#feeling a mixture of sadness and hope

[furrymintysong]

I was looking for a certain quote in Fellowship of the Ring so I ended up rereading some parts and came across the part where Bilbo asks Frodo about helping him finish his book. Bilbo asks if Frodo has come up with any ideas, which Frodo replies that yes, several, but they're all bad endings. Then Bilbo replies how he thinks a book ought to have a happy ending — "and they all settled down and lived together happily ever after." Frodo responds with, "It will do well, if it ever comes to that." Then Sam joins in wondering about where they will live (in the happily ever after).

And I just thought...woah wait...is this...is this about their ending...?

Cause I'm sure the characters and readers would probably expect or hope for the protagonists of this story, especially the ring bearer Frodo, to be able to live happily ever after; he can come back and settle in the Shire that he loves so much. Frodo, however, is pessimistic about the ending, implying how he feels about his own ending. *cries*

I like how Frodo's pessimism is contrasted with Bilbo's optimism. And how, if we refer to the ending of lotr, it's kind of a mix of both, resulting in the bittersweet conclusion to Frodo's story.

Sam's remarks about where though....OOF IT JUST HIT ME SO HARD cause my mind instantly connects it to how all three of them eventually sailed to the West, especially when it comes to Frodo. He was able to live again in a peaceful Shire, but his happily ever after was not there..... Maybe Bilbo thought it'd be in Rivendell; to Sam and Frodo, the Shire. And yes, Sam did get to live a happy life in the Shire for long enough before sailing but ooh.....that question of where...they don't know what's ahead of them... 😭😭

[thatwitchrevan]

I'm Not Okay (I Promise) doesn't ever miss because I might be doing great but that shot can still instantly tap into my endless need for catharsis like it's homing in on the memories of recent episodes or something. I am actually okay but then I'm Not Okay comes on and baby we're getting some pain out 👍🏻

[lotsobagels]

Woke up this morning thinking about the people I've lost touch with in my life and the ways the kindness they showed me made a difference.

I hope they're doing well, and I'm thankful that we got to cross paths.

[screampied]

MATCH MY FREAK ?! ★

𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, choso. ranking the jik men’s freaks ‘n how nasty they are.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, overstim, choking, dumbification, dirty talk, first time squırt, size kink, spıt kink, mommy kink, lactation fantasizes, finger sucking, fıngering, brēeding, praise, humping, manhandling, nıpple play

wc. 4.3k

TOJI FUSHIGURO ★

the nastiest — doesn’t have any shame whatsoever. with toji, all he ever has to do is have you bouncing on his lap over and over.

that annoying everlasting slash of a scar runs down the right side of his lip as his attention’s focused on some old western movie. “mhm, there we go. milk me or whatever,” and you pout. he’s not paying you any attention on purpose. one hand of his grabs onto your waist, another gripping his empty beer can. glancing down at your sloppy cunt, he snarls. “you sure do love makin’ a mess, huh. look at this,” and you moan, feeling him bring both hips of yours to an abrupt stop. as his heavy cock’s still plummeting into the velvet of your cunt, he lifts you up a few inches. “all this cum goin’ ‘ta waste. so sad,” and you shudder, watching as he swipes a thumb against your dribbling entrance. his own seed oozes out of you and he smears it, dragging a bit onto the print of his thumb. “my, my. nice ‘n fresh,” and with doe widened eyes, you watch as toji licks his finger clean. you felt yourself throbbing immensely, and then he gingerly wraps a hand around your neck. “don’t just stare, girl. y’er gonna get a taste too. open nice ‘n wide, goood.”

as you’re harshly jerking back and forth, hearing the raucous groaning creaks of the sofa rock continuously, your mouth sags opens. toji dangerously leans in, one hand knuckles deep into your slobbering cunt before he pulls it right back out.

“fuck, baby look at how sloppy you get,” and he swivels his fingers inside before removing them, gathering a nice amount of his dribbling cum. toji looks at you with a with a haughty expression, so obedient. mouth all open, needy breaths falling out, you couldn’t have been any more perfect. “yeaaah, curl that tongue up ‘n tell me how i taste.”

once he places two thickset digits inside of your mouth, you suck them clean whilst still moving against him.

your moans were now muffled due to his digits being shoved into your mouth — coating his thick fingers with your glistening, slick saliva. “mphh,” you whine, feeling his free hand creep down between your pried open thighs. toji’s staring at you with murky, hooded eyes as you’re still creating feverish friction. your tongue curls around his fingers and you savor the honeyed taste of his own cum swashing inside your mouth. you couldn’t describe the taste, bittersweet.

it was an entire mixture of bitterly sweet, almost no taste at all as the seconds past. toji’s big hand grips your cunt before he gives it a nice squeeze, watching your eyes roll back.

“god, y’r so fuckin’ nasty today, can’t even watch my movie without giving my girls some attention, huh,” and with his entire wrist, he spanks your cunt raw. “especially her, yeah you,” and his eyes flicker down at your sobbing pussy, not even staring at you anymore. “look at her tryin’ to talk back. too soaked though, shame.”

“t- tojiiii,” you pathetically purr out, the swatting smack against your folds giving you whiplash. as you attempt to speak, his fingers get pulled out of your lips, a long slimy-like trail of spit following and he glares at you. “gonna c-cum again.”

“you’re gonna be a messy girl when i tell you to be, baby,” he reminds you, and you could practically feel the milky ring forming around his base. from between your thighs, it’s so filthy.

sticky, each jolt you do on his lap by making haste with your hips has you feeling the stretchy strings of your own juices to his sloshing back and forth together. it’s filthy, you even have the audacity to try and sneak a hand between your thighs, hoping to touch yourself but he smacks it away. “girl, please. let’s not even go there.”

“but—”

“but nothin’. bend over,” and with a blink of an eye, you’re tossed on your back. you gasp, his quick movements barely giving you time to comprehend anything. first you were on his lap and now you were on all fours with your ass up in the air. you whimper, feeling him spank your left cheek before spreading it open.

with two broad hands, he dips his long tongue into your hole before cleaning out his cum with a single slurping lick. he wasn’t even fazed. you moan, shuddering from the stimulation and you’re oh so sensitive and he only makes it worse the moment he starts sucking you, cleaning you out from the back.

“aw, shaky are we? stay still, gotta clean you up silly girl. this cum doesn’t come for free.”

SATORU GOJO ★

satoru’s always been kinky — especially with you. one of his favorite things to do is to convince not only you but himself that he’s not a bottom. in the end, your hips always prove him wrong though.

reclined way back, he watches as your body grinds up and down against him, bouncy.

he groans gruffly, countless slender fingers grabbing ahold of your waist. your body’s movements were always so unpredictable, giving him a run for his money. “ah, ‘s fuckin’ good, baby. ride me jus’ like that, yeah. mhmm.” and you could hear the bratty strain in his voice. he huffs, snowy white strands sticking to his forehead like glue. your sopping wet cunt had a few loose strings of residue cum clinging near the crevices of your thighs and sticking to his. he just couldn’t get over how wet you were. satoru was heavily flustered, driving such thick inches into you. as he’s trying to keep up with his maddened pace — despite you doing all the work, you whimper from the outstretched girth. he reaches that spot and it messes you up every time.

fuck, it’s as if each thrust makes you feel him mold out your walls ten times more. he’s so big, the lazy curve on his cock had you feening for more. and if it was anything about satoru, it’s that he just wouldn’t stop talking. a blabber mouth, whining for you to go faster while at the same time, whining for you to go slower. “make up your mind, ‘toru,” you tease him, a slight tremor in your own voice. his heat entangles with yours and it’s so good.

the fervor, its steadily arising, mixing both individual pleasures as you grab onto his hand. a myriad of fingers intertwine amongst each other as you lewdly rock your body into his. god, it’s only been a few minutes, just a few minutes of yet another round and his eyes were already going back. so far back that you noticed the sexy flicker of white in his eyes paint his sockets a eerie new color.

“y- your hips, oh fuuuuck,” and he’s just slumped against the velvety sheets, feeling his heart beats pulse right through his ears. it’s loud, almost like a deafening beat to some sort of song. satoru’s jaw tightens as you’re preparing to milk him again for the third time. he’s panting like a dog before he suddenly spanks your ass. “mhm, baby,” he stammers out, meeting your gaze right away. you stroke his cheek, spotting the tiny pout pressing against his lips. panting laboriously, his lungs never felt more full. with a heaving sigh, he grabs your neck. “do that thing again, pleaseplease.”

you tilt your head, playing dumb. “do what?”

he groans, feeling his cock twitch inside from the sweltering warmth of your heated heat. taking a second to swallow, he huffs. “the thing, y’know,” and his white brows contort into a sheepish furrow. it’s adorable, it’s almost like he’s too embarrassed to say it. “s- spit in my mouth again, baby. wanna .. taste you.”

“fine,” you tease, wrapping a hand around his throat. he’s got the smuggest grin and your hips were gonna wipe it right off. satoru groans, watching you inch yourself closer, skin against skin, body against body, it’s so hot. with the way your cunt mercilessly drags itself against him, he felt like he about to melt. you gently scrape a thumb over his bottom lip, still rocking into him rigorously. “open your mouth, pretty boy.”

“heh, yes m- ma’am,” he swallows, getting turned on by your sudden authority. his dick pulses inside of you, curving all through your gummy walls with such intensity. he’s feral. satoru opens his mouth and you lean in, gathering a fair wad before watching it trickle down. he whines at the sweet taste of your nectar, feeling your fingers wrap around his throat and he’s just voluntarily wearing it like a necklace. “harder, choke me h- harder.”

scoffing, you tighten the grip around his neck and he moans. it’s a slutty moan, the kind of moan where it’s almost pornographic. “you’re such a brat,” you roll your eyes, almost forgetting he’s buried fat inches deep into your swollen cunt. your hips slow down its pace after a while as you’re still being your hips back and forth and he whines at your languid tempo. you give him a teasing smile, panting yourself before nibbling on his chin. “not satisfied, ‘toru?”

“mhm, no. even i could do better than that, baby,” he cheeses a grin and you lean in to kiss him. he grunts in your mouth, wet tongues sloppily sliding in sync and harmony. your hands start to wander near his bare chest, pinching his nipple and he groans. “h- hey! you kinky bitch.. heh do it again.”

SUGURU GETO ★

suguru geto’s the nastiest eater. it goes without saying. if he wants a taste, he’s gonna eat. doesn’t care what time of day it is, the meal between your thighs was always his favorite, hands down.

“s- suguuuu,” you’d breathe out, feeling each of your lungs ready to collapse. your breathing continued to become unsteady within each lewd second that passes. he’s nose deep, eating you out like a starved animal - saliva everywhere. it drips down the cracks of his lips and past his chin. your felt your voice go dry like the sahara as he’s stuffed right between your thighs. but with geto, more than anything, he loves eating you out whilst you’re still wearing panties. “fuck, ‘s sensitive still, suguru.”

“good, baby,” he rasps, flicking his tongue against the fabric, tasting against your pulsating clit. and oh, his flicks, as brief and thorough as they are, they turn sloppy. geto slurps you clean, treating your pussy like actual food. he’s so pretty too, lengthy long hair flowing down his broad tense shoulders. with your legs spread all out and open, you grab onto his hair, shoving his face closer against your heated core. “yeah, fuck my face. grind this nasty fuckin’ cunt against—mmphhh.”

he’s rudely cut off with how your pussy gets right into his mouth and his plump lips latch onto your arousal. there’s a cunning smile stretching against his lips and he finally peels away your pretty panties with his teeth, to the side.

you taste so sweet, his nose eagerly prods its way against your sopping wet slit, swiping the tip of his nose up and down like a credit card. you loudly whine, a familiar shakiness returning to your voice before your throat grows parched once more. “right there, p- please. don’t stop sugu, fuckfuckfuckkk.”

and your little cries only made him so much harder. not only did they make him hard but they fell on closed off ears. geto huskily grunts into your cunt — the timbre vibrations making you twitch into his mouth. he tastes it on his tongue, feeling you shiver right onto his tastebuds. as you’re drenching his chin with your wetness, he laughs right on your pussy. “c’monnn, baby. if you’re gonna pull on my hair at least do it right,” and he’s being cocky now. the grit in his voice turns you on and he reaches down to give his hardened cock a few pumps. spitting on the entrance of your cunt, shooting you a sly grin. “oh. what’s with the pout? i gotta pull my own hair?”

“s- shut up suguru,” you whine, feeling his hot breath fan against your clit. you’re so sensitive and you feel your back starting to arise, arching itself.

“make me, baby.”

and he chuckles before eating his words, eating your pussy, nearly gulping at the taste as his tongue swiftly maneuvers crazed circles against your stretched opening. you’re so wet that he could literally drown between your thighs. you’re dragging his face against your cunt and his smirk falters a bit the moment he feels himself close himself.

“s- shit,” he dryly laughs, giving your clit another chaste kiss. a cobwebby string of your translucent juices stick against his mouth as if its adhesive, sopping wet and sugary sweet. he’s nasty with his tongue, devouring you whole only to spit it right back onto your weeping pussy. “yeah, fuck my face, girl. don’t be shy, i like when ya get rough.”

not before long, you let out a shrilling orgasm, your vocal chords ripping raw as you gush all on his face. geto pats your pussy as if he’s telling it, telling it, telling her, ‘good job.’ he hums, giving it a final indecent suck before getting up. he’s lingering right over your twitching, defeated body, gawking at your dumbed down state before leaning in to kiss you.

his body, ripped and rough - tatted and burly, grinds against you before he slips two fingers inside of your pussy. “taste it,” he whispers, and you part your lips, throwing arms over his shoulders before relishing in your own juices. you were so dumb from him eating you out that it took you a while to realize he wanted you to kiss him, taste it that way. it was all on his tongue, once bitter now sweet and you take both of his fingers so easily. geto kisses you sloppily, exasperated breaths pouring into each mouth before he bites your lip. “turn around. wanna try a new position.”

“w- what position?” you heave, staring at him as you’re still breathless.

geto rolls his eyes, flipping you over himself. “the one where i put those useless legs of yours over your head. chop chop, girl. wanna test out that flexibility.”

CHOSO KAMO ★

“just .. lie back like that, mhm,” he’d coo, and you moan the moment he’s pressing his weight up against you. choso was warm, but his touch was even warmer. preposterously, his head’s spinning along with the mirroring subtle beats of his heart as he’s watching you flop down on your back. “m- may i?” he almost whines, so impatient—leaning in to nibble his teeth at your laced bra. you give him a nod and he almost moans. choso starts to feel a lake of saliva pool its way into his mouth as he’s now face first between your tits. his favorite girls, besides you. “so thirsty, ‘m gonna drink for a little.”

choso loved your breasts.

he also loved pretending milk would come out of them every time he latched his lips around your perky nipples.

“they always look s- so pretty for me.” he swallows the invisible lump in his throat, eyes peeping up at you. you give him a sheepish smile, holding his head upright and that’s when he shifts. choso grabs a nearby pillow, propping it right underneath his growing boner. softly, he unstraps your bra, letting it fall loose—not even bothering to fully take it off. it just hangs. as he gets a pillow, your brow raises before he starts to suck.

“f- fuck, ‘cho,” you whine out, feeling hot cloudy puffs of breath collide against your skin. you’re so sensitive, feeling a bit of teeth clash against each nipple. you could hear him breathing through his nose, irregular shattered breaths, slurping against each neglected tit. “that’s it baby, mhm, good boy,” and you feel a bit of movement. glimpsing down with blown irises, choso’s resolutely humping the pillow he brought between his legs. he’s whining, trying to bring attention to his heat but oh, the friction only makes it worse. he whimpers and whines with your tit in his mouth, lolling out his long tongue to savor your heavenly taste.

“ngh, m… mommy,” he babbles out, and he’s never called you that before. that was new, you felt your pussy throb behind your panties before he starts to ramble again and again. whenever he’s drunk off of you - he’s so talkative. “s- so good, ‘s sweet,” he grunts, his thrusts against the pillow turning more sloppy. it’s so hot that your skin practically sticks against the satiny sheets. and with choso, he’s just so fucking loud.

he can’t help it. he’s a whiner, straining his own voice at the expense of your syrupy taste. pretty sable lashes flutter against your skin as he’s still slurping each tit. he lowly groans, both hands wrapping around them both - gingerly fondling with each one. choso made sure to give each one all his attention, strands of sheeny crisscrossed drool trickling down past his lips, past his chin. “you’re bein’ messy, baby,” you hum softly, feeling him lean into your touch as you lift his chin up. a toothy love-drunk smile tugs against his lips as he stares up at you, reaching down to touch himself.

“s- sorry,” he hiccups, the speed of his hips accelerating. choso could barely even last because as he’s still got a mouth full of one of your luscious mounds, he gasps. it’s sharp, his breath gets stolen the moment he feels a certain dampness. it starts to coat the middle part of his darkened boxers, clenching his teeth in awe. “oh, ohmygod, ‘m cummin’, fuck.” and it’s so quick, he’s practically thrusting his hips into the pillow as if he’s actually fucking you. as he’s humping the pillow, he’s also humping your leg a bit, rutting back and forth until he whimpers. “s- shit, mommy ‘m makin’ a mess, fuuuuck me.”

as he’s still making out with your breasts, he glances at each nipple. all swollen and wet from his saliva. choso’s eyes almost roll back as he’s making a mess of himself, flustered entirely at the thought of cumming just from sucking on your tits. “mommy, huh?” you tease, running a thumb down his undercut as he buries his face into your chest. oh, he’s embarrassed.

“i.. i didn’t mean to call you that, ‘m sorry,” he grumbles, his voice almost inaudible with the way he’s just stuffed between your breasts. he’s still greedy though, licking and lapping his own shimmery spit that glissades down the crack of your chest. “soso sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you gently pull up his head, making him stare at you. he’s got a little pout, pretty pink lips curling into a downward scowl. “aw, you wanna suck them again, huh, choso?”

with a defeated nod, he sighs. “yeah, but- i just came ‘n i made a mess,” and your eyes peer down at his boxers with the faint grey stain exposing itself. so cute, choso lets out a tiny vexing puff of air before rubbing his neck in shame. “y- you made me cum jus’ from suckin’ on you.”

“don’t worry, ‘cho,” you purr, bringing him back toward your chest. your touch — so warm, he’d love to just stay like this forever. in your arms, sucking on your tits with the dumbest grin on his face, eyes closed. your words tenderly eased its way into his heart before you lie back, exhaling a drowsy sigh. he’s staring at you and he looks hungry, even still. choso’s panting, hovering over you so close that you feel the outline of his flaccid cock rub up against your thigh. “oh, you want more, don’t you?”

“n- no i want you,” he whimpers with a slight head shake, sprawling your legs apart. your eyes briefly widen at his gentle touch, feeling a few slender fingers ghost against your slavering cunt. choso kisses your right tit one more time, inching back up toward your face. “p- please.”

NANAMI KENTO ★

with nanami, he’s a freak in private.

after coming home from a long day at work, he just wants his pretty ‘lil wife. even a bonus, your sweet cunt that never fails to milk him dry every single time. “woah, love. don’t run from me, hey,” and his voice couldn’t have been any more smoother. you moan, feeling each stroke pivot its way so righteously into your soaked core. nanami watches with a coarse glint in his eye as you’re clinging onto the red-velvet sheets. your hands, they bawl within the fabric and you’re creating fists, not once releasing its tightening grip. his hips, they were simply hypnotic.

you’re feeling the stretching curve of his cock jackhammer into your drenched folds with such cinching effortlessness. mewl after mewl dies out of your throat as he’s making your drooling pussy beg for mercy. “don’t run, ‘m not done givin’ you a good fillin’ sweetheart,” and you could feel his hot cum pour its way out of your clenched hole. he’s already came inside before—but now, it was so much that it’s starting to spill out. dripping down your thighs and his favorite part is to just fuck it right back in. it’s so messy, you’re moaning out his name again and again as if it’s some catchy mantra. “atta girl, take it. taaake it.”

and you whine, your face practically being shoved into your pillow. softly though, the cottony fluff gets caught in your mouth and you let off a choking sob for more. “ken, mhhh, kento,” you croak, feeling him grab your wrist, pinning it behind your back. oh, he always knew how to fuck you just right. you’re a mess and he’s always liked whenever his women was a bit sloppy. you were never a match for his hips, albeit they struck you deep. his fat cock ruthlessly delves into your cunt even deeper though—churning up your insides, having you clench around him tight. your spit-slicked lips kink up into a ghostly ‘o’ and you feel yourself about to break yet again. “not gonna last again, ‘m gonna cum, ‘kento, fuuuck.”

“c’mon, wifey. wanna f- feel you,” he huffs, piercing the pearly edges of his teeth into your the left blade of your shoulder. blond strands of hair run down his face. it’s shiiiiny, tears of sweat pouring down the edges of his forehead. you whine before feeling nanami take a brisk moment to wrap his tie around your wrist, having you in a secure firm grasp. “mhm, good girl. so good, fuck back against me, milk me sweetheart. uh huuuh.”

everything’s so sloppy, not just his hips but your pussy too. you gasp, feeling a sudden coil within you snap.

nanami’s got you arched over, tongue lolled out and eyes rolled back. just what he needed after a eight hour shift. your cunt always brings him the relaxation he needs, he could just live in it. you could barely even speak a proper sentence without a babbling cry wrenching out of your piteous vocal chords. “kento, i- i feel like ‘m gonna,” and you pause, another sharp gasp exiting out of your lungs. your lungs shake, teeth shattering and ears ringing before you feel a sudden gush. its impact has you delirious — you shake violently on his cock like a crazed animal before your jaw dangles open.

nanami groans, his own cock twitching inside before he realizes what happened. he hums, slowing his jagged hips down before caressesing your ass. he takes a moment, letting off a phew before relishing the sight of you bent over and on all fours for him. “oh, my oh my,” he murmurs in a soft gruff tone. its gruffness underneath makes you throb at least a million times. you’re an entire mess, spasming underneath him with his own heat sticking against yours. inches fucking deep, he brings a plump padded thumb towards your swollen cunt before leisurely pulling out. with a pop, he’s finally out of your sticky, greedy pussy. you’re drenched—clenching around nothing now and you can’t help but pout. as you’re still coming undone, he stares in awe at how you’re just coating the sheets entirety with your new sweet. you’re spraying out still as the seconds by and he can’t help but hum, a tender feeling waning its way into his heart — and an even more tender feeling warming its way between his legs. “my love, i didn’t know you were the squirtin’ type.”

your chest slumps back into the mattress from the literal nirvana you felt and you moan in ecstasy. with your orgasm still making its appearance, you feel a compacted tightening sensation within you snap.

it feels so good, soso good that your vision’s currently mainly made up of splotches of achromatic, bland colors. everything’s hot. dementedly, you shake underneath him before you feel his hand ghost down your spine. “k- kento, i—”

“shhh, let’s not speak right now, my sweet,” he shushes you, and you moan at the feeling of his fingers leisurely smearing your own candied juices back into you. your body couldn’t stay still and you’re just left there with your mouth hung open - brows curling together at the straight euphoria you just endured. “let’s hear what my other girl’s got to say,” he hums, and before you knew it, you’re flipped over, legs sprawled out with your tits bouncing from the unforeseen movement.

with fawn, gentle eyes staring straight at your soddened wet cunt, nanami licks his fingers clean before going up close to it. “she’s as wet as ever,” he whispers against your slit, giving it a kiss.

immediately, his lips were now glazed with your natural gloss. you’re breathing heavily each second at a time before yanking on his mousy, silk strands. “mhm, that’s it, get a nice pull,” and you moan once he lightly spanks your cunt, your legs growing limp and about to close. “gonna see how much wetter she can get for me,” and he whistles against your pussy, still staring at her and not you, you shudder from his breathy blow.

“isn’t that right, pretty?”

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) simon loves you, he's just not the best at showing or saying it.

"no, simon. you don't-," you swallow thickly and forcefully pull your wrist away from his grip. "- you don't get to leave and come back when it's convenient for you." your lips are set but they wobble, teetering with the storm of emotions brewing within you. "i'm done trying. i can't do, whatever this…this twisted game is between us." [i’m sorry.]

he's been silent your whole talk, he seems so stoic as if the conversation is a hassle- like he could care less; and maybe he could. you can never guess what simon was feeling. he was like an impenetrable wall, unwavering— even for you; it left you feeling alone most days.

your eyes flit over his face, hoping to see something, anything that would make you second guess what you were saying. but as usual, he’s unreadable; and tears well up in your eyes as you continue, your voice trembling with a mixture of something akin to pleading and sadness. "i've given you countless chances, simon. i've allowed you to come and go as you please, hoping that one day you would realize the love i have for you. but i can't keep living in this constant state of uncertainty, never knowing when you'll decide to leave again." [no more, never again will i leave you. i swear it.]

you take a deep shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest hurts fiercely. it steals your breath away, and flushes your cheeks with heat. "i deserve better than this, simon. i deserve someone who will be there for me, someone who won't treat me like an option. i can't keep waiting for you to change, to finally see my worth." [i see you. i love you with every breath that i take. until my lungs give out.]

your words hang heavy in the air, you wait for him to say something, to tell you that he loves you, that he’ll do anything to get you to stay. say something, you think. "i've spent too long trying to make this work, trying to convince myself that your attention is enough. but it's not. it's never been enough." [say something! tell her you love her, that you'd die for her. say something, simon.]

a singular, angry and furstrated tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. "i deserve a love that is whole, that is unwavering. i deserve someone who will fight for me, who will choose me every single day. and if you can't be that person, then i have to let you go." [don't say that, please. i love you.]

your brows furrow and your chin sets, your hands coiling into fists. tears flow in rivulets down your cheeks and you lift one fist and hit his chest weakly. “say something, you coward.” you utter, your other fist raises to hit him once again. “i hate that i love you so much, i hate you for being the only thing that i think about. i hate you simon.” [i love you, so much that you're the only thing i think about. i love you _____.]

your punches get heavier but he's unmoving, a tic starting in his jaw. in a sudden burst of frustration, you shove at him, your lips pressed tightly together, and your cheeks burning. yet, he remains motionless, his gaze steady and unwavering. “say something, damn it!” you wail, preparing to hit him again, however, his large hands swiftly seize your raised fist before you can and he pulls you into his chest, cupping the nape of your neck and engulfing you in…him. "i love you."

and you know you shouldn't but you melt in his arms, go completely slack, and cry harder. “then say that.” simon presses a kiss to your temple, and you freeze at the tremble of his lips, his chest rumbling as he speaks again. “i love you so much.” and just like that, he reeled you back in, just like he always does; and it felt like coming home. the familiarity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, it all felt so right, as if you were finally where you were meant to be.

but you knew that as soon as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, that the cracks in your situationship would begin to show. and part of you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were fated to live this exact bittersweet cycle with simon until the end of time.

my eyes were sweating a little when i was writing this ngl

[connorsui]

Baby Blues || Imagine ||

Zayne x Wife! Reader

Note: I apologize for how this fic turned out, but my mind really made me want sum body worship with zayne

It was the middle of the night, and the house was still cloaked in the kind of silence that only settled after everyone else was asleep. You stood alone in the dim light of the bedroom, having just returned from the nursery after putting the baby back down. The weight of exhaustion hung heavy on your shoulders, but it was something else that had drawn you to the mirror—something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

The woman staring back at you was... unrecognizable. The dark circles under your eyes, the weary curve of your shoulders—this wasn’t the same woman who had met Zayne with a carefree smile all those years ago. Nor was it the same woman who had carried the fierce determination of early pregnancy, filled with hope, strength, and the thrill of creating life. No. The reflection that stared back seemed distant, foreign. As if each moment, each day, had taken something from you without giving it back.

Your fingers trembled slightly as they traveled over your skin, pressing at the softness of your waist, the roundness of your thighs, the tender flesh beneath your arms. Every inch felt heavier than it once had, like a reminder of how much had changed. The more you touched, the deeper your frown became. Slowly, almost as if you couldn’t help it, your hands lifted the hem of your shirt, revealing the silvered stretch marks and the small, stubborn bump that still lingered on your stomach—a testament to the life you had brought into the world.

But now, it felt like a stranger’s body. The once-familiar curves that Zayne used to trace so adoringly with his hands now seemed like distant memories. You turned to the side, trying to find something in the reflection that felt like you, something beautiful. You forced yourself to look longer, harder, as if searching for the woman you used to be. But the more you stared, the more all you could see was the evidence of change—change you weren’t sure how to embrace.

Unbeknownst to you, Zayne had arrived home. The door clicked softly as he entered, his footsteps slowly echoing up the stairs as he called your name, but no reply came. Quietly, he made his way toward the bedroom, his heart tightening as he caught sight of you.

The door was left ajar, and there you were, bare except for your underwear, staring at your reflection with sadness and resignation. His voice, soft but edged with concern, broke the silence.

“Love, what are you doing?”

Startled, you glanced at the mirror, catching his reflection before turning around. “Zayne! I... I didn’t hear you come in. When did you get back?”

Your voice faltered. Zayne’s gaze softened as he took in the weight of your expression, the unspoken self-doubt written on your face. He didn’t need an explanation—he already knew.

He stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours, his voice gentle. " —You don’t have to hide from me, you know." His hand reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I’ve seen you at your best, at your worst... but this?" He paused, looking you over with a mixture of concern and love. "This isn’t something I want you feeling alone about."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words hit deeper than you expected. “I wasn’t... hiding,” you managed to whisper, though you knew he saw through it.

Zayne tilted his head, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. "No? Then why are you looking at yourself like this right now? Like you’re seeing a stranger instead of the woman I fell in love with?"

You glanced away, unable to meet his gaze, your fingers still clutching the hem of your shirt you have removed. "Because… I don’t look like the woman you fell in love with anymore, Zayne. I don’t look like… myself."

His brow furrowed, and without another word, he closed the space between you, his hands gently settling on your waist. "What does that even mean?" His voice was soft, but there was a quiet intensity in it. "You think because your body has changed, I’d love you any less?"

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “It’s not that I think you’d love me less... it’s just... I don’t feel like the same person anymore. I don’t look the same. I don’t feel ..beautiful.”

He sighed softly, leaning his forehead against yours. "If only you could see what I see."

Slowly, his hands moved to the places you had been examining with self-doubt, his touch gentle but deliberate. "This," he began, fingers grazing your waist, "is where you carried our child. Where you nurtured and gave life. How could that be anything but beautiful?"

Your heart clenched at his words, your voice barely audible. "Zayne..."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his voice lowering. "And these? You’ve always been strong, but now?" He gave a soft, appreciative squeeze. "Now you’re stronger than ever."

“Zayne…”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, trailing his lips up to your neck, each touch slow and full of affection. “And these arms,” he whispered, tracing the soft curve of your biceps, “have held me through everything. There’s nothing about you that I could ever see as anything less than extraordinary.”

Tears welled in your eyes, his words wrapping around you like a protective embrace. You closed your eyes, gripping his arms tightly as the weight of your emotions broke free. "Please, Zayne... You don’t mean all of that..."

Then his voice dropped to a low murmur, full of the quiet intensity that always made your heart race. "Then let me prove it to you," he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Let me show you just how much I mean every word I say."

His hand found yours, gently guiding you toward the bed as his lips continued to press soft kisses along your neck. And as you followed, his touch, his presence, his love enveloped you, reminding you that in his eyes, you were—and always would be—perfect.

[reidmania]

in the absence of you | s.reid

summary; to find out you're pregnant and then experience a miscarriage while spencer is in prison, is a lot, trying to figure out if you should tell him when he gets home is just as much.

warnings; fem reader, hurt x comfort, mainly hurt, a lot of angst, miscarriages, pregnancy, guilt, withholding information, post prison spencer, mentions cat, probably inaccurate medical information, messy timeline, relationship struggles, imma say 18+ because there is very strong mentions of sex, and bad sex experience, emotional deattachment, grief, guilt, reader strongly believes she did something wrong, spencer blames himself for her dettachment, insecurities, trust issues, established relationships, hopeful ending, (happy ending would be inaccurate bc theres nothing happy about this fic!) feeling alone, yeah man idk this is just sad.

an; um.. so this was suppose to be fic 5 but i wanted to post it sooner, and its BEARtober so i can actaully do whatever i want.. thank you, i know i posted fic one two hours ago.. but its technically day 2 bc its 12:30am.. im so sorry in advance. 4.7k... YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME!! if this will trigger you, please don’t read.

beartober masterlist

You remember the moment clearly: the world was grey, the air heavy with the scent of rain, when you stumbled upon the truth in a small, sterile bathroom. It had been two weeks since Spencer had been taken away, wrongfully convicted and trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t fathom. You had just returned from a visit, the echoes of his voice still dancing in your mind like a haunting melody. You stood there, staring at the little stick in your hand, the two pink lines appearing like a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded you. Your heart raced, a mixture of joy and fear spiralling within you. You were pregnant. Spencer’s child was growing inside you, a tiny miracle nestled in the shadows of despair.

In that moment, you could almost picture his face—the way his eyes would light up, a smile breaking across his face as he wrapped his arms around you. You imagined the joy of sharing this news, of planning a future together even in the midst of chaos. But as the excitement bubbled within you, a chill settled in your chest. Spencer was in prison, suffering through an ordeal that felt cruel and unjust. You couldn’t bring this news of a new life into the turmoil that enveloped you both. What would it mean for him to hear such news in a place where hope felt like a distant memory? No, you decided. You would wait. You would hold this secret close until he was home, until you could see the joy reflected in his eyes, not the shadows of despair.

Days turned into weeks, and each passing moment felt like a tightrope walk, balancing on the edge of your own joy and the weight of his suffering. You became adept at hiding your secret, slipping into a routine that felt increasingly fragile. You took prenatal vitamins in the morning, their presence a constant reminder of the life blossoming within you. You attended appointments alone, tracing your fingers over the growing bump that would soon signify so much.

But with every visit to Spencer, every moment shared behind that glass, you felt the joy dimming under the weight of your choice. You didn’t want to add to his pain; his world was already dark. You watched him struggle to hold onto hope, and you couldn’t bear the thought of placing another burden on his shoulders. You knew if you told him he would be happy, and then feel horrible because you were pregnant, and he wasn’t there, he deserved to hear it when he could process it. That was something else you worried about, the timing was horrible, not unwelcomed on your behalf but unfortunate. When Spencer got out he would need time to adjust, you would need time to adjust.

When you touched your belly, you whispered promises, vowing to keep this little one safe until he was free. But it wasn’t long before the joy turned to an ache, a sense of loneliness creeping in. You would lie in bed at night, tracing your fingers over your bump, feeling the small kicks and flutters, and wishing desperately that he could be there to experience it with you. The silence felt oppressive, filled with unspoken words and unshared dreams.

Then, just two weeks before Spencer came home, everything shattered. You found yourself crumpled on the bathroom floor, the world spinning around you as the pain hit like a tidal wave. You didn’t want to believe what was happening, didn’t want to accept that the life you had held onto so tightly was slipping away. The miscarriage was both a physical and emotional unravelling, a gut-wrenching reminder of how fragile hope can be.

You spent the following days in a fog, the echo of your loss drowning out everything else. Each moment felt surreal, like you were watching life unfold from behind a glass wall. You wanted to scream, to let the world know that you had lost something precious, but the fear of burdening Spencer kept you silent. You couldn’t tell anyone, nobody knew you were pregnant beforehand. You kept the joy away from the world until it could reach Spencer, and now it was gone. In the quiet of your apartment, you felt the walls closing in. The space that had once been filled with laughter and love now felt hollow, echoing only with your grief. You avoided places that reminded you of the joy you had once felt, the memories of what could have been cutting deep into your heart. You wandered through your days in a daze, wearing a mask of normalcy for the world to see. Friends reached out, concern etched on their faces as they noticed your distance. You offered polite smiles and reassurances, your heart aching at the thought of revealing your pain. They didn’t know what you had lost, and you didn’t want to pull them into your darkness.

At night, when the silence was deafening, you would curl up on the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest, tears streaming down your face. You replayed the moments you had spent with Spencer, the way his laughter would fill a room, how he would hold you close and make you feel safe. You missed him fiercely, but you also felt an overwhelming loneliness, the grief a reminder of everything you had kept hidden from him. You thought about telling him, about sharing the weight of your sorrow, but the thought made your chest tighten. 

Every time you looked at him when you visited, your heart twisted with guilt. He deserved to know, but you feared his reaction, the possibility of seeing that flicker of pain in his eyes. You wanted to protect him, but in doing so, you found yourself carrying this burden alone. You acted the best you could when you visited, but you knew he could tell you weren’t okay.

Two weeks have passed since Spencer’s release, but the warmth of his return hasn’t settled into your bones. Instead, it feels like a lingering chill, a shadow that stretches over your heart. How could you add to his pain when he had just returned to a world that felt foreign? He had faced horrors you could only imagine, and you didn’t want to push him deeper into the darkness. You stand in the kitchen, staring blankly at the dishes piled high in the sink, each one a reminder of how normalcy feels out of reach. The sunlight filters through the window, casting a golden hue across the room, but it does little to brighten the dark corners of your mind.

Spencer is home, yet he feels distant, a haunting echo of the man you once knew. You watch him move around the apartment, and while he wears a smile that is both familiar and foreign, his eyes reveal the weight of the trauma he carries. You want to comfort him, to wrap him in the warmth of your love, but the grief of your loss sits like a stone in your chest, making it hard to breathe. It’s been so easy to slip into the role of caretaker, to push your own feelings aside for the sake of his recovery and adjustment. The truth is suffocating.a secret you’ve kept locked away, tucked into the recesses of your heart. You want to scream it, to let the world know, but the fear of burdening him with your sorrow keeps your lips sealed.

Every time you meet his gaze, you feel the weight of your silence pressing down on you. Spencer is still adjusting, still fighting to find his place in a world that has changed around him. You can see the flickers of his old self—the gentle humour, the way his laughter dances in the air—but the shadows linger. You can’t shake the feeling that by holding back your truth, you’re pulling him deeper into the void. Spencer’s presence was a comfort, but the weight of your secret loomed like a dark cloud. You started to withdraw, spending long hours lost in thought, feeling like a ghost haunting your own life. In the two weeks Spencer had been home, you had sex once, a few nights after he got home– and honestly it was probably the worst sex you’ve ever had, not because of him, he did everything perfectly, you felt good, physically, he was gentle, and focused. Three months is a long time without sex, and physically it felt good, really good.

But the physical pleasure didn’t compare to the mental disturbance. You felt like the world was crushing you, there was so much guilt and disgust flowing through your veins because it felt so wrong. You kept it together and you didn’t blame him for not noticing, you kept your eyes closed throughout the entirety of it, too scared that if you let them open the tears would fall. He was focused on being gentle. It was messy, and fast, and you were almost thankful. You waited till Spencer fell asleep before you hid yourself away in the bathroom and spent hours crying. You didn’t wake him, you refused to. He deserved rest, good rest in the comfort of your shared bed. Anytime he tried to initiate more you tried, you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his lips for a while but you couldn’t do it when the feeling bubbles in your chest again and you felt the struggle to breathe, not from the kiss but from the pure weight of your guilt.

You hardly slept, the one way to escape your burden taken away when your dreams of what your life could’ve been turned into nightmares of what you had lost. Most nights you’d lie still in Spencer’s arms, his body warm against yours, yet it provided no comfort, only reminding you of what you were keeping from him. You felt guilty, guilty that the ultrasound photos sat in the bottom of your handbag untouched since the day you lost the baby, you couldn’t look at them, it felt like torture. You felt like it was your fault, no matter how many times the doctor told you, it wasn’t, it was a thought you couldn’t shake. You felt like you were constantly battling the idea of telling Spencer, which would only put more on his shoulders, more that he didn’t need, but he deserved to know, you knew he would want to know.

You were pulling away, He noticed, of course, but he attributed it to his own struggles.

“Hey, you okay?” Spencer asks one evening, breaking the silence that has settled like a heavy fog between you. You look up from your coffee, the steam curling into the air like the thoughts you can’t articulate.

“Yeah, just tired,” you reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You wonder if he can see through it, if he senses the turmoil beneath the surface.

He nods, though uncertainty flashes across his face. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately. I know things have been rough, I- I know things are different- I’m different. I'm sorry, but I’m here..” The sincerity in his voice hits you hard. You want to believe that you can lean on him, that you can share the weight of your grief, but the thought of adding to his burden paralyses you. He’s already been through hell; how can you throw your pain into the mix? 

“It’s just… adjusting to everything,” you say, your voice wavering. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all that’s happened.”

Spencer steps closer, the warmth of his body radiating into the space between you. “I know. We will be okay.. Are we okay?.”

Your heart aches at the earnestness in his gaze. You want to reach out, to let him pull you into the light, but the chasm of your grief feels insurmountable. It feels silly trying to act like everythings fine, it would be useless to lie, the colour drained from your face and the emptiness in your eyes spoke words louder than a lied ‘im fine’ ever could, so you gave in to his knowledge. You nodded, “ We’re okay– I- I just need time,” you whisper, looking down at your hands. “I’ll be okay.” You move away towards the couch, he follows, sitting next to you as you bury yourself in the sofa.

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unspoken words and unacknowledged pain. Spencer nods slowly, his expression one of resignation mixed with concern. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, the thoughts he’s too afraid to voice. As the days pass, the emotional distance between you only grows. You drift through your routines, performing the motions of daily life—cooking meals, doing laundry, going to work, avoiding the deeper conversations that tug at your heart. You want to talk about it, want to tell him how devastated you are, but every time you think of opening your mouth, the words stick in your throat. Each time he reaches out, trying to connect, you feel a pang of guilt. He deserves to be wrapped in the comfort of your love, not burdened by your sorrow. You keep telling yourself it’s better this way, that it’s noble to protect him, but deep down, you know it’s a lie. 

“Let’s watch something together,” he suggests, his tone light but laced with worry. You nod absentmindedly, your mind elsewhere. The sound of laughter from the show fills the room, but it feels hollow. You can’t shake the heaviness that clings to your heart.

“Do you remember the last movie we watched together?” Spencer asks, attempting to lighten the mood. “The one with the ridiculous plot twist?” He offers, shuffling his body to face you a little more, you continue picking at your nails, keeping your gaze on the tv, honestly hardly hearing his words

You force a chuckle, but it doesn’t reach your heart. You don’t remember, not in the slightest, maybe if you thought about anything besides the weight in your chest you would be able to, but everything was distant, you were distant. “Yeah, that was… something.”

He turns to face you, and you can see the concern in his eyes. “You’re not really here, are you?”

His words cut deep, and the truth behind them wraps around your throat like a vice. “I’m trying,” you manage, feeling the tears threaten to spill over.

“Just… talk to me,” he pleads, and there’s a desperation in his voice that makes your heart ache. “Is it too much? Baby, tell me what you’re thinking.” He shuffles closer. You tense.

And yet, the silence persists. The weight of your loss feels too heavy to share, like a storm cloud hanging over both of you. You can’t bear the thought of seeing the flicker of pain in his eyes, the guilt that would inevitably follow. You feared saying it aloud would make it too real, telling him would make it too real. He didn’t deserve that, not after the months he spent being put through unimaginable things. He was trying here, to make this as easy for you as possible, showing empathy in the time he needed it most. That plagued you with guilt you couldn’t shake because no matter how hard you tried to be present, your heart remained in pieces on the bathroom floor. 

“It's not you.” It came out quiet and if your sense of self awareness didn’t feel thousands of miles away you would’ve cringed. It wasn’t him, he was trying his best and dealing with stuff and turmoil you couldn’t even begin to imagine, you expected a change in him, that wasn’t the issue. Your head dropped as your fingers moved a little rougher, now picking at the skin around your nails, a horrible habit Spencer had helped you stop when you first started dating, you subconsciously picked it up again when he went to prison. 

He moved closer, if you looked up you would’ve seen his brows knitted in concern and a frown on his face as he reached out to depart your hands from one another, taking one on his own to stop your assault. “Then what is it?” He was pleading for an insight into the mess in your head, that was terrifying because you knew there was a similar mess in his own, for a completely different reason. You were both silently fighting emotions impossible to articulate. Spencer was slowly adjusting, slowly. It took time for him to even begin to talk about what had happened in his time locked up, you never pushed. He was trying to let you in, and you were trying to push him out, but you could see it in his eyes, he knew there was something, and you could push him away and try to handle this alone, but you didn’t want to be alone. 

You looked up at him, tears lining your eyes. You chewed at your lip before you let out a harsh breath, “I got my period.” Your voice broke, then the tears followed as a sob left your lips. Then your hands were reaching to cover your face as the tears continued, falling as if you hadn’t been crying everyday for the last month. Waking up to your period was maybe the worst feeling you had ever experienced, the reality washing over you again, and the sight of blood filling you with a memory you didn’t think you could ever forget. It was painful, so painful.

His eyes widened when you started sobbing, each sound leaving your lips causing his heart to weigh heavier as he moved closer to wrap his arms around you. He knew you, he knew you on your period. Sure you were more emotional than normal but not this emotional. His hands threaded through your hair as you buried your face in his chest, still covered by your hands. He didn’t want to admit that this was the closest he had felt to you since his release. “Is that what's wrong, sweet girl? Are you in pain?” He asked, and you shook your head as sobs ripped from your throat followed by wet hiccups. You were sure there were probably wet stains on his shirt despite the fact your hands were in the way, your tears would not stop, you couldn’t stop them, you couldn’t carry this alone. Not anymore.

It was muffled by your hands and his t-shirt, hardly coherent through your sobs, “I was pregnant,” You felt him stiffen slightly and you knew he heard it, but once the truth was in the air, once the words left your lips, the others followed almost instantly. “I was pregnant and I lost it – I killed our baby.” It was all broken words, the ugliest side of your guilt travelling through in your words.

He was quiet. That was the worst part. You knew he wasn’t mad, actually you didn’t know that, deep down maybe, but right now you truly believed he could have any sort of reaction, even the most unlike him. Right now your brain was absent of any ability to process what you were doing. Your chest was so tight it hurt and you were genuinely struggling to breathe.

When he heard your slight hyperventilating against his chest he seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in, he pulled back to look at your face, his hands moving to cup your cheeks to pull you to look at him, the sight was heartbreaking. “Breathe, Please. Deep breaths” He guided, his voice gentle but you could see emotion in his eyes, something less gentle, not so much anger, maybe hurt, maybe confusion, maybe guilt. You couldn’t see well enough through your tears to figure it out.

You listened, the air you breathed in deeply was so cold it made your throat burn, it was just as cold when you breathed it back out, then again. “I’m sorry,” You whispered, the tears were still falling, you didn’t bother trying to stop them anymore. It was useless. 

“That’s a lot–” He shook his head, “--You were pregnant?” It was the same whisper as yours, as if he was trying to make sure he properly understood what had left your lips, as if this was a reality he didn’t want to be. He was confused, of course he was. 

You frowned as you looked up at him, you knew he would want to know everything, and as much as you knew he deserved that, explaining and reliving it felt like a punishment, as if you needed more of that. “Spencer” it was pleading. You were pleading with him not to dig, not to ask, selfishly so, because you knew he deserved everything, that he needed to hear it just as much as you needed to not talk about it.

He frowned, his thumb reaching to brush tears away from your cheeks, the movement useless because the tears kept falling, “I know it hurts. Can you tell me when?” he asked, he was being so gentle, it only made the guilt in your chest burn more, his kindness was cruel because you didn’t deserve it, not in your eyes.

You hiccuped as you looked down, he lifted your face a little more, encouraging you to look back at him, you did. You “Um– A month after- you uh” You trailed off, a month after his life was ruined and he was wrongfully convicted, he knew what you meant, you could see it in the way his eyebrows furrowed further. He was quiet, the silence thick with so many questions and needed explanations, he needed to know what happened, he needed to be walked through it because he wasn’t there. You knew the guilt was probably eating at him for that, you partly wished you hadn’t mentioned it, that you had been more sensible before blurting it out. 

“How far along were you?” He asked, another question tumbling out so gently. He was trying to be careful, despite his hundreds of questions. There was no backing out now, he deserved to know everything just as much as you deserved to be able to tell him everything. 

You hiccuped as you answered, “Eight and a half weeks.” 

His eyes closed as a harsh breath left his lips, his hands dropped from your face to drag along his own. You weren’t sure what he was feeling, you weren’t sure what you were feeling. He did the maths in his head to figure out when you miscarried, he didn’t want to make you answer it. His hands dropped from his face to his lap as he looked back at you, then you saw tears in his eyes, ones that mirrored your own. “Did you find out what happened?” He asked, voice strained.

You dropped your head and looked down at your hands, “Genetic abnormalities” you whispered. Saying more seemed impossible as your throat felt like it was closing.

You remembered the appointment after like a scene on repeat. There were so many tears, so many ‘it's not your fault, there's nothing you could’ve done' and even more ‘Do you want me to call somebody?’ from the doctor, the question would only make your tears harsher, because there was nobody to call. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice cracked with emotion as he searched your eyes. He wasn’t angry, he was hurt, processing, overwhelmed, anything but angry with you. He wanted to know, he wanted to know everything, especially something like this. 

Your head dropped further as you whispered and ‘im sorry’ which made him shake his head, and remind you that he asked you why you didn’t tell him, he wanted to know what was going on in your head, he wanted to know, he wanted you to let him in, to let him grieve this loss with you. He wanted to know what it was that made you feel like this was something you had to carry alone. 

“You’ve been through – You’re going through so much” You mumbled out, every word seemed harder to get out, but there was no out of this conversation, no running or hiding from the truth, from him. “I didn’t– I didn’t want you to have to deal with this as well.”

His frown deepened, and you swore your heart broke in half when a sound so sad left his lips, as if what you said physically wounded him. “You-” He let out a harsh breath, “That's not fair.” He whispered, and you knew he was right. You withheld information he deserved to know, that could affect him just as much as it did you, and he understood your intentions, and your fears but that didn’t make it any easier to process. He wasn’t mad, he was hurt, maybe a little bit mad, but not so much with you, with everything else. “You don’t– Angel, you can’t choose that for me. This– this is just as much on me to deal with as it is for you. I want to deal with this with you.” 

“I know.” You were silent after that, because the only words you could think of was ‘I’m sorry’ and you knew he didn’t want that. You knew he didn’t want you to be sorry, he wanted you to trust him to let him in, to not treat him like he was fragile. He wanted you to have faith in him, to be able to rely on him, he wanted to be there. He hated that he hadn’t been there. He was right, it wasn’t your job to dictate what he could and couldn’t handle, and while maybe with the right intentions, you were taking away such an important part of your relationship from him, you were hiding something so important to you, and you knew it was just as important to him.

Maybe I’m sorry was all you could think of, because that's all you were. So sorry. Sorry that you hid it from him, sorry that you let him down, sorry that you lost the baby. You were so filled with guilt and grief it was consuming you. No matter how many times you were told it wasn’t your fault, the wonder of what if took up too much space in your mind, what if you just did one thing differently, it was useless, because it was out of your control, that felt worse. That there was nothing you could have done to change it. Spencer was just as silent as you were. The weight of what happened caused a crack neither of you wanted there, you didn’t know how to fix it, you didn’t know how to let him into the mind you didn’t even want to be in. 

“I love you” He muttered. 

The sob followed. You didn’t realise how much he was holding back emotion till this moment. Till he leant forward to wrap his arms around you and his head buried into the crook of your neck, seeking your comfort just as much as you seeked his. You shuffled closer and wrapped your arms around his, easing into his touch. “It's not your fault.” He spoke through his sobs, His hand trailed up to cup the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer, at his words your mind swirled, hearing it from him made you think about it, it didn’t shake the guilt, but it softened it, your sob followed his.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, crying in the comfort of one another, at some point you had moved so you were on his lap, his arms around you like he needed it to breathe. Telling him didn’t ease the grief you were carrying, you didn’t think anything would, but you were feeling it with him, and you weren’t alone in it. There were many more conversations to be had about it, probably hundreds of more apologies between the two of you, probably a lot more crying and days just like this, tangled in shared sadness and maybe that wouldn’t fix what you were feeling, ore take away the grief and maybe it would be just like this for a while.

But you trusted him, and you trusted that you would be okay, that your relationship would be okay. 

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

you’re gonna be ok (paige x reader)

summary: you’re going through a tough time and have pushed paige away but she finally realises something is wrong

content warnings: talks of depression and ed behaviours/language

requested by: @melpthatsme 💗

Your girlfriend was getting suspicious and rightly so. You had just given her another lame excuse as to why you couldn’t have dinner with her tonight. That was the third time this week.

At first it was ‘too much homework’, then a ‘headache’ and now it was your ‘period’. All lies.

As you lay curled up in your bed, all lights turned off, you sobbed silent tears until your pillow was saturated. You felt guilty lying to Paige but you couldn’t go out, especially not to eat.

You wasn’t entirely sure why Paige even wanted to be seen in public with you anyway, why she was with you at all actually. Paige was beautiful. Like the most beautifully perfect woman there ever was. Her eyes shone bright at all times and whether her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail or left natural and loose, framing her face, it looked immaculate. She was intelligent and athletic, maintaining an almost perfect GPA while simultaneously leading her team in back to back wins. Paige was everything and you, you were nothing.

You hated everything about yourself and you were usually good at hiding it. Painting on a fake smile and laughing when others laughed, mirroring your friends actions to make it seem like everything was just fine but it was getting harder to hide. You were drinking and smoking just to get respite from your thoughts. You were dragging yourself to gatherings just to count down the minutes until you could leave and be alone in your room where you could finally let your guard down.

You were proud at how long you had gone keeping this to yourself but it was almost impossible now. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to leave the apartment. You didn’t want to eat. You didn’t want to see anyone. In fact, you didn’t want to see yourself. You had even gone as far to cover every mirror in your room just to avoid the reflection that made you sick to your stomach.

You felt like you had cried a river this past week but the tears wouldn’t stop, you thought there would be nothing left to give but you were a never ending pit of sadness.

You hear shuffling and muffled voices coming from your living room, your roommates must be home. You thanked yourself for keeping your lights off and closed your eyes so if they came into your room, they’d think you were sleeping.

A few seconds past before you heard a light knock at your door. You ignored it. Pressing yourself further into your mattress, wishing it would swallow you whole. Then came the click of the handle being turned and the door squeaking open.

You kept your body as still as possible, holding your breath in hopes that whoever was disturbing you would think twice but that doesn’t happen. Instead your bedroom light is flicked on and your door is closed with force, practically slammed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You recognise Paiges voice immediately and it’s a mixture of pissed off but also upset and you know it’s your fault.

“What?” You say, even though you heard her loud and clear.

“I know you’re not on your period. Our cycles are synced. They have been for months. Why did you lie?” Paige asks again and you feel so stupid for making such a rookie error.

Paige was right. Your cycles were synced, it happened often with women and girls that spent a lot of time together, so when you were on your period, she was too. She had caught you out in your lie.

“I don’t know.” You mummble into your duvet, still curled up tightly.

“You’ve blown me off three times this week. You barely answer my calls and texts, it’s like I have to force you to see me and now you’re lying to me and you can’t even be bothered to tell me why?” Paige rants and even though you still haven’t looked at her you can tell she’s pacing your room.

“I don’t understand what’s going on. I thought we were good but maybe not.” She says and you physically feel your heart brake at her words but you can’t bring yourself to say anything other than, “Maybe.”

“What?” She asks confused even though she was the one who said it first, “Y/N, can you at least fucking look at me?” She snapped and you know thats the least you owe her so you slowly roll yourself around so you’re no longer facing the wall and push yourself up into a sitting position but you can’t bring yourself to lift your eyes from your lap.

“I wanted to take you for dinner, spend some time with you. Just be with you and I thought you would have wanted the same but instead you’re in bed!” Paige continued and you just took her onslaught of words, you didn’t have the energy to argue or even defend yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, picking at the already raw skin around your nails.

“Will you just look at me? Do you want to break-” You finally look at Paige and she stops mid-sentence, “Have you been crying?”

You ignore her question because your heart is racing and more tears are threatening to fall at what she was about to ask, “Finish what you were about to say.” You whisper but she doesn’t need to, you knew what she was going to say. She was going to ask if you wanted to break up.

“What’s the matter? What happened? Why were you crying?” Paige asks all at once, any annoyance in her tone has been replaced with concern and her facial expression shifted from dark and frowning to soft and doe eyed.

“I wasn’t.” You lie, “Finish what you were about to say.”

“Yes you were. Your eyes are red and puffy, your skin is blotchy,” She walks towards you, “and your pillows wet. Why were you crying?”

“You want to break up.” You answer your own question.

“No. No, I don’t. But I don’t understand what’s going on with you, I thought maybe you did.” She says honestly sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I don’t.”

“Why were you crying baby? Tell me what’s on your mind.” She says placing a hand on your leg.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too much Paige. My mind is too much, it’s too dark. You don’t deserve that.” You begin to cry again and it quickly turns into sobs.

“Hey, baby, come here.” She whispered, pulling you into her chest and onto her lap, she wrapped her arms around your body and held you close, “You’re scaring me.” She admits, “Tell me what’s going on my love. I want to help you.”

“You deserve more than this Paige.” You choke out in between sobs, you’re hyperventilating now, your body shaking in your girlfriends arms but she continues to hold you tight and close.

“But I want you. I love you.” She pulls away from you slightly so she can look you in your eyes and she holds your face tenderly, a hand on each cheek, “You’re all I want, my beautiful girl.”

“Don’t say that.” You weep, jumping out of her lap.

“Don’t say what?”

“Don’t say I’m beautiful. Don’t say any of it. It’s not true.” You cross your arms over yourself wishing you could shrink down into the smallest dimensions and eventually disappear.

“Baby, what are you saying? What’s going on?” She reaches out for you but you pull away not wanting to be touched.

Paige properly looks around your room for the first time and you watch as she notices everything and you see the cogs turning in her head as her eyes fall to your mirror, covered by a sweater. She sees the paper taped to your wall with your weight written on it followed by the harshest of words that you thought about yourself. She sees the empty alcohol bottles on your dresser and the half smoked blunt on your bedside table. And when she finally looks at you, in your oversized clothes, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, her eyes were glossy and her forehead creased as she fought back tears of her own.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I do know that I do love you and you are beautiful and I’ll tell you that everyday until you believe it.” She says as a tear slips down her cheek.

Paige walks over to you, taking you by your hands first and kissing both of them. She pulls on the sleeves of your sweater and you reluctantly let her pull it over your head so your just standing there in your bra. You close your eyes not wanting to see her reaction to your body, the thought of it made you sick. You felt her lips press to your stomach and she peppered kisses up your torso, “My beautiful baby.” She mumbled against your skin as she continued to kiss over your chest and onto your neck.

She took you to your bed, laying you down and she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your joggers, pulling them off, exposing your legs. You wanted to grab the sheet and cover yourself up but her mouth met your thigh and she pecked it gently, moving over the the other, “So perfect.” She breathed, the tips of her fingers trailing down your legs.

You lay on your bed, eyes closed, tears streaming out and you feel Paige hover above you, “Look at me baby.” She says softly, wiping the tears that soaked your cheeks. You flutter your eyes open and look up at Paige who’s looking down at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and care. “Please don’t shut me out. I’m here for you. Anything you need me to do, I’ll do it. I just want you to be OK. I need you to be OK. You’re everything to me.” She says, blue eyes locked on yours.

“Can you just hold me tonight?” You sniffle. “Of course.”

Paige lays on your bed, pulling you into her arms, she presses her lips to your head before her fingers find your hair and she runs through it gently, “You’re gonna be OK.” She whispers comfortingly. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: i wrote this so tired so forgive any mistakes 😭 already want to write a part 2 🥺🥺

[thewulf]

Forever Yours || Paul Lahote

Summary: Request -Okay so reader is Bella's (fraternal) twin sissy. She moved to Forks with Bella and the whole first book happens WITHOUT her knowing what's going on. She's just as in the dark as Charlie is..... Read Rest Here

A/N: LOVED THIS. LOVE TWILIGHT. Keep them coming!! Thank you for the requests as always!

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Swan Sister Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

TW: Possessiveness

You and your sister, Bella, had always gotten along well even being so different. She was the shy twin who always stood behind you. You on the other hand always fought Bella’s battles because she needed it, that’s what sisters were for. The two of you weren’t identical, and your personalities could not have been more different. Yet, at the end of the day, she was the person you knew would always understand you. She was your best friend and confidant. So, when she proposed moving back in with Charlie you followed along with her.

Things changed when the two of you moved to Forks and not in a way you liked. She began distancing herself from you after she met Edward. Instead of coming home and gossiping about your respective days she started going to the Cullen’s house. She stopped telling you things. She became protective and oh so secretive over her boyfriend. You confided in Charlie more than you could ever expect. You hung out with Jessica and Angela more than you would’ve ever dreamed. Still, you looked after your sister. She was the shy one who fell hard and fast. For whatever reason you just couldn’t seem to trust Edward. When she finally let the two of you meet he was just off and you couldn’t seem to pinpoint what it was.

It wasn't until the departure of Edward Cullen, leaving Bella desolate and shattered, that the mysterious shroud enveloping your lives began to unravel at a rapid pace. As Bella struggled to navigate through the abyss of heartbreak, you tried your hardest to be the strength that she needed. But it often felt like you were failing her. Like nothing you could say would offset any of the heartbreak she was feeling. And you were angry. Angry at the stupid family that decided to vanish without a trace. For even though Edward seemed off he seemed like he truly was deeply in love with your sister.

Your only saving grace was your old friend Jacob. He found a way to bring your shattered twin back to the surface of the water she was struggling to swim in. The three of you spent so many nights together doing everything and nothing at the same time. Laughing till your faces were blue and finding the human connection she so desperately needed. You could never thank him enough for bringing back your sister you had lost for so many months.

But even that wasn’t enough for him to leave. When Jacob withdrew from both of your lives you became the sad twin. It was Bella who became angry like you were so many months prior. Bella forced you in the truck one afternoon claiming she had a bone to pick with the second boy who abandoned her in so many months. You had no desire to see the boy, but Bella demanded you come with her.

You watched as she pounded on the door of his home only to be met with nothing. You waited in the truck as Bella noticed Sam and his pack off to the side of Jacob’s home. Her footsteps treaded the path towards Sam and his pack, heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. It was only when you saw her physically push Sam, the leader of the tribe, did you bolt out of the car trying to catch your sister from doing anything too drastic.

"Bella, stop!" you cried out, your voice tinged with desperation as you rushed forward. Your heart was hammering desperately in your chest, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you as you reached out towards Bella, hoping to stop the impending confrontation.

But it was too late. Bella's palm has already met one of the dark-haired boys cheeks with a sharp crack, the sound reverberating through the trees. You watch in dismay as the man’s expression darkened. His features contorted with fury, a primal growl rumbling in his chest that even startled you. The forest seemed to hold its breath as the world became silent at what the next move of the man could possibly be. You gulped feeling the tension thick in the air.

And then in the midst of the events that were unfolding you looked to the men in front of you looking at each of them one by one before your eyes finally met the one who had just been slapped. His gaze locked onto yours, a fleeting moment of connection amidst the tumult that surrounded you. In that instant, everything seemed to crystallize, the world narrowing down to just the two of you even with all the people surrounding you.

Timed seemed to slow to an utter crawl. The world around you faded into insignificance as your attention was locked in on the man. A sharp gasp came from you as you continued staring right at him. It was a feeling you had never experienced in this lifetime. Something you could never have expected. He too couldn’t seem to break his gaze away from yours. In that fleeting instant, everything seems to shift. The air crackled with anticipation, the forest holding its breath as the weight of the moment bears down upon you. It's as if the universe itself has paused, allowing you and Paul to exist in a suspended state of existence, isolated from the disorder that rages beyond the confines of your shared gaze.

As the boy who captured your heart and soul with just a single look staggered backwards, a whirlwind of emotions courses through his mind each feeling vying for dominance over the others. Anger, once burning bright within him, now dissipates like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind a hollow sense of bewilderment and wonder. His chest heaves with the effort of controlling the torrent of feelings threatening to overwhelm him. He had felt every single emotion. Saw every single emotion. You were her. You were his imprint. Only Sam had been so lucky to have found his person. And now he did. And he didn’t even know her name nor you his.

To your surprise you felt your feet moving forward as he dropped to his knees on the forest floor. Pauk was acutely aware of the weight of this moment. He had to wonder what you were feeling. You too were locked in on his own eyes, yet you could have no idea what was going on and how chaotic your seemingly normal life was about to get. But amidst the heaviness of the moment, there is something else—a glimmer of hope, a spark of possibility that ignites within him like a flame in the darkness. For in your eyes, he sees not just a reflection of his own turmoil, but also a flicker of understanding, a shared recognition of the bond that now binds the two of you together.

"What... what just happened?" Bella's voice wavers, her eyes wide with disbelief as she looks between you and the man she just slapped. But you have no answers to offer, you were just as confused as she was. While Bella's voice wavers with disbelief, her eyes dart between you and the surrounding men, searching for answers amidst the bewildering scene.

Embry, who had been standing nearby with Sam, catches your eye with a knowing smirk, a hint of understanding dancing in his gaze. He stepped forward, as if he's seen this scenario play out before. "Looks like we've got ourselves an imprint," Embry remarks, his voice tinged with amusement as he addresses Sam, who watches the unfolding scene with a composed yet cautious demeanor.

Sam nods in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as he assesses the situation before him. His eyes shifted between you and Paul with a measured intensity, as if gauging the depth of the bond that now connects you.

Meanwhile, the boy you had originally came to see, Jacob, came sprinting out of the house that he had just ignored Bella from. His expression a mix of surprise and concern as he takes in the scene before him. His eyes narrow as they settle on Paul, a flicker of protectiveness crossing his features before he turns to you, his look softening with understanding in your utter confusion. Yet in all that was happening so fast you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from this man. He had captured your mind, body, and soul all within a single look.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Jacob asks, his voice gentle yet tinged with worry as he approaches, his footsteps echoing against the damp grass.

You finally tore your gaze away from Paul somehow, your heart racing as you meet Jacob's concerned gaze. Despite the frenzy that surrounds you, his presence offers a sense of comfort, a reminder of the unwavering support that has always been there for you, negating the two weeks he had decided to ignore you for.

"I don't know what happened," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that flowed through you so unexpectedly. "But I feel... different."

Bella's eyes widen in disbelief, her mind racing to comprehend the incomprehensible. But amidst the uncertainty that envelops you all, one thing remains clear—the ties that bind you to Paul, are unbreakable, defying logic and reason with an undeniable force.

"Jacob," Sam's voice cuts through the silence, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of urgency. "Take them to Emily's. We need to talk." He motions towards Paul who was still on his knees before you.

Jacob nods in acknowledgment, his gaze flickering between you, Paul, and Sam, a silent understanding passing between them. He moves forward, his hand reaching out to gently guide you away from Paul, his touch reassuring in the confusion that surrounds you.

"Come on, Y/N, Bella," Jacob murmurs softly, "Let's go."

As Jacob reaches out to guide you away from Paul, a low, guttural growl rumbles deep within Paul's chest just as it had earlier after Bella has slapped him. His possessiveness flaring in the face of Jacob's touch. His eyes narrow, a primal instinct driving him to protect what he now considers his own.

"Hands off my girl," Paul's voice is low, but the irritated edge to it is unmistakable as he stands to takes a step towards you. His eyes never left yours. The intensity of his declaration sends a shiver down your spine, his unwavering stare holding you in a trance.

But Sam, ever the voice of reason among the sea of emotions, steps forward with a measured stride. His expression unwavering as he addresses Paul with a firm yet understanding tone. “Paul, calm down," Sam's voice carries authority, tempered with a hint of empathy as he meets Paul's frustration head-on. "We need to talk, separately. She will be just fine with Jacob."

Paul's protest is immediate, his feelings for you overwhelmingly strong. "No, she's not going anywhere without me," he insists, his voice tinged with desperation as he takes a defiant step forward, his resolve unyielding.

But Sam's gaze holds steady, his alpha like authority asserting itself in the face of Paul's defiance. "Paul, stand down," he commands, his voice brooking no argument as he meets Paul's gaze with unwavering determination. Paul winces but gives into Sam’s demands, though the reluctance is evident in the tension that lingers in his frame. His eyes remain locked on you, a silent promise of protection and devotion burning brightly within their depths.

While Jacob leads you away from Paul you can't help but feel torn between the conflicting desires that rage within you. Part of you longs to stay by Paul's side, to bask in the warmth of his unwavering love. While another part recognizes the need for clarity and understanding in the sheer confusion that threatens to consume you. And as you and Bella follow Jacob through the dense undergrowth of the forest you can't shake the feeling of Paul's presence lingering at the edges of your consciousness, a constant reminder of the inexplicable bond that now defines your existence.

Jacob guides you and Bella through a trail in the forest, a heavy silence hangs in the air, punctuated only by the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of unseen creatures. Sensing the need to break the tension, Jacob takes a deep breath before breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Look, I need to tell you both something," Jacob begins, his voice cautious yet resolute. "But it's going to sound... well, it's going to sound crazy."

You and Bella exchange a puzzled glance, the weight of Jacob's words settling uneasily in the pit of your stomachs. You've both sensed that there's more to the Quileute tribe than meets the eye, but the truth remains shrouded in mystery.

Jacob takes a moment to gather his thoughts before coming out with it. "The thing is... we're not exactly... normal," he admits, his words halting as he struggles to find the right way to explain the inexplicable. "We're... werewolves."

The revelation hangs in the air like a heavy fog, enveloping you and Bella in a cloud of disbelief. For a moment, neither of you can find the words to respond, the enormity of Jacob's confession leaving you speechless. "Werewolves?" Bella's voice is barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with shock as she looks to Jacob for confirmation.

Jacob nods solemnly, his expression grave as he meets Bella's gaze. "Yes. And there's something else. Something called imprinting."

You nodded along, “That’s what the one guy just said. We’ve got ourselves an imprint? What is that?” You asked pressing him further.

Jacob smiled knowing that your life was going to change, hopefully for the better. "It's when a wolf finds their soulmate. Their other half. The one person they're meant to be with for the rest of their lives." Bella's brow furrows in confusion, her mind struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what Jacob is telling her. But you, on the other hand, feel a strange sense of recognition stir within you, a faint echo of the inexplicable connection you felt with Paul.

As Bella sighs with uncertainty, Jacob senses the weight of her confusion and seeks to provide clarity. "And... and what does that have to do with what happened back there?" Bella asks, her voice laden with hesitance as she gestures back in the direction of Paul and the pack.

Jacob's gaze flickers towards you, a silent acknowledgment passing between you as he prepares to reveal the truth. "It means that... Paul imprinted on you, Y/N," he explains gently, his eyes filled with compassion as he meets your bewildered gaze. "He's your soulmate."

“Paul.” You whispered his name out loud for the first time. Paul, your soulmate. Your heart skips a beat at the revelation, the words sinking in slowly as you struggle to comprehend the enormity of what Jacob is saying. Soulmates? It's a concept you never thought you'd entertain, let alone experience firsthand.

"Soulmate?" Bella's voice echoes your thoughts, her eyes widening in astonishment as she turns to you for confirmation.

You nod slowly, the reality of the situation beginning to sink in. "I... I don't understand it all," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you grapple with the implications of Jacob's words as the three of you walked through the forest to what you assumed to be Emily’s place, whomever that was.

Jacob offers you a reassuring smile, his expression filled with understanding. "It's okay, Y/N. I know it's a lot to take in," he says softly, his tone gentle yet firm. "An imprint is... it's like finding your other half. Your perfect match. And for Paul, that's you."

Bella's eyes widen in realization, her mind racing to process the revelation. "So... he's bound to her? Like... forever?" she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she seeks to grasp the intricacies of the imprinting process.

Jacob nods solemnly. "Yeah. It's a permanent bond," he explains, his tone heavy with the weight of the truth. "But it doesn't have to be romantic. It can be... it can be like a best friend too. Someone who's always there for you, no matter what."

The realization washes over you like a tidal wave, the enormity of the situation sinking in as you come to terms with the truth of Paul's imprint. It's a bond that transcends the boundaries of time and space, forging a connection between two souls that can never be broken.

And as you walked surrounded by the whispering of the trees and the steady presence of Jacob by your side, you find yourself beginning to accept the truth of your newfound destiny. The road ahead may be filled with uncertainty, but with the unwavering support of your sister and the friendship of Jacob, you know that you'll face whatever challenges may come your way head-on.

As you, Bella, and Jacob step into Emily's cozy kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked muffins envelops you, a comforting contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. Emily's warm smile greets Jacob, her eyes alight with joy as she rushes forward to embrace him.

"Jacob, it's been too long!" Emily exclaims, her voice filled with genuine affection as she pulls back to look at him.

Jacob returns her embrace, offering a sheepish grin. "I know, Em. It's good to see you," he replies warmly.

Emily's gaze then shifts to you and Bella, her smile widening as she takes in your presence. "And who do we have here?" she asks, her tone friendly and inviting.

Jacob gestures towards you and Bella. "Emily, this is Y/N and Bella Swan," he introduces, a sense of pride evident in his voice. "They're new to town, and we thought I'd bring them by to meet you." He spoke referencing the pack as a whole. It was intriguing watching him operate now that you knew why he up and disappeared on you those weeks ago.

Emily's eyes widen with recognition as she looks at Bella. "Ah, the Swan sisters! Charlie's girls. I’ve heard a lot about you two," she remarks with a knowing nod. Then her gaze shifts to Bella, and her expression changes to one of surprise. "And you're the vampire girl, aren't you?"

Your heart nearly stops at Emily's words, the revelation hitting you like a sudden jolt. Vampire girl? You exchange a bewildered glance with Bella, who looks equally taken aback. Edward was a vampire? What next… mermaids?

"What? Bella? Vampires?" you stammer, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you struggle to comprehend Emily's words.

Bella's face turns crimson, her embarrassment palpable as she shoots you an apologetic glance. Her eyes told you that she would explain it all later. "Emily, I'm so sorry," she begins, her voice tinged with mortification. "Y/N, this is... um... kind of a long story."

As the truth about vampires and the supernatural world of Forks begins to unfold, you can't help but feel overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. But amidst the confusion and embarrassment, there's a sense of shared understanding that together you'll navigate the challenges that lie ahead. As the conversation continues in Emily's kitchen, laughter and chatter filling the air, the sound of approaching footsteps draws your attention. Sam, Paul, and Embry enter the room, their expressions relaxed and jovial as they exchange banter with Jacob.

"Hey, look who decided to join the party!" Jacob teases, a playful grin spreading across his face as he greets his packmates.

Sam chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Couldn't stay away, could we?" he retorts, a hint of mischief in his voice as he exchanges friendly jabs with Jacob.

Paul's gaze finds yours amidst the commotion, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Y/N," he says, his voice gentle yet earnest as he steps forward, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless.

"Paul," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you meet his gaze, a rush of anticipation coursing through you at the prospect of speaking with him alone.

Sensing the unspoken tension between you and Paul, Jacob steps forward with a knowing smile. "I'll leave you two to get to know each other," he says, his tone light yet meaningful as he gives you a subtle nod of encouragement.

As Jacob and the others retreat away from the kitchen to give you and Paul some privacy, you find yourselves alone in the midst of Emily's bustling kitchen. The air crackles with anticipation as Paul takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sets your heart racing. "Y/N, I wanted to talk to you," Paul begins, his voice soft yet filled with determination as he gathers his thoughts. "About what happened earlier. About us. If that’s okay with you."

You swallow hard, the weight of Paul's words hanging heavy in the air as you search for the right response. "Paul, I... I don't even know where to begin," you admit, your voice trembling with uncertainty as you struggle to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you completely.

But Paul reaches out, his hand finding yours with a gentle touch that sends a shiver down your spine. "We'll figure it out together, Y/N," he says, his voice filled with conviction. "Whatever happens, I'll always be here for you. I promise you that."

As you stand there, enveloped in the warmth of Paul's presence, a soft blush tinges your cheeks as you struggle to find the right words to express the swirl of emotions coursing through you. Your heart races with anticipation, your thoughts a jumble of uncertainty and longing. "This is all a lot," you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you meet his gaze with a shy smile. "But it's a good thing you're so... so handsome." You weren’t sure where that surge of confidence came from, maybe it was the bond. But even you couldn’t deny the sheer beauty of the man that stood before you. You feel a rush of exhilaration mixed with nervousness, unsure of how Paul will respond to your flirty compliment.

Paul's expression shifts, a mischievous twinkle dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Is that your way of saying you think I'm cute, Y/N?" he teases, his voice low and husky.

You bite your lip, a playful glint in your eyes as you meet his gaze. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a hint of flirtatiousness creeping into your tone as you lean in closer to him. "You'll just have to stick around to find out."

As a smirk tugs at the corners of Paul's lips, his gaze intensifies, locking onto yours with a magnetic pull that leaves you breathless. You feel a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins as he leans in even closer, the air crackling with electricity between you.

"Oh, I intend to, pretty girl" Paul murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers ripping through your body. His words are filled with promise, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he closes the distance between you, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t you worry about that.”

A soft gasp escapes your lips as Paul's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Your heart pounds in your chest as his lips brush against yours in a tantalizing whisper, a feather-light caress that ignites a fire deep within your soul.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N Swan," Paul whispers against your lips, his voice filled with sincerity and admiration. "I can't help but be drawn to you. I’m forever yours pretty girl."

The sweetness of his words sends your heart soaring, a rush of euphoria washing over you as you lose yourself in the intoxicating embrace of his affection. In that moment, all doubts and fears melt away, leaving only the undeniable connection between you and Paul, a bond forged in the flames of desire and longing. And as you surrender to the irresistible pull of his embrace, you can't help but feel a sense of bliss wash over you. With Paul by your side, you know that the journey ahead will be filled with laughter, passion, and endless moments of pure, unadulterated love.

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[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere dick x reader x yandere Starfire

Being part of the Titans was everything you’d dreamed it would be. Between the endless training sessions, the late-night missions, and the quiet moments in between, you felt like you’d finally found a place where you belonged. But lately, something felt different—especially with Dick and Kory. They seemed closer than ever, sure, but in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Sometimes you’d catch them watching you, their usual playful grins softened by an intensity you didn’t understand.

One evening after a mission, you all ended up sprawled on the couches in the Tower’s lounge. You were sandwiched between Dick and Kory, who both seemed unusually close. You’d just chalked it up to them being friendly—after all, you were all practically family by now.

But to them, it was more than that.

“You know,” Dick began, his voice soft but laced with that familiar confidence, “you’ve been a huge asset to the team.” He gave you a sidelong glance, his blue eyes lingering a moment too long. “I mean… I think we’d be lost without you.”

You laughed, brushing off his words. “Come on, Dick. You’d be just fine. You and Kory are the heart of the team.”

Kory, who had her arm casually slung over your shoulder, tensed ever so slightly. She felt a pang at your words, and it took her a second to regain her easy, lighthearted smile. “But you make us better,” she insisted, her voice warm but with an edge of something deeper. Her fingers traced small, gentle circles on your shoulder, her gaze fixed on you. “You bring a light that even I… well, even I cannot match.”

You blinked, smiling awkwardly at her intensity, but you still didn’t quite get it. “Thanks, Kory. That means a lot.”

Dick sighed quietly, his expression momentarily faltering. It wasn’t often that he let his guard down, but when he looked at you, he felt like he was losing control of his usual cool exterior. He wanted to be close, to be seen by you in a way that he didn’t dare put into words. You saw him as a friend, sure—but could you ever see him as more?

It was subtle, but there was a hint of desperation in the way he scooted closer to you, his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you. “I mean it,” he murmured, and his voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “It’s… it’s different with you here. I’m different.”

The quiet vulnerability in his tone surprised you, but you just smiled, trying to brush off the tension. “You’re pretty great yourself, Dick,” you replied, giving him a playful nudge. “Don’t worry—you’ll always be Nightwing, even if I’m around.”

Kory’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly. She felt the weight of those unspoken words in the air, a tension that hung between you, Dick, and herself. It made her want to speak up, to make you understand that their feelings weren’t just friendly. But she held back, unsure how to explain something so deep, so consuming.

Instead, she gave you a wistful smile, the glow in her green eyes dimming just slightly. “You’re special to us,” she said, the words soft but filled with an urgency she struggled to contain. “To me. To both of us.”

You felt the shift in her tone, and something in the way she looked at you made you hesitate. For a moment, you thought you saw something more there—a longing you didn’t quite understand. But before you could dwell on it, Kory squeezed your shoulder with her usual bright smile, hiding the hint of sadness that lingered beneath her warmth.

As the night wore on, Dick and Kory found themselves holding onto every small moment with you a little tighter. Every laugh, every touch, every glance—they were like lifelines. They’d never felt this way before, this mixture of hope and helplessness, this aching need to be more than just friends in your eyes. And it was terrifying.

For now, they would let you break their hearts, little by little, every time you smiled at them as a friend, every time you looked at them with those innocent eyes.

And maybe, someday, you’d see them for what they truly were. But until then, they would stay close. Silent, patient, and filled with love too vast to be expressed in words.

And just like the storm, the ache would keep raging quietly beneath the surface, growing stronger every time you didn’t notice.

They would wait.

(A/n: was listening to laufey and suddenly had a idea, hope y'all likes it😸 totally out of context🤷‍♀️)

[chosok-amo]

MACARONS .ᐟ

suguru g. satoru g. you're almost nine months pregnant and craving for macarons that suguru brought for you, you've been waiting for a long time to eat them, but that seems impossible if you have a sweet tooth for another husband.

as you descended the stairs with hopeful anticipation, thoughts of the sweet macarons suguru had painstakingly waited in line to dance in your mind. each step was a reminder of your heavy, pregnancy-laden body, your back aching and feet protesting with each movement. the promise of those delicate treats provided a rare moment of solace in an otherwise physically taxing day.

entering the kitchen, your heart sank as you noticed the empty space where the box of macarons should have been. a rush of emotions flooded over you—frustration, disappointment, and exhaustion all mingled together.

“satoru!” you called out, your voice carrying a mixture of accusatory anger and hurt. deep down, you knew exactly who had likely devoured the macarons, given satoru's notorious sweet tooth.

your call immediately brought satoru to the kitchen, his steps echoing loudly with a certain sense of guilt to it. he knew exactly what you were talking about, especially with that certain tone you used to call him.

he leaned by the wall, a few feet away from you, shoving his hands inside his pockets. “yes, my lovely wife?” he said with a cheeky smile, playing dumb with full knowledge of what he has done. tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to hold back your emotions. “you ate them, didn’t you?” you accused, your voice trembling with a mix of sadness and frustration.

satoru's smile turned into a smirk as he saw the tears forming in your eyes, as sadistic as it may be, he found it incredibly cute of you whenever you cried, especially if he's the reason behind it.

he slowly strut towards you, taking a step every few seconds, his hands still inside his pockets. “i have no idea what you're talking about, my love,” he said, trying to feign innocence while standing right in front of you, looking down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried to express the depth of your disappointment. “satoru, do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to those? my back hurts, my feet hurt, and it's so hard for me to even walk, and now... now this,” you choked out between sobs.

satoru's playful attitude faded slightly as he saw the tears streaming down your face. while he enjoyed teasing you and provoking your anger, seeing you upset like this tugged at his heartstrings a little.

he let out a sigh, reaching out and gently wiping away your tears with his fingers. “i'm sorry, bunny. i couldn't resist the temptation, they were just so good.”

he moved his hands to your waist, gently pulling you closer to him, his voice softening as he spoke. “i didn't think it would upset you this much.” before he chuckled and pinched your chin, tilting your face to look up at him. “you're overreacting a little bit, aren't you? it's just a box of macarons,” he teased, a playful smirk still plastered on his face as he takes a few steps back.

your frown became visible and deeper each second you looked at satoru's expressions like he was not feeling guilty for making you cry but instead making fun of you for it. “it's not just a box of macarons, suguru got it for me and he waited a long time in line for it,” your voice starts to rise.

he continued to smirk as he watched tears flow down your face, his grip on your chin tightening slightly as you raised your voice, clearly getting annoyed, which only amused him more.

“yes, yes, i know.” he said, feigning sympathy, his tone mocking. “and all that effort was wasted because i finished them.” he continued to taunt you, reveling in your distress.

suguru, hearing the commotion, hurried into the kitchen, his expression concerned as he assessed the situation. “what's going on?” he quickly walks close to you and wraps his arm around your waist to wipe your tears away you turned to him, tears flowing freely now. “he ate the macarons, suguru. the ones you waited in line for,” your finger pointing at satoru.

suguru's concerned expression quickly turned into a scowl as he heard your words. he turned towards satoru, a mixture of disappointment and irritation etched on his face. disbelief as he looked from you to satoru, then back at you again. he knew his best friend had a sweet tooth, but eating something that was specifically picked for you during times like this? it was too much even for his standards.

he let out a sigh, rubbing your back comfortingly as he addressed gojo. “satoru, what were you thinking? you know how excited she was for those macarons.” he then turned his attention back to you, gently wiping away your tears. “don't cry, love. it's just pastries, i can get you another box, hm?”

“no, I don't want another one, it's gonna take a long time for you to get me one and I want to eat it now!” you cry harder as you bury your face in suguru's chest, holding tight to his clothes like a kid.

suguru's expression softened as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest, gently rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. he shot a disapproving glare at satoru, silently silently scolding him for making you cry so much over something as small as a box of sweets.

“there, there, it's alright,” he cooed, gently stroking your hair. “i understand you're upset, but let's calm down, alright? there's no need to cry over this. I'll get you anything you want, okay baby?”

satoru snickered at your display of emotionality, finding it entertaining how worked up you were over the macarons. satoru watched from the side, a smirk still playing on his face. he found the sight of you holding onto suguru like a kid absolutely adorable. “look at you, throwing a tantrum over a box of pastries. so cute.” he walk closer, “my, my, you're more emotional than usual, aren't you?” he teased lightly, his fingers gently running through your hair.

fast enough to startle him, you turn your head to satoru the moment you hear the last word he throws at you. “i hate you! you're always like this and only thinking about yourself!” your beautiful pink lips spat a fire, a dagger straight to satoru's heart.

you smack his hand away from you before leaving the kitchen to your bedroom, still crying. seeing you walk away like a wake-up call for satoru. doesn't matter how mad you are at him you never use the words and seeing you like that makes him realize that he's making a great mistake, a fatal one might be.

his smirk faded from his face in an instant as soon as those words left your lips. he stood there, stunned by your sudden outburst, his arm frozen outstretched in the air, where it had been just seconds ago.

as you smacked his hand away and stormed off to your bedroom, satoru stood there frozen in place, the reality of his mistake sinking in. the sound of each step punctuating the weight of your words still ringing in his ears. he could see the pain he caused you, and the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. he felt a pang of guilt and shame creeping up inside of him.

suguru watched you walk away, a mixture of shock and disappointment on his face. he shot a glare at satoru, his eyes narrowing in disapproval. “nice going, satoru. you really messed up this time,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. suguru knows you never mean any of those words but satoru might not.

he exchanged a glance with suguru, who had a slight frown on his face. satoru sighed heavily, breaking the silence. "i messed up, didn't i?" he muttered, his playful demeanor replaced by genuine guilt. suguru's brows furrowed in disappointment as he looked at satoru, before he spoke up.

"you've outdone yourself this time, you idiot."

he had always known his playful teasing could sometimes push the boundaries, but this was different. seeing the look of anger and hurt on your face. hearing those harsh words leaving your pink lips stung more than he had ever thought possible. your beautiful pink lips, once so kind and nurturing, unleashed a fire fueled by frustration and sadness.

“fuck, what did I do?—” he whispered, both hands on his white lock, gripping them a handful. he looks to suguru, wishing for a solution, hoping that maybe suddenly suguru has a time machine and he can undo the things. “what should I do?” he asks the raven.

“i don't know satoru, how about not eating the macarons which is by the way you know how long she's been waiting to eat those and make fun of her,” suguru covered in sarcasm answered.

suguru's words were sharp, laced with a hint of irritation and disappointment. he couldn't hold back the sarcasm in his voice as he replied to satoru's question, making it clear that he was upset with his behavior.

“well, perhaps if you had a bit more restraint, you wouldn't be in this situation,” suguru continued, crossing his arms over his chest. “you know how much she was looking forward to those pastries, and yet you chose to act like a child, eating them without a second thought. now look at the mess you've caused.”

satoru let out a frustrated sigh as suguru's response hit him like a ton of bricks, the sarcasm in his tone making him feel even more guilty than he already did. he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in his expression.

“i know, i know, i messed up. i should have just left those damn macarons alone,” he said through gritted teeth. “i just didn't think she'd react like... like that.” he looked back at the hallway leading to your bedroom, his heart sank seeing your tear-stained face in his mind.

“what did you expect, satoru? she's pregnant, emotional, and carrying a child which takes a toll on her body. she's going through a lot, and you're behaving like you're still a child,” suguru sighed, crossing his arms as he looked at his stupid husband, sitting at the dining chair with head on both hands. “go apologies, she needs more than just empty words.”

satoru brings his head up from his palm, looking at suguru like he's about to cry, eyes red and his blue pupils shaking. “baby, she must not want to see me right now, what should I do?” satoru holds his husband's hand while the other is stuck to his forehead.

suguru's gaze softened, seeing the vulnerability in satoru's eyes. the usual playful facade was gone, replaced by a mixture of guilt and uncertainty. suguru could tell that he was genuinely regretful.

suguru squeezed satoru's hand, feeling the tremble in his grip. he could see the despair in his voice and the fear of losing the connection they shared.

“listen, satoru,” he said gently, guiding satoru to sit on the couch. he took a seat next to him, their hands still clasped together. “she just needs time to calm down. give her a little space, but don't wait too long. show her that you understand what you did wrong and how much you regret it.”

“can you go to her first? you can calm her down, I'll be waiting at the door until she's ready to see me,” hopefully satoru trying to convince suguru. the man chuckled softly, seeing the pleading look in his lover's eyes. he knew how much he missed your presence and wanted to make amends so he nodded in agreement.

“alright, I'll go talk to her first. remember, don't wait too long, alright?” suguru got up from the couch and made his way to your bedroom with satoru following from behind, still holding onto the man's hand until they both stopped in your shared bedroom with them. suguru softly knocked on the door and could be heard faintly by you inside the bedroom.

“honey, it's me, can I come in?”

you looked up from where you were lying on the bed, your tear-streaked face a testament to the flood of emotions coursing through you. hearing suguru's voice at the door, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

“come in,“ you called out, your voice slightly hoarse and wobble from crying. suguru slowly opened the door and stepped inside the bedroom, his eyes immediately found you lying on the bed.

his heart ached to see you in such a state, tears staining your cheeks and your eyes red and puffy. he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed next to you, his gaze filled with concern.

“how are you feeling, love?”

your initial resistance lessened as you felt suguru's gentle touch, his hand cupping your cheeks and caressing away your tears. his voice, soft and filled with care as he whispered, “come here, baby,” made you want to melt into his embrace.

you complied, moving closer to him and burying your face into his chest, seeking comfort in his familiar scent and warmth. you let yourself be pulled into his embrace, your head resting on his chest as he held you close, leaning against the bed rest. his touch was tender and reassuring, his fingers running through your hair in a soothing gesture.

tears welled up in your eyes again, your body shaking as you began to cry softly once more. “i just wanted the damn macarons,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt.

suguru cannot help but chuckle at your adorableness, smiling to himself, “i know baby, I know. I'll get them for you, as much as you want, satoru will buy you the store if you want to, but stop crying okay? it's not good for you, your head is gonna hurt, hm?”

suguru's chuckle made you feel a mix of annoyance and affection. you knew he was right, but the frustration was still bubbling up inside you.

you sniffled and wiped away your tears, trying to compose yourself a bit. “i just... i just wanted those damn macarons. i'm tired, and everything hurts, and i just wanted something sweet to eat. is that too much to ask for?”

suguru shook his head, “no baby, of course not, it's just that satoru—”

you didn't give suguru to finish his sentence before you cut him off, “he's laughing at me suguru, for fuck sake. he laughs like he doesn't care and makes fun of me like my needs don't matter—”

your shared bedroom door brushes open and satoru walks in, fast enough for you not to give him the proper reaction as he suddenly sits in front of you, both hands holding yours tightly, holding for his dear life.

satoru's eyes flickered between you and suguru, his heart clenching tightly at the sight of your red, tearful face. he could hear every word you had just said, the pain and frustration in your voice hitting him like a punch to the gut.

he gently grabbed your hands, his own shaking slightly as he gazed at you with a mix of guilt, remorse, and pleading in his eyes. “baby, please listen to me..” he began, his voice unsteady.

you looked up at him, your eyes red and puffy from crying. you could hear the sincere tone in his voice, the desperation and regret obvious. you didn't pull your hands away from his, but you didn't speak either.

suguru, seeing the tension in the room, sat quietly beside you, his gaze darting between you and satoru. his large hand softly caressing your waist. the air in the room was thick with anticipation, and all eyes were on satoru to continue.

your gaze met his, your eyes still watery from the tears but also carrying a hint of anger. you listened, but your expression remained stern, showing that you weren't ready to forgive him just yet.

satoru's grip on your hands tightened a little, his thumbs rubbing small, comforting circles on the backs of your hands. he could see the pain in your eyes, and it only made him feel worse.

“i know i messed up,” he began, his voice wavering.

“i should have never touched those macarons. i was being selfish, and it hurt you.” satoru looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with remorse. “you matter to me. your needs and wants are more important to me than anything else, especially a damn box of macaroons.”

he pauses for a moment, his grip loosening slightly in your hands. “i made a mistake, and i'm sorry. i should have thought of you, not just myself. i should have been more considerate and understanding.”

satoru's gaze softened, his eyes locked on yours as he spoke. “your needs matter more to me than anything. you're my wife, my love, and you're carrying our child. I should have prioritized you over a box of macarons, no matter how much i like them.”

he paused for a moment, his hands holding onto yours tightly. “should have never laughed at you or made you cry. i was acting like a stupid child, and you don't deserve that” satoru's eyes were full of remorse, every word he spoke tinged with guilt. he knew he had messed up, and he wanted nothing more than to fix it.

you listened to his words, feeling a mix of pain and relief in your heart. your anger was slowly fading, replaced by a strange tenderness for him.

satoru could see in your eyes that you were starting to soften, your expression becoming less guarded. he took it as a sign to continue pouring his heart out.

“i'm so sorry, baby,” he whispered. “i was stupid, and selfish, and i should have been more understanding. you deserve better than that. please forgive me.”

your resolve started to waver, the anger slowly being replaced by a mix of forgiveness and love. looking into his pleading eyes, your heart skipped a beat.

“you were a jerk,” you mumbled, your voice still holding a hint of annoyance. “and you made me cry, and you didn't care about my feelings.”

satoru looked at you with hope in his eyes, desperately trying to hold onto your hands, afraid that you'll slip away from him. “i know, i know. i was such a jerk, i'm sorry baby.”

you looked at him, your heart thudding heavily in your chest. hearing his sincere apologies and the pleading look in his eyes stirred up emotions within you.

you didn’t want to admit it, but you loved him, and seeing him so distraught and remorseful tugged at your heartstrings. a part of you just wanted to forgive him and be in his arms, but the hurt and frustration were still present.

you took a ragged breath, your voice quavering. “how can i trust that you won't do something like this again?”

satoru's expression became serious, his eyes filled with determination. “baby, i swear on everything i hold dear. i will never underestimate your needs again. your comfort, happiness, and wellbeing are my top priority from now on.”

he raised your knuckles to his lips, gently pressing a kiss against them as he looked at you with a desperate plea. “give me another chance, please. i will make up for it. I promise.”

your heart skipped a beat as his lips touched your knuckles, the softness of his touch making you melt a little. your resolve was weakening, and you could feel your anger melting away.

you looked at him, a mixture of resignation and love in your eyes. “I've been craving those macarons all day,” you said softly, a hint of pleading in your voice.

satoru's eyes lit up, a glimmer of hope flickering in his gaze. “anything for you, love. I'll get you all the macarons you want.” a small smile tugged at the corners of youe lips. seeing him so determined and sincere was making it difficult to hold onto your anger. you let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your body easing a bit.

“promise?“ you asked, your tone almost teasing.

a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as satoru eagerly nodded, excitement in his eyes at the prospect of pleasing you. “yes, I promise, baby. I'll get you the most delicious macarons you've ever tasted. I'll order them from the best bakery in town.”

he gave your hands a gentle squeeze, his expression soft and sincere. “anything you want, just say it, and I'll make it happen.” he gave your hands another kiss. seeing how sorry he was, the guilt started eating you alive, the weight of the words you said to him before starting to eat you.

“i'm sorry for saying that I hate you, I didn't mean any of that, I just—” satoru shushed you gently, his arms holding you tighter against him. “no, baby, don't apologize. i understand why you said it, and you were completely justified.”

he pressed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his voice filled with remorse. “I shouldn't have teased you like that, especially after you've been dealing with pregnancy hormones and cravings all day. you had every right to be upset with me.”

“yeah right, baby, you should smack the shit out of him,“ he added playfully, gently pinching your cheeks. “do you want me to use my rainbow dragon on him? I could totally do that.”

suguru's playful suggestion managed to coax a small chuckle out of you, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you glanced at him, shaking your head slightly. “no, no, suguru, that won't be necessary. as tempting as that sounds, I'd rather not see any more dragon destruction for now.”

satoru rolled his eyes and shot a mock glare at Suguru. despite his attempt at seriousness, a small smile betrayed his true feelings. “thanks for the support, suguru,” he said sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood. suguru shrugged, grinning. “hey, someone has to keep you in line, satoru. If it takes a rainbow dragon, then so be it.”

“oh, please,” satoru retorted, crossing his arms.

“Like you've never made a mistake. remember the time you—” suguru cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. “we’re not talking about me. this is about you eating the macarons. focus, Satoru.” satoru huffed, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“I think you just enjoy seeing me in trouble.”

suguru smirked, leaning back. “maybe I do. but only because it's so easy to get you riled up.”

“yeah, well, not all of us can be perfect like you, Mr. dragon summoner,” satoru shot back, though his tone was light. suguru chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I never claimed to be perfect. Just better at avoiding macaron-related disasters.”

“ha! keep telling yourself that,” atoru replied, rolling his eyes again.

you watched their banter, a genuine smile forming on your face as their playful bickering helped ease the tension. “alright, boys, enough,” you said, your voice regaining a hint of lightness. “no more fighting. how about we focus on making things better?”

satoru nodded, his expression softening as he looked at you. “agreed. I'll start with that foot massage.”

“and I'll make sure he does it right,” suguru added with a wink, hugging your body to give your cheek a kiss, little bit too aggressive, earning another eye roll from satoru.

satoru positioned himself at the foot of the bed, gently taking your foot into his hands. his touch was tender and soothing, a stark contrast to his usual bold actions. he started massaging your foot gently, his fingers rubbing in small circles.

suguru, never one to stay silent for long, continued his playful banter, trying to keep the atmosphere light-hearted. “make sure you get the arches, satoru. pregnant feet need extra care, you know.” a smirk on his face as he watched satoru's attempt at making amends. “he's been practicing, you know,” he teased, causing satoru to roll his eyes once more.

satoru's fingers worked their magic, gently kneading and massaging your feet. He knew just how sore and tired they were from carrying you during your pregnancy. He focused on each sore spot, his touch firm and soothing.

meanwhile, suguru couldn't resist chiming in (again) with some light-hearted comments, poking fun at satoru occasionally. “watch your grip, satoru. no need to turn her feet into pancakes,” his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched satoru perform his husbandly duties.

“you're a quick learner,” he quipped at satoru, who shot him a playful glare in response. he leaned over to satoru, a smug grin on his face. “make sure you don't miss a spot, lover boy. her feet need extra attention, considering the little one she's growing in there.”

satoru glanced up at suguru, a mock glare in his eyes. “oh, shut up. I know what I'm doing.”

[luveline]

i was thinking about roommate!spencer going home after a week off working on a case and finding reader sleeping on the couch waiting for him to get home

Spencer cringes as his nails scratch the paint around the doorknob. He’s a tepid mixture of tired and sad, demotivated from another bad case, the subway home, the too many steps to the apartment. He hopes the BAU has better pay after his probation is over. He’d get a new apartment, fix up his shitty old car, maybe even get a haircut. 

For now, it’s just him, his tired feet, the threadbare couch, and you. 

You’re snoring with your face crushed to the armrest, hand tucked under your chest. You’ve started sitting and ended twisted to one side. Your back will ache when you wake up, but you’re blissfully unaware of it while you sleep. Spencer has half a mind to let you sleep undisturbed. 

He steps over your book of crosswords on the floor and the pencil waiting beside it, bending over to pat your arm. When that doesn’t rouse you, he grabs your shoulder, about to shake you awake when you sigh in your sleep, a simple, sugary sound that sends heat to his cheeks instantaneously. You’re often innocuously lovely, at least in his eyes. 

Spencer frowns and goes to make you a glass of sweet tea to wake up to. He’s secretly hoping you’ll wake up before he returns, but you’re still snoring, your face crushed, pressure on your neck. 

He wonders if you sleep on the couch often. He’s never caught you sleeping in the living room when he’s home, but this is the third time now he’s texted you that he’s coming back and walked in to find you waiting…

Are you waiting for him? 

Spencer can profile you. It doesn’t feel right, he tries not to be invasive, but he can work this out. It’s his job. 

First, the text you sent that read, Can’t wait for you to come home, I’m making chicken noodle soup for us 

Neither indicative nor exclusionary of his theory. You could mean can’t wait as the metaphor it tends to be. 

Your crossword book. Upon further inspection, he realises the pages are bent on one side, and the tent of it has landed where your hand curls toward your chest. Alright, it fell. You stayed up until you were so tired you dropped your book. 

But… you could’ve been watching TV. He turns to analyse the TV set. The standby light turns orange when it’s been left on for eight hours at a time, and you and Spencer are kind of broke, so you don’t leave anything running on purpose. You’ve never fallen asleep watching TV while he was home— 

All these reasons. 

He could just ask. He turns back to you with lips already parted, prepared to try again to wake you and slip it in casually, Shit, you weren’t waiting for me, were you? 

You’re already awake. 

Tired, you smile at him like you’re not surprised he’s kneeling at the foot of your seat. Like you’re glad he’s home. “Spencer,” you say, voice etched with the last dregs of sleep as you turn onto your side completely, giving a little wince at the stretch. 

“Hey, you okay? Why are you sleeping on the couch again?” 

You roll your eyes for what he’s not sure and reach down blindly for the crossword book by his knee, your fingertips brushing his thigh and leaving lightness in their wake. “I'm glad you’re home. Need your help, m’stuck on my puzzle.” 

“That’s what you’re sleeping here for?” 

“What?” Your eyes slip closed and then flutter open. “Mm, no, was just waiting for you to get home. How was Santa Monica?” 

Spencer has to force himself to answer around the pretzel of nerves tied in his throat, because it’s what he’d wanted, but he wasn’t ready. “It was great! I mean– I mean, it was awful, and three people died and–” He breathes in wrong. “It was fine.” 

You curl your book on the right page, blinking heavily at an unsolved row. “Oh, good. Um. Okay, ‘to carry a torch for someone’. Eight letters, not obsessed. Doesn’t fit.” 

Spencer traces the soft shudder of your lashes where they’re desperate to kiss the skin below your eye. “Besotted,” he says quietly. 

You gasp happily. “Besotted. Perfect! I missed you, genius, you always know the answer.”

He hands you your fallen pencil. “I missed you, too.” 

[yzzyhee]

looking out for you — psh

bf!sunghoon x gf!reader

warnings: established relationship, reader is sick, medicines (?), hoon calls reader pretty, low cases work, not proofread & if more lmk !!!

wc: 926ish?

synopsis: even when sick, you have to make sure you get your cuddles later

a/n: im sick. i need sunghoon to take care of me. that’s it. feedbacks are appreciated:( not mean ones though i can take constructive criticism but u can be nice about it lol xoxo

“c’mon, yn. i’m not playing, take your medicine,” sunghoon urges, his voice softened by a mixture of concern and frustration.

you burrow deeper under the blankets, a feeble attempt to shield yourself from the world, and more specifically, from sunghoon’s persistence. you’ve been sick before, countless times in fact, due to your not-so-strong immune system. to you, this feels no different from all those other times — a minor inconvenience that would pass with time. however, sunghoon sees things differently.

the moment you didn’t show up to his hockey practice, something you do religiously, sunghoon knew something was amiss. you had never missed a practice, not even when you had exams or pressing assignments. so, when the practice ended and there was still no sign of you, he didn’t waste a second as he drove over to your apartment, his mind racing with possibilities and heart pounding with worry.

when he let himself into your place, his concerns were confirmed. there you were, curled up in your bed, your face flushed with fever, shivering slightly despite the layers of blankets piled on top of you. his heart ached at the sight, and he immediately set into action.

he made his way to your bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets until he found a towel. after running it under cold water, he wrung it out and gently placed it on your forehead, hoping to cool you down. the feeling of the cold fabric against your hot skin made you stir, but you didn’t wake up. he watched you with a pained expression, wishing he could take away your discomfort, wishing you had called him earlier.

now, with the medicine in hand, sunghoon is trying his best to coax you out from under the covers. his hand rests on the blanket that was wrapped tightly around you, as if it could protect you from more than just the chill in the air.

“yn, please,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “i’m looking out for you, please, i just want you to feel better.”

you peek out from under the blanket, your eyes meeting his. the worry etched into his face makes your heart clench. you know he only wants to help, but the thought of swallowing the bitter medicine makes you grimace.

“ i don’t like the taste,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and weak.

sunghoon let out a soft chuckle, though it was tinged with sadness. “i know, pretty, i know. but it’ll help, i promise.”

he kneels down beside your bed, his hand reaching out to brush a few strands of hair away from your face. his touch is gentle, almost as if he was afraid of hurting you, and you couldn’t help but lean into it. the warmth of his hand was comforting, grounding you in a way that made you feel safe despite how awful you felt.

“you’re burning up, yn,” he says softly. “I’m really worried about you.”

you could see the concern in his eyes, the way his brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly. it makes you feel guilty for making him worry so much. you know he was right, that you had to take the medicine, but the stubborn part of you didn’t want to give in so easily.

sunghoon’s thumb traced small circles on your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. “do it for me, please? just this once?”

you sigh, feeling a little more willing to give in, but you can’t resist asking, “promise me cuddles later? once i’m feeling better… i don’t want you getting sick as well.”

sunghoon expression softens even more, if that’s possible and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “i promise,” he says, his voice tender. “as soon as you’re better, i’ll cuddle you all you want.”

you sigh, finally relenting as you reach out a hand from under the blanket, allowing him to place the medicine in your palm. he hands you a glass of water, watching carefully as you swallow the pill with a wince.

“there,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

you shake your head slightly, the medicine already beginning to settle in your stomach. you still feel awful, but knowing that sunghoon is here, taking care of you and promised you cuddles later, made it a little more bearable.

he tucks you back into bed, making sure the blankets are snug around you. as he sits beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair, you can feel the warmth of his care wrapping around you like another layer of blankets. even in your feverish state, you know you’re in the good hands of your boyfriend.

“get some rest,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you let out a small giggle and look up at him, “you should change your career, doctor park… on second thought, maybe not.. it’d mean others can see how sweet you are and trick you into giving them cuddles.”

sunghoon smiles softly and meets your gaze. he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead and whispers “these cuddles are reserved only for you.”

you feel your heart flutter and smile faintly, your eyes already beginning to close again. as sleep pulls you under, the last thing you feel is sunghoon’s gentle kiss on your forehead, and the reassurance that when you wake up, he’ll still be right there, ready to hold you close—just as he promised.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Push and pull.

Warning:  Angst

Pairing: skz x 9th member

Summary: The constant pressure of being a girl in a group of boys is crazy but crazier when your looked at like a fragile baby.

!not proofread so forgive me for mistakes!

**

“Oppa just tell me what’s wrong pleaseee?” She begged, “I also care about you and you need to calm down. This is scaring me,”

"No I want to only talk to the boys, please Y/n?" He said and It stung. 

Han had been having a mental breakdown and had been crying for an hour straight. They had just arrived from practice when he decided to brush everyone off and leave to go to his room where Y/n had been begging him to come out of.

"Okay," She softly said and left the room. Was she not going enough for him? Did he not like her? The thoughts run through her head as she laid in bed trying not to cry. The pain of feeling neglected was slowly eating her alive.

She had been begging him to tell her what had happened but he refused. He didn't want to tell her what was going on but once the boys walked in back from their schedules, he wanted to speak to them straight away. Leaving Y/n sad and confused. 

She decided to to finish some work as she waited for the boys to finish talking to Han but even then her heart wasn't settled. She wasn't able to concentrate. The guilt was eating her up. It made her feel sick. So she decided to go make herself some tea and that's when she run into Felix in the kitchen making some brownies.

"Hey Felix," she softly smile and greeted him.

"Hey Y/nnie!" He beamed and waved at her then continued to mix the mixture in the bowl. "where you able to get more tape for your knee?"

"yeah i was, Eunwo (their manager) was able to get me some on our way back," she explained while she got a glass of water. "What are you doing?"

"Making brownies for Hannie, he isn't feeling the best," Y/n turned to look at his older brother.

"Can I please know why?" She took the chance to get it out of Felix because she knew Felix wasn't their strongest soldier when it came to keeping secrets from one another.

"No I'm sorry, Han said not to tell you," he looked back at the butter quickly trying to avoid the eye contact.

"But Lix-"

"No I'm not telling you, it's not my secret to tell," he cut her off and continued his work. He felt really bad for leaving her out but he knew himself he couldn't spill anything just yet.

"Okay, fine be a meanie,"  She softly sighed and got her cup of now iced coffee.

"No don't be like that, Han will tell you when his ready," he pouts walking over to her to her. hoping that someway he could fix the situation. 

Everyone knew that Y/n felt left out most of the times because she was the only girl and sometimes the boys had things they couldn’t tell her or share with her but other than that they told her everything and they tried to make her feel apart of the group. 

Since felix was the most sensitive and softest out of everyone he felt the need to protect her because felix did feel left out at a point when he couldn’t speak korean fluently and Y/ was the one who would stay up with him trying to help him study. In this case, Y/n was not feeling this 'brotherly' love. 

She shrugged his hands off and took a step back trying to get out of his reach. "I'm his bestfriend too, I'm part of this team too but I keep being treated like I'm an outsider," She let out a sigh and wiped the rolling tear. Trying to make sure Felix didn't see her cry.

"No don't cry please," he begged but she simply walked past him but ofcourse felix tried to follow but she stopped him and continued into her room where she locked the door and stayed there for the rest of the evening.

When it was time for dinner she went outside to grab the stuff she had ordered since leeknow wasn't cooking tonight and she sat on the empty dining table. Everyone was still sat in Han's room and there were a few empty cups on the table meaning they had all eaten already.

Felix had left her a plate of brownies for desert and a cup of milk so atleast she knew they still acknowledge her. As she sat there she got bored and saw it was 8pm.

So since she had nothing planed for the evening she decided to get up, put everything away and grab her training stuff to head to the jyp building. It was a short walk anyway and korea was a safe place to be wondeirng at night. The builidng looked quite empty but a few people were locking up and packingup to head home.

She scanned the hallways for an empty room and she finally did find one but was soon interrupted but Jae Beom and his crew. His smile was bright and he was so excited to see her.

"Y/nnie!"

"Oppa!" she squealed. Her sad aura was now replaced with happiness at the sight of her favorite older brothers. She quickly run over and age each of them hugs while saying hello.

"What are you doing here so late? Where are your brothers?" He asked dropping his practice bag and walking back over to her. He pulled her in a hug once again. Although they worked in the same company they barely saw each other due to schedules and stuff.

"Han wasn't feeling well so they are taking care of him and I decided to come practice," She explained. The boys were now all paying close attention to her.

"Ahhh I see! Can we join you?" Mark asks. His hands were in his pockets and they all didnt have makeup on so it meant that they were also here just for free practice.

"Yes sure, I need company anyway," She smiled and headed over to the laptop that was by the speakers. "What should we start with?"

"Can you teach us S-class? Its so hard and we've been trying to learn it," Jackson pouts and raffles her hair,

"Yeah the hand movement is impossible!" Jinyoung chirps in.

She giggled at this because they all reminded her so much of her little brothers back at home when S-class had just come out. "Sure, I can its not that hard," the groans in response made her laugh fill the room so she just played the song and they all run through it as she taught them step by step and by the time they were done, it was 1 in the morning. ONE IN THE MORNING? fuck.

She quickly took out her phone from her bag and looked at it to see thousands of missed calls and (as if in cue) that's when Hyunjin and I.N slammed the door open. they were both panicked and Hyunjins phone was ringing alot while I.N was frantic talking to someone of his phone.

"There you are!" Hyunjin exclaimed panting and huffing. "We've been calling, texting and even fucking tracking your phone, why wouldn’t you tell us your here? This is extremely dangerous Y/n! Oh my God!"

"Y/nnie! do you know how worried we were?! Chan hyung and Leeknow hyung are on some road screaming your name looking for you everywhere," I.N yells at her causing her to jump at the sudden loud voices.

"My phone was off, I was just practicing here-" she tried to explain but was interrupted immediately. 

"Okay, it doesn’t matter now, let's go home, we were worried sick, hang on...grab your stuff," he got out his phone and started talking to someone that sounded like Chan. With the way Hyunjin was cringing she knew she was dead meat. 

She quickly grabbed my Bags, her laptop and quickly said bye to everyone who were also as terrified as she was but they totally understood and told her to just be safe and to text them. She quickly made her way behind Hyunjin and I.N who were towering over her. Once hyunjin hang up the phone finally, he slowed down so he was walking by her side.

"Never do that again please,"

"But I was just with my friends,"

"You know we don't trust you in a room full men," he softly says ruffling his hands through her hair.

"Yeah I know, I know. I'm in shit, i've accepted it," she groaned but remembered the only reason she was in this mess, "Is Hannie okay now?"

"Yeah he is and he wants to talk to you," She look up at him confused. Her heart jumping. 

"What about?" she asked on a confused tone. Hyunjin glances over at I.N who gulps. They both look at eachother as if communicating.

"Felix said that you were upset-"

"I wasn't upset really," She quickly explained.

"Oh well now you can explain that to him anyway but right now those are your least of your worries cause Chan is going to kill you in cold blood," I.N takes of his jacket and hands it to her. she was freezing and she was wearing a tank top but luckily I.N had a hoodie and jacket on.

Ugh. She sighed softly when they arrived to the house. She stopped causing the boys to look at her confused. Her worries and sadness came washing over her. With the way she had fun at the studio with her other brothers she had totally forgotten the depression she was facing at home.

She took a deep breath (quite dramatically) earning a chuckle from both boys and she walked up the stairs into the house where Chan and Leeknow were Ofcourse sitting on the dining table with a coffee mug both. She couldn't even sneak past them which was her only hope in avoiding them. She quickly turned around but was met with Hyunjins chest. sigh.

"Stop, turn around and sit," Chan voice was loud meaning he was serious. she quickly followed his instructions and sat on the chair across both of them.

"What time is it?" He squints his eyes and looks at her.

"1:30 Oppa," she sighed and looked down at her fingers. 

"Why would you leave the house without letting us know? What if something had happened and we didn't know-"

"Your always scolding me and not treating me like an adult," she snapped at him. This made Hyunjin stop in his tracks and turned back and I.N  paused whatever he was doing to over at them. Never ever did she snap at the boys especially chan because she loved them and they were older than her so she was so respectful. This was a shock and the gasp that left leeknows lips was evidence.

"That's not true I always treat you like an adult," Chan defended himself. 

"You don't Oppa! You don't get it, just because I'm 19 doesn't mean I'm a kid, I'm only one year younger than I.N and he gets treated like an adult, everything I do you guys have to be there watching and whenever you guys have conversations I'm pushed to the side. Yes I get I'm a girl and I'm young but it doesn't mean I'm not part of the team, I'm allowed to walk out the house right now if I wanted to, if I wanted a babysitter I would have hired you a long time," 

"Y/n dont raise your voice at hyung like that. Its not right," Leeknows eyes were red. he was pissed off and it was clear. 

"Dont talk to me like that Y/n. If you have a problem you tell me, you dont yell. Look at me when im talking to you," She looked up at him. He looked tired, frustrated and mad. He had to first deal with Han...now this?

"fine sorry," she was done. she was done with this conversation, she was done with the boys, she was done with everything. She stood up and stormed out the room. Chan following right behind her 

"We're not done here young lady, You think i want this? you think i want to constantly be checking on you? you think i want to be. You keep acting childish thats why i have to keep tabs on you!" with every second he was getting louder and louder. 

"Chan dont, lets go calm down-" leeknow grabs his arm trying to keep him away.

"Y/n go to your room," Changbin interferes trying to break the two up. 

"See!" she exclaimed and walked into her room shutting it and locking it.

[littledigits]

Its hard to describe the complex emotions I'm having today, its a mixture of bittersweet sadness, feirce proudness, and everything deeper that comes from having put yourself and your emotions into a show for so many years. I'mm do the thank you thing below - but words dont really do it justice.

THANK YOU to my core Team, you know who you all are, for giving me trust, room to grow, patience and guidance when I made mistakes. All of the support you have given me I will pay forward, because it was only with your trust in me that I could leave this show as strong and confidant as I am. Within that core team there is a very smol team of 4 Special people. Andy Coyle, Chantal Ling, Johnny and Kathleen Mckinnon. I will never forget our nights in the editing room in season 1, grabbing some drinks and pizza as we go through the roughcuts. There were ups and downs but I'm glad to have gone through the chaos with ya'll <3 THANK YOU. To every single person who has touched this project, from the very first pitch to the very last file conform. Our crew has been world wide, and while I dont know everyone, I see and appreciate the work and heart you have put into your time with us. I dont care if you were on the show for a day or a decade, you're a part of it, and I dont take that for granted. THANK YOU to the team at Atomic Cartoons for your work in season 1, and the team at Lighthouse Studios for the animation team who came on season 1 and 3. You all rose to an immense challenge. The Hilda animation team is more then just Mercury, and i'm proud to have worked with you. There are people on the show who look back on it fondly, but counter to that there are people who were not supported how they should have been. I want those people to know that I will take these experiences and push to be better always, your experiences are as valid. THANK YOU to the fans! I see your hype and art and theorys and stories. I hope you will enjoy the wild ride of this last season, but I also hope you all ignore 'canon' and just create to your hearts content. The world lives on, there are still secrets and folklore and mystery - they are now yours to build <3 I could write more, I could write NOVELS, but I think people who know me know how I feel so I will refrain from rambling. Take a breath, and try not to sob at everyone writing beautiful things about what the show meant to them. ( spoiler alert, im going to fail )

Thank you all for being a part of this adventure - Where shall we go next ?

[novaursa]

The Northern Heart (2/2)

- Summary: Your father, King Robert, gives your hand to Eddard's oldest son. A decision that might change the future of the North.

- Paring: baratheon!lannister!reader/Robb Stark

- Note: Be aware of the time jumps and angst.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1/2

- Alternative ending: you stayed

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The day of your wedding arrived under a sky shrouded with gray clouds, as if the North itself mourned the quiet hope that had once surrounded this union. The air in Winterfell was heavy, filled with the strain of anticipation, not of joy, but of waiting—waiting for news, waiting for Bran to awaken.

In the godswood, where your wedding ceremony would take place, the trees stood like solemn guardians, their branches bare and reaching into the somber sky. You were dressed in the finest gown the North had to offer, a deep forest green that complimented the surroundings, a delicate silver belt around your waist and a shawl lined with white fur draped over your shoulders. Your mother, Cersei, stood beside you, her expression unreadable as she adjusted the drape of your shawl, her gaze flickering with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t place.

“Remember, Y/N,” she murmured, her voice cool and steady, “a union like this is more than love. It’s duty.” She looked into your eyes, her hand lingering on your shoulder. “Bear that in mind.”

You nodded, though her words felt distant, almost irrelevant in the face of the sorrow that hung over Winterfell. Your thoughts were on Bran, the young boy you’d barely had the chance to know, now lying pale and unmoving under the Maester’s care. Yet, despite the sadness, a flicker of warmth remained when you thought of Robb, of the promises he’d whispered to you in the godswood, of a life you might build together.

As you stepped forward, the quiet murmurs of the small gathering around you faded into silence. The ceremony had been scaled back, out of respect for the dire circumstances, and though some guests were there out of duty, the faces of Winterfell’s people were shadowed with grief and worry.

Robb stood beneath the towering heart tree, his dark cloak draped over his shoulders, his face somber. His usually warm, easy smile was absent, replaced by a solemn expression that made him appear older, weighed down by a sense of responsibility he hadn’t known before.

As you reached him, his gaze softened, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of feeling that momentarily banished the sorrow. He offered his hand, and you took it, the warmth of his palm grounding you even amidst the cold and sorrow of the day.

The Septon stepped forward, his voice quiet yet steady as he began the words of the ceremony. You barely heard them, your mind absorbed by the feel of Robb’s hand in yours, the silent promises exchanged in each shared glance, each gentle squeeze of his fingers.

When it came time to speak your vows, Robb’s voice was steady but filled with an undercurrent of grief. “I, Robb Stark, take you, Y/N Baratheon, as my wife, to stand by my side in times of joy and sorrow. I promise to honor you, to cherish you, and to protect you… until the end of my days.”

You swallowed, fighting the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm you. Meeting his gaze, you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, “I, Y/N Baratheon, take you, Robb Stark, as my husband. I promise to honor you, to stand by you… and to hold Winterfell as my home… as long as we both shall live.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words, a quiet acknowledgment of the weight that lingered between you. Robb’s hand trembled slightly as he lifted his cloak and draped it over your shoulders, the Stark direwolf sigil settling against the green of your gown. His fingers lingered for a moment, a gentle touch that offered both reassurance and shared sorrow.

Catelyn Stark stepped forward, her eyes red-rimmed but composed, her expression holding a quiet strength as she looked at you both. She managed a faint smile, though grief flickered in her eyes. “You are one now,” she said softly, her voice wavering just slightly. “Bound by honor and duty… and the strength of the North.”

Robb nodded, his gaze shifting from his mother to you, a silent promise etched in his eyes. He took your hand once more, and together, you turned to face the small gathering, where the royal family and the Starks stood side by side, united in somber witness.

As the ceremony ended, Cersei approached, her expression carefully controlled as she looked at you. “You’re bound now,” she said softly, her tone a blend of pride and resignation. “Remember who you are.”

“Yes, Mother,” you replied, your voice equally soft.

Robert clapped a heavy hand on Robb’s shoulder, his usual joviality absent. “Take care of her, boy,” he said, his voice gruff. “A Stark and a Baratheon… it’s a good match. We may not have joy today, but… there’s still hope for the future.”

Robb nodded, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “I’ll care for her, Your Grace,” he replied, his voice steady. “With all that I am.”

The feast that followed was a subdued affair, the usual raucous laughter and cheerful toasts absent. Servants moved quietly between tables, and the guests spoke in hushed tones, their minds undoubtedly drifting back to the small, still figure of Bran, lying somewhere in the castle.

You sat beside Robb, his hand resting over yours, his touch a constant reminder of the bond you’d just sealed. Every so often, his gaze would drift toward the doors, a flicker of worry crossing his face. You knew his thoughts were with his brother, as were yours, and despite the vows you’d just taken, it felt wrong to celebrate when Bran’s fate remained so uncertain.

At one point, Robb turned to you, his expression earnest. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low so only you could hear. “This isn’t… this isn’t how I wanted our wedding to be.”

You shook your head, managing a faint smile as you met his gaze. “It’s all right, Robb. We’re together, and that’s enough for me.”

His hand tightened around yours, his gaze softening. “We’ll have our happiness, someday,” he promised, a quiet determination in his voice. “When Bran wakes, and the darkness lifts… we’ll find our joy.”

“I believe you,” you replied, and in that moment, you knew you meant it. Despite the sorrow, the grief, the uncertainty, there was a strength in Robb, a resilience that made you feel, perhaps for the first time, that Winterfell could truly be your home.

As the feast wound down, the guests dispersed, the weight of the day settling heavily upon the hall. Robb led you back to the godswood, where the faint rustle of leaves and the quiet murmur of the stream offered a small reprieve from the grief that had followed you through the day.

Standing together beneath the heart tree, his arms wrapped around you, Robb pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, a quiet promise shared in the silence of the godswood.

“We’ll be fine,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet strength. “You and I.”

And as you looked up into his eyes, you knew that this bond, forged in sorrow and solemnity, would endure. The North was your home now, and Robb Stark, your husband, was your future.

The morning was shrouded in a gray mist as the royal family prepared to depart Winterfell. The air was filled with the sounds of horses being saddled, carts being loaded, and the quiet murmur of farewells exchanged in the courtyard. Snow flurries danced in the air, a reminder of the North’s unyielding chill even as summer lingered.

You stood to the side, watching as your family gathered their belongings, preparing to leave Winterfell behind. There was a strange ache in your chest, a mixture of longing and relief. This was goodbye to the life you’d known in King’s Landing, the world of your childhood, yet a new life awaited here in the North, beside Robb.

Cersei approached you first, her face carefully composed, though her eyes softened as she took in your winter garb. She placed a gloved hand on your shoulder, her gaze searching. “Remember what I told you, Y/N,” she murmured, her voice as cold and steady as the northern air. “If ever you find yourself… unhappy, if you ever decide that this place is not what you hoped, send word to me. I’ll send a raven, and you’ll be back in King’s Landing before they know you’re gone.”

You nodded, sensing her quiet desperation beneath the words, but you held firm, offering her a small smile. “Thank you, Mother. I’ll remember.”

Cersei’s hand lingered for a moment before she withdrew, the mask of the queen settling back into place. She gave you a small, almost reluctant nod, and then turned to oversee her children, leaving you with a faint chill where her touch had been.

Next came Myrcella and Tommen, their young faces full of both excitement and sadness. Myrcella wrapped her arms around you tightly, her soft voice muffled against your shoulder. “I’ll miss you, sister. Winterfell is so far away.”

You hugged her back, smoothing her hair gently. “I’ll miss you too, Myrcella. But you’ll write to me, won’t you?”

She nodded eagerly, her green eyes shining as she pulled away, clutching your hand for a moment longer. Tommen, who had tried to appear brave, stepped forward, his lower lip quivering as he hugged you quickly. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll keep practicing my sword skills, so when you come back, I’ll be strong enough to protect you.”

You smiled, ruffling his hair gently. “I look forward to it, Tommen. Be brave, all right?”

He nodded, his small shoulders squared as he stepped back beside Myrcella.

Joffrey approached you last among your siblings, his usual confidence subdued. He shifted awkwardly, his gaze flickering between you and the ground before he managed, “Well… I suppose this is goodbye, then.”

“Yes,” you replied, studying him as he avoided your gaze. The cool prince of King’s Landing looked almost uncertain here, his usual arrogance dimmed by the somber air of Winterfell. “Take care of yourself, Joffrey.”

He nodded stiffly, and after a moment, he added, “And… don’t forget what Mother said.” There was something almost grudging in his tone, as though he struggled to convey the sentiment, but you recognized it for what it was—a reluctant offer of support, or at least the closest he could come to it.

“I won’t forget,” you replied softly. He turned quickly, as if he’d revealed more than he intended, rejoining the group with a faint flush to his cheeks.

Tyrion approached next, a warm smile lighting his face as he looked at you. “Well, dear niece, I would say you’re off on a grand adventure, but the North is hardly the place I’d choose for one,” he said with a chuckle. “Still, it seems you have found yourself well suited here.”

You smiled back, appreciating his humor in the midst of the farewells. “The North has its charms, Uncle. Though it might not be quite your idea of a vacation.”

He grinned, raising a brow. “No, certainly not. But I imagine you will do well here. If you need a witty letter or a visit, you know how to reach me.”

“Thank you, Uncle Tyrion,” you replied, and he gave you a brief but warm embrace, patting your shoulder as he stepped back.

Jaime came next, his armor gleaming even in the dull light of the Northern morning. He gave you a smirk, the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “Princess,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate. “Are you ready for a life of snow and solemn Starks?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’ll manage, Uncle. Robb has been a kind husband.”

He regarded you thoughtfully, a flicker of something protective crossing his features. “If you ever need anything—anyone here ever makes you unhappy—you know you can call on me.”

The sentiment in his words warmed you, and you squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Uncle. I’ll remember.”

He gave you a playful salute, though his eyes held genuine care, and then he joined Tyrion by the royal procession.

Finally, the moment came for the royal family to mount their horses. You stood to the side, your hand tucked in Robb’s as you watched your family prepare to leave. Cersei glanced back at you one last time, her eyes lingering on you, her expression unreadable, before she nodded and looked away. Tyrion offered you a small, reassuring smile, and Jaime gave you a wink, his usual swagger intact.

Lord Eddard, Sansa, and Arya moved to join the royal party as well. Sansa, looking composed and almost regal, met your gaze with a polite nod, her own excitement clear as she anticipated the wonders of King’s Landing. Arya, on the other hand, wore a scowl, clearly reluctant to leave her home and her brother. She cast one last, longing look back at Winterfell before clambering onto her horse beside her sister.

Jon Snow stood apart, dressed in black furs, his expression solemn as he prepared for his own departure to Castle Black. You caught his eye and gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. He returned it with a faint, respectful smile, his gaze lingering briefly on his family before he turned toward the road that led him to his new life beyond the Wall.

As the procession began to move, Robert bellowed one last farewell, his voice echoing through the courtyard as he raised a hand in farewell. “Farewell, Winterfell! Take care of my daughter!” he called, his gaze briefly meeting yours with a hint of fondness.

You stood beside Robb, his hand a steady weight in yours, grounding you as the distant echoes of horse hooves faded into the morning mist. You watched as your family disappeared down the winding path, the figures of your mother, father, and siblings slowly swallowed by the gray expanse of the North.

The silence that followed felt heavy, laden with both loss and anticipation. The final ties to your old life had been severed, and now, Winterfell stood as both your duty and your destiny. You took a deep breath, the cold Northern air filling your lungs as you turned to look at Robb.

He met your gaze, his face softened by a quiet strength. His hand still held yours, warm and reassuring, his grip firm yet gentle. “Are you all right?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

You nodded, managing a small smile. “Yes… it’s just strange, knowing they’re gone.”

Robb gave a small nod of understanding, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I understand. But you’re not alone, Y/N. You have me. And this is your home now, as much as it is mine.”

His words, simple and steady, offered a strange comfort. You could feel the warmth of the Stark family around you—their quiet strength, their loyalty, and their acceptance. You had become a part of that now.

Turning back toward the castle, you took your place beside Robb, your hand still in his, as you watched Winterfell’s gates close behind the departing party. The future stretched out before you, uncertain yet filled with promise, and as Robb’s hand held yours, you knew you had chosen to meet it here, together.

The air hummed with hushed whispers and solemn faces of the men marking the grief that weighed on everyone’s hearts. Eddard Stark was dead. News of his execution had traveled through the ranks like wildfire, leaving an ache that no one seemed to be able to soothe. But for you, carrying Robb’s child, it had been an especially bitter blow. Lord Eddard had accepted you into his family with the quiet grace of a father, and his loss felt like a gaping wound.

You sat in your tent, hands resting gently on the swell of your belly, trying to steady your breathing as sorrow and dread churned within you. Outside, the camp was unusually quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of wind through the tents and the distant murmurs of soldiers preparing for the next move in the war that had now become personal.

The flap of your tent was suddenly pulled open with force, and you looked up, startled, to see Lady Catelyn storming in, her eyes blazing with fury. Her face, usually a mask of composure and strength, was contorted in anger, her voice shaking as she spoke.

“You,” she hissed, her tone low but brimming with rage. “How could I have let you stand beside my son, knowing what I know now?”

You stood, heart pounding, uncertain of what she meant. “Lady Catelyn… I don’t understand.”

“Oh, don’t you?” she snapped, stepping closer. “My husband is dead. My son lies broken in Winterfell. And every shred of evidence points to your family. Your Lannister family.”

The accusation cut through you like a knife, and you took a step back, your hand instinctively moving to protect your unborn child. “Lady Catelyn,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “I had nothing to do with this. I grieve for Lord Eddard as you do.”

But Catelyn’s eyes remained cold, unyielding. “You expect me to believe that? You, a daughter of Cersei Lannister? Do you think I’m blind? The girl who grew up under her mother’s shadow, who has every reason to hate the North. And now, conveniently, you’re here, married to my son—carrying his child, no less. How do I know you’re not feeding information back to your family, plotting against us even now?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came. The accusation was too sharp, too unfair, and it struck deep. You felt the sting of tears but held them back, meeting her gaze with as much strength as you could muster.

“I am loyal to Robb. To the North,” you said, your voice shaking but steady. “I left my family for him. I would never betray him.”

But Catelyn was unrelenting, her expression hard as steel. “Loyal? A Lannister knows nothing of loyalty,” she spat, each word laced with bitterness. “I was a fool to think I could ever trust you.”

Just then, Robb burst into the tent, his face tight with worry. “Mother!” he said, glancing between the two of you. “What’s going on?”

Catelyn turned to him, her expression softening only slightly. “Robb, she is a Lannister. Can’t you see what that means? Do you truly believe she isn’t still loyal to her family?”

Robb hesitated, his gaze flicking to you, and the silence that followed was more damning than anything he could have said. His face was conflicted, shadows under his eyes from the strain of war and loss. “Mother… I know what this looks like. But Y/N has stood by me. She’s my wife.”

You felt relief for a brief moment, but then he continued, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “But… given all that’s happened, perhaps it would be best if she gave us her word… to clear any doubts.”

His words struck you like a slap, and the shock left you breathless. “Clear any doubts?” you repeated, your voice trembling as the realization dawned. He didn’t fully trust you either. After everything you’d shared, after all you’d sacrificed, Robb still harbored doubts.

The silence in the tent was suffocating, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “You think… you think I would betray you? That I would harm your family?” you whispered, pain lacing every word. You took a step back, your hand resting protectively over your stomach. “After all we’ve been through, Robb, you still don’t trust me?”

Robb’s face softened, regret and anguish flickering in his eyes. “Y/N… it’s not that I don’t trust you. But with all that’s happened, can you blame us for being cautious?”

The heartbreak in his gaze only twisted the knife deeper. You felt your chest tighten, a surge of anger and betrayal rising within you. “I have stood by you through every trial, Robb. I left my family, my home, and everything I knew to be with you. And now, when I need you most, you doubt me?”

His jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth to respond, but you shook your head, the pain and betrayal overwhelming. Without another word, you turned and pushed past him, storming out of the tent, ignoring his calls for you to stop.

Outside, the cold air hit you like a wave, but it did nothing to numb the ache in your chest. You walked quickly, each step heavy with anger, with sorrow, with the weight of every accusation that had been hurled at you.

You didn’t know where you were going, but anywhere felt better than being in that tent, surrounded by distrust and hurt. As you reached the edge of the camp, you stopped, pressing a hand to your stomach as you felt the first tear slip down your cheek.

The life inside you, the one that you had hoped would bring joy and unity, now felt like a painful reminder of the divide between you and the family you’d tried so hard to become part of.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and iron as Robb approached the makeshift cage where Jaime Lannister sat, bound and bloodied, his face shadowed but still holding that infuriating smirk that had become his signature. Grey Wind prowled by Robb’s side, a silent, menacing presence, his golden eyes trained intently on Jaime, teeth bared in a low, guttural growl that seemed to echo the barely restrained fury in Robb’s own gaze.

Jaime looked up as they approached, his smirk widening even as his wrists strained against the ropes that held him. “Ah, the Young Wolf,” he drawled, his voice tinged with amusement despite his bruises. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Robb’s expression was cold, his blue eyes piercing as he regarded his captive. “I thought it was time we spoke,” he said quietly, his tone even but laced with an edge.

Jaime leaned back against the bars of his cage, eyeing Robb with a sardonic tilt of his head. “And here I thought you’d just come to show off your impressive pet,” he said, gesturing toward Grey Wind. “Quite the beast, isn’t he?”

Grey Wind let out a low, warning growl, his fur bristling as he bared his teeth. Jaime held his gaze, unflinching, though a flicker of unease passed through his eyes before he looked back at Robb.

Robb took a slow step forward, crossing his arms as he stared down at Jaime. “I didn’t come here to discuss my direwolf.”

“No?” Jaime’s brows lifted in mock surprise. “Then what, pray tell, did you come here to discuss?”

Robb’s eyes narrowed, his jaw set in a hard line. “Your family,” he said simply, his voice steady.

Jaime’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something sharper in his gaze. “Ah,” he murmured, his voice softening as he looked up at Robb. “And by family, I assume you mean my sister… or perhaps my nieces and nephews?” His smirk returned, colder now. “How is she?”

Robb’s eyes flickered, a mixture of anger and something else lurking beneath the surface. “She’s as well as can be expected,” he replied curtly, his voice taut. “Given the circumstances.”

Jaime’s gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward slightly, studying Robb’s face with a hint of genuine interest. “You’re treating her well, then? Not as… shall we say, a prisoner?”

Robb’s lips tightened, his expression darkening. “She’s my wife, Lannister. And she’s carrying my child. I don’t treat her like a prisoner. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who she is… or rather, whose she is.”

Jaime’s smirk froze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed Robb’s words. “Oh?” he said, his tone carefully casual. “And who, exactly, do you think she is?”

Robb’s gaze was unyielding, his voice low and dangerous. “We both know that she’s not Robert’s daughter,” he said coldly. “No more than Joffrey or Tommen or Myrcella are his.”

Jaime held his gaze, the amusement in his expression fading as his eyes turned steely. “That’s a dangerous thing to say, Stark. Especially with so many ears around.” He glanced meaningfully at Grey Wind, who was still growling softly, his hackles raised.

“I’m not afraid of the truth,” Robb replied, his voice firm. “I know exactly what she is. She’s a Lannister—a daughter of your house. And yet here she is, sworn to the North, carrying a Stark child.”

Jaime’s smirk returned, though there was a new edge to it, a cold amusement that glinted in his eyes. “So, you know,” he said slowly, as though savoring the words. “And yet… you keep her close. Tied to you.” He leaned forward, his gaze probing. “Tell me, Young Wolf, what exactly do you think you’ll do if she’s truly my daughter?”

Robb’s face hardened, his fists clenching at his sides as he fought to control his anger. “If she’s truly your daughter, then I’ll do what I must to protect my family,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, each word carrying a barely restrained fury.

Jaime’s eyes sparkled with something close to amusement. “Protect your family, you say?” He chuckled darkly. “You mean protect them from her? Or perhaps… protect her from you?” His voice dropped, his tone mocking. “How convenient, isn’t it? You don’t trust her any more than your mother does.”

Robb’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his silence only fueling Jaime’s amusement. “That’s what I thought,” Jaime murmured, his gaze sharp as he studied Robb’s face. “You married her, tied her to you with vows and promises… but you don’t truly believe she’s yours, do you?”

Robb’s fists clenched, his knuckles white. “She’s my wife. That’s all that matters.”

Jaime laughed, the sound low and scornful. “Oh, Robb,” he said, his voice laced with derision. “If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be here, would you? You’d be with her now, assuring her of your loyalty. But instead, you’re here, questioning me, looking for answers that only she can give you.”

Robb’s face flushed with anger, but he held his ground, his gaze unwavering. “She swore herself to the North, to my family. That’s the only loyalty that matters now.”

“Is it?” Jaime asked softly, his voice a mocking whisper. “Or is that just what you tell yourself, so you don’t have to face the fact that she could never truly be yours?”

Robb’s face hardened, and for a moment, he looked as though he might strike Jaime, his fists clenched, his breathing harsh. But instead, he stepped back, his gaze cold and unyielding as he looked down at the man who had sown so much pain in his family.

“Whatever you think, Lannister,” he said, his voice a low growl, “it doesn’t change the fact that you’re the one in chains, not her. And no matter what she is, she’s bound to the North now. She’s my wife. And the North protects its own.”

Jaime’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with a faint sadness as he leaned back against the bars of his cage. “If only you believed that,” he murmured, his gaze drifting off as though lost in thought. “If only she did too.”

Robb turned away, Grey Wind falling into step beside him, the direwolf’s growls fading as they left the cage. But Jaime’s words lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind, each syllable a reminder of the doubts he’d tried so hard to bury.

You sat alone in your tent, the silence wrapping around you like a second skin. It was a silence you’d grown accustomed to over the past few weeks—ever since the accusations, ever since Robb’s words had driven a wedge between you that neither of you had been able to bridge.

You’d barely spoken since then, passing each other with brief, polite nods, or exchanging only the most necessary words. It was as if a gulf had opened between you, an invisible barrier that neither of you knew how to cross. And yet, here you were, sitting in that quiet space, waiting.

Finally, you heard the soft rustle of footsteps outside, and Robb stepped into the tent, his face half-shadowed but unmistakably weary. He paused at the entrance, his gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, the familiar warmth that once lay between you seemed to flicker back to life. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving only the animosity and the silence in its wake.

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight as if he were unsure whether to approach or keep his distance. “I thought it was time we talked,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You nodded, your fingers tightening around the edges of the shawl draped over your shoulders. “It has been… a while,” you replied quietly, feeling the weight of the unspoken words settle heavily between you.

Robb stepped closer, his expression guarded, his gaze flicking to your stomach for the briefest of moments before returning to your face. “I didn’t want it to be like this,” he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of regret. “I never wanted… distance between us.”

A bitter smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “And yet, here we are,” you said softly, the hurt you’d buried these past weeks slipping into your tone.

Robb looked down, his fists clenching briefly before he took a deep breath. “I know you’ve been hurt by… everything that’s happened,” he said, his voice strained. “I don’t want you to feel like… like you’re alone.”

“But I am alone, Robb,” you whispered, the words escaping before you could stop them. “Every time you look at me, I see it in your eyes. You don’t trust me—not truly.”

Robb’s jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his face as he shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” You met his gaze, your voice trembling with the emotions that had been bottled up for far too long. “I left everything behind for you. My family, my home, everything I knew. I made that choice because I believed that we could build something here together. But now…” You swallowed, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Now I feel like a stranger in my own life.”

He looked away, his shoulders tense, his hands curling into fists as he listened to your words. “You know the situation we’re in. Everything that’s happened—the war, the betrayal, the losses—it’s… complicated. I have to be careful, I have to protect my family, my men. I can’t just ignore—”

“Ignore what?” you interrupted, your voice sharper than you intended. “Ignore the fact that I’m a Lannister? That I have my mother’s blood in me?” The words tasted bitter on your tongue, and you forced yourself to take a steadying breath. “If that’s all you see, Robb, then maybe you never really saw me at all.”

The hurt in your words seemed to strike him, his face tightening as he finally looked back at you. “I do see you,” he said, his voice raw. “And that’s the hardest part, because I don’t want to doubt you. But I have to think of my people, of my family. And with everything that’s happened…”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his doubt settle over you like a shroud. “I thought you loved me,” you whispered, almost to yourself.

“I do love you,” he replied, a note of desperation in his voice. “But…”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze with a sadness that seemed to echo the empty spaces between you. “But you don’t trust me,” you finished quietly. “And without trust, what is love?”

He flinched, the pain in his expression undeniable, but he said nothing. The silence stretched between you, filled with the words neither of you could bring yourself to say. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between his love for you and the loyalty he held to his family, his duty. And in that moment, you understood.

Robb loved you—there was no doubt of that. But his love was conditional, bound by the walls of mistrust that he couldn’t bring himself to tear down. And it hurt, more deeply than any wound you’d ever borne.

“You think I could betray you,” you said, your voice trembling. “You think I could harm the family I chose—the family I swore to protect. And you think that because of my blood.” You looked away, the bitterness swelling in your chest. “But blood is not the same as loyalty, Robb. And I would have thought you, of all people, would understand that.”

Robb took a step forward, his hand reaching out to you, but you pulled back, the pain too fresh, too raw. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “I never wanted this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” you replied, your voice hollow. “But here we are, standing on opposite sides of a war we never asked for, bound by promises that have become chains.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to die on his lips, leaving only the anguish in his gaze. For a moment, he looked as if he might reach for you again, but then he hesitated, his hand falling back to his side.

“I wish… things were different,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you looked at him one last time. “So do I,” you replied, your voice breaking. “But wishing doesn’t change anything, does it?”

Without another word, you turned and left the tent, the cold air stinging your face as you stepped into the darkness. The weight of his mistrust settled heavily over you, suffocating the hope that you’d once held so close.

You walked through the camp, the sounds of soldiers and the crackle of fires fading into the background as you tried to process the reality of your situation. Robb might love you, but that love was fractured, shadowed by doubts he couldn’t seem to overcome. And for the first time, you realized that perhaps… you could never truly belong here, no matter how hard you tried.

As you looked out over the camp, the fires casting flickering shadows over the tents, you felt the beginnings of a resolve take root within you. If Robb couldn’t trust you, then you would have to trust yourself. Because at the end of the day, that might be all you had left.

And as much as it hurt, you knew that you couldn’t keep waiting for him to see you—not if he refused to look beyond the name you’d left behind.

The camp was quiet as you made your way through the rows of tents, the early morning mist clinging to the air. The soldiers were still sleeping or stirring groggily, barely aware of your presence. You walked with purpose, your mind a whirlwind of doubt, hurt, and uncertainty. Robb’s mistrust weighed heavily on you, and despite all you’d given up to be here, you felt more alone than ever.

At the far edge of the camp, beneath the watchful gaze of guards, lay the makeshift cage where Jaime Lannister was held. He looked up as you approached, his sharp eyes glinting with curiosity and a touch of amusement, even in the dim light of dawn. Shackles bound his wrists and ankles, yet he held himself with a casual arrogance that only Jaime Lannister could muster in such a situation.

“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning back against the bars with a lazy smile. “Look who’s come to visit.”

You folded your arms, keeping your expression guarded. “You’re not exactly in a position to be smug, Uncle.”

“Oh, but I am,” he replied smoothly, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “You wouldn’t be here unless something was bothering you. And I’m willing to wager it has to do with a certain Stark boy.”

You stiffened, unwilling to let him see how deeply his words affected you. But Jaime was perceptive, and the small flicker of pain in your eyes did not escape him. He tilted his head, the lazy smirk giving way to something more serious, a flicker of understanding.

“Let me guess,” he said softly, his voice losing its mocking edge. “Robb’s questioning your loyalty. Treating you like you’re as much a prisoner here as I am.”

You looked away, the truth of his words settling uncomfortably in your chest. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” Jaime leaned forward, his eyes searching yours with a surprising amount of empathy. “You gave up everything for him, didn’t you? Left your family, your title, everything you knew. And still, he doesn’t trust you.”

You clenched your fists, a surge of resentment rising within you. “He says he loves me, but… love without trust? What kind of love is that?”

Jaime let out a soft, bitter laugh. “It’s the kind that makes you feel like you’re suffocating, like no matter what you do, you’ll never be enough.” He paused, his gaze softening as he studied your face. “You and I… we’re not so different, you know. Both bound by loyalty to families who would see us suffer before they’d let us be happy.”

You frowned, struggling to reconcile the man before you with the image of the arrogant Kingslayer you’d grown up around. “You speak of loyalty, yet you killed your king. You betrayed your own oath.”

Jaime’s smile faded, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—a hint of pain, of anger, of regret. “I did what I had to do,” he said quietly, his voice hardening. “Some oaths are worth breaking when the price is too high.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in as you considered your own situation. Jaime was a man who had been defined by the choices he made, choices that had earned him scorn, hatred, and the infamous name of Kingslayer. But beneath the arrogance and the sneer, there was a man who had made those choices for reasons only he could understand.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Because I see what’s happening to you,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “They’ll turn you into a prisoner of their war, of their distrust. And you’re too much your mother’s daughter to let that happen, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, his words striking a nerve. The mention of your mother brought a rush of conflicting emotions—loyalty, resentment, and a longing for the life you’d left behind.

Jaime’s voice softened, almost conspiratorial. “You could go back, you know. Back to King’s Landing. To your family. You wouldn’t be bound to this endless winter, this… constant doubt.”

“I chose this,” you replied, though the conviction in your voice was weaker than you’d hoped. “I chose Robb. I chose to be here.”

“But does he truly want you here?” Jaime’s question was gentle, almost pitying, and it cut through you like a knife. “Or does he see you as a pawn in his game, a piece that’s convenient when it suits him and expendable when it doesn’t?”

Your heart ached as his words struck closer to the truth than you wanted to admit. You thought back to all the moments Robb had hesitated, the doubt in his eyes, the subtle distance that had grown between you. It was as if no matter how much you tried, you could never truly be a part of this world.

Jaime watched you in silence, his gaze sharp and perceptive. “You’re not meant to be here,” he said softly. “You don’t belong among these people who see you as an outsider. You belong with your family, where your blood means something.”

You looked down, your hands trembling as you grappled with the reality of his words. You had tried so hard to be loyal, to be the wife Robb needed, to make a life in the North. But Jaime’s words stirred something within you—a reminder of the life you’d left behind, of the ties that had bound you long before you’d ever heard of Winterfell.

Jaime leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Let me go,” he said, his tone urgent. “Free me, and I’ll take you back to King’s Landing myself. Back to Cersei, to your brothers and sister. To a place where you’re loved, where you’re trusted.”

You looked up, your heart pounding as his words hung heavy in the air. There was a gleam of determination in Jaime’s gaze, an invitation—a promise. He was offering you a way out, a chance to escape the prison you’d unwittingly found yourself in, a chance to return to the world you’d left behind.

But even as the temptation washed over you, doubts clouded your mind. Could you truly abandon everything you’d chosen? Could you betray the family you’d tried so hard to make your own?

Jaime watched you, his gaze unwavering, his expression unreadable. “What will it be, Y/N?” he murmured, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo in the silence. “Are you truly one of them… or are you still one of us?”

The question lingered in the air, the choice hanging heavy between you. And as you met Jaime’s piercing gaze, the weight of his words pressed down on you, leaving you teetering on the edge of a decision that could change everything.

The tension in the war tent was crackling as Robb gathered with his bannermen, discussing the latest strategies and plans for their campaign. The low light from the candles cast shadows over maps spread out across the table, each marked with strategic positions and paths. Robb stood at the head of the table, his gaze focused and intense, while you stood behind one of the lords, quietly listening as the men argued and discussed. You felt the familiar weight of being an outsider, especially in moments like these.

Just as Lord Karstark was outlining a possible maneuver, the flap of the tent burst open, and a guard rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed, his face pale. “My king!” he called out, his voice filled with urgency.

Robb straightened, his brow furrowing. “What is it?” he asked, his tone sharp.

The guard hesitated, glancing between Robb and the lords gathered around him before finally finding the courage to speak. “The Kingslayer… he’s gone. He’s escaped.”

A stunned silence fell over the tent, and every eye turned to Robb, who stiffened, his face darkening with shock and fury. His gaze immediately swung toward you, the unspoken accusation in his eyes cutting like a blade. For a brief, terrible moment, you felt the weight of that suspicion settle over you, his silent question echoing in the depths of your heart: Did you have a hand in this?

But before either of you could say a word, the guard continued, his voice shaky. “It was Lady Catelyn, my lord. She… she freed him.”

The room erupted into an uproar, the lords shouting in outrage and disbelief. Lord Karstark, his face twisted in fury, slammed his fist onto the table. “Lady Stark? She freed the man who killed my sons? This is madness!”

“Your mother’s gone too far, Robb!” Lord Umber growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. “She’s betrayed us all, and she’s released the only valuable bargaining piece we had.”

The tent filled with accusations and anger, each man speaking over the other, their voices rising in a chaotic swell of fury and disbelief. Robb stood in silence, his face pale as he absorbed the news. He looked stricken, a storm of emotions brewing in his gaze—shock, anger, and betrayal, all flashing across his face in an instant.

You lowered your gaze, the sting of his earlier suspicion still fresh in your heart. Despite knowing that the truth had been revealed, Robb’s silence, his initial reaction, lingered like an unhealed wound. The fact that his first instinct had been to turn to you, to wonder if you had betrayed him, left a bitter taste in your mouth.

One of the bannermen, his voice loud and furious, called out, “Your mother’s actions could cost us everything, Robb. If we lose because of this, it’ll be blood on her hands.”

Robb’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white as he struggled to maintain control. “Enough!” he shouted, his voice ringing out above the chaos. Silence fell as the lords turned to him, each of them brimming with anger and frustration.

Robb took a deep, steadying breath, his gaze hard and unyielding as he looked around the room. “I understand your anger. Lady Stark’s actions were… unexpected.” He hesitated, his voice thick with barely suppressed fury. “But she is still my mother. We will not turn on her.”

Lord Karstark, his face a mask of bitter rage, stepped forward. “My king, with all due respect, this isn’t just about you or your mother. This is about justice. Your father’s justice, which she’s undermined by letting that… that Kingslayer walk free.”

Robb’s gaze flicked to you for the briefest of moments, and you could still see the shadow of doubt lingering there, a remnant of his initial suspicion. The silent accusation was gone, but the sting remained, a reminder of the fracture between you that no apology could fully mend.

You kept your gaze lowered, refusing to meet his eyes. The anger of the lords and Robb’s initial reaction had cemented a sense of isolation within you, a quiet resignation that you might never truly be trusted here. Not as a Lannister. Not as his wife.

Lord Umber turned to Robb, his voice softer but no less intense. “What will you do, then? How will you salvage this?”

Robb’s jaw clenched, the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. “I’ll send men after Jaime,” he said, his voice cold and resolute. “I’ll do everything I can to bring him back.”

The lords muttered amongst themselves, some nodding, others still simmering with anger. Robb turned to the guard. “Have all patrols doubled. Every man we can spare will search for Jaime Lannister. He won’t make it far.”

The guard nodded, bowing quickly before leaving the tent. The lords watched Robb carefully, their gazes sharp and unforgiving. They were looking to him to make a decision, to show strength, but you could see the toll it was taking on him.

In the charged silence that followed, Robb turned to face his bannermen fully, his expression steeled. “I know this seems like a betrayal,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a slight tremor beneath the calm. “But we can’t let this tear us apart. We’ll recover from this. We have to recover from this, or we’ve already lost.”

The lords murmured their reluctant assent, though the bitterness in their gazes remained. As they began to file out, some cast sidelong glances at you, their expressions a mix of suspicion and disdain. It was clear that for many of them, a Lannister among the Starks would always be viewed as a potential threat.

Finally, the tent cleared, leaving you alone with Robb. The silence was heavy, his back turned to you as he stared at the maps on the table, his hands gripping the edges tightly. His knuckles were white, and you could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the quiet fury simmering just beneath the surface.

You took a tentative step forward, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Robb…”

He didn’t turn, his voice low and raw. “You knew, didn’t you?”

The accusation stung, and you flinched, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know she would do this. I only spoke to Jaime once—”

“You spoke to him?” He turned, his eyes blazing, the hurt and betrayal clear in his gaze. “After everything, you went to him?”

“I went to speak to him, yes,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “But I didn’t know she would let him go. I swear it, Robb.”

For a moment, he looked away, his expression torn, and you could see the struggle in his eyes as he fought to reconcile his love for you with the doubts that had festered between you. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looked back at you.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he murmured, his voice laced with exhaustion. “My father is dead, my brother is crippled, and now my mother has freed the one man who could have given us leverage. And then… there’s you.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly brushing it away. “I’m not your enemy, Robb. I wanted this to work. I wanted to be part of your family, of this… but I don’t know if I’ll ever be enough.”

He looked at you, his expression softened by the faintest glimmer of regret, but the doubt still lingered, a shadow that neither of you could banish. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I don’t know how to trust you.”

The ache in your chest deepened, and for a moment, the distance between you felt insurmountable. You nodded, turning away from him, feeling the weight of all that had gone unspoken settling heavily on your shoulders.

In the silence, you left the tent, leaving Robb alone with his doubts, the wound between you left unhealed and festering, the echoes of mistrust lingering in the cold Northern air.

The night was cold as Robb stormed into his mother’s tent, his face set in a hardened mask of fury and disbelief. The shadows cast by the flickering candlelight danced on the canvas walls, giving his expression an almost spectral intensity. Catelyn sat at a small table, her face pale but composed, as if she’d been waiting for this confrontation.

She looked up as he entered, her eyes steady, but Robb could see the quiet resolve and sadness in her gaze. She rose, meeting his gaze head-on, even as he struggled to contain the storm of emotions brewing within him.

"Why?" His voice was low, laced with betrayal and anger. "Why did you do it, Mother?"

Catelyn’s expression didn’t falter. She clasped her hands together, taking a deep breath. "I did it for your sisters, Robb. For Sansa and Arya."

His jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, his eyes blazing with a barely restrained fury. "You let the Kingslayer go. You released the one man who could give us leverage against the Lannisters, who could help us end this war. You went against me, against your king. All for what? A promise from Jaime Lannister?”

Catelyn’s face softened, but she held her ground. "You weren’t there, Robb. You didn’t see Sansa’s letter. You didn’t hear the desperation in her words. She’s trapped in that viper’s nest, held by the very people who murdered your father." Her voice wavered slightly, though her gaze remained resolute. "And Arya… we don’t even know where she is. If there’s a chance that Jaime’s freedom could bring them home, I had to take it."

Robb shook his head, disbelief etched in every line of his face. "A chance? You traded our best leverage for a chance? And what of the lives lost in this war? The men who followed me, who died believing we’d bring justice to our family, that we’d make the Lannisters answer for what they did?”

Catelyn’s expression faltered, a flicker of pain crossing her face. "Do you think I’ve forgotten that?" she whispered. "Do you think I’ve forgotten the men we’ve lost, the sons and fathers who’ve given their lives for this cause? But they did it for more than just vengeance, Robb. They did it to protect our family, to bring your sisters home. And if freeing Jaime means I have to make sacrifices, then so be it.”

"Those sacrifices weren’t yours to make," Robb shot back, his voice rising. "You put everything at risk. You put us at risk. Your sons, your people, our cause… all of it thrown away for a promise that Jaime Lannister might help us? Did you think of what it would cost us if he betrays us?”

Catelyn’s composure slipped, and her voice rose in response, tinged with frustration and sorrow. "And if I did nothing? What then, Robb? Leave Sansa in the lion’s den, to suffer at their mercy? Let Arya’s fate remain unknown, just a shadow in our minds? I couldn’t sit idly by, not when there was even a glimmer of hope."

"Hope?” Robb’s voice was sharp, his gaze unyielding. "Hope that the man who threw Bran from a tower, who killed Karstark’s sons, would suddenly grow a conscience? Did you even stop to think of the betrayal that would bring upon us all? Or was that outweighed by a promise Jaime made while bound in a cage?”

The words hung between them, thick with accusation, and Catelyn’s expression softened with regret, but she did not back down. "You weren’t there, Robb," she repeated, her voice quiet but firm. "Sansa is my daughter, your sister, and I will do anything—anything—to bring her back to us."

Robb’s face twisted with a mix of anger and pain, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to contain his emotions. "And what of me, Mother? Do I mean so little to you that you’d defy me, ignore my command, and risk everything we’ve fought for?”

Catelyn’s eyes softened, her own voice breaking as she spoke. "You are my son, Robb. My firstborn. I would do anything for you, you must know that." She took a step toward him, her voice pleading. "But you’re also a king now, and kings must make hard choices. I didn’t do this to defy you—I did it because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing any more of my children.”

Robb’s gaze was hard, but a flicker of understanding, of shared pain, crossed his face. “I am a king, yes. And as a king, I have to answer to my bannermen, to the people who follow me. And now they question me because of what you’ve done. They’re angry, furious that you would release the man who killed their kin. I cannot lead if my own family undermines me.”

Catelyn’s face fell, and for a moment, she looked vulnerable, her strength faltering. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Robb. But as a mother, I couldn’t stand by any longer. The Lannisters hold so much power over us… they hold our children, our family, and they’ve taken so much from us already. I just… I wanted to bring some of them back.”

Robb’s expression softened for the briefest of moments, a flicker of sympathy breaking through the storm of his anger. But he quickly steeled himself, his face hardening once more as he took a step back, putting distance between them.

"Do you realize what you’ve done?" he asked quietly, his voice cold. "You’ve cost us our advantage. You’ve sown doubt among my men, our allies. You’ve put everything I’ve built at risk, all for a promise that might mean nothing.”

Catelyn’s gaze wavered, but she held his gaze, her face etched with sorrow. "Then I will bear that burden," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I will live with the consequences of my actions, Robb. But I did what I thought was right, as a mother.”

Robb’s eyes filled with pain, and he shook his head, his voice raw. "Right or wrong, you’ve betrayed me, Mother. And I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for that.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and final, and Catelyn looked away, her expression crumbling as the weight of his accusation settled over her. She took a shaky breath, struggling to hold back tears, but she did not try to defend herself further. She simply nodded, accepting his words, knowing that nothing she could say would change his mind.

Robb turned, his face as cold as the Northern wind, and without another word, he left the tent, leaving his mother behind, her shoulders slumped as she sank into a chair, the quiet grief settling over her like a shroud.

Outside, Robb took a deep breath, the anger and sorrow swirling within him, leaving him feeling hollow and adrift. He had lost his father, he had lost his trust in his wife, and now… he had lost faith in his own mother.

And as he stood alone in the darkness, he wondered how much more he could lose before there was nothing left of him at all.

The morning sun was a pale, cold light filtering through the muted haze that settled over the camp. It did little to warm the chill that seemed to grip Robb as he strode toward the war tent, the echoes of the previous night’s confrontation with his mother weighing heavily on him. His heart felt raw, torn between duty and family, and now he had to face his men, men who questioned his leadership, men who waited for him to set things right.

Inside the war tent, his bannermen were already gathered around the table, their expressions grim and expectant. Lord Karstark was there, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with anger, while Lord Umber stood with his arms crossed, his face hard and unyielding. They turned as Robb entered, offering him a nod of respect, but the tension in the room was palpable.

Robb took his place at the head of the table, looking out at the men who had pledged their loyalty to him, who had sacrificed for him. He could feel their resentment simmering, the weight of his mother’s betrayal casting a shadow over his authority. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared to address the situation.

“We’ve lost Jaime Lannister,” he began, his voice firm, though he kept his tone measured. “I won’t pretend that this isn’t a setback. We lost a valuable bargaining piece, and I understand your anger. But we cannot allow this to break us.”

Lord Karstark scoffed, his voice filled with bitterness. “A setback? Your mother has let the very man who murdered my sons slip through our fingers. This is more than a mere setback, Robb.”

Robb clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his composure. “I understand, Lord Karstark. I share your anger. But Jaime Lannister is gone. Wasting time on anger won’t bring him back.”

Lord Umber leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps it’s time we consider other options, my king.”

Robb’s gaze flicked to him, his brows furrowing. “What other options?”

Umber exchanged a look with Karstark, then turned back to Robb, his expression calculating. “The Kingslayer may be gone, but we still have… another Lannister close at hand.”

Robb’s heart stilled, a flash of unease tightening his chest. “What do you mean?”

Karstark’s mouth twisted into a grim smile, his voice cold and unfeeling. “Your wife, my king. She carries the name Lannister in her blood as much as the Kingslayer did. If you want to draw Tywin Lannister out, what better way than to use her as bait?”

Robb’s face paled, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of what his bannermen were suggesting. “You’re speaking of my wife,” he said, his voice low, dangerously quiet. “The mother of my child.”

Lord Karstark shrugged, unperturbed. “She’s also a Lannister. Do you think Tywin would stand idly by if he knew his granddaughter is in our hands?”

Lord Umber nodded, his tone practical, almost cold. “Think about it, Robb. This is war. Your personal feelings can’t come before the needs of the North. If using the girl could give us an advantage, then we should consider it.”

Robb’s fists slammed onto the table, his face contorted with anger as he looked from one man to the next, his voice shaking with fury. “She is not a pawn. She is my wife. She is carrying my child. And you would suggest using her like a bargaining chip?”

The lords exchanged uneasy glances, but Lord Karstark remained defiant, his gaze unwavering. “With respect, my king, this isn’t a game. We’re fighting for our survival, for justice. If we have a weapon we can use against the Lannisters, we should use it.”

Robb’s voice was ice, a low growl that cut through the room. “No. I will not hear any more talk of this. My wife is under my protection, and she is a part of this family, as much as any of you.” He turned his gaze to each of them, his eyes fierce. “If any of you even consider acting on this suggestion, I will see it as an act of treason.”

Silence fell, the men visibly taken aback by the ferocity in Robb’s voice, but Karstark refused to back down entirely. “You’re a young man, Robb,” he said, his tone bitter. “A young man who has let his heart cloud his judgment. War requires sacrifice. You cannot afford to place one person above the entire North.”

Robb’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with barely restrained rage. “I know the cost of war, Lord Karstark. I’ve buried men I’ve called my brothers, seen lives destroyed, families torn apart. But I will not sacrifice my wife and my child on the altar of your vengeance.”

Lord Umber’s voice softened, though there was still a note of caution. “We’re only suggesting that we consider all options, my lord. No one wants to see harm come to your lady, but if we’re to win this war, we need every advantage we can get.”

Robb took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger as he looked around at his bannermen, his voice tight with restraint. “I understand the risks. But we will find another way. I will not allow my wife to be used as a tool in this war. This discussion is over.”

The lords fell silent, some looking away, others muttering under their breath, but none dared to argue further. Robb could feel the weight of their disappointment, their doubt. But he stood firm, unwilling to compromise on this matter, no matter the cost.

Lord Karstark shook his head, his voice a quiet mutter filled with disdain. “You’re a fool if you think you can win this war with a conscience, Robb. This is a mistake, and it may well be the death of us all.”

Robb’s gaze hardened, his eyes like steel as he met Karstark’s glare. “Then so be it,” he replied, his voice unyielding. “I’d rather face death with honor than live knowing I betrayed the people I swore to protect.”

The lords exchanged glances, some nodding in reluctant acceptance, while others looked away, their expressions a mix of anger and disappointment. Robb could feel the rift growing between him and his men, the chasm widening with each hard choice he made. But he knew, in his heart, that this was the right decision.

As the bannermen began to file out of the tent, Robb stood in silence, his hands gripping the edge of the table as he struggled to steady himself. The weight of his choice pressed heavily on him, and he felt the creeping isolation that came with command, the loneliness of standing by one’s principles in a world that demanded compromise.

When the last of the lords had gone, he let out a heavy breath, his shoulders slumping as the anger drained from him, leaving only the ache of weariness in its place. He had chosen to protect you, to keep his promise, but at what cost? His bannermen’s loyalty was waning, and the unity he had once relied on was beginning to fracture.

Yet he knew, as surely as he knew the North’s bitter winters, that he could not—would not—allow harm to come to you. Not even for the sake of his war.

...

The early morning mist clung to the ground as you stood in the quiet edge of the camp, saddling your horse with hands that trembled only slightly. The air was cold, stinging your skin, but it felt like a balm to the storm raging in your heart. Each buckle, each strap you tightened, was a silent answer to the questions you hadn’t been able to voice aloud. You knew this wasn’t a decision that could be made lightly, but after days—weeks—of silence, mistrust, and feeling like a stranger in your own life, it was a decision you had to make.

The quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps behind you, and you paused, a chill running through you that had nothing to do with the air. Turning slowly, you saw Robb standing there, his face pale, his expression etched with disbelief and something close to panic. Behind him, at a distance, Catelyn had stopped, her gaze fixed on you with a mix of sorrow and regret.

“What are you doing?” Robb’s voice was low, strained, as if he could barely bring himself to ask the question.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you turned to face him. “I’m preparing my horse, Robb. I think it’s time… I think it’s best if I leave.”

The words seemed to hit him like a blow, his face paling further as he took a step closer, his voice shaking with urgency. “You’re leaving? But… you’re heavy with child. You can’t just ride out like this.”

Your hand instinctively moved to rest on the curve of your belly, a reminder of the life growing inside you, of the love you had once shared so freely with the man standing before you. “I have no other choice,” you replied, your voice quiet but firm. “You doubt me, Robb. You’ve doubted me for weeks, maybe even longer. I can’t stay where I’m not trusted. Not like this.”

Robb’s expression crumbled, and he reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours. “I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, his voice thick with desperation. “I know… I know I’ve made mistakes, that I’ve let my own fears blind me. But please, don’t do this.”

You looked away, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “How can I stay, Robb? How can I raise our child in a place where my loyalty is constantly questioned? Where every glance feels like a reminder that I don’t belong?”

Robb’s hand found yours, his grip gentle but firm as he held you close. “Because I love you,” he said softly, his voice filled with a raw vulnerability you hadn’t heard in weeks. “I love you more than I can say. And I know I’ve been a fool. But… please, don’t punish me for that by leaving.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and the anguish in his eyes struck deep, stirring memories of the love you’d shared—the warmth, the laughter, the quiet moments of solace and comfort that had once filled your life together. But those memories felt distant now, like echoes of a life that had slowly slipped away.

“I’m not punishing you, Robb,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m trying to protect myself. And our child. I can’t… I can’t keep waiting for you to trust me when every day feels like a test I’m doomed to fail.”

Robb shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. “No. You’re not doomed to fail. You’re the woman I chose, the woman I love. And… you’re the mother of my child.” His voice broke, and he looked down, swallowing hard before meeting your gaze again, his eyes filled with tears. “Please… don’t take that away from me.”

The words hung between you, heavy with the weight of everything you’d both lost, everything you still had yet to say. You could feel his desperation, the silent plea in his gaze, begging you to stay, to forgive, to give him one last chance. Behind him, Catelyn watched silently, her face shadowed with regret and sadness, but she said nothing, merely bearing witness to the fracture between you and her son.

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours, the familiar strength and comfort you’d once found in his touch. But there was still the lingering ache, the wound of betrayal that hadn’t yet healed, the knowledge that even now, doubt lay between you like a dark chasm.

“I don’t know if love is enough, Robb,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, your voice trembling. “Love without trust… what kind of life would that be for us? For our child?”

Robb’s face crumpled, and he took a shaky breath, his voice raw. “Then let me earn your trust back,” he said, his words filled with a quiet, desperate hope. “Give me that chance. Stay. Please.”

The silence stretched between you, the decision hanging heavy in the air. You looked at him, at the man you’d once given your heart to, the man who had given you hope, love, a new life. But now… now there was so much pain, so much mistrust, that you couldn’t tell if those promises still held the same weight.

Your gaze drifted to the road beyond the camp, the path that would lead you back to your family, to the life you’d left behind. And then back to Robb, his eyes filled with silent pleading, his hand still holding yours, a reminder of everything you’d built together, of the future you’d dreamed of.

And as you stood there, torn between two worlds, the decision loomed, uncertain and unresolved, like the misty dawn stretching before you, waiting for you to choose which path you would take.

There will be another part with the ending if Y/N decides to stay. 😉