#i absolutely love him and he deserves more love

[mywritersmind]

DONT CRY OVER SPILT COFFEE - LN4

summary : A horrible morning made worse by a man in a matcha colored hat, spilling coffee down her shirt and maybe ending up being the hero she needs for her final.

listen up : no warnings!! okay hiii i fell off the face of the planet for a sec lol! i’m fine and thank you for all your sweet messages! honestly i was just burnt out and have nooo ideas plus school and sports are kicking my ass. i love you all so much and hope you enjoy this!

words : 1940

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I try to steady my breathing as I bite back tears. It’s a small thing, really… I ordered a latte and they gave me a steaming hot black coffee.

I would have been fine, simply asking to return it if not for the horribly rude barista and my morning out of hell. So I give up and drag myself out of the little shop, opening the heavy door and promptly colliding into the man across from me.

I swear, loudly, this is the absolute cherry on top of the start of my day. I honestly expect him to run off and roll his eyes, but with tears in mine and hot coffee on my shirt, he rushes to apologize.

“I’m so fucking sorry- shit! I’m an idiot… Let me buy you another one, and a top. Honestly I’m so sorry.” The British man is rambling as I wipe my tears, something his green eyes widen at, horrified that he made me cry. As I blink away the tears, I'm immediately threatened with more because he’s hot!

“No… It’s okay.” I sniff, cursing the universe for making me act like a fool in front of a man this attractive. “I wasn’t even going to drink it.” People are staring at us now and the workers have already started to clean the mess beneath my feet.

“C’mere.” He says softly, taking my hand and leading me to a more secluded part of the cafe, “I’m really sorry.” He’s pulling off his flannel now, a plain white t-shirt now visible as he hands the red and white button up to me, “Please change, I feel horrible. I’ll get you another drink, maybe one you actually enjoy?”

I don’t know why, but if it was any other day, I would have brushed this off and left with no words. But today, I really need this. I nod, telling him my actual order, and retreating to the bathroom as he gets in line.

The shirt does not fit me. I’m wearing a denim skirt with it and it looks like I'm wearing a dress, but honestly I like the look. I grab my shirt and leave the bathroom, my skirt splattered with coffee and the smell still on me.

I sit outside, not wanting to be stared at by everyone who saw me inside. He’s back quickly, two coffees in hand and a guilty smile on his face.

Now that my eyes aren’t blurred with tears, I get a better look at him. He’s tan and freckled, curls sticking out from under his hat.

I read his name on the cup, “Bob?” I say, a bit more judgy than I meant. My latte is cool against my hands, my skin hot from coffee and embarrassment.

He sits across from me, laughing a bit, “No uh… I’m Lando.” I wonder if they got his name wrong and I'm about to ask how someone makes that big of a mistake, but he starts talking, “Are you alright? Something tells me this isn’t just about a spilled drink.”

I sip my coffee, instantly happier with the taste of vanilla, “Honestly? It’s just been a shit morning.”

He smiles softly as a biker drives past us, the sun beating down on my legs, “Want to tell me about it?”

“I really don’t want to bother you anymore…” I try to distract myself with the flowers next to us but my eyes find him again.

“I deserve it- not that you’re a bother! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He blushes slightly, sipping his matcha.

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You can-”

“Okay so I’m a university student and for my final project in one of my journalism classes, I have to interview someone! Okay fine whatever it’s easy, I can do that! My professor is a massive bitch and didn’t even like my suggestion of interviewing my third grade teacher but whatever! I decided on it anyway even though everyone in my fucking class has like a million and one connections to insanely famous people so all of theirs is actually interesting!”

“Yours sounds interesting.” He shrugs.

“Thank you! Well, when I went to the school to interview her, I found out she’s dead!” His jaw drops, “Yeah! So now I'm just depressed because I loved that woman and I still don’t have a final. Plus just about everything went wrong while getting ready. I tore my favorite tights and lost my lucky bracelet, clearly, because I ran into you after this stupid shop got my order wrong!”

He’s smiling, looking at me with pity and a little humor, “That does sound like a lot.”

I bring my cup to my lips once more, breathless from my rant. Lando just hums, tapping his finger on the table, “Anyway I can help?”

“Unless you know anyone famous… and you’ve already bought me the correct coffee and listened to my rant, I can’t ask for more.”

“Well uh…” He bites his lip suspiciously, “I sort of do… know someone famous, that is.” My eyes go wide and my cheeks go red.

“No! I can’t bother anyone else, forget what I said.”

He’s smiling again, “Nope, you asked for it. I have a solution.”

“No… Lando I can’t.” He’s far too nice for someone I just met.

“It’s for your final! I don’t mind.”

“Sure you might not mind but the person I'm interviewing might!” At this, he makes a face. Somewhere between laughter and awkwardness. Then I have an overwhelming sick feeling as he starts again.

“You can interview me.” What the fuck have I done? He slides me his phone but my eyes are already squeezed shut. I hear him chuckle, “Y/n.”

“No no no.”

“Yes.” he nudges it against my arm as I slowly eye it. It's his instagram. His instagram with 9.4 Million followers.

I swallow, “I’m an idiot.”

“No. You’re just not into racing.” He’s right! I’m not. I’m really not! The photos quickly tell me that he is a formula one driver for McLaren. “Just ask me whatever you need. It’s not a bother.”

“Lando…” I feel like I've been dunked into cold water, and suddenly I realize that people are looking at us not because of my embarrassing mess, but because he’s famous!

“I’m not leaving until you ask.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms as if he’s on strike.

“You’re sure this isn’t overstepping- I mean I just met you and I barely even know what you do!”

“So then ask me.” He’s infuriatingly hot, his brow raised.

I hesitantly take my notebook out of my bag, uncapping my pen, and starting a new page.

My hand is shaking for some reason but the questions just flow out of me! He answers every one with a humble sort of confidence that makes me laugh.

In the span of thirty minutes, I learn everything about formula one and Lando Norris. Most of it is for my own curiosity but what I write down is all about Lando.

He’s quite charming and I wonder if he’s this open to every interviewer. “So you won something big…?”

He laughs, nodding, “Yeah. The Constructors Championship. It’s for the team, not really a specific driver.”

I hum, “But there is one for a driver…? And you don’t have it?” I ask bluntly.

He smiles slowly, “No… I was in the fight mathematically but we started too late. Trust me though, next year's mine.” He winks and it’s the first time he acts cocky and honestly sure of himself.

“Well… those are all my questions.”

“Oh. Well, This has been my favorite interview yet. I hope I was almost as inspiring as your third grade teacher…”

I laugh, sitting back in the wiry chair, “I think I might just pass this class and get my teacher to like me.”

“That won’t be because of me though. You’re a good journalist, I can tell.” His eyes are soft when he speaks to me, leaning forward and drawing my eyes to his arms.

Fuck how did I not realize he’s got that whole rich athlete vibe.

I take one last drink of my coffee, the ice sounding and my frown apparently, “Thanks again… I hope I didn’t ruin your day or anything.”

“If anything, you made it better. I’m not exactly the press’ favorite but I'd like to be yours, just so when you start interviewing more F1 drivers, you’ll see how amazing I am.” He scrunches his nose as I laugh.

“Right… Well, I should really get going.” Something flashes across his face as I go to stand, “Oh shit, your shirt!”

“Keep it. You look better in it than I do.” I narrow my eyes at his flirtatious words.

“Do you flirt with all your interviewers?”

“Only the cute ones who I meet with coffee down her shirt.” His smile is insane, I have a feeling I shouldn’t entertain this, that he’s just another big dick athlete who can get any woman he wants.

But then he tugs at his necklace, something he explained to me was his logo, and I wonder what the harm is in having one thing in my day go right.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he sits up straighter, “Let me take you out.”

I did not expect him to ask that! My cheeks go pink as I shake my head. Something tells me that Lando Norris doesn’t take the word ‘No’ very well.

“You can give me my shirt back then.” He grabs my pen from my hand scribbling his number upside down onto my page of notes. “Please?” His handwriting is just legible enough for me to make out the numbers.

“Did you just say please?” I let out a laugh, glancing down at the black ink.

“I’ve heard there’s some magic in it.” He smirks, “I’m not above begging you. Come on, what’s the harm in apologizing over a nice dinner?”

“You already apologized over coffee.”

“You really don’t want to go out with me?” He looks at me as if I've just stepped on his puppy. I try to talk, then shut my mouth and look away.

“I’m in university.”

“I never finished school.” I raise a brow at his words. “What? I thought we were just exchanging our schooling records.” He’s smirking again, “Come on Y/n…”

“You’re famous.”

“You will be one day.” I truly can’t believe this is happening to me, “You’re gorgeous, Y/n. And you have every right to turn me down. Just say no.”

He’s got me there and we both know it, “I’ll text you my final, maybe if I get full marks then i’ll say yes.”

He stands with me, “I'm very confident you will.”

“Good luck driving… or whatever.”

He laughs, “I’m really glad I spilled coffee all over you.”

I roll my eyes and start walking away, “Goodbye Lando.”

He calls after me, “See you soon, Y/n!”

[voxslays]

BREEDING — HWANG IN-HO

WARNINGS: Soft In-ho, slightly OOC, mentions of sex, pregnancy, the baby is a boy (for plot reasons), Breeding kink. A/N: I am eating, sleeping, and breathing squid games rn. It’s in my blood stream. Please give me more ideas y’all.

ꨄ After the loss of his first wife and unborn child, In-ho was completely destroyed. He thought he would never find love or have the chance to have a child of his own again…until he met you.

ꨄ While you probably fell first, In-ho would fall harder. Someone who sees a different side of him? Someone who isn’t a cold-blooded killer? He is completely whipped.

ꨄ You probably met outside the games, having no idea what your lover does for work—which he wants to stay that way…kind of. While In-ho doesn’t want you involved in his work at all, you deserve to know the truth, right?

ꨄ Will eventually tell you the truth, and couldn’t be happier when you accept him anyways. He vows to never show you the cold heartless frontman he has to be for the games.

ꨄ Once the two of you are married, In-ho goes crazy for your body. I mean you two had sex before marriage…but now? Man, he absolutely worships your body, as if you’re a goddess.

ꨄ In-ho fucks his cum into you, making sure not to waste a precious drop. He wants it to take after all. Will tell you how beautiful you would look carrying his children while he pounds into you.

ꨄ Really wants to get you pregnant and have a child with you, more than anything. So when he hears the news after returning from one of his ‘trips’ to the island, he is overjoyed.

ꨄ Makes sure your every need is met. If he can’t cater to you, he’s making sure his servants or the circle guards are waiting on your hand and foot. Only the best for his queen.

ꨄ Might even bring you to the island to keep you safe through your pregnancy. He is going to make sure both you and your baby surivive the best he can.

ꨄ Once your son is born, he can’t stop holding him. He lets the little baby wrap its hands around his finger as he gently cradles him in his arms. He may be a cold-blooded killer, but to you, he is just your warm and caring husband.

EXTRA: Your son definitely becomes the next frontman whether you like it or not. In-ho can’t help it. It runs in the family.

[stealingpotatoes]

EVERYONE GREAT NEWS REWRITE ANON RETURNED AND BLESSED US W MORE! i'll copy & paste the rest of the asks under the cut ⬇️ it's pretty long but worth the read (ive left my own notes in pink)

[continued from screenshot] We didn’t come up with a new name for Kylo Ren/Ben Solo but we did come up with a new arc and I put him in a traditional Alderaanian cape in the concept art sketches because he deserves to be an Organa (potes notes: YES!!!). I also gave him a lightning scar instead of a lightsaber scar because it made a bit more sense.

Our general plan was that yes, he’s still evil, at least a bit. His parents and uncle are awe-inspiring war heroes as well as being incredibly busy making sure the entire Galaxy doesn’t collapse in on itself in the power vacuum left behind by the Empire. Luke is part of a humanitarian aid/Geneva Convention type wing of the New Republic and Kylo finds himself both feeling like he lacks the means to prove himself and like they’re not doing enough to squash the threat of insurgence - which is still a clear threat and there have been multiple attempts on his mother’s life that have left the family scared. He absorbs certain parts of his mother and father’s political conduct; Leia’s willingness to fight for what’s right and Han’s general impulsiveness.

Anyway keep that in mind. He makes a stupid bid to try and prove himself by trying to fight off a whole imperial remnant cell alone “Just like the Jedi used to do.” and ends up going completely missing. Tl/dr: he’s super close to death and the big bad of the movie steps in to save him, teaching him what he always wanted to learn - how to fight and defend the people you love rather than focusing on connection to the force. Kylo doesn’t see the significance of that side of things, both because his parents don’t have an interest in it and because he’s grown up with tales of the daring exploits of Master Luke taking on ten people at once and chopping robots to bits. He just wants to make people proud of him. (OHHH THIS IS SO GOOD SO SO MUCH BETTER)

He’s pretty young when this happens too, and eventually his mind is twisted to believe that the only way to keep everyone safe is dictatorship. He’s grown up in a long, slow, difficult democracy with constant political unrest and everyone’s described how powerful and stable the Empire was his whole life - doesn’t matter that they were talking about how cool it was that they beat it. He still absorbed all that. (THIS IS SUCH A GOOD CHARACTER MOTIVATION and also great setup for themes/discussions on radicalisation and its like poetry it rhymes w anakin's fall omg)

Anyway, flash forward to the time of the films. He’s not a Sith, he can’t manage to push himself that far into the dark side. But he wants to be. He’s got a complex about it, he’s obsessed with getting stronger because then maybe they’ll be proud of me. He loses his first fight with Rey, not because she’s strong in the force at this point, but because he’s trained himself to the point of exhaustion after being reprimanded for a minor failure in interrogating Poe. He can barely move and he’s on the verge of fainting when they corner him in fact. He’s practically addicted to the pain of overtraining himself because that pain is what connects him to the dark side. (GOOD FIX!! 10/10 writing omg)

When Rey actually becomes a more formidable opponent in the force, he asks her “Who trained you?” and she tells him it was Han, not knowing the blow this is going to strike. This gets in his head. Badly. Han never understood the force when he was a kid, and was still not the best at being emotionally vulnerable (he was a great dad! But he was still the man who said “I know.” to “I love you.” (oop yep ok see ur point LOL)). Kylo isn’t to know that Han was FORCED to overcome this stuff through a brief stay in absolute hell. He asks what she can possibly have that he doesn’t, how is she better than him? And when he lashes out at Rey, telling her about the Han he knew, she doesn’t believe him and calls him a liar and a terrible son. This fight (which takes place on water) ends up with Rey almost drowning as Kylo throws a massive force tantrum, and Kylo having a breakdown under the sea in a force air bubble after the fight is over.

I think I’ll do a couple more asks because this one has been super long! I’m sorry if this was a chore to read I just thought I’d share if you liked the last one hah.

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Rewrite anon again! I’m sorry if this is getting tedious!

We had a general plan for Kylo Ren’s redemption where Rey would be in danger of falling to the dark side by the end of the second film (IM LISTENING), and Kylo would already be on the path to questioning things after some hard hitting blows

Death of Luke (his master) (;-;)

Rey was trained by and kind of adopted by Han and has become the galaxy’s beacon of hope. Maybe it is all on him. And she loves Han so much that it’s hard for his new master to twist the facts on him anymore.

The third film would be a fucked up family reunion type bit where Kylo begs for forgiveness and him and Han set off to try and save Rey together. (YESSSSSSS!!! omg this is everything to me holy shit)

Thanks for the listen! I hope these aren’t too annoying. (IM LOVING IT)

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Rewrite anon again (sorry). Wanted to mention Leia, Poe and Finn.

Leia is dealing with a massive insurgence threat which is why she sends Rey (galaxy’s last hope) away with Han (good at hiding. Also the only person she could both trust and spare).

Finn and Poe both comment a lot on how Rey’s galactic significance makes her blind to people’s lives. The New Order might keep her alive because she’s valuable, and Kylo might listen to her, but Finn and Poe are both canon fodder to both Kylo and the New Order. Hierarchy of lives and all that. (oooo yes that'd be such a fun like... counterpoint to the whole Skywalker Saga & fate-destiny-soap-opera)

Poe used to be a fighter pilot but is now more of a political leader and provides a necessary voice in the senate to backwater outer rim planets. He’s Leia’s political mentor (i assume you meant mentee/student?) with none of her royal manners and all of her intensity.

Finn isn’t exactly a clone, but he is grown in a lab. He’s more of a super-soldier than a clone, designed at the genetic level to be basically eugenics’ perfect man. (puts on my CATWS stan hat im listening) He becomes a field agent/espionage/sabotage type guy after defecting from the New Order because he doesn’t want to be involved in active combat any more, even though it’s hardwired into him and he has to fight it the whole way. Luke takes a liking to Finn before his death and teaches him about the importance of forging your own identity first before you start to think about where you’ve come from.

Hope you like the ideas lol we had a lot.

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Final (?) ask from rewrite anon maybe. It’s about Han because we did kinda just make the Han movies I realise.

Han saves Rey from pirates after she finally cheats herself offworld for the first time and finds herself overwhelmed. After losing Kylo to the New Order he has long since realised his shortcomings in parenting and while he works up the courage to reach out to his son, he uses Rey kind of like a do-over child. (...healthy!)

Han ends up stuck with Rey after Luke’s death and with Leia pinned down on all sides, and as well as trying to give her super DIY teaching, he realises she can talk to Luke. Understandably this hits him like a truck while he’s grieving his friend, and him and Luke have a kind of Haymitch and Katniss communicating-without-communicating relationship. Han can’t see or hear Luke, but he knows when Luke’s trying to use timing to tell him something. (AGH I LOVE THISSSSSSSSSSS YES using a THG comparison makes me love it even more)

Han also survives until the end of the films. Harrison Ford would hate me for this he wants that guy to die so bad but no the smuggler from the fuck end of nowhere with no cosmic significance, no nothing, just the power of love and a gun makes it to the end. The survivor’s guilt is insane. (ohh LOVE THATTT!!! ESPECIALLY W UR EARLIER THING OF FINN N POE SEEING THEMSELVES AS CANON FODDER WITHOUT A GALACTIC DESTINY)

Hope you enjoyed reading these and that they weren’t too much of a bore. Maybe I’ll write some of this stuff down if people like it. (EVERYONE TELL ANON HOW MUCH YOU LIKE THIS RIGHT NOW)

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Rewrite anon again (sorry)

Rey does of course lose her hand (fair, as is tradition) and she replaces it with a shitload of gadgets massively egged on by Han and Chewie. I think she’d have a special glove for it kind of like the equalist gloves in LOK. (SICK!)

Would also be great to have a ‘jedi’ protagonist who is even less aware of standard practice than Luke and will try definitely illegal moves like changing the length of the blade mid fight or kicking sand in your opponent’s eyes. (LMAO amazing omg)

---------------------------------------- (that was the last ask)

Me and my friend had some fun trying to rewrite the sequel trilogy a while ago and I think the best idea we had was Luke dies and Han and Rey get stranded on some nowhere planet where he has to haphazardly attempt to teach her years of jedi training in like a week entirely by reading out of Luke’s notes (somehow even worse than Luke’s extremely DIY training in the OT).

This isn’t at all based on the ‘Han has the force’ theory it’s literally just crabby atheist old man Han Solo and his dead best friend’s religious texts that are totally useless to him vs the world.

i LOVE that, disney needs to get you two rewriting the sequels STAT

(commission info // tip jar!)

[leighsartworks216]

could you write for #17 on the prompt list? any character would be great <3

Mud Masks

Sylus x gn!Reader

Prompt from this list

17 - holding the other's chin up

Warnings: fluff, silly, established relationship, kissing, implied height difference, slightly suggestive, banter

Word Count: 804

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

"Just a little more."

"You already said that."

"Yeah, well, I mean it this time."

Sylus chuckles softly as you tsk, focused on not messing up all your hard work. For what it's worth, he's been nothing but compliant so far, even after your weird request.

He opens his eyes as you gather more of the mud mask onto the little silicone applicator. You're ethereal - in your pajamas, disheveled from the work day, frowning with concentration. He doesn't think he could fall more in love, but you always manage to prove him wrong.

You look back up at him and roll your eyes. "Close 'em, mister."

"Don't I deserve a reward for staying so still, kitten?" he teases. His eyes shamelessly glance at your lips as he steps closer between your legs, hands sliding from the marble countertop to hold your waist.

"You'll get a reward as soon as I'm done." You don't bother waiting for him to close his eyes. He ends up closing them anyway when you carefully put the mud between his eyebrows and down his nose. "And you have to do me, too, remember?"

"Bad choice of words."

"Down boy."

He sighs, low and playful. "I do so love when you're cruel."

You don't dignify him with a response. Instead, you finish smoothing the last bit of mud over his face. He looks silly - cutesy animal-ear headband holding his bangs back, sharp features slathered in a dark clay mask, white eyebrows breaking through. Still, despite all the teasing, you're all too happy to have a partner willing to go through all this trouble for you. He clearly enjoys it just as much, if only to have all your attention on him.

"There! Now it's my turn." You hold out the applicator to him and nod to the jar of mud on the counter.

He lets you go. The warmth of his hands lingers on your clothes. It looks strange to see such a big, imposing man with that little applicator in one hand and the jar held in the other, both dwarfed by their size. "I thought I was promised a reward," he says as he gathers clay on the silicone and sets the jar aside. He glares without any malice down at you. "After I was being so good."

You smile, amused by his antics after the day you had. Self-care like this was a rare occurrence, and absolutely necessary tonight. "Fine. Don't let it be said I'm someone who goes back on their deals."

"I'm glad you understand, sweetie."

He takes his time, after all that. He brushes hair from your face, though it's securely held back just like his is. His knuckles caress your cheek softly, trailing down to your jaw. Calloused fingertips trace the angle of it, where his index finger curls just under your chin, and his thumb graces your lower lip.

Chills run down your spine in anticipation. The hairs on your arms stand on end, waiting eagerly. He knows it, too. He knows you, the damn bastard. Knows just how much this effects you.

With his hold on your chin, he gently tilts it up, lifting your head to be the perfect angle, as he finally leans down. Your eyes flutter shut. Your heart races so loud in your ears.

Something cold touches your cheek, startling you out of the moment with wide eyes. The applicator hangs just in your periphery.

"Hey!"

He catches your mouth suddenly, silencing whatever insults you were prepared to throw his way. All of them are forgotten as his tongue licks into your mouth. Thoughts dissipating in the wind as he lifts your chin just slightly higher to give him even more access. And if that wasn't enough, the appreciative groan he breathes into your mouth makes you forget about the mud masks entirely.

He pulls away slowly. You're chasing after his lips for more without thinking about it; you can feel his grin as he grants you one more. His thumb brushes soft circles into your chin, coaxing you back to him. When your eyes flutter open, he guides your head to the side and begins spreading the dollop he left on your cheek around.

"Don't worry, kitten," he hums. "When I'm done, you'll get a reward, too."

You look at him from the corner of your eye, praying he can't feel how warm your cheeks have become. You're sure he already knows. "A reward like that?"

Red eyes flicker to yours with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. "You can be greedy. Ask and it's all yours."

"Including you?"

The drying clay cracks at the corners of his mouth as he smiles. He guides your face back toward him, leaning down until his every breath ghosts over your lips. "I'm always at your disposal, my beloved."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[logans-whore]

Hi~

I was reading your old man logan one-shot and mwah chief kiss

Can I ask for some more old man logan and young reader?maybe he's unsure of whether he should give into his desire or keep pushing her away but when he saw her laughing at her phone or talking to a boy friend of hers he loses it?

Or anything like that love yaa

I swear I'm working on my other requests, but holy hell, this caught hold of my brain like a dog with a chew toy and it didnt let go. This can be read as a prequel to this fic, but can be read as a standalone too! Also this turned out way fluffier than I thought it would, but oh well. I hope you like it!!!

https://www.tumblr.com/logans-whore/773031900713451520/may-i-please-ask-you-to-write-something-for-old?source=share

Logan is fully aware that he's too old for you. He's too aware, if you're the one being asked.

The two of you were the only ones to survive the Westchester incident, him because of his healing, you because you hadn't been at the mansion on the day of the incident.

So you, him, and Charles move in together, hiding away. Later, Caliban joins you.

Now, you've had a thing for him for years. But seeing him there, caring for you, for Charles, being protective, and providing? Yeah, that scratches the lizard part of your brain just right.

And he notices, sees the way you look at him like he's the only thing you'll ever want. And he turns you down, over and over again, keeping you away. He's way too old for you, and starting to look it too. You deserve someone young. Someone good, and kind, and caring and perfect, like you.

And you're not the kind of girl to push it. To force a relationship with someone who doesn't want you. (Or so you think. He wants you. Very much. He's just an idiot)

So you put yourself out there. You've been working as a waitress to help pay the bills. And a customer gives you his number, and he's sweet and funny and cute, and you say yes. Thinking this is your chance to get over Logan, to move on, find someone new to love. You start texting him, and he seems great. You really like him, and you think, with time, with patience, maybe you could grow to love him. Not the all encompassing, full body experience that loving Logan is, but maybe a simpler, less painful love.

Logan on the other hand, sees you texting. All the damn time. After several pointed remarks on phones, and how young people should get off them and have a conversation, he finally asks who you're texting.

When you tell him about Adam, the cute guy from the diner, his heart drops. He's grown to love you, to love your kindness, your compassion, the way you look at him, how absolutely fucking stunning you are. And thinking about you with anyone else? Hell no. You're his. Not that you belong to him, but you're his, and he's yours, the way only people in love are each others.

And he can't lose you, he realizes with startling clarity. He just can't.

So the next morning, as you make breakfast, about to start your shift, he slinks iinto the kitchen, looks you dead in the eyes and says. "I love you."

You nearly drop the spatula you're using, choking on your own spit. "W-what?" you sputter, surprised and confused.

"I love you" he says again. You look at him for any sign of him joking, of him playing some fucked up prank. You find none.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before", he continues, like he hasn't just dropped the emotional equivalent of an atomic bomb on you. "I'm sorry. But I love you, honey. And I don't want to see you with anyone else but me. I know-" he hesitates, but continues. "I know I said I'm too old for you. Know I said you should find someone your own age. But I'm taking it back. And I'm asking you, not to fall in love with him. I want you in love with me."

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You- you're serious?"

"I just gave you the cheesiest goddamn speech I've ever given in my life, of course I'm fuckin' serious" He grumbles, and you can't help but laugh, before crossing the distance to stand in front of him and kissing him stupid

"I love you too," You murmur against his mouth, and feel him beam against you, smiling into the kiss. "I'm not gonna fall for him. I'm already in too deep with you"

Hours later, when he's fucking you into the mattress, you cry his name over and over again, and he knows, warm and safe in your arms, in your heart, that you mean it. That you're his, and he's yours.

Logan is full aware that he's too old for you. He loves you anyways.

[nonightingalesinberkelysquare]

Seeing people outside of the good omens fandom attacking random people in comment sections isn't something I'd expected to see after the horrendous allegations against NG came out.

But it's also something that I can't understand!

Whilst it's never okay to be sending hate over to people who simply still want to enjoy Neil's work (without supporting him financially or as a person), seeing an influx of people who are just.. doing it to say that they've done it..?

Surely if they REALLY cared for what they were fighting so desperately against they'd be out advocating for some sort of change? Donating? Volunteering? Campaigning? ANYTHING aside from sitting on tumblr all day hating on people because they believe they have some weird moral high ground by doing it!

Of course this isn't to say that what neil did isn't absolutely HORRIFYING! He genuinely is THE worst type of person and he deserves exactly what punishment is, hopefully, throwing itself in his direction. But attacking a fandom for trying to find comfort beyond that terrible man is WRONG.

You're allowed to feel sad, angry, disappointed, ect. In neil and in the fandoms that you love/loved ever so much. Nobody should be making you feel as if you don't care for the victims enough. The reality of it is that if you're no longer a neil supporter, YOU. ARE. BEING. SYMPATHETIC. TOWARDS. THE. VICTIMS.

The simple fact of it is that neil gaiman is an EVIL monster of a man, but his work and his characters have stuck with many many people, whether that be through tough times or through life itself. It's not something you can just let go of. You shouldn't feel pressured to just let go of it.

If it comes with time, that's perfectly okay. If it never goes away, I understand and that's also perfectly okay. Just be mindful, that's all. :)

In reality, you just have to find joy in whatever way it presents itself. Have sympathy for the victims, donate to charities, support in whichever way you can. But at the same time, don't deny yourself happiness.

Some people choose not to separate the art from the artist. Some do. Either way it's valid.

In conclusion, LEAVE PEOPLE ALONE

PS: I know this is a long post so I can't help but feel the overall aim could've been lost on some people. I DO NOT SUPPORT NEIL GAIMAN. But I also don't condone bullying towards people who are doing NOTHING wrong. I hope neil gets THE worst kind of punishment allowed within the modern legal system (although in this case I wouldn't object to some sort of medieval contraption to chop his dick off). I do NOT care about a show more than I do the victims and that man won't be getting another PENNY off of me.

TLDR; Neil gaiman is an awful man who deserves nothing but the absolute worst, however, people outside of the fandom bullying others for seeking joy in separating the art from the artist never has been, and never will be, okay. At the same time, enjoy what you want to enjoy whilst being considerate and respectful of all those harmed by gaiman.

[shewolfofvilnius]

No, let's do some comprehensive analysis, in order of ranking (as of when I type this just before it closes). Isabela: Canonical grandmaster. Is absolutely, positively, the best. Next.

Varric: Act 1 of DA2 Varric? Maybe, maybe not. The Varric of mid to late game nevermind Inquisition or Veilguard? Absolutely. A deserved 2nd place. He's not Isabela, but who is?

Anders: I love y'all but absolutely tf not. Dude is messed up in the head in DA2 via Justice' influence (who absolutely has not), and his only known canonical romantic relationship or fling prior to Awakening is with a man. There is no way Anders does. I know y'all love him but Anders is down in Aveline-Carver-Bethany territory.

Merrill: Start of DA2? Not a chance, nope. Is as sheltered as Bethany about this stuff at start of game. Her unlikely friendship with Isabela, however, means that by Act 2 there is an at least moderate chance, and given we can see Merrill romance a female Hawke with Isabela's encouragement, by the midpoint of the game, yes, Merrill probably does. Or at least knows the concept even if she hasn't tried it.

Fenris: Knows but won't, unless romancing a female Hawke. As a former slave whose brandings and markings and overall purpose had a decorative aspect, I would not be surprise if he was forced to do it at some point. Once he escapes Danarius, that goes back on the shelf unless Hawke gets involved.

Sebastian: Knows (from his time as a scoundrel prior to finding Andraste) but wouldn't now under any circumstances. Boring.

Aveline: Strikes me as the type who Wesley never went down on and she's never really been with anyone else. Honestly if you told me that "one woman in thedas doesn't know anything about the clitoris" I'd assume you meant Aveline Vallen. Absolutely, positively not despite being 'friends' with Isabela by endgame.

Bethany: Lived her entire life a) On the run, b) with her parents and siblings, until c) Either being sent to the Circle or D) joining the Wardens. Given how bitter Bethany is about the Wardens, I doubt it's a good time. Given conditions in Kirkwall's circle, no. There is absolutely no way.

Carver: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Actually, an asterisk: Notice how much more confident and self-assured and no-longer-bratty that Warden Carver is in contrast to Bethany or his Act 1 self? I bet you $20 that within a month of Carver joining the Wardens, he and a nice lady warden did their own little joining ritual and Carver got an education. Act 1 and Templar Carver, though, absolutely the hell not.

Origins

Inquisition

Veilguard

[majestick-posts-op]

Nothing hurts me as much as realising that all 3 of the asl kids are, in their own ways, children who should have not have been born to their parents.

Let me explain:

We start with Ace, the obvious. His whole narrative is of being his father's son and the sins that entrails. Even if Rouge absolutely loved him and I choose to think Roger did that too, him bring raised by them just wasn't meant to be. Not meant to be because of what the world thought. Its tragic. Its cruel.

Sabo on the other hand is the epithome of "all children deserce parents but not all parents deserve children". There's no need to go into detail on how awful his parents were because you all know that slready, but i will shine light on the fact that he only existed so his parents could have an heir. Someone to groom into who they wanted. Someone to marry off and be shitty. Sabo was wanyed, had a porpuse, and no one ever told him he shouldn't have existed. But he still knew that none of that love was real. That anything the nobles did was in spite of the "commoners". He choose to not be like them.

And then there's Luffy whom the fandom does NOT TALK ABOUT ENOUGH. His whole thing is that he... was an unwanted child. Seriously. No matter who you believe his mother/other parents to be, I highly doubt that them and Dragon had Luffy consciously. I'm not bashing him, it was made clear in egghead how much Dragon loves Luffy, and he suffers vecause of this. But that still doesn't change the fact that he would have never have been raised by his parents even if they had been alive. And then, Garp neglected him. He was left alone in a village or in the jungle for most of his childhood and had no one to take care of his except a teenage girl who was a child herself untill Shanks came along. You all tend to forget, but Luffy was angry as a child. Full on young Ace angry. The only thing that made him change was Shanks himself because he finally had found an actual adult who actually cared about him. It only got better with Dadan and the bandits. But it was always like that for luffy. Getting left behind, being abbandoned, being the sacrifice because no one could have been with him.

Its ironic and even more cruel that Ace ended up being the one who wondered if he deserved to have been born. Because he was the only one of the 3 who came from loving parents that actually wanted a kid because they wanted a family. And they would have loved to see Ace grow up.

So there you have them, folks. The asl brothers.

The desired child whose birth's circustances made him a monster.

The desired child who only existed to be a monster and a pawn.

And the undesired child, who shouldn't have existed at all.

[secriden]

I always love your posts about THK and your recently pinned post and another one about Style yearning for skinship are just *chef's kiss*. So thank you for your analysis!

I saw some comments on tumblr that Style was acting as if he's sad and playing Fadel and I just could NOT agree, so I was glad to see your post. My opinion on Style's crying scene is I don't think Style meant to cry at first, but his emotions sort of overwhelmed him while he was talking. I think he definitely uses his cheerful disassocation with reality to deal with fear and he was just going to tell his message to his dad just in case, perhaps in a more lighthearted way, but he remembered about his mom and the reality of potential death hit him fully because his mother's death must be the closest death he'd experienced in his life. And when Fadel asked him if he was crying he just said Duh and wasn't fully crying, but after Fadel told him to stop the sob story, he turned back and the tears really started flowing. When I saw that I could really relate to him because that's how I usually act too- act nonchalant to hide my real feelings. Style wasn't planning to get emotional and then got mocked for it - and he was also denied his s*xual advances/skinship earlier too- that must've felt really hurtful to him.

As much as the scene hurts, I'm glad to see this was not cut because even cheerful, positive people like Style really gets down sometimes and people don't really understand this, even in real life! I was kind of like this when younger and had some people tell me they can't imagine me feeling sad or nervous. So seeing Style's rare serious and emotional side in the story is really made me kind of acknowledged? When I started watching this show, I didn't think I would get this attached to this character. He's like a ray of sunshine, very pure in his beliefs and quite fiercely loyal too (might be weird to say when he was complicit but he is actually loyal to both Kant and Fadel to the best of his ablities IMO) and the actor/Dunk is absolutely killing this role! Not just the crying scene in this episode, but Dunk's comedic timing in delivering the one liners is SO GOOD he manages to make me laugh every single episode so far.

Lovely anon, oh thank you for sharing so vulnerably about how you related to Style in that scene. I really agree with you that Style wasn't putting on an act to fool Fadel. I'm very surprised to hear that anyone still thinks Style is playing Fadel at this point?? O_O I don't think anything he does this episode is an act anymore -- even when he propositions Fadel with a shirt tossed into his face, there's clear and genuine intent behind it:

There's so much going on in this look. The gentle fondness as he gazes back at Fadel, the way the look seeks to communicate affection even as Fadel is glaring back in anger and frustration. But there's acceptance too, like he understands why Fadel is keeping his walls up, he understands why Fadel feels he deserves some of this harshness and he will let Fadel take the time he needs to come to whatever conclusions he wants to as long as Fadel does so with the understanding that Style's love for him is genuine.

Because at the end of the day the only thing Style really doesn't want is for Fadel to make his choice (to forgive or to cut Style off) thinking that Style's feelings are still a lie. I think that's the crux of the problem between them now: Fadel is pushing Style away because he is certain Style’s feelings aren’t true, and have never been true, but Style knows his own heart and understands the fundamental shift inside him that occurred over the course of their relationship.

Which is why I think Style is genuine in everything he’s showing Fadel now. Even if he didn’t mean to cry, I think his worry for his dad is very real. And I think the reason why he brings it up with Fadel is that Style is done hiding anything from him now. It’s not about manipulation, nor is it an attempt to make Fadel feel guilty. But he's taking everything Fadel is giving to him incredibly seriously and part of that is facing the possibility that Fadel may decide to kill him at the end after all. And that's... scary; hell its terrifying and heartbreaking and Style has understandable guilt related to how losing him after losing his mother is going to affect his dad.

And actually what you're saying about "cheerful and positive people like Style" also sometimes feeling down is such an important aspect of understanding Style's character. Because we can only really understand the weight of Style’s love for Fadel if we see him in all his multifaceted complexity: Style has suffered, Style understands the pain of loss but has learned to find joy in his life in the process of dealing with his mother’s passing. Styles cheerfulness and positively is not a sign of his immaturity or lack of complexity but rather evidence of a inner strength and determination to find meaning in life beyond the sadness. After my dad passed, it took me nearly 4 years to even get to a point where I began to want to want to find pockets of happiness. There was so much about me at the time time bound up in my feelings of loss and sadness and the ache of missing my dad, the unfairness of it all. Style is-- Style is so very precious to me.

And something I found really poignant is how Fadel and Style have such opposing methods of dealing with grief and fear. Fadel hides from it, runs from it, builds up walls and remains ever vigilante so he'll never be vulnerable again, while Style faces his grief and his fear head on. Style takes his fear out and holds it in the palm of his hand and in the process - like you said - maybe found himself more overwhelmed then he expected, but he allows himself the space to cry because he also sees that its important in the moment. And he invites Fadel into that vulnerability with him. That's insane to me -- Style's love for Fadel means that even when Fadel has a gun to his head and is the source of his fear, Fadel is always orientated on the INSIDE to Style.

To extend the allegory, the difference between them is that Fadel's love made him invite Style inside his walls as an outsider, but Style's love makes Fadel already part of him. Fadel doesn't need an invitation because at no point in episode 8 did Style ever treat Fadel as anything but an extension of his own heart.

So yeah, I'm so with you about being grateful for the scene. I think it maybe could have been shot differently (for instance, I kind of wish they'd just let Dunk do his thing and sell the moment without having that background music 180 degree shift), but I adore it for what it shows us about Style and the way he thinks and feels, and most of all the way Fadel is oriented in his heart.

[meracyn]

i saw loser isagi so how about........... loverboy reo🙏

thinking about his money luscious, short amethyst locks. running your fingers through the soft strands in awe at how silky and shiny his hair is. what a dream indeed...

loverboy! reo would be absolutely down bad. you can bet he will do anything in his power to earn your love. there’s nothing the reo mikage can’t get. he’s got the looks, smarts, money— what else would a person want in a partner?

well, reo had to find out the hard way that his crush—more like future lover—wasn’t going to magically have their eyes set on him. it’s fine, he reassures himself, he’s got the brilliant idea to make a plan on how to court you as you deserve, you’ll see.

and so, here he was, with his eyes glued to the glowing screen of the computer resting on his lap, fingers frantically tapping across the keyboard as question after question regarding his dilemma filled the search bar.

he skimmed through countless articles online and watched those “10 ways to get your crush to like you back” videos, finally having an idea of what to do. by that same morning, the purple haired male was determined to get you to notice how great of a guy he is—and maybe (you will) even fall for him in the process.

loverboy! reo would pay more attention to his appearance. his hair? combed flawlessly, also applied a special hair gel chigiri recommended. clothes? ironed. skin? started a skincare routine a few hours ago. your attention? not yet.

he’s walking in the hallway, trying to dodge conversations from his classmates who swarm around him as soon as he appears at the school entrance. but his goal is clear— spotting you. that’s the sole reason why he woke up earlier than usual after all.

if he fails this mission, he already knows he’s going to be sulking that night..

so reo is legit praying to find you.

once he does, he tries to keep his cool as he simply nods towards your direction in acknowledgement, even though he isn’t really slick when he obviously straightens his posture and struggles to keep his expression neutral. he may fool you into thinking he’s the same old reo, but on the inside, he’s fighting off the urge to fangirl upon successfully earning your attention.

they noticed me. they actually noticed me! stay cool. stay—

when he saw you smile at him back, reo felt his stomach doing backflips, knees practically becoming weak as his face started to grow hot. thankfully he looked away before you could notice. or so he thought— because the tips of his ears were clearly red, too.

at least you noticed him, that’s what matters. your attention?

earned.

[aralezinspace]

Cuckoo you absolutely hit the nail on the head here. Adding my two cents which is mostly reiterating what you've already said with my own thoughts.

General disclaimer, I'm just a rando on the internet so take this all with a grain of salt and no I do not condone anything Neil has done and I hope he reaps every consequence he deserves.

It's definitely not like JKR. It's more like Stephen King. Everyone knows and acknowledges Stephen King is a fucked up person and has done bad things in his past, but damn if his books aren't good. He's also not using his money to actively campaign against minorities. Stephen King (and Mr. G) are flawed, fucked up humans like the rest of us, likely even more so. Now if you look at Stephen King as a person and decide not to engage with his works, awesome! You're allowed to do that, have fun storming the castle. If you decide to do the same with Mr. G, awesome, go nuts.

However, what seems more disturbing to me is the sort of parasocial relationship a lot of people have with him, and other celebrities too. Believe me, I understand the 'oh shit that could have easily been me' and feeling like this is a gross betrayal of trust. Believe me, I get that. However, for those of you/us who have never had personal contact with Mr. G (like me), or have never even been in the same room as him, some food for thought: why does this feel so personal?

I understand the hurt, the disappointment, the outrage, the massive ick feeling. Personally I thought he was better than this, and it's very disappointing to learn that he's not. But for those who feel personally betrayed, why? In the grand scheme of things, Neil doesn't owe you/us anything, leaving out the universal 'don't be a shit human.' He doesn't know that 99% of us exist, other than as icons on a screen, as numbers under a follower count. In the grand scheme of things, you burning his books isn't going to affect him, it's only going to affect you.

I guess what I"m saying is, don't be hasty. Let the strong feelings pass before making any emotionally charged decisions (not telling y'all what to do, just my two cents). But especially to those who get so much joy from his works, and feel like they now have to renounce everything he's done and that just doesn't feel right, take a minute before doing that. Think of who you're doing it for- your own conscience? The faceless mob on the internet? To spite Neil? Because if it's for the latter two reasons, I'm willing to bet the only person you'll be hurting or sticking it to is yourself.

Nothing in this world is 100% unproblematic, and letting the internet's ever shifting standards of what is 'okay' to enjoy dictate your life just sounds like a very miserable way to live. Letting the actions of celebrities who don't even know you exist dictate what you're allowed to enjoy also sounds like a very miserable way to live.

At the end of the day, I refuse to let the shitty decisions of one shitty man who doesn't even know I exist rule my life, and limit the things I derive joy from. I've been subjected to too many shitty decisions by too many shitty people that I actually know to have room for the shitty decisions of someone I don't know. There are so many ways to engage with his properties that don't give him money- engage in fandom, pirate stuff, borrow his stuff from your local library (we love supporting libraries!), buy unlicensed merch from Etsy, Redbubble, etc. Personally, I’m going to continue to write fic and watch the new season and engage with the fandom- there are too many stories I want to tell and too many awesome people I’ve met through fandom and to give all that up for one schmuck’s bad decision seems like a huge waste. Fan creators are not Mr. G, don't throw the fandom under the bus to spite the creator.

It is possible, and actually very achievable, to condemn the bad things he's done as a person, without setting a torch to everything good his works have done.

"Appropriate" responses to the Gaiman issue

TLDR: This isn't a Rowling situation, be wary of internalized purity culture.

He's a predator. I'm glad a proper journalist followed up where police have failed (and possibly given victims a better footing for future charges).

But I have a problem with the knee-jerk responses targeting the fandom.

Just to clarify, I'm not talking about insulting The Predator. This is about how you treat people who have/do/will enjoy the stories that unfortunately came into the world through his keyboard.

Fans aren't intrinsically evil/uncaring for continuing to participate in associated fandoms.

This is not another Rowling situation. Why? Let me clarify. The consequences of consumption are very different. Rowling is ACTIVELY using her popularity and income as a creative to target one of the most vulnerable minorities in the world. Buying official merch/books/movie tickets prove to the powers that be that she remains a good investment, so they'll give her even more money. This perpetuates the cycle - new movie/book deals, more income, more hate, rinse and repeat.

The push to avoid Rowling's work in full is driven by the fact that she has FACED NO CONSEQUENCES and is still powered by her creative properties. It's fandom/consumers trying to bring justice.

Gaiman, on the other hand, knew he was doing bad shit on some level because he kept his abuse hidden. His status and reputation let him get close to vulnerable fans and essentially intimidate authorities from going after a celebrity. He is FACING CONSEQUENCES. I would personally like to see criminal charges brought against him, but that's out of the fandom's hands. Things we could've influenced (his Disney deal appears to have gone to shit, he's been booted from the truncated final season of GO, and there's no news on Sandman 3) are already in motion. If his publisher doesn't drop him, I'd say avoiding his future works is beyond valid (I certainly wouldn't buy them). But I'm going to watch the new season of Sandman. And once I've taken time away, I'll probably finish my active fics.

"Judging" people who still enjoy his work stems from good intentions that grew out of the fetid ground of purity culture rhetoric.

Writing fanfic and enjoying shows that are already made do not make people soulless accomplices. The idea that unproblematic stories by saintly creators are the only things you're allowed to enjoy is not only flirting with censorship, but it's also impossible.

If you think people should have nothing to do with Gaiman's works, you better throw out anything Weinstein touched. That includes Jackson's LOTR trilogy, FYI. Also, anything his company officially produced (which still gives him money in some cases) should never, ever grace your screen. That includes some of the better Stephen King adaptations, The Orphanage (which was a breakthrough Spanish-language film in Western markets), The King's Speech, The Imitation Game, Woman in Gold, Paddington, and It Follows.

If you aren't willing to publicly announce your "disappointment" in anyone who continues to enjoy any of those films, then kicking up a fuss over how other people process and interact with problematic content from a fallen celebrity who is in the process of getting his dues is pure hypocrisy.

Personally, I'm maliciously complying with Gaiman's famous quote about how once a story is out there, it doesn't belong to the author anymore. Well said, Predator, these are mine now, and I shall fuck about with them as I see fit.

Attacking or snobbishly looking down your nose at the fandom also erases YEARS of beautiful critique and thoughtful exploration of existing, acknowledged problems in works like The Sandman.

People in these parts already know how to handle complex issues in complex pieces of media. Gaiman isn't our god. His canon is not our bible. He didn't teach us morality, as is apparently the case for a lot of people who grew up reading Rowling's works as a child.

If you have a problem with the censorship comment I made, I'd like to point out at least one writer friend is LEANING INTO the fandom as a way to process their own trauma. Suffice it to say they survived a very similar situation. They see it as empowering to take the stories away from the abuser and use the characters/settings to make something new.

I get the ick. I have it right now. But I'm not burning every copy of his work I own (full disclosure I have... *checks shelves* a copy of Neverwhere and The Sandman series). Doing so is totally valid, and if that helps you process and feel better - go for it!

But this is not the same as Rowling and the only ones you hurt by declaring your "judgement" is a complex group of individuals who are able to enjoy fiction, remain aware of potential social consequences, and found a place that doesn't align with your black/white morality.

With that said, judge away! I better not see any stories from Charles Dickens, anything in anyway associated with the Weinsteins, Nickelodeon shows, Charlie Chaplin references, or Francis Ford Coppola films touch your feed. If you scratch the surface, you'll find more things to judge others for enjoying, and they will inevitably find something to judge you for, too.

[vettelsvee]

COME WHAT MAY SERIES Prologue (previous): A phone call and a new beginning

⋆ Hey everyone! I'm almost done writing the first part of Come What May series and, since many of you are waiting for it and, also, asking me when I'll be posting... here's the beginning of the chapter and its name! ⋆ Special tags to @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri for being interested in this series <3 And of course special thanks to @maripiastri because Come What May series wouldn't exist without her 😭 ⋆ Also... let me know if you'd like me to post the chapter this week instead of next one! I'm open to suggestions, comments and questions too 🤠

"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice, your little sister, snapped you back to reality.

Carefully, you put away the diary your best friend gave you, and your main source of therapy, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with a joy you hadn't felt in a long time.

You walked over to your desk, gently moving aside the scattered notes you still hadn't cleaned up despite having finished the semester two weeks ago. You made sure you looked as presentable as possible. Your hair, which fell over your shoulders, was perfectly straightened, though your bangs needed a little fixing. You decided to apply some lip balm as well not just to keep your lips hydrated, but to give them a little extra shine.

Then, somehow nervously for reasons you didn't want to recognize, you decided to adjust your clothes focusing on your own reflection, trying to come with positive affirmations about how everything you got was absolutely deserved.

You knew all too well that Sebastian Vettel was your best friend but, somehow, you always tried not only to look as perfect as possible in front of him, but also to let him know that you were truly worthy of his friendship.

No matter how much the German had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern and he was one of the team's drivers, you always had the feeling of not being for enough for him... Of not being worth to be close to him.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing your two younger sisters.

"Why are you taking so long?" Amelie, 15, asked. "It's not like your boyfriend is the one who came..."

"Yeah, yeah! Why are you extra pretty today?" the youngest, Louisa, who was 8, chimed in. "Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He's talking to dad and uncle Hans, and I think they're talking about soccer. It's super boring."

"Shut up, would you?" the middle sister scolded the youngest, giving her a light tap on the shoulder. "Ignore her," she said to you. "What they're really doing is trying to figure out why Sebastian came over today and, more importantly, why he's staying with us for a few days. Care to explain?"

Your eyes widened because, as far as you remembered the conversation you had, Seb never mentioned anything about staying with you.

"What do you mean staying with us? Seb really said that?"

"Uncle Hans thinks he's just your friend, but dad thinks you're sleeping with him at the same time as Mark," Amelie replied.

"How could I be sleeping with Seb?!" You shouted, pulling your sisters into your bedroom and slamming the door shut. "That's... that's ridiculous. Yeah, that's what it is," you finished, trying your best not to curse and, also, trying to calm your nerves.

"But if dad says it, it must be true, Y/N," Lou said, a little annoyed. "You know dad never lies to us."

That was a lie, and you knew it perfectly. However, for her was just... the reality you made her live in since Bernhard, your dad, told the three of you he was dying from cancer.

"Listen to me, both of you," you cut in, ignoring their words. "I need you to behave and promise me something."

Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at their older sister.

"I don't want you to mention anything Mark related in front of Seb. No jokes, no offhand comments about how much you dislike him... Absolutely nothing. Got it?"

"Why can't I tell Seb that I don't like Mark even it's the truth? Do I have to lie to him?" Lou asked innocently. "You always say we don't have to lie."

"Well, because..."

"If you're doubting so much it's because you really are fucking Seb. Don't get me wrong, but..."

"Amelie, watch your mouth, you're not alone!" you shouted, cursing her off while glancing at the youngest of you three.

"What does fucking mean? Does it mean you're boyfriend and girlfriend?" Louisa asked again, curious and innocent.

"Seb doesn't have a girlfriend anymore, okay?"

Your statement left the other two stunned. Louisa had really liked Hanna since she had always been nice to all of you whenever you'd met. Amelie, on the other hand, started wondering why the German driver, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend for years, had suddenly broken up with her.

"Seb isn't with Hanna anymore?"

[yunotrbl]

stay like this forever

pairing: dad!jaehyun x reader

w.c: 1.1k

genre - fluff. lots of it.

summary: you and jaehyun are preparing for and celebrating your son's fifth birthday.

note: this is my first time posting on here.. and it's probably not my best because i had to cook something up rq..

Both you and Jaehyun watched as the clock struck midnight, exchanging gentle smiles afterward. 

It was officially your son’s fifth birthday, and both of you were feeling a whirlwind of emotions. How had it been five years already? You remembered the day as if it were yesterday—the fear, the excitement, and the pure joy all at once. You recalled how happy Jaehyun had been, the smile on his face when he held his son for the first time. His boy.

Tears filled your eyes as you thought about it. It took so much effort to bring a healthy baby boy into this world. It took even more work to build this perfect little family—two beautiful children with the best parents they could ever ask for. Your heart felt so full.

 “Our baby is growing up on us, huh?” he chuckled, pulling you into a hug as he noticed the pout forming on your face. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. So is our baby girl.” He glanced at the baby monitor sitting on the coffee table, your daughter still sound asleep.

Jaehyun was in the middle of helping you decorate the living room and kitchen for your son to see when he woke up—a tradition that Jaehyun had shown you from his own childhood, and one you had grown to love. 

“Doesn’t feel like that was five years ago. Look at my baby,” your voice shook as you looked at his birthday pictures over the years, scattered across the table. He had inherited his dad’s entire face. At first, you might have been a little jealous, but over time, you grew to love it, and so did Jaehyun.

“He’s handsome like his daddy,” Jaehyun replied, and you didn’t even need to look back to know he was smiling. You nudged his shoulder playfully, rolling your eyes as you wiped your tears, focusing on the task at hand—wrapping gifts in the colorful spiderman paper your son picked out days before.

He was a pretty simple kid for his age, asking for just a few toys and a Polaroid camera. But you and Jaehyun, being the parents you are, planned an entire day dedicated to him. After all, he deserved it. He was truly amazing.

Once you both finished decorating, you stepped back to admire your work. 

“How many kids like Spider-Man these days?” you asked. It seemed like every kid did, but at least this year you could actually find decorations, unlike last year when Jaehyun went through hell and back to find cookie decorations to give your son the sugar cookie party he wanted. The thought made you giggle.

“I don’t know, probably all of them. Spider-Man is pretty cool,” Jaehyun replied with a warm smile, pulling you closer until your foreheads gently touched. The corners of your lips lifted into a smile that mirrored his joy. 

“What’s with that look?” you asked, playfully teasing him as his dimples made their appearance, more prominent than usual. 

With a tender grip, he took both of your hands in his and said, “Thank you for giving me the greatest gift of my life. He’s absolutely perfect, just like his mama.” 

Your heart fluttered at the compliment, and a wave of emotion swelled within you, causing your bottom lip to quiver. “Dammit, Jae,” you whined, burying your face into his shoulder to hide the tears that threatened to spill. He chuckled softly, a sound that felt like a warm embrace, and pressed a gentle kiss to your head, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“Let’s head to bed, ‘kay? You’re especially emotional tonight,” he suggested, a playful grin stretching across his face as he continued to rock you ever so slightly. “At this rate, your tears are going to fill up the whole room like Spongebob,” he joked, bursting into laughter at his own silly comparison.

“You’re so lame,” you replied with a laugh, playfully nudging his shoulder again before taking his hand and leading him up the stairs, shutting the lights off.

—-

The next morning, the sun's warm rays filtered through the curtains as you trailed behind Jaehyun into your son’s room, the camera clutched tightly in your hands. Jaehyun was balancing a beautifully decorated cupcake adorned with a flickering candle, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. Birthdays were really his favorite days of the year, and it showed.

As he pulled open the blinds, the soft morning light flooded the room, gently rousing your son from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes groggily, mouth forming a confused little pout. When his gaze landed on the two of you, he squinted against the brightness, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.  

You settled beside him on his bed, rubbing his back, while Jaehyun knelt down infront of him, holding the cupcake aloft. 

As your son’s sleepy eyes widened in realization, a radiant smile spread across his face, lighting up the room like the sunshine itself. He instinctively covered his mouth with his small hands, his cheeks turning a warm shade of pink from the surprise.

You let Jaehyun take the lead as you both sang "Happy Birthday," giggling at your son’s shy reactions.

“Happy birthday, dear Sunjae! Happy birthday to you!” The excitement in your voices filled the room, and his face lit up even more. With a quick breath, he blew out the candle on his cupcake, his happiness shining through as he pulled you both into a tight hug.

In a playful tone, Jaehyun gently rubbed little Sunjae’s back and whispered, “Happy birthday, sweet boy.” 

You leaned in and showered Sunjae with kisses on his cheeks, your heart bursting as his giggles filled the air like music. “We love you so much, little peach,” you said, your voice warm and full of love, soaking in this perfect moment together. 

Sunjae started to squeal as his baby sister rushed in after hearing all the commotion. She dropped her stuffed bunny at the door and jumped onto the bed with him, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Happy birthday, Sunny!” she exclaimed, pushing you and Jaehyun aside as she squeezed her brother tighter. Their bodies rolled over on the bed, and they both burst out laughing.

“Aren’t you the sweetest girl ever?” Jaehyun asked, smiling at your two little ones.

“She gets it from you,” you replied, and the way he smiled at you said everything.

He was happy, you were happy, and your babies were happy. How lucky were you to share this moment with the person you love most and the two children you created together?

[maxdibert]

I am NOT necessarily saying that James Potter had deserved to be murdered in his home as a result of backstab from his friend, but... In hindsight, Peter's betrayal is an absolute testament to Marauders NOT being a healthy friends group dynamic. Like, the personality of a brutal cold-blooded murderer and immoral backstabber does not develop overnight, even in a magical world! I bet both James and Sirius saw the "warning signs" in younger Peter, but didn't care at all... or maybe even actively encouraged Peter in his more ruthless moments, so he could pull more "hilarious" Marauder antics.

I've never thought that the Marauders had an idyllic friendship because it doesn't align with the facts. I think Sirius and James did have an idyllic friendship, although I believe that, for Sirius, it was also partly emotional dependence and some anxious attachment. But when it comes to Sirius and James regarding the other two, that's a different story. I do think James appreciated Remus and had a somewhat paternalistic and condescending affection for Peter, but I think Sirius didn't care much about them. I believe Sirius cared just enough about Remus until he was completely alone, and after leaving Azkaban, Remus was the only one left for him. I think that during their time at Hogwarts, Sirius only really cared about James and constantly sought his validation. I believe that by association—and because being friends with a werewolf seemed dangerous, mysterious, and challenging—he became friends with Remus and Peter, but I also think that if it hadn't been for James, he wouldn't have even looked at them. We know it wasn't James who distrusted Remus to be the Secret Keeper, but Sirius, and it was Sirius who convinced the Potters to make Peter the Secret Keeper. We know that Sirius doesn't seem to care about the psychological damage Remus might suffer if he ends up killing one of his own when he leads Severus into the trap. The only one who seems more concerned about Remus is James, who gives him money when they leave Hogwarts and prevents him from becoming a killer. But here we already establish a clear break in that supposedly idyllic friendship, just as we see James talking down to Peter, which makes me think he didn't see him as much more than a loyal follower or fan.

Honestly, I think what happened is that they always saw Peter as a bit of a foolish kid, one of those you don't see as an equal but as a kind of social project. Like, let's adopt this kid because Peter would later prove he could be truly manipulative, and I think he let them believe he was half a fool. And I think he knew that James and Sirius (but especially James, who was more guilty of this) loved being the center of attention, having everyone laugh at their jokes, and being flattered. And that's what he did: flatter them. And he enjoyed the suffering they inflicted on others and watching them humiliate other people because that's what Peter truly wanted to do, but he didn't dare or thought he wasn't strong enough. For me, Peter sublimated his fantasy of power through James and Sirius and cheered on their acts of violence because he truly enjoyed it. And James and Sirius, instead of being alarmed by that kind of personality with sadistic tendencies, saw it as Peter simply kissing their asses or didn't see it at all because they liked having a cheerleader. They didn't see Peter's dark side, his bad side. But if we look at it, Remus didn't find their behavior funny. Remus was a coward and didn't have the guts to say anything to them, but he didn't encourage or cheer them on; he wasn't comfortable with their cruelty: Peter Pettigrew was.

My theory is that Peter was always a sadist, but since he stayed behind James and Sirius to feel protected, he only lived out his sadism through the pranks his friends played, friends who also underestimated him and treated him as if he were a bit dim-witted. Among the Death Eaters, he saw that he could not only realize his twisted fantasies but also stop being a background character and become one of the protagonists, have a relevant role, and he decided to take that path. I also think he must have been a bit tired of being treated condescendingly and paternalistically (which, according to the flashbacks, was totally what they did with him) and, in a way, he got his revenge, something like: in your face, there you have it.

And yes, that shows us that there was no idyllic friendship. There wasn't one towards Remus, who seemed to be the most marginalized of the group (even though people always try to portray Peter as such, canonically, the one who was most distanced from the group was Remus), nor with Peter, whom they treated a bit like a pet. I think the fact that Sirius and James were so self-centered, being the main characters and playing at being the kings of the playground, made them not pay enough attention to the people they supposedly shared an unbreakable bond with. I think they didn't really know each other. I think Sirius and James thought that the relationship between the four of them was the same as the one between the two of them, which is very egocentric on their part, but they were egocentric after all, and the relationship with the other two was certainly not the same. They were the best friends, and the other two were just filler, and in the end, that backfired on them.

[just-some-random-blogger]

GIRRLLLLLLLL AHAHHAHAH WTFFF 8S THISSSSS NAURRRRRRRRRRR MY HEART GO BOOM BOOM POWWWW

THERE WAS AN old northern superstition —more like an old wives’ tale, really— that said if there was snow on the wedding day, the marriage was doomed to be a cold one.

CRISTIIIIIII

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WHY ARE YOU STARTING THIS FIC LIKE THIS THAGS SO GOOD ITS DO BEAUTIFUL HOW DO YOU EVEN THINK OF THESE THINGS WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKK 🫵WITCHHHHHH🫵

Cregan had hoped that if not a loving wife, he would get a caring mother to Rickon.

Honestly I hate that for her. And rickon. Poor boy. I mean found family be like.

He would like to say that the days went on the same way they did before he wed you, but it would be a lie. Winterfell ran much better now there was a lady present.

THAT PART 💥💥💥💥💥💥 WHAT THE FUCK DID I FUCKING TELL YOU YOU RAT ASSS I TOLD YOU YOU DONT FUCKING KNOW HER YOUR PRESUMPTUOUS PIECE OF HIT

Cregan had been wrong about you. It seemed like you could run a keep, and you did so with ruthless efficiency.

AND THAT'S ON PERIOD 💯🙏💪🔥

The castle had never been warmer, the meals so well planned. Even the servants seemed happy, now that they didn’t have to follow Cregan’s too broad instructions. It seemed that asking them to clean and cook was a little too vague for their tastes.

She is that gwORL with the lipgloss unmoving

The lack of sunlight had made you lose your southron tan, leaving you with a look of quiet frailty that made Cregan want to wrap you in a thousand blankets and keep you safe. He just was unsure of the execution.

🤨 honestly 🤚🤚🤚 stay away I will poke your eyes out. Poor bb girl tho.

You seemed at ease enough around Sara, and some other northern ladies, so social interaction wasn’t what you disliked. It was him.

Never had Winterfell’s corridors been filled with so many women. The northern lords already called you Queen Alysanne’s second coming, with your all female court. The only thing missing was your husband. You didn’t have Cregan’s ear, simply because you didn’t wish to.

PERIOD 💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 GRIEF IS OVER TIME SO SLAY AND KEKE

“You intend to honor me by giving me more work?”

HES JUST A MAN 👎👎👎👎

You place your hands on your hips, highlighting your figure, and Cregan is but a man.

PFFFT the way I just said he's just a man. MY GUY YOU RNT UR A DAWWGGGG 👎

It is the wrong thing to say. You bare your fangs then, and Cregan has a moment of absolute and utter clarity. You are not a seahorse. Such a puny creature could never hope to deliver the utter destruction that you cause with your next words.

BEAT HIS ASS

... Ngl I don't remember the context of this but HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THE SENTIMENT REMAINS

“Yes, and your precious Arra is dead! She is gone! Why can’t you understand it?” You turn on your heel, face absolutely thunderous, and go to rush out of his chambers.

..... Ngl shes dirty for that. She would stab him if he ever did the same to her with Luke 👎 L work sister. A sad day to be yn. Your honor that wasn't me I would never

Cregan does no longer dream of trying to hunt a seahorse. Instead, he sees the world at a much lower angle than usual, and runs for his life. Somehow, in the dream, he knows a dragon is hunting him.

And you know what he deserves it for underestimating her

I was gonna add that pic of this girl posing then there's like a dragon breathing fire behind her but I couldn't find it lol

Because the boy has gotten sick. And look, you have visited the nursery before, it is a part of your duties. You also cannot deny that you had been curious about the tiny version of your husband that will inherit everything.

☹️ POOR RICKON. I PERSONALLY COULD NEVER HAVE BEEF WITH A CHILD BUT THEN AGAIN I WASNT JUST MARRIED OFF TO A MAN I DONT KNOW OR LIKE

Had you not hardened your heart to it already, you would want one of your own. You know, though, that their only inheritance will be tears and petty squabbles over land, so it’s best they are not born at all. It had been so between your husband’s father and uncle, and it was being so between your mother and your uncle Aegon.

I hate this for her

Jacaerys. You hoped that wherever he was, he was suffering.

HAHAHAHAH I APPROVE THIS MESSAGE

You despised this place, and he had dared plot with your mother behind your back to get you here. With your beast of a husband, and this child of a previous marriage, whose existence would forever ensure your future children would inherit nothing.

The whiplash of the previous sentence being the first part of this paragraph goes crazy my gosh what the fuck

You get him. You would like to cry too.

JAHAHAHAHAHHA SHE SAID I UNDERSTAND YOU HAHAHAHAH U N ME BOTH KID 🤝

He is clearly feeling better if his lungs allow him to shriek like that.

❗❗❗❗NO BUT LIKE HONESTLY. THATS HOW I MEASURE HOW SICK I AM not shrieking but singing. Like if Im not singing I'm fucked. If I start singing again Im getting better 💕

You begin to rock him as you pace through the room. As his tears begin to subside, and he begins to grow curious about the soft song, you realize he is not the threat to your future children you had envisioned. Rickon is beautiful in the manner all babes are, soft and sweet. His little fists cling to your wool cloak, gray eyes meeting yours with fascination.

I love that for her

Lord Stark is drenched to the bone. His hair is stuck to his head and shoulders, dripping water onto his furs. The cloak he had worn is wet, and he is quick to remove it, leaving him in simple breeches and a jerkin. His face is the picture of worry.

🧍‍♀️ ........ 🫵WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-🫵

“I rode as hard as I dared.”

I have something inappropriate to say. But also 🗣️AS🗣️YOU🗣️ SHOULD 🗣️

His voice is low, pleasantly so. You had never considered the northern accent he sported attractive, but when his voice is gruff, and pitched low, you might see the appeal.

Lol. She said ok and?

The embarrassment from earlier, and the anger at the thought of your husband being soft because you remind him of her make you snap at him.

HONESTLY SHES BEING SO PETTY AND NORMALLY I WOULD BE ON PETTINESS'S SIDE BUT ???? IDK ITS GIVING IRRATIONAL????? IDK IDK LIVE YOUR TRUTH IG???

Why does he keep staring at you? Is he… Oh, by the Seven, he is smiling at you? So softly? You cannot stand it.

Cregan. YN

Look, princesses do not flee. They simply walk hurriedly. Very hurriedly.

Literally what she thinks of cregan and her reaction to it

CRISTI IDK WHERE I WAS EXPECTING THIS TO GO BUT IT WENT AND I LOVE IT. IM PATIENTLY SATTTTT EEEK LOVE LOVE LOVE 1000000/10

Winter (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Mature language. Grief. Toddlers. Unreliable narrators. Miscommunication.

A/N: I was so excited about this chapter! These scenes are the ones I wrote first. Also, the biggest hug to anyone who is reading this. I had not expected the amount of love my first chapter got, and I am so grateful!

THERE WAS AN old northern superstition —more like an old wives’ tale, really— that said if there was snow on the wedding day, the marriage was doomed to be a cold one.

It hadn’t been snowing the day Cregan had married you, but his marriage was proving to be icier than the lands beyond the wall. You weren’t interested in spending time with him at all, and you actively tried to avoid him. He had tried to convince you to share rooms, trying to foster some intimacy, to no avail.

Cregan had hoped that if not a loving wife, he would get a caring mother to Rickon. The boy was too small to grow without one, not yet having reached his third nameday. But you hadn’t shown interest in that either. Instead, you pretended the two of them didn’t exist.

He would like to say that the days went on the same way they did before he wed you, but it would be a lie. Winterfell ran much better now there was a lady present. Cregan had been wrong about you. It seemed like you could run a keep, and you did so with ruthless efficiency.

The castle had never been warmer, the meals so well planned. Even the servants seemed happy, now that they didn’t have to follow Cregan’s too broad instructions. It seemed that asking them to clean and cook was a little too vague for their tastes.

As for you, grief still followed you around, like a too long shadow that refused to budge even in the face of Winterfell’s brightest light. Sara had befriended you, with little success. While you had been far more welcoming to her, you still looked constantly tired and sad.

The lack of sunlight had made you lose your southron tan, leaving you with a look of quiet frailty that made Cregan want to wrap you in a thousand blankets and keep you safe. He just was unsure of the execution.

You scared him. He was man enough to admit it. People were often afraid of things they didn’t understand, and Cregan was no exception. You were made of absolute ice. There was no better description. Cold, but as fragile as glass.

He was running out of ideas on how to bond with you. Invitations to tea were denied, nor did you want to ride with him to see his tenants. You seemed at ease enough around Sara, and some other northern ladies, so social interaction wasn’t what you disliked. It was him.

Never had Winterfell’s corridors been filled with so many women. The northern lords already called you Queen Alysanne’s second coming, with your all female court. The only thing missing was your husband. You didn’t have Cregan’s ear, simply because you didn’t wish to. He would support your endeavors if you asked him to. He had offered his help with your attempts to establish a charity, since the North didn’t have Septas to take care of it, but you had proudly rebuffed him.

There was no pleasing you. He was at his wits’ end. Hence, the awful choice he had made that day.

To try to force you to be in his company.

“Why are you ordering my servants around?” You complain, barging into his chambers. While usually the kitchens were the domain of the Lady of the household, Cregan didn’t know you took it so seriously. “Do you not think me capable enough?”

“I do!” Cregan sits up in his bed, bewildered. He had given the orders around lunchtime, hoping you would not find out, yet here you were, less than half a day later. Far more soon than he had expected. “I just want to throw a feast to honor you.”

“You intend to honor me by giving me more work?” You place your hands on your hips, highlighting your figure, and Cregan is but a man. He cannot help himself, his eyes lingering for a second too long, and his brain coming with no response to your statement.

You seem to take his silence for affirmation.

“Seriously? Do you at least have a guest list?”

And your tone is so haughty, your words betraying you believe Cregan to be an absolute imbecile, he cannot help but give a heated retort.

“Of course I have. Truly, I am more than capable of organizing it on my own. Arra let me do it a few times, and I was unmarried for quite a while. I am experienced enough to…”

It is the wrong thing to say. You bare your fangs then, and Cregan has a moment of absolute and utter clarity. You are not a seahorse. Such a puny creature could never hope to deliver the utter destruction that you cause with your next words.

“Yes, and your precious Arra is dead! She is gone! Why can’t you understand it?” You turn on your heel, face absolutely thunderous, and go to rush out of his chambers.

Cregan loses his head fully, then. He grabs you by the arm, hard enough to hurt, and forces you to face him. For a frightening moment, he fears himself. Fears the wolf, the one screaming for him to strike you and remind you of your place.

How dare you come in his chambers, uninvited, after rejecting all his offers of companionship, to lecture him on grief? As if he could forget Arra was dead. It wasn’t so long ago that Rickon cried for his mother still, unable to understand why he didn’t have one. It wasn’t so long ago that Sara had to take over the role of Lady of the House, and suffered mockery from it. And it wasn’t so long ago, Cregan woke with a scream choked in his throat, reliving that awful morning in every dream he had.

He still did, sometimes. Less, now that he had more urgent matters to occupy himself with. Cregan was ashamed to admit it, but before Jacaerys and your arrival here, Winterfell had been far too empty to keep the ghosts away.

Now, with the war, and the flurry of activities that seemed to follow you, Cregan had little time to dwell much in his dark thoughts. Throwing himself into his work had allowed him to begin healing a wound he wasn’t even aware existed.

And wasn’t that a terrible thought? That Cregan was a man who thrived on war and hunger? Winter was coming, after all. It wouldn’t catch him unprepared.

He had sworn a vow to protect you. As long as Jacaerys had no children, you were third in line to the Iron Throne. To think of hurting you was not only to think of staining his honor, but to think of treason.

Cregan holds you there for a second longer, curious about your reaction. His grip must be bruising on your arm, he can feel the delicate bones under your flesh shift with how hard he is holding you. Yet, you show no fear. Your hands are balled into fists.

Were he to strike, you would strike back. Your face is the very picture of anger, your body coiled and ready to tear him apart.

He throws the feast. You sit next to him in icy silence and somehow manage to speak and dance with all the guests but him.

Cregan does no longer dream of trying to hunt a seahorse. Instead, he sees the world at a much lower angle than usual, and runs for his life. Somehow, in the dream, he knows a dragon is hunting him.

OF COURSE IT is today. The only day you actually wish your Lord Husband to be in the castle, and he is not.

You had spent many of your days fervently praying for him to leave on an errand, and yet, the day he does, you cannot even enjoy it.

Because the boy has gotten sick. And look, you have visited the nursery before, it is a part of your duties. You also cannot deny that you had been curious about the tiny version of your husband that will inherit everything.

The boy is cute, you suppose. In the manner all babes are. He is well-behaved, and quiet, and takes well to his teachings, even if they involve only naming things aloud.

Had you not hardened your heart to it already, you would want one of your own. You know, though, that their only inheritance will be tears and petty squabbles over land, so it’s best they are not born at all. It had been so between your husband’s father and uncle, and it was being so between your mother and your uncle Aegon.

The only assurance a woman has in a life spent as little more than property is her children. They are to inherit their father’s lands, and that is supposed to be enough. But for the second sons, said promise is always broken.

You had never, not once, thought you would come to understand Alicent, yet here you were.

You reflect on this as you hurry to the nursery, worried the damn boy will die before you reach it. When you get there, you feel the urge to scream. There is not one, but three serving girls hovering by the door, and the Maester is mixing some herbs in a chalice.

The child sleeps peacefully, unaware the surrounding turmoil. He looks impossibly small in his bed of furs, shirt open and chest covered in strange poultices. The boy… No, Rickon, had taken ill after the first snow. Perhaps he had been spending too much time playing outside, or he lingered too much in his wet clothes. You wouldn't know. You tried to avoid him as much as you could.

After this was over, you would have a stern talk with his maids. They shouldn’t be this careless. This was your husband’s heir. Someone had to care about him.

Not you. Never you.

“Will he be alright?” You ask, as the Maester places a wet cloth on his forehead. You have never liked children, never having had the chance to be one yourself. Your mother’s constant quest for the Iron Throne and her love for Daemon had often left you in the hands of the help. And when you were old enough, you had to take the role of the mature sibling alongside Jacaerys, helping raise your brothers.

Jacaerys. You hoped that wherever he was, he was suffering. You despised this place, and he had dared plot with your mother behind your back to get you here. With your beast of a husband, and this child of a previous marriage, whose existence would forever ensure your future children would inherit nothing.

You weren’t going to have children. Despite loving children, you despise your husband too much to ever lay with him. But most of all, you are beginning to fear you will become a damn Hightower. You feared that if you had children and faced the prospect of them only being second sons, you might be tempted to start a war too.

“He will, Princess.” The Maester, unaware of your inner turmoil, places a reassuring hand on your arm. He surely believes in the gentle hearts of women, or some nonsense like that. “The fever will lower with the tea we gave him, and the cool cloth on his forehead. His lungs are strong. He will breathe normally soon.”

The boy’s chest flutters oddly. His ribs show with each inhale, depicting his trouble breathing. You cast a dubious look at the cool cloth. If this was all they could do, it was no wonder your grandfather had been rotting alive.

“Is that all you have to say? Why do his ribs show?” You do your best to channel your mother, tone imperious. “If this is truly…” Before you can insult him by calling him the worst the Citadel has to offer, a boy comes in. You let out a sigh of relief, your desire to berate the Maester subsiding. It’s the same boy you had sent to Castle Cerwyn to retrieve your husband.

“Princess!” He says, extending a hand to you. Much to your astonishment, he hands back the message you had sent to Lord Cregan. “I have grievous news. The road to Castle Cerwyn is fully blocked. I couldn’t get past the river. I cannot go over it either and avoid the forest, for it is not fully frozen.”

“This cannot be!” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. Cursed your husband, and his plans to visit the Cerwyns’ tenants today, of all days. “You have to get Lord Cregan. Send a more experienced rider.”

“My lady, I would advise not to.” The Maester says, meekly. “Even if the rider does manage to get past, it is very likely Lord Stark is in the village, snowed in.”

“Well, then send a damn search party!” You yell, uncaring your language is unbecoming of a Princess. You cannot be here while the child… While Rickon dies. The child has a parent, and it is your husband, you do not even care for him!

“It is not as simple.” The Maester cringes when you turn on him.

“Of course it isn’t. The only simple thing is the cure for the child’s malady, isn’t it?” You growl. “Do something useful, if you think a rider cannot reach my husband. Get me someone who can, and fix the boy.”

It would be easier for you if the boy died. You could have the children you so craved. The obstacle would have removed itself. Relationships between half brothers are never as strong as between full ones. At the very least, this child could cast out you and any children you birth when Lord Cregan passes. At the very worst, he might have them killed, as your mother intended with her usurper brother.

But you are not so craven as to let an innocent die. He is still a boy, no older than three namedays. He is vulnerable, and his father is not here.

You sit next to the bed, eyes fixed on his chest. Rickon will not die on your watch.

THE SOUND OF a door opening jerks you awake. Disoriented, you sit up on your chair, and check that Rickon still breathes.

He does. He has awakened with the sound of the door opening, just as you did. But unlike you, he has begun wailing. You get him. You would like to cry too.

“What is it?” You snarl at the serving girl who dared enter in such a manner. The sound of Rickon’s cries grate in your ears, shrill and loud, awakening you fully. You try to coax him into laying back down to no avail.

“Milady…” She stammers, holding a breakfast tray. The reason for her interruption becomes clear. Had it been so long already? You remembered standing vigil over Rickon until sundown, and changing the cool compress a few times after, but no further. By the Seven, you were a terrible caretaker. “I… There are…”

Rickon wails harder.

“Father! Father, want father!” He cries. He then attempts to remove the cool cloth from his forehead, and get up, escaping the furs laid over him.

The serving girl stares at the boy. You stare at her. Rickon continues to squirm. When it is clear she is expecting you to soothe him, you sigh and turn to the child.

“Rickon, you have to lay down again.”

“Father! Father!” He wails, face beginning to turn red, his breathing labored. You are unsure if it is his distress or the sickness, but it worries you nonetheless. The child cannot die. You are not prepared to deal with it.

“Shh, Rickon, I know you are hurting.” You tell him, as you pick him up. “Father is not here. He is trapped by the snow.”

At this, he cries harder. You can hear him gasping for air as he squirms in your arms and kicks at you. His snot is getting everywhere. Good Gods, what if he dies? Would your husband actually force you consummate the marriage if he loses his heir? The thought alone is enough to force you into action.

“He is not trapped. He is snowed in, just as when you cannot go out and play. Happens all the time.” You reassure him, rubbing his back. You know your words to be a lie, but the boy doesn’t. The weather has been especially rough this season. The snow storm is unusual in its fierceness. “He will be back soon.”

Rickon perks up at that.

“He will?”

“As soon as he can.” You promise, hoping it is the case. In truth, you do not know. Your husband is unaware Rickon is ill, and holds no fondness for you. You doubt he will be rushing once the road clears. In fact, you think he might be celebrating the weather and praising his northern gods for the excuse to get a respite from you.

Well, too bad. You would send men each hour to check if the storm waned and the road was accessible once more. He would have to come and tend to his child.

“Where is father?” Rickon asks you, a suspicious look in his little face. He is eerily similar to your husband. His sobs have turned more subdued.

“With Lord Cerwyn.”

“Why? Hurts! Father!” The boy demands, petulantly. He is clearly feeling better if his lungs allow him to shriek like that. You are no healer, but his agitation is worrying you. What if he has a fit because he overexerted himself and then dies?

“I want your father too.” You mutter under your breath. “You do not see me wailing.”

“I love father.” He sobs. “Want him.”

And you are not made of stone. You have never been, no matter how hard you pretend. He is still a babe, hands chubby, face round. He still smells like one, a mix of the nursery, and sweet innocence.

Without even realizing it, you have cradled him into your arms and begun rocking the two of you. He keeps wailing, so you begin singing.

“I loved a maid…” There is no need to be a good singer to soothe babies. You are unsure of what they like about it, but you know it works. It had worked for Aegon and Viserys, why not for Rickon? “As fair as summer, who had sunlight in her hair….”

You begin to rock him as you pace through the room. As his tears begin to subside, and he begins to grow curious about the soft song, you realize he is not the threat to your future children you had envisioned. Rickon is beautiful in the manner all babes are, soft and sweet. His little fists cling to your wool cloak, gray eyes meeting yours with fascination.

Charmed by him, you keep singing. Seasons of my love is enlarged and repeated ten times over, and now includes verses about northern babies who look exactly like their father.

“I loved a boy…” You hum, softly. It feels like hours have passed when Rickon’s eyes finally begin to drop. Of course he would enjoy the verses about winter the most. “As white as winter, with moonglow in his hair.”

The door opens, slowly. You hear the wood groan as it does, but Rickon takes no notice. He burrows his head next to your heart, yawning.

You turn to look at the newcomer, pleased that having put the fear of the gods into the maid who had dared enter before had proven fruitful. The pleased smile drops from your face when you realize it is your husband.

Lord Stark is drenched to the bone. His hair is stuck to his head and shoulders, dripping water onto his furs. The cloak he had worn is wet, and he is quick to remove it, leaving him in simple breeches and a jerkin. His face is the picture of worry.

“I rode as hard as I dared.” His voice is low, pleasantly so. You had never considered the northern accent he sported attractive, but when his voice is gruff, and pitched low, you might see the appeal. “How is he?”

He shouldn’t have bothered with the low tone. Rickon would recognize his voice everywhere because he perks up considerably.

“Father! Father!” Rickon claps. He attempts turning in your grip to look at your husband, which makes you fear he might fall, so you perch him on your hip so he can do so.

“The fever has broken.” You hand Rickon back to him, feeling a hint of embarrassment when his eyes linger on the way you had been holding him. “He’ll live.”

“Thank you.” And his voice is earnest and soft, and it makes you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Is it her still? Does Arra Norrey stand in this room with you, too?

The embarrassment from earlier, and the anger at the thought of your husband being soft because you remind him of her make you snap at him.

“It’s fine. I missed my siblings.” You cross your arms over your chest, awkward. Why does he keep staring at you? Is he… Oh, by the Seven, he is smiling at you? So softly? You cannot stand it. “I will send for a bath for you and Rickon, after washing myself. Less I catch a cold too.”

Look, princesses do not flee. They simply walk hurriedly. Very hurriedly.

[brynnsasha191]

(Tldr at the end) Okay here goes.

People really misunderstood Callum in episode two, s7 (that's okay, the writers didn't do a great job of conveying what I'm about to say, no hate to them though) Callum did not betray Ezran

I see a lot of people criticizing Callum for prioritizing Rayla instead of Ez and saying Rayllum is toxic because it got in the way of familial relationships. But that's not what Callum's actions were really about, they weren't about "oh rayla is upset so I'm going to burn down all bridges for her" like a lot of people seem to think. His actions had a lot to do with Rayla but they also had a lot to do with the fact that Callum genuinely believed what Ezran was doing wasn't right.

(btw I'm writing this with Callum's opinions in mind, I'm not just projecting mine on Callum. I believe Runaan did something wrong and deserved punishment for it, and I believe both Rayla and Ez were both right and wrong. I am on everyone's side)

In the beginning of the episode, we see Callum trying to reason with Rayla and defend Ezran by telling her to give him a minute to process what recently happened to him. And he says "he [runaan] did kill it's king" but he never actually said he agreed with Ezran, he was just trying to get Rayla to see Ezran's side.

Ezran and Rayla's fight during the council meeting was understandable upsetting for Callum, his two favorite people were fighting. And when he tried to follow Rayla to get her to come back, Ezran commanded him to do otherwise, as the king, Ezran has a right to do that. But that moment probably felt uncomfortable and belittling and frustrating for Callum, it's the same unhealthy push and pull dynamic that I talked about in my 'why Callum shouldn't be high mage' meta. It made Callum disinterested in the council meeting, and while that's not Ezran's fault, it is the same corner that the broyals keep walking themselves into.

Callum goes outside and sees Rayla crying, that is also understandably distressing for him, but he doesn't blame Ezran at all. He apologizes for his choice in that moment, he says he should've gone after her, not "Ezran shouldn't have done that or said that", if Callum was completely choosing Rayla over Ez, he easily could've deflected the blame to him, but he didn't, he apologized for his own actions which to me shows that Callum isn't the type to blame Ezran unnecessarily.

When Callum goes to Ezran and calls him a jerk face (very uncool thing of him to say to Ezran, Ezran didn't deserve that) Rayla and Callum already finished their conversation where Rayla decided to secretly get Runaan out, there wasn't a point to try to convince Ezran to let Runaan out then. He went to Ezran, not to convince him to free Runaan, but to convince Ez he wasn't doing the right thing. As the scene progresses, Callum's voice gets softer and he starts speaking sensibly and reasonably without ad hominem attacks. He acknowledges Ezran's feelings about Katolis being destroyed but also acknowledges that that particular part of Ezran's pain isn't connected to Runaan. And Ezran has no problem sharing his true feelings with Callum, Callum doesn't dismiss them once. He puts his hand on Ezran's shoulder and validates his feelings, also not to mention he apologizes immediately after calling Ez a jerk face. And when Ezran says "he killed our father" Callum doesn't know how to respond because he isn't completely siding with R&R. He knows Ez has a point.

Rayla and Runaan could have been seriously injured during the fight with Soren and the soldiers. Aanya was going to shoot them, and Ezran was going to let her. It's really weird that this fandom seems to think Callum should've sat by and not stood up for them. Callum absolutely shouldn't have condoned Rayla breaking Runaan out without permission, he should've told her to stop and stay put until he had a chance to talk to Ezran's more. But that's not what happened, what happened was a messy game of tug-o-war between two people who love each other that nearly killed people and almost destroyed relationships. Callum didn't choose Rayla, he chose what he thought was right, and that was not Ezran at the time. People get so mad at him for not standing by Ezran's side but he wanted to, but standing by someone's side doesn't mean sitting back and letting them do something that you believe is wrong.

He gave up his role as High Mage because he knew he couldn't continue to play that role after this, for him and Ezran's sake. He can't be his High Mage but he'll always be his brother.

TLDR: Callum actually did handle this situation maturely. The problem didn't lie with Callum or anyone else. This situation was an ugly and messy one that anyone would have a hard time navigating especially a kid who the people closest to him in the entire world were actively hurting each other. He's willing to do anything for Rayla, but this isn't about choosing Rayla, it's about what he thought was right.