returned, you would have to be strong — for him, for yourself, and for the life growing within you.

You placed a hand gently over your stomach, your fingers tracing small, absentminded circles. The memory of that night with your grandfather lingered in your mind like a ghost you couldn’t banish. You had sat by his bedside, his breath shallow, his words broken and distant. You had felt the weight of it — the urgency, the finality.

You had wanted to tell him.

The words had been on the tip of your tongue. “I’m with child, Grandsire.” Simple words, but ones that carried so much meaning. You had imagined the way his tired eyes would light up, perhaps with pride, perhaps with hope. He might have smiled, weak as he was, and spoken words of encouragement. Maybe he would have squeezed your hand just a little tighter.

But instead, he had spoken of Aegon, of thrones and crowns, his mind consumed by the weight of kingship. His last breaths had been spent on matters of duty and legacy, not family. Your moment had slipped away like sand through your fingers, and then… he was gone.

You clenched your jaw, eyes stinging with unshed tears. It had been days since then, and still, you hadn’t told anyone. Not Aemond. Not Alicent. Not even Helaena, though you had been close to telling her earlier that day. Every time the words came to you, they felt too fragile to speak aloud, as though saying them would make them too real.

Aemond deserved to know. But you didn’t want to tell him like this — not when he was already burdened with war, duty, and his mission to Storm’s End. You had wanted to tell him when you were both at peace, somewhere quiet, where he could place his hand over your stomach and feel the life growing there.

But peace was nowhere to be found now.

You sighed deeply, tilting your head back against the headboard. Your fingers pressed lightly against your stomach again, seeking reassurance. “It’s just us now,” you whispered softly, barely audible, as though speaking to your unborn child. “But we’ll be all right. We have to be.”

The servant returned soon after, carrying a tray of food and water. You forced yourself to eat, even when every bite felt heavy on your tongue. You ate because you had to. For you. For the child. For the future you still believed in — even if it was slipping further from your grasp.

Aegon’s arrival was as loud and unceremonious as always. The doors to Helaena’s chambers creaked open, and he strode in without warning, the faint scent of wine following him like an unwanted shadow. His eyes, half-lidded but alert, scanned the room with the impatience of a man looking for something he’d misplaced.

“Where’s Jaehaerys?” he asked abruptly, his gaze flickering over you before settling on Helaena. His tone was sharp, not unkind but certainly not gentle.

Helaena barely glanced up from where she sat, weaving a small thread of silk between her fingers. Her voice was distant, as though she were speaking from a dream. “He’s in the library,” she murmured softly, her eyes focused on her hands. “With the maester.”

Aegon exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch. You watched him carefully, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes darted around the room as if searching for something to ground him.

“Did something happen?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. It wasn’t often that Aegon looked this unsettled — distracted, yes, but not like this.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, he hesitated. His lips pressed into a thin line. “The council wants him present at court,” he said at last, rubbing the back of his neck. “They say it’s time for him to be seen.” His eyes shifted to Helaena, and something unreadable passed between them. “They’re saying too much, as always.”

Helaena’s hands stilled for a moment. Her gaze finally lifted, her soft lilac eyes meeting Aegon’s with a look of quiet understanding — and perhaps a little sadness. “He’s just a boy,” she whispered, her fingers resuming their weaving. “They’ll put too much on his shoulders.”

Aegon didn’t respond. His eyes flickered to Maelor and Jaehaera, playing together on the floor. You watched as his gaze softened just slightly, a glimpse of the man he tried so hard to bury.

“Then I’ll carry it for him,” he said quietly, almost too quietly for anyone to hear.

His eyes lingered on his children for a moment longer before he turned on his heel and left, the door closing behind him with a soft thud.

Silence lingered in the room, broken only by the playful giggles of Maelor and Jaehaera. You glanced at Helaena, who was once again lost in her weaving, her lips moving faintly as if whispering to herself.

“Blood and cheese,” she said softly, her voice distant, dreamlike. Her fingers moved in delicate, repetitive patterns. “Blood and cheese… a debt paid in blood.”

A chill ran down your spine at her words. You leaned forward, your heart tightening. “Helaena… what do you mean by that?” you asked cautiously, your voice soft but firm.

Her eyes didn’t meet yours. She blinked slowly, her fingers still weaving, as if she hadn’t even realized she’d spoken aloud. “A debt must be paid,” she whispered, almost like a lullaby. “A son for a son.”

Your blood ran cold. You glanced at Maelor, still playing with his wooden dragon, his soft giggles filling the air. Your chest tightened with unease, a sense of dread creeping into the edges of your mind.

What debt? Whose blood?

You glanced toward the door, half-expecting Aegon to return, half-wishing Aemond were here instead. But you were alone with Helaena’s words, and no amount of warmth from the hearth could chase away the sudden chill that settled over you.

The familiar growl of Vhagar outside the Keep had only moments ago alerted you to his return, but now that he was here, the unease in the air was palpable. You stood frozen for a moment, staring at Aemond as he entered the room, his eyes quickly darting away from yours. His usual confidence seemed gone, replaced with something you couldn’t quite place. The air between you seemed thick with unspoken tension, and it made your heart beat faster in your chest.

Aemond stood still just inside the doorway, his long strides slowing as he approached you. His face was slightly bruised, and there was a tense set to his jaw that you had never seen before. His usual assuredness had been replaced by an almost fragile uncertainty. You couldn’t help but wonder—what had happened to him out there?

You took a small step forward, your voice barely above a whisper, the words rushing out before you could stop them. “Aemond… What happened?” You reached out, wanting to close the distance between you, but his eyes flickered nervously to the side, avoiding your gaze.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, his tone sharp but forced. His hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of discomfort. “There was nothing. Nothing to worry about.”

But you could see it. The way his shoulders were tense, the slight tremor in his hand as he clasped it to his side, and the nervous glance he kept sending toward the door. You knew him well enough by now to sense when something was wrong. This wasn’t the Aemond you knew—the confident, fearless warrior who had always met challenges head-on. This was someone else.

“Don’t lie to me,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the fear you were trying to keep at bay. “You’re not fine. What happened? Please, tell me.”

Aemond’s eyes darted briefly to yours, and you saw a flicker of something deep within them—a quiet, unspoken fear. But before he could respond, he turned his face away again, hiding it from you.

“I… I can’t,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “Not yet.”

You felt your heart sink. The words hung heavily in the room, and the silence stretched between you both. It was like there was a wall, something invisible, yet so painfully real, keeping him from you. Keeping him from sharing whatever it was that had rattled him.

But then, as if to push away your concern, he took a step forward, his eyes once again not meeting yours. “I need to… take care of something,” he said quickly, his words clipped. “I’ll be back later.”

Before you could stop him, he was already walking toward the door, his gait stiff and uneven. You called out to him, but he didn’t look back. The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left standing alone, your hand still half-raised, unable to reach him.

The dread that had settled over you earlier was now a tight knot in your chest. Something was wrong. Something was deeply wrong, and Aemond was hiding it from you.

You felt helpless, watching him walk away without understanding what had shaken him so. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t just let him go. Not like this. You needed to know what was happening. You needed to understand what had caused the cracks in his armor.

And you would find out, even if you had to break down the walls he was building between you.

You stood frozen in front of the door, the sounds of raised voices drifting through the cracks. Alicent’s and Otto’s voices were loud and sharp, calling Aemond’s name with frustration and anger. The air around you seemed to thicken with tension, and confusion gripped your chest. What had Aemond done? Why were they so upset? You felt your heart race as you listened, your mind trying to piece together the situation.

You had seen Aemond return, but he hadn’t shared anything with you—nothing about what had transpired. His odd behavior, his refusal to meet your eyes, and now this… you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong. You stepped closer to the door, your hand trembling as you touched the cool wood. You could hear the sharp tones of Alicent, her voice cracking slightly as she demanded something from Aemond. Otto’s voice was more controlled but laced with authority, as always.

“Aemond, this is madness! You must face the consequences of your actions!” Alicent snapped, her voice filled with tension.

Otto’s voice followed, cold and calculating as always. “You’ve put us all at risk. Explain yourself now, Aemond.”

Your stomach twisted with unease, the vague words you overheard doing nothing to quell the rising sense of dread. What had Aemond done? Why had it caused such a reaction? And why hadn’t he told you? You wanted to barge in, demand answers, but fear and confusion held you back.

From what you could gather, the situation was worse than you thought. Whatever Aemond had done, it had angered not only his mother and grandfather but had shaken the very foundations of your alliance. You had no idea what had happened, but the anger in their voices was undeniable.

Slowly, you stepped back, trying to steady your breath as you mulled over your next move. Should you go in? Should you wait for him to explain? You couldn’t ignore it any longer—you needed answers. The thought of confronting him was terrifying, but you could no longer stand in the dark.

Your mind raced with possibilities. Had Aemond done something reckless? Had he made a decision that jeopardized everything?

You turned around slowly at the sound of Alicent’s voice, her tone softer than the heated words you’d overheard earlier. The weight of her gaze was hard to ignore as she stood there, her expression a mixture of concern and something unreadable. You nodded, still troubled by the fragments of conversation you’d heard in the hall, and followed her as she led you toward her chambers.

As you entered the room, you noticed the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, the air thick with a sense of urgency. Alicent gestured for you to sit, and you did so, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to calm your racing thoughts. The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire.

Alicent took a deep breath before speaking, her voice calm but firm. “I know you’ve overheard some things just now. Aemond has made a decision… one that has upset many within our family, including your grandfather.” She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. “But I need you to understand, there is more at play than what you may have heard. This is not just about what Aemond has done—it is about the future of this family, and the alliances we need to hold onto.”

You felt your stomach twist in confusion and worry. “What do you mean, mother?” You couldn’t help but ask. “What has he done that has caused so much turmoil?”

Alicent’s eyes softened as she looked at you, her expression laden with concern. “Aemond has taken a drastic step, one that could have severe consequences for us all. I won’t go into the specifics just yet, but you need to be prepared for what comes next. There may be some difficult choices ahead.”

Her words hung in the air, each one more ominous than the last. You couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever Aemond had done, it was far more than a simple mistake or an act of defiance—it was a decision that had shaken the very core of everything.

“Is he… in danger?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alicent met your gaze, her expression unwavering. “In a way, yes. But the greater danger is what this could mean for all of us. Aemond’s actions may have set in motion a series of events that we cannot undo, and we all need to be ready for what comes next.”

Your heart raced, your mind struggling to keep up with the weight of her words. You had hoped for something simpler, some explanation to ease your growing unease, but Alicent’s warning only deepened the mystery.

“What should I do?” you finally asked, feeling the weight of the situation press down on you. “How can I help him… or protect him?”

Alicent looked at you for a long moment, her eyes searching yours. “Be there for him, as his wife. Stand by him, even when things become difficult. There will be those who will try to use his actions against us, and we cannot afford to lose any ground. You are more important in this than you may realize.”

You nodded slowly, trying to absorb her words. The future seemed uncertain, and you had no clear path forward, but one thing was certain: you were bound to Aemond, and his choices would shape not just his future, but yours as well. And whatever was coming next, you would face it together.

You stood at the doorway, watching Aemond as he sat by the fire, his back turned to you. His presence was both comforting and distant, a paradox you couldn’t quite understand. The crackling of the flames seemed to echo the tension in the room, and the silence between you both felt like a wall.

You took a step closer, your voice tentative as you called his name, “Aemond.”

For a moment, there was no response. He didn’t even flinch at the sound of your voice. The air in the room grew thick with unsaid words, and you felt an unease settle in your chest.

You took another step, your heart heavy. “Aemond, please, talk to me.”

Still, he remained silent, the only sound being the fire’s soft crackle. It was as if he was lost in his own thoughts, far away from you, yet his presence was undeniable, filling the space around you.

You approached him cautiously, unsure of how to bridge the distance that had grown between you. Reaching out, you gently placed your hand on his shoulder. His body stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. You waited, hoping he would turn to face you, hoping that this silence wasn’t an indication of something deeper.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he shifted slightly, his voice low and rough as he spoke without meeting your eyes. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of them. “Like what?” you whispered, your heart aching as you crouched down to be closer to him.

Aemond’s gaze remained on the flames, but there was something in his posture that spoke volumes—a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “Weak,” he muttered, almost as if the word tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’ve made choices… choices that have consequences, and now I fear I’ve endangered everything. I fear I’ve failed you.”

You could see the struggle in him, the turmoil that had taken root deep within. You knew Aemond as a man of strength, but in this moment, he seemed unsure, lost even. It broke something in you to see him like this—vulnerable, torn apart by the weight of his own decisions.

You knelt beside him, your fingers gently brushing the back of his hand. “Aemond,” you said softly, “You have never failed me. Whatever it is that’s weighing on you, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone in this. Not now, not ever.”

His eyes finally met yours, and for the first time that night, there was a flicker of something—hope, or perhaps just the smallest bit of relief. He didn’t speak, but his gaze held the words he couldn’t say.

You reached out, cupping his face gently in your hands. “Whatever you’re going through, I’m with you. Always.”

Aemond let out a shaky breath, his hand coming to rest over yours. “I don’t deserve your loyalty,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

You shook your head, pressing your forehead to his. “You do. You always will.”

The room was silent again, but this time, it felt different. There was no more distance between you, no more walls. Whatever came next, you would face it together, united in the quiet strength of your love.

You sat down beside him, your fingers gently wrapping around his hand, offering the warmth and reassurance that you hoped would make him feel safe enough to speak. His hand was cold, tense under your touch, but you refused to pull away, your gaze steady on him as you quietly urged, “Aemond… please, tell me what happened.”

There was a hesitation in his eyes, a flicker of something darker that made his usual confident demeanor seem distant. He pulled his hand back, running it through his hair, clearly torn between saying too much or not enough.

“I’ve made mistakes,” he finally spoke, his voice strained. “Things I’ve done, things I… should have stopped. It’s not just about what happened in the dragonpit or the decisions I made with the others. It’s everything. It’s what I’ve become—what I’m becoming."

You watched him, trying to piece together the pain behind his words, the weight of regret that he carried in silence. His words felt like a riddle, one you were desperately trying to understand.

“Aemond, please,” you urged, squeezing his hand once more. “I need to know. Whatever it is, we can face it together.”

His gaze flickered to the floor, as if the weight of his own secrets was too much for him to bear. He looked so fragile in that moment, not the proud, powerful man you had known. He seemed… lost.

“You know that I’ve always fought for what I believed in,” Aemond started, his voice low, almost a whisper. “For the throne, for my family, for our future. But in the process, I’ve made enemies. I’ve hurt people. I’ve… gone too far.”

Your heart sank as he continued, the unspoken pain bleeding through every word. He was struggling, fighting with himself more than anyone else, and the guilt he carried was a heavy burden.

“I did things that I can’t take back,” Aemond continued, his voice breaking slightly. “And now, I fear I’ve pushed everyone away. Even you.”

His words hit you like a blow, but you quickly pushed the hurt aside, squeezing his hand more firmly. “Aemond, you haven’t pushed me away. No matter what you’ve done, you’re still the man I married. The man I love.”

He shook his head, his frustration mounting as he stared at the fire. “You don’t understand. I hurt people—people who didn’t deserve it. I hurt you, too, by being so caught up in my ambition, in all of this. I never wanted you to feel alone in this.”

His voice softened, and for a moment, you saw the man he used to be—the man who had never wanted to show weakness. But the cracks in his armor were evident now.

You gently cupped his cheek, turning his face toward you, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Aemond, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll fix this together. Whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. What matters is now. What matters is that we have each other.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard, as if your words were a lifeline he had been waiting for. When he opened them again, there was something in his gaze—something that hinted at both relief and uncertainty.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he whispered.

“You do,” you replied, your voice steady and strong. “You always have.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. But in the silence, there was an understanding—a shared knowledge that whatever storm was coming, you would face it side by side.

Aemond’s words hung heavily in the air, and you felt the weight of them like a crushing blow. Your hand, which had been holding his so tightly, now fell limply to your side as you tried to process the horror he had just revealed.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice filled with guilt and anguish. “I wanted to scare him, to show him that I was in control, but Vhagar… she… she wasn’t under my command. I didn’t know she would do that. I didn’t know…” His words trailed off, his gaze distant, as if he were still lost in that moment, replaying it over and over again in his mind.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to breathe, the gravity of his confession almost suffocating. Luke… your brother… dead at his hands. The pain, the anger, and the confusion tangled together inside you, making it hard to think clearly.

“Aemond…” you whispered, your voice shaky, your body trembling as you tried to gather your thoughts. “You… you killed him? You killed Luke?”

He nodded, his eyes filled with an indescribable sorrow, but there was nothing that could undo what had been done. He had taken your brother’s life. The brother you had sworn to protect. The brother you had known and loved.

“I never wanted to kill him,” Aemond continued, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I swear, I never wanted that. But in that moment, I lost control. And when I saw what happened, I couldn’t—couldn’t believe what I had done.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, though he tried to hold them back, clearly struggling with the enormity of his actions. You could see the agony on his face, but it didn’t change the fact that he had taken Luke’s life. No amount of regret could bring him back.

You stood up slowly, distancing yourself from him, the raw emotion flooding through you. Anger, hurt, confusion… It all felt like too much to handle.

“Aemond… I…” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. How could you even begin to process this? How could you look at him the same way again, knowing what he had done?

He stood as well, stepping closer to you, his hands outstretched, pleading for you to understand. “Please… don’t hate me. I know I can never make up for what I’ve done, but I need you to know it was a mistake. It was never meant to happen.”

You took a shaky step back, your chest tight with emotion. “A mistake? You killed my brother, Aemond. My little brother. And you… you’re asking me not to hate you?” Your voice cracked as the anger began to rise, the tears threatening to spill.

Aemond winced at your words, his own pain mirrored in the depths of his eyes. He seemed to realize the gravity of what he had said, how hollow it must sound to you. But no matter what he said now, the damage had been done. The bond between you and him, the love that had once seemed unshakable, now felt fragile, splintered.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “I know. I can’t undo it. I can’t change what happened. But I would do anything to bring him back. I would give my own life if it meant undoing what I’ve done.”

You shook your head, the tears finally starting to spill down your face. “It’s too late for that, Aemond. It’s too late.”

You turned away from him, the room feeling like it was closing in around you. Everything you thought you knew about him, about your marriage, had shattered in an instant. How could you move forward with him now? How could you ever forgive him for taking your brother’s life?

Aemond’s footsteps were slow, hesitant, as he followed you. “Please,” he said again, his voice breaking, “please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you too.”

You stopped, your back still to him, and your voice trembled as you spoke. “I need time, Aemond. I don’t know if I can stay with you after what you’ve done.”

The silence between you two was suffocating, the weight of his confession heavy on your heart.

Two days had passed since Aemond’s confession, and the weight of his words still lingered in your mind like an unshakable shadow. The anger had started to subside, but the hurt remained—deep and raw. You hadn’t seen him since then, the silence between you both stretching longer than you ever thought possible.

You had taken refuge in Helaena’s room, seeking solace in the presence of someone who understood, even though her own heart carried its own burdens. She had been patient with you, offering quiet comfort and the space you needed. You didn’t blame her. She, too, had suffered in silence, bound by love and loyalty to her family, to her brother, and to you.

Lying beside her now, you stared at the ceiling, the flickering shadows of candlelight casting fleeting shapes on the walls. You didn’t know how to feel—how to move forward. You had spent these two days in a daze, trying to process everything, trying to find some semblance of clarity.

“He will wait for you,” Helaena whispered, her voice soft and gentle, as though sensing the turmoil inside you. She reached out, placing her hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him, Helaena,” you murmured, your voice trembling as the uncertainty washed over you. “How do I forgive something like this? How do I go back to the way we were?”

Helaena squeezed your hand, her eyes full of empathy. “Forgiveness… it isn’t easy. Especially when it’s someone you love. But you don’t have to make any decisions right now. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

“But… he killed my brother,” you whispered, the weight of those words threatening to crush you all over again. “How can I ever forget that?”

Helaena’s gaze softened, and she gently brushed a lock of hair away from your face. “I don’t think anyone could forget something like that. But you have to decide what’s worth holding onto. Whether your love for him is enough to move past the pain. It will take time, and maybe that’s what you need more than anything right now. Time.”

You let out a shaky breath, the tears threatening to fall again. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to look at him the same way.”

Helaena’s voice was a quiet comfort. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. One step at a time, sister. That’s all anyone can do.”

You nodded, feeling a small measure of relief at her words, though the ache in your chest remained. It was as if a part of you had been torn away, and you weren’t sure how to put it back together. You couldn’t just erase what Aemond had done, but the love you had once shared… could it still be salvaged?

“Take your time,” Helaena said softly, her gaze reassuring. “Whatever you decide, we’ll be here for you.”

And so you lay there, the quiet of the room enveloping you, giving you the space to breathe. You didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in days, you allowed yourself the freedom to simply be. To let time heal, even if only just a little.

You walked toward the children’s room, your mind still clouded with thoughts of the past few days. The weight of the situation with Aemond and the events that had transpired had left you with a heavy heart, but in that moment, the thought of the children waiting for you brought a small sense of peace.

When you entered the room, you saw them—Jaehaera, Jaeharys, and Maelor—already tucked in their beds, their little eyes bright with anticipation. They had been eagerly waiting for you, hoping you would keep the promise you made to tell them a bedtime story.

You smiled softly at the sight, your heart warmed by their innocence. Despite everything that had been happening, this moment was simple and pure, a welcome distraction from the complexities of the world outside.

“You’re all ready for the story, hm?” you asked gently, your voice carrying a hint of warmth as you approached them.

Jaehaera’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yes, please! You promised!”

You nodded, settling into the chair next to their beds, adjusting your gown slightly before opening the book you had brought with you. It was a favorite of yours—a tale of adventure, magic, and distant lands. You began to read softly, the familiar words bringing comfort not only to the children but to you as well.

As you read, you could see their expressions shift between concentration and wonder. Maelor, ever the youngest, lay nestled under his blankets, his small hands clutching his favorite stuffed animal. Jaehaera, sitting up slightly, hung on every word, while Jaeharys was already half asleep, though still content to listen to the story.

The soft rhythm of your voice, the turning of the pages, and the gentle breathing of the children created a calming atmosphere. For a while, everything felt right again. It was a fleeting moment of peace in the chaos, one you didn’t want to let go of.

As you finished the story, you whispered softly, “And the adventurers lived happily ever after, surrounded by love and laughter.”

The children smiled, their eyes drooping as the quiet warmth of the room settled in. You kissed each of their foreheads gently, whispering a goodnight as you rose from your seat. Your heart felt lighter, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself a moment of solace.

Your heart skipped a beat as you froze in place, the cold touch of fear creeping up your spine. In the dim light of the room, two figures stepped forward—one large, looming, and the other smaller, their features obscured by the darkness. They moved swiftly, silently, and before you could react, a blade was pressed sharply to your throat.

The tension in the air was suffocating. You could feel the cold steel of the dagger against your skin, and you instinctively swallowed, your breath shallow. You didn’t recognize them, but the cold, calculating look in their eyes made it clear they were not here for a friendly chat.

“Who… who are you?” you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the panic rising within you.

The larger figure stepped closer, the knife digging just enough to make you wince. “Quiet,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “Make a sound, and we’ll finish what we’ve started.”

The smaller figure, still partially hidden in the shadows, moved toward you, keeping an eye on the larger one. There was something about their posture—something unsettling—that made your instincts scream. It wasn’t just the blade at your throat. It was the coldness in their eyes, the precision of their movements.

You fought the urge to panic, focusing instead on keeping calm. You knew if you could just find a way to stall, maybe you could figure out their intentions.

“What do you want?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, but you forced yourself to stand tall despite the fear gnawing at you. “Why are you here?”

The smaller figure smirked darkly, and the larger one pressed the blade closer, almost daring you to speak again. “We’re not here for pleasantries,” the man said, his grip tightening on the dagger’s hilt. “Just do as we say, and you’ll live to see another day.”

The uncertainty gnawed at you. Were they after you? Or were they just here to send a message? Either way, you knew your next move was crucial. Every muscle in your body tensed, and your mind raced, trying to calculate how to get out of this alive, to protect yourself and those you loved.

And yet, as you stood there, the weight of the danger pressing in, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a random attack. Someone had orchestrated this. But who? And why you? why the children?

The silence was deafening as you waited for the next move, your mind working fast, your body still as stone, every sense heightened.

The sharp pain in your abdomen took you by surprise, but it was nothing compared to the horror of the scene unfolding before you. Blood soaked your clothes, your hands trembling as you tried to hold onto consciousness. The blade had pierced deep, and you could feel the life draining from you as you looked at the two men standing in front of you. Their cold eyes were fixed on you, one with a menacing calm, the other with a twisted sense of purpose.

"Blood must be paid with blood. A son for a son," the larger of the two growled, his voice filled with cruel finality as his gaze turned to the children in the corner.

Before you could react, the gruesome reality of their words began to play out. The man swung his blade with a brutal efficiency, and in the blink of an eye, Jaehaerys-Helaena's son— was decapitated. The lifeless body fell to the floor with a sickening thud, the blood pooling around him.

You could hardly comprehend what had just happened. Jaehaerys, your nephew, was gone.

Your vision blurred, and a scream of horror was caught in your throat as you saw Maelor and Jaehaera, Helena's other children, forced to watch the brutal execution of their brother.

Tears filled your eyes as your heart twisted with grief and fear for them. But in that moment, you were helpless. The pain from your wound was overwhelming, but the pain of witnessing this cruelty, of not being able to protect these children, was unbearable.

But before you could do anything, the world around you began to spin. The blood loss, the anguish, the terror-it all became too much.

You tried to call out to Helena's children, to make sure they were safe, but your body refused to cooperate.

Your vision was blurry, the world around you spinning in a haze of pain and grief. The coppery scent of blood was thick in the air. Your breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, every inhale sharp with pain from the wound in your abdomen.

Faintly, you heard it—her voice. Alicent’s scream echoed through the chamber like a shattering bell. It was filled with so much anguish that, for a moment, you almost believed it wasn’t real. But it was. You blinked slowly, your eyes moving toward the doorway, and there she was. Her face was pale as she froze at the sight before her. Her gaze shifted from you to the small, lifeless form of Jaehaerys on the ground. Her eyes widened with shock, horror twisting her features.

“No… no, no, no!” she gasped, rushing forward, her skirts gathered in her hands as she stumbled toward you. “Guards! Guards!” she screamed, her voice cracking as her panic grew. “Aemond! Aemond, come quickly!” Her voice broke as she cried out, and her footsteps quickened.

You felt her hands on your face—warm, desperate, trembling. She knelt beside you, cradling your face with care as if that alone could keep you from slipping away. Her green eyes darted over your body, taking in the bloodstained fabric, the growing red pool beneath you, and the pallor of your skin. Tears welled in her eyes as her voice softened into something broken.

“Stay with me,” she pleaded, her thumbs brushing over your cheeks, smudging blood across your skin. “Stay with me, child. Help is coming. You’re going to be fine. Just stay with me, please.” Her breath hitched with every word, her voice breaking with every plea.

Your gaze shifted, slow and heavy like your eyelids were weighed down by lead. At the far end of the room, you saw them—Jaehaera and Maelor, curled into each other, trembling in fear. They stared wide-eyed at their brother’s body, unable to look away, their small faces frozen in silent terror. Jaehaera clutched Maelor tightly, her little hands gripping him like he was her only lifeline. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her lips quivering as she tried to stay quiet, but soft whimpers escaped her.

Alicent followed your gaze, her face crumpling further as she saw her grandchildren huddled together in the corner. “Oh, sweet children,” she breathed, her voice shattering with grief. But she didn’t leave you. Her fingers pressed against the wound on your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding, her eyes darting between you and the children.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, fast and urgent. The guards were coming. You barely registered the shouts, barely felt Alicent’s hands on you anymore. The edges of your vision darkened, sounds muffled as though you were underwater. You wanted to say something—to comfort Alicent, to tell Jaehaera and Maelor that it would be alright—but your lips wouldn’t move.

The pain dulled. Everything dulled. All you could hear was Alicent’s voice calling your name over and over again, her voice cracking with desperation. “Stay with me,” she begged. “Please, don’t leave me too.”

But her voice was growing distant. Her words were like echoes down a long corridor. You blinked slowly, and the world around you grew darker, colder, quieter.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the halls, sharp and urgent. Aemond’s figure appeared in the doorway, his sharp gaze immediately landing on you. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he stood frozen—his one good eye wide with disbelief.

He took it all in at once. The blood-stained floor. Your pale, unmoving body cradled in Alicent’s lap. The hilt of the dagger still buried in your stomach. His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, and for a moment, it seemed like the world around him had ceased to exist.

“No,” he muttered, his voice raw and hollow. “No.”

His feet moved before he realized it. Each step was heavy, each heartbeat louder than the last. His face was twisted in anguish, his jaw tight as he dropped to his knees beside you. Alicent’s tear-streaked face lifted to look at him, her eyes red and filled with grief. “Aemond,” she choked, her voice hoarse. “She—she’s losing too much blood. I—I tried—”

“Move,” he said, his tone sharp but trembling with barely restrained panic. Alicent hesitated for a heartbeat, but she nodded and released you into his arms. Aemond gently, but firmly, pulled you into him, cradling you against his chest. His hands hovered for a moment, unsure where to touch without causing you more pain. His gaze settled on the dagger still lodged in your abdomen, his breath hitching as if it physically hurt him to see it.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice cracking as he leaned close to your face. His silver hair fell forward, brushing against your cheek like a soft caress. “Look at me, my love. Open your eyes.” His voice grew more desperate with every word. “Please. Please, just look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered, but they didn’t open fully. The weight of everything—the pain, the blood loss, the exhaustion—was too much. Your breathing was shallow, and you could barely make out his face through the haze clouding your vision. But you knew it was him. You knew his voice, his warmth, his presence.

“Aemond…” you whispered weakly, barely more than a breath.

“I’m here,” he said quickly, his fingers gently cupping your face, tilting it so you could see him better. His eye was wild with fear, glistening as if tears threatened to fall. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me?” He glanced at the wound and clenched his jaw so tightly it seemed it might break. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything.”

A shuddering breath escaped you, your lips parting as if you wanted to say something more, but only silence came. Your eyes slowly, painfully, began to close.

“No,” he growled, his voice breaking as he shook you lightly. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. Don’t you dare leave me.” His breathing grew faster, more erratic. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you!” His voice cracked with raw, unfiltered anguish, and he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eye tightly. “Stay with me. Please, stay with me,” he begged, his voice now barely a whisper.

You felt his tears, warm drops falling onto your cold skin. His grip on you tightened, as if he could somehow tether you to the world with sheer willpower alone. His lips brushed against your forehead, lingering there for a long moment, his breath uneven and shuddering.

“Guards!” he suddenly roared, his voice filled with rage and desperation. “Bring the maester! now!” His shout echoed through the halls, filled with so much fury that it startled the guards who had just entered. They rushed to obey, sprinting away with wide, terrified eyes.

But Aemond didn’t look at them. He only looked at you. His heart thundered in his chest, louder than any sound in the world. He rocked you slowly, his eye never leaving your face, his lips moving as he whispered to you like a prayer.

“You’re mine,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with pain and love in equal measure. “Do you hear me? You’re mine. You stay with me, and I’ll burn the world for you. I’ll burn it all.” His words were a vow, spoken with the conviction of a man who had nothing left to lose.

His fingers pressed against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, his knuckles stained with crimson. “You’re strong,” he whispered again, his voice low and breaking. “Stronger than anyone I know. You’ll survive this. You have to.”

But even as he said it, he glanced at the blood on his hands, and doubt clawed its way into his heart. For the first time in his life, Aemond Targaryen, the fierce Prince of the Greens, looked truly, utterly afraid.

Aemond’s arms held you tightly, your body limp against his chest. His jaw was set in a hard line, his eye dark with a storm of emotions—fear, anger, desperation. His pace was steady but urgent, each step deliberate as if moving any faster might hurt you. Blood dripped steadily from your wound, staining the front of his tunic and trailing behind him like a path of grief.

“Aemond!” Alicent’s voice echoed behind him, filled with panic and worry. “Be careful! Let the maester come to you!”

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back. Her voice was nothing but noise in his ears. All he could think about was you—the warmth of your body slowly fading, your breath shallow and uneven. His heart pounded in his chest, each thump matching the sound of his boots on the cold stone floor.

“You’ll be fine,” he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud would make it true. His gaze was locked forward, sharp and focused, his expression one of grim determination. “I’ll get you to our chambers. The maester will come. You’ll be fine. You have to be fine.”

The halls of the Red Keep blurred around him. Faces of servants and guards turned toward him with wide, horrified eyes as they saw the blood-soaked prince carrying his wounded wife. Whispers followed him, but no one dared approach. They knew better. They had seen the look in his eye—the look of a man on the edge of breaking.

His breath grew heavier as he climbed the stairs to your shared chambers, every step heavier than the last. His muscles ached, not from exhaustion but from fear. He glanced down at you, his heart twisting at the sight of your pale face, your eyes barely open.

“Stay with me,” he whispered again, his voice cracking. “Don’t close your eyes. We’re almost there.” His thumb brushed softly over your cheek, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. “Just a little longer, my love.”

Finally, he reached your chambers. He kicked the door open with more force than necessary, the wood crashing against the wall. The room was quiet, the soft glow of the fire flickering in the hearth. Slowly, he lowered you onto the bed, his hands never leaving you for more than a second. His movements were careful, as if you were made of glass that could shatter at any moment.

His gaze flickered to the dagger still lodged in your stomach, his eye narrowing with barely restrained fury. Blood had pooled around the wound, soaking through your clothes. His breathing grew heavy again, his teeth gritting as he fought the urge to tear the dagger out himself.

“Where is the maester?!” he roared, his voice echoing through the halls like thunder. His eye darted to the doorway, expecting to see someone—anyone—rush in. When no one appeared, he cursed under his breath, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

But then his gaze shifted back to you, and everything else faded away. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, his hands trembling as he cupped your face. His silver hair hung loosely around him like a veil, his sharp features softened by anguish.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours. “Please, don’t leave me.” His voice was quieter now, no longer the commanding, sharp tone of a prince. It was the voice of a man terrified of losing the one thing that grounded him.

He sat there, his hands on either side of your face, his eye squeezed shut as if he could will your survival into reality. “I’ll find them,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll hunt them down. I’ll make them pay for this.” His fingers tightened on your face—not painfully, but firmly, as if trying to tether you to him. “But not yet. Not until you’re safe.”

Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed in the hall. The maester arrived with two attendants carrying a box of medical supplies. Alicent followed close behind, her face pale, her eyes red from tears. She moved toward you, her lips quivering as she whispered a prayer under her breath.

Aemond didn’t move from your side. He didn’t let anyone push him away. Even as the maester approached, Aemond stayed close, his hand gripping yours, his eye never leaving your face. His lips moved silently, whispering words meant only for you.

“Stay with me,” he repeated like a mantra, his voice raw and broken. “Stay with me.”

The silence that filled the room was more piercing than any scream. The maester’s words echoed in everyone’s minds, but no one spoke.

Aemond stood frozen by the side of your bed, his gaze fixed on your bandaged stomach. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as if his body had turned to stone. Alicent stood behind him, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and overwhelming grief.

“A child…?” Alicent whispered, barely audible. Her eyes darted to you, filled with confusion and guilt. “You… you were pregnant?”

Those words cut through Aemond like a blade. Slowly, he turned to face you. His one violet eye burned with a storm of emotions — shock, anger, sorrow, and pain. He looked as if he’d just been struck by lightning.

“You were pregnant?” he asked, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but there was a sharp edge to it. He took a step closer to the side of your bed, his intense gaze locked on yours. “Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. “I was going to tell you,” you murmured weakly, your voice fragile from exhaustion and pain. “That night… I wanted to tell Grandfather, then I planned to tell all of you. But everything… everything fell apart.”

His eyes blinked slowly, and he took a deep, shaky breath, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his neck straining. He lowered himself slowly, squatting by your side with his hands braced on his knees.

“Our child,” he muttered, his voice cracking as if the words themselves hurt to say. He stared at your stomach, his gaze hollow and distant. His fingers twitched, his hands trembling as if he was on the verge of losing control. “I wasn’t there… I should have been there.”

He leaned forward, his head bowed low, his shoulders shaking just slightly. Alicent took a step forward, trying to place a hand on his shoulder, but he raised a hand to stop her, his fingers stiff and firm.

“Leave, Mother,” he said in a low, sharp voice, his gaze still fixed on your stomach.

“Aemond,” Alicent said softly, stepping forward, her eyes pleading with him. “Please, think carefully.”

But he wasn’t listening. His single eye locked on the maester again, his face twisted with barely contained fury. “Get out,” he snarled, his voice low and venomous. “Before I lose what little control I have left.”

Alicent hesitated for a moment, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but she knew better than to push him. With a heavy heart, she left the room, glancing at you one last time before the door closed behind her.

Once she was gone, there was only the two of you. Silence. Stillness.

Aemond finally lifted his face to look at you. “I swear,” he said, his voice raw and broken, yet filled with resolve. “Those who did this… they will pay.”

He took your hand in his, gripping it firmly but tenderly. He brought it to his lips and pressed a long, lingering kiss on your knuckles as if it were the only thing grounding him to reality. “I should have been here,” he whispered again, his eye filled with self-loathing. “I should have protected you.”

“You didn’t know,” you said softly, your voice faint but sincere. “You can’t blame yourself, Aemond.”

He closed his eye for a moment, drawing in a deep breath, and slowly shook his head. “It’s not enough,” he said, his voice more resolute now, colder, sharper. “An apology is not enough. Empty promises are not enough.”

His face changed. The tenderness you had seen moments before faded into something colder, harder — a mask of quiet fury. It was the face you had seen him wear when he made a decision that could not be undone.

“They took our child,” he hissed, his voice low and deadly, his eye narrowing with cold fury. “I will make sure they feel the same loss. I will hunt them down, one by one, until they beg me to end them.”

“Aemond, please—” your voice cracked as pain shot through your stomach. You winced, biting down on your lip to stop a groan from escaping. Aemond’s eyes widened, and in an instant, he was by your side, his hand pressing gently on your shoulder to keep you from moving.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice firm but laced with worry. “You need to rest. Nothing is more important than you right now.”

But despite his gentle words, you knew what was going through his mind. You could see it in the way his gaze shifted to the door, as if he were already envisioning the faces of the people he would hunt down.

“Aemond, don’t do this,” you pleaded, forcing yourself to sound as steady as possible. “Don’t let hatred consume you.”

His eyes returned to yours, and for a moment, his face softened. He reached out to touch your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“It’s not hatred,” he said quietly, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. “It’s justice.”

Then he stood. And in that moment, you knew. You knew, as he released your hand and walked toward the corner of the room where his sword lay. His fingers brushed over the hilt, slow and deliberate, like it was a part of him.

“Aemond, don’t leave me,” you begged, your voice trembling as your tears fell freely now. “Don’t leave me alone.”

He paused at the door, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of a deep breath. Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to look at you from the corner of his eye. And in that single glance, you saw it — doubt, grief, love.

“I will always come back to you,” he promised, his voice a quiet but unyielding vow. “But I will not come back empty-handed.”

“I will make them regret it. They thought they could take from me without anything in return?”

“They will know what it means to take something from Aemond Targaryen.” his voice was cold as Valyrian steel.

The door closed behind him with a heavy thud that echoed throughout the room.

Tears streamed down your face. You stared at the ceiling, struggling to breathe steadily. Your body felt weak, and your stomach felt hollow — not just from the wound, but from the loss of something precious.

The loss was real. The loss was deep.

Outside, the sound of Aemond’s footsteps echoed down the corridor. Each step was slow, heavy, deliberate. The guards stationed along the hall stood at attention as he passed, saluting him, but he did not see them. His gaze was fixed ahead, unwavering, unyielding.

He would find them.

And he would show no mercy.

You leaned your head against the headboard, your gaze distant, fixed on the window where the sky outside shifted from soft blues to the dull gray of a coming storm. The cold air seeped in through the cracks, chilling your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache that gnawed at your heart.

The pain in your stomach had dulled, the sharp sting replaced by a hollow, aching throb. But it was the pain in your heart that refused to subside — an unbearable weight that settled deep in your chest. You pressed your hand lightly over your abdomen, your fingers trembling as you felt the warmth of the bandages beneath your palm.

A child.

Your child.

Gone.

Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. If you started crying now, you feared you wouldn’t be able to stop. The silence of the room was suffocating, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth fire, but its warmth did nothing to ease the coldness within you.

Is this the gods’ punishment? The thought clawed at your mind, sharp and relentless. Is this their justice for my choices?

You thought of your mother, of Luke, and of everything that had happened since the day your grandfather died. Siding with the Greens had been a choice made out of love, duty, and survival. But now, doubt seeped in. Was it all worth it?

A sob threatened to break free from your chest, but you swallowed it down, clenching your fists at your sides. You didn’t want to appear weak — not even here, not even now, when there was no one to see you.

Alone.

That word echoed in your mind, louder than the crackling fire, louder than the silence that hung over the Red Keep like a storm cloud.

Aemond was gone. He had left you with promises of revenge and justice, but he had still left. And though you understood why, it didn’t make the ache any less painful.

Alicent was with Helaena and her children. You could hardly blame her. After what had happened to Jaehaerys, Helaena needed her mother now more than ever. But it left you feeling… forgotten. Alone.

The weight of it pressed down on you, heavier than any wound. Your eyes drifted back to the window, watching as the clouds darkened, the first raindrops tapping softly against the glass. It felt fitting — the world mourning with you.

You closed your eyes, letting the sounds of the rain fill your mind. Maybe if you focused hard enough, you could drown out everything else. The pain. The loss. The guilt. The feeling of being so, so alone.

But no matter how hard you tried, it was still there. The ache in your heart remained, as if the gods themselves had branded you with it.

The next morning, you were still leaning against the headboard, your gaze lost in the distance when the door to your chamber creaked open. Alicent entered slowly, carrying a tray of food in her hands. The soft clinking of porcelain and metal echoed in the quiet room.

Her steps were slow, deliberate, as if she feared one wrong move would shatter you completely. Her eyes, filled with sorrow and quiet pain, watched you closely. Seeing you like this — pale, fragile, and hollow-eyed — seemed to break something inside her.

She placed the tray gently on the table beside the bed. The warmth of the food wafted toward you, the scent of bread and broth filling the room, but it did little to stir your appetite.

You glanced at her, your eyes dull and heavy with exhaustion. Her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line, as if she were holding back words or tears. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the distant patter of rain on the window.

Your voice was hoarse when you finally broke the silence. “Has Aemond returned?” you asked quietly, your gaze fixed on the bedsheets, too afraid to meet her eyes.

Alicent’s breath hitched, her hands folding tightly in front of her. Her eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite read — was it guilt, was it pity? She hesitated for a moment too long.

“Not yet,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached for your hand but stopped herself halfway, as if unsure if you’d allow her to touch you. “But he will. He always returns.”

Her words were meant to reassure you, but they only made your chest tighten with the familiar ache of longing. You nodded slowly, leaning your head back against the headboard, eyes fluttering closed. You didn’t want to think about where Aemond was or what he might be doing. Not now.

Alicent sat at the edge of the bed, silent and watchful. You felt her eyes on you, the weight of her worry pressing down like a heavy blanket. She didn’t tell you to eat. She didn’t tell you to get up. She just stayed, her quiet presence offering a comfort she didn’t know how to put into words.

You stayed like that for a while, the rain tapping softly against the glass, the warmth of the untouched food slowly fading from the air.

You finally broke the silence, your voice trembling with a raw edge of pain. “It was a miracle,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on nothing in particular. “A miracle that I conceived after only a week of marriage with Aemond.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and hollow. Your hands tightened around the blanket on your lap, fingers twisting the fabric as if it were the only thing grounding you. Alicent turned her head toward you, her brows furrowed in concern, but she stayed silent, letting you speak.

“But the gods…” you continued, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “The gods must be punishing me.” Your eyes finally met Alicent’s, filled with unshed tears. “They gave me a gift, only to take it back.” Your voice was strained, raw with emotion. “Why? What did I do to deserve this?”

Your breath hitched, and you pressed a hand against your stomach, feeling the dull ache that lingered there. But it wasn’t the pain from the wound that made you crumble — it was the emptiness. The loss.

“I’m angry, Mother,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m angry at them, at everything. At myself.” Your breaths grew shallow, your heart pounding against your ribs. “I feel… I feel like I’ve failed.”

Alicent’s face crumpled, her eyes shining with tears she struggled to contain. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand on top of yours, the warmth of her touch grounding you. Her fingers curled around yours with a firm but gentle grip.

“You did nothing wrong,” she said softly but firmly. Her voice had the weight of a woman who had known loss and grief too many times. “The gods are cruel, and their will is beyond our understanding. But you are not to blame.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her grip on your hand tightening.

Her words touched something inside you, but the ache in your heart remained, sharp and unyielding. Tears spilled down your cheeks, silent and unrelenting, as the weight of everything crashed down at once — the loss of your child, the fear for Aemond, the weight of a world that seemed so ready to break you.

Alicent moved closer, wrapping her arms around you. She held you tightly, her hand cradling the back of your head as she whispered words of comfort you could barely hear over the sound of your quiet sobs.

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated like a prayer, her voice steady even as her own tears began to fall. “It’s not your fault.”

You finally broke down in Alicent’s arms, your sobs coming in waves so powerful that they left you gasping for air. All the pain, the anger, the grief, and the loneliness you had kept bottled up inside came pouring out in an uncontrollable flood. Your body shook with every cry, your face buried in her shoulder as if trying to hide from the world that had been so cruel to you.

“I’m so tired,” you choked out between sobs. “I’m so… so tired of all of it.” Your hands gripped the fabric of her dress, holding on as if letting go would make you fall apart completely.

Alicent said nothing at first, letting you release it all. Her arms were steady and firm around you, grounding you in the storm of your own emotions. She held you the way a mother holds a child, one hand gently stroking your hair while the other rested on your back. Every now and then, she pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to the top of your head, her breath warm and steady against you.

“You are not alone,” she whispered softly into your hair. “You have me. You have Aemond. We are your family, and we will not abandon you.” Her words were slow, deliberate, each one carrying the weight of her love and conviction.

Her embrace was unyielding, her presence solid and constant, like an anchor in a sea of chaos. You clung to her, letting yourself feel every ounce of your grief. No one rushed you. No one told you to stop crying.

Time felt like it stretched into eternity, the only sound in the room being your quiet sobs and the gentle hum of Alicent’s soothing whispers. And for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable. You allowed yourself to feel everything.

And for the first time in days, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

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