#i wish no one felt like they have to earn it or prove it with like literally blood sweat and tears

[floatingaimlessly333]

Terrible news :

I’m sick with the flu and the only thing that can cure me is price family/joking/pos

Oh no!!! I’m hope I’m not too late, but I have brought something that may ease your illness:

Simon felt like he was going to vomit. Which, unfortunately, had become a common feeling over the past few weeks.

Johnny joked that it was morning sickness, which that earned him a glare and several hours of the silent treatment.

Simon knew that, in reality, it was just nerves. But this was a kind of nervousness he hadn’t felt since he was a teen, and he very much hadn’t missed it.

What was everyone going to say? Even worse, what would they think but never dare tell him to his face? What if they thought he couldn’t do this? What is it turned out that they were right?

If he didn’t shut this train of thought down, he was definitely going to end up having a meltdown. He just wished that all these questions had come to mind before he made such a huge commitment.

It was far too late for that now. This wasn’t something he could just back out of. Well, he technically could. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that to Johnny. He was nothing like his shitty excuse for a father, and he was going to prove it.

Simon was finally broken out of his spiral by a warm palm landing on his shoulder.

“Ye ready to go, love? Pretty sure if we’re not at the house in the next 20 minutes, Farah’s gonnae drag us over there herself.”

The most Si could manage was a nod. He needed to save all of his words for the barrage of questions he was bound to face from his family. Even though he knew that, if his voice did fail him, his wonderful husband would be right there to carry on for him.

Without another word, the two men made their way to the car, followed by Si’s service dog Riley. The giant german shepherd made herself comfy in the equally as large man’s lap, as opposed to her usual spot in the back. She was always good at knowing when her owner could use an extra bit of comfort.

The car ride was far too short and quiet for either of the men’s tastes. That’s how you knew Johnny was just as nervous, because he couldn’t bring himself to fill the silence. After all, it wasn’t just the Price family that had to get the approval of, but the entire Mactavish and Riley clans as well.

Simon could do this. They could do this. They had to. They knew when they made the decision months ago that this was going to happen. And now it was go time.

“Are you sure we can’t tell them in 7 months? Make it a fun little surprise?” Simon was trying to lighten the mood, but his voice came out a little more desperate than intended.

“Si, if we do that both our mam’s will skin us alive. And then we’ll have ta deal with ma sisters, and then yer siblings, and then-“

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.” He turned to leave the car, but John caught his hand before it could reach for the handle.

“It’s gonnae be alright, Mo ghràdh. But if it goes tits up, then we’ll just run away to the Highlands and become cow farmers.”

“I’m holding you to that, Johnny.” With one finally deep breath and a peck on the lips from his ridiculous partner, Simon was ready to face their family. Well, as ready as he was going to be.

The Price family house was the same as it was the day he had moved out: loud. It was actually louder than ever, with the combined noise of three families and his papa’s ever-growing collection of animals.

The pair made their way to the living room, narrowly avoiding tripping over Kyle’s rambunctious twin girls and a pit bull puppy with a case of the zoomies. There, they found the center of the chaos.

Price and Nik were busy cooing over Kyle’s youngest daughter, while Bonnie Mactavish boasted about her own small army of grandkids. Mary Riley was reminiscing about when Joseph was a baby, much the squirming seven-year-old’s embarrassment.

Roach and Alex had separated themselves from the baby fever and were in the middle of an aggressive arm wrestling match. They had already roped Phillip into their competition earlier, if the ice pack on his hand was anything to go by. Farah was alternating between cheering them on and fussing over a heavily pregnant Valeria. Valeria was juggling between soothing her worried wife and loudly arguing with Ale, as usual. Rudy was nowhere to be seen, meaning he had someone managed to escape the mayhem for a minute. Which Simon was deeply jealous of.

The two newcomers remained unnoticed until Joseph let out a squeal of “Uncle Simon!” and rushed into the blonde man’s arms.

Suddenly, all eyes were on them and a hush fell over the room. The couple’s arrival reminded everyone that they were gathered there to hear an Announcement, and everyone was on the edge of their seats.

The abrupt silence was somehow worse than the deafening noise, and Simon had to stop himself from booking it to the exit. He almost lost the battle to his urges, but then his mum was there, guiding him to the couch and telling him how much she missed him.

The other adults in the room broke out of their own stupor and followed suit, greeting the pair with hugs and kisses and pats on the back. Tommy even offered Si a brotherly smack on the back of the head, which he eagerly reciprocated.

But all too quickly, everyone remembered why they where their, and the spotlight was firmly back the young men.

This was it.

Simon felt the nausea roiling in his stomach once again, and he feared he might puke all over Joseph, who had settled in his lap.

He contemplated passing the little boy over to Beth, but then Jo looked up at him with those big green eyes and his cute little gap-toothed smile. He could do this. If not for himself, then for his nephew, who had influenced this decision in the first place.

Sensing his trepidation, Johnny opened his mouth to start them off, but Si silenced him with a hand on his thigh. He said that he wanted to be the one to tell them, and he was sticking by that.

He looked into Johnny’s eyes to muster up his courage, and then he said those words that were both dread and so joyous.

“Johnny and I are having a baby.”

More silence.

Si’s stomach dropped and his mind raced. They didn’t think he could do it. They thought he’d be a bad father. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t look at them. He couldn’t do this.

He started to awkwardly stand up, hoping to throw up somewhere that wasn’t on his nephew. He’s stopped in his tracks by a startled laugh from next to him.

“Bloody hell, Si, ye couldnae have broken the news gentler? Ah think yer da is gonnae have a heart attack!” Johnny broke off again in a fit a laughter, earning him a smack from his oldest sister. But even she was smothering her own chuckle.

All around him, Si’s family began to laugh, filling the space with the bright and happy noise he was so accustomed to.

After he recovered from his own amusement, Johnny began to explain everything in more detail. He told them about their surrogate, and how she was about 3 months along. Meanwhile, Simon just sat there, basking in the smiles and congratulations from a family he never imagined he’d be lucky enough to have.

Eventually, it was Nik who popped the question everyone was dying to know.

“So, am I looking forward to a beautiful granddaughter or a beautiful grandson?”

Johnny smiled wickedly and let Simon do the honors.

“A grandson.” He let a beat go by, before hitting them with the big news. “And a granddaughter.”

There was an eruption of squeals and gasps and cheers from around the room, leaving no doubt in Simon’s mind that their babies were love and accepted. That he was loved and accepted.

After that, everything blended into a rowdy and overstimulating and wonderful mess.

Nik whooped and started passing drinks around the room. Price cried about how his baby was growing up while Bonnie teased him, even with the tears in her own eyes. Johnny’s sisters tried to scare their brother with parenting horror stories, while Simon’s siblings fought over who would be the favorite aunt/uncle. Gaz and Tommy welcomed him as a new father. Joseph insisted that he should get to be the first one to hold the new babies.

Simon let it wash over him, content to lean into his mum and watch everyone celebrate.

“You’re gonna be such a good dad, Si. Your babies will know they’re loved from the second they’re born. I’m so proud of you, baby boy.” Mary pressed a kiss to his temple, and if he let a few tears slip down his face, then that was his business.

He could do this. It would be hard. Anything in life that’s worth is. But at least he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

These babies really had no idea how much love was waiting for them when they get here.

I’m sorry this is so long!!! I haven’t written anything is so long, so it just kinda all came out lol. I hope you like it and that it’s not a complete mess!!! I hope this helps you feel better! Don’t die on me, Aggs!!

[heyjudeb]

I'm proud of you - Jude Bellingham

Summary: Comforting sad and defeated Jude after England's loss. Warning: Sad moment, comforting Words: <1k

The referee blows the final whistle.

It was over. England lost. It all happened too quickly. Spain scoring in the last minutes didn't even give us time to process the situation.

I was sitting in the stands with Jude's family. We all shed a tear once the Spanish players started celebrating. Seeing Jude go off to the bench and kick something was a heartbreaking yet scary sight for me. Instantly, I knew that was going to be a sight for the media.

He's not like that at all. He just really wanted this win. With people being all over him, critiquing him, he really wanted to prove them wrong, to make England proud. I couldn't be more proud of him, though. He achieved amazing things in this competition.

As I watched him from afar, I wished I could just run down and hold him, tell him it was okay. I knew how much he had invested in this tournament, how much he had sacrificed. His dedication and his passio were the qualities that made him extraordinary. Those were the reasons why I fell in love with him.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to be closer to him, I excused myself from his family and made my way down to the lower stands, closer to the field. As I approached the edge, I saw Jude pacing back and forth, his frustration evident in every step. When he finally noticed me, our eyes locked. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

With his help, I crossed the barrier and immediately fell into his arms, holding his head tightly into my neck. I could feel him shaking from all the emotions he was going through.

"I messed up," he muttered, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

"No, you didn't," I said firmly, my hand gently running through his hair. "You were incredible, baby. You gave it your all." He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with tears. "It wasn't enough. It wasn't fucking enough." "Hey," I cupped his face gently, putting my forehead against his. "Listen to me. You were amazing out there. You fought so hard, and everyone saw it."

He didn't know what to say. I could see he wanted to let go of everything he was feeling, but the words wouldn't come.

"Just stay calm, baby," I tried to comfort him, reminding him that losing is part of the game and keeping his composure is important. "You can use this to come back even stronger."

I knew my words might not have a big impact on him in that moment. It was all still raw and fresh for him, so I simply held him tighter in my arms. He pulled back slightly, his eyes still glistening. "I have to go, baby. They're going to do the ceremony."

"I know," I said softly. He kissed my forehead.

"I'll meet you afterwards," I told him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He nodded, giving me one last look before turning and walking towards his teammates. As I walked up the stands to where his family was, I felt a mix of pride and heartache.

After England had their moment, Jude walked up to us and hugged his family. They all expressed how proud they were of him, trying not to show any sadness in front of him.

He sat down with his head low. I gently lifted his chin, earning a small, faint smile from him.

"I'm sorry for disappointing you guys," he managed to say to them.

I sat on his lap, holding him close to my chest. It pained me to see him like this, unable to erase his sadness.

"You never disappoint us, Jude," his mom reassured him, holding his hand tightly.

I arrived at my hotel room feeling exhausted and heartbroken for Jude. He had to return to the hotel with the team. There was nothing I wanted more than to have him in my arms and try to ease his sadness, even just a little. I was about to get into bed after finishing my nighttime routine when I heard a faint knock on the door. I opened it to find Jude standing there, his shoulders slumped and a tired look on his face. "They told me it's okay," he said quickly, grabbing my hand and leading me to the bed.

He took off his shirt and sweatpants and collapsed onto the bed, pulling me with him. His head immediately rested on my chest as he hugged me tightly.

"It's going to be okay, baby," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his head and kissing his forehead repeatedly. "These bad feelings will pass, trust me."

I ran my fingers through his hair, knowing it helped him relax and fall asleep. I kept kissing his forehead and cuddling him until I felt his grip around my waist loosen slightly, indicating he had fallen asleep.

"You'll always be my champion, baby," I whispered softly." I love you so much, Jude Bellingham."

[slytherin-pen]

Safe In His Arms

A/N: my first imagine, woo! i’ve known for awhile Cassian would be the first because he just gives me those mushy feels i need in x reader fics. this one is an emotional ride but i hope you love it nonetheless!

summary: You and Cassian found yourselves in a rare argument. Despite being mates, there were certain touchy subjects where you both held differing views. Cassian usually kept his composure around you, mindful of not scaring his beloved mate. But on this occasion, emotions ran high and Cassian's usual restraint slipped away. After going to the River House to allow you both space, Cassian returns to find you amid a panic attack. Determined to comfort you, he pulls out all the stops to show you just how cherished and secure you are in his arms.

pairing: Cassian x fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

banner credit to @cafekitsune

all ACOTAR credits belong to SJM

warnings: anxiety, ptsd, mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of parental abuse, very brief mention of suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, negative self-talk, swearing, brief mention of self-inflicted injuries (but not like that)

As the sun dipped behind the mountains in Velaris, it painted the House of Wind with hues of pink, purple, and blue. You were nestled into an armchair beside the crackling hearth, your legs and the skirt of your dress tucked under you, engrossed in one of the house's romance novels. The only other sound in the room was your ragged breaths and occasional sniffles. Although the spring air had begun to weave through the Night Court, the warmth of the fire provided a sense of comfort that no amount of blankets could replicate. Maybe it was the reminder of campfires in Illyria where you grew up. Or perhaps a certain Illyrian whose body heat was akin to the flames in the hearth.

You missed that body. Broad, muscular shoulders that were covered in his hard-earned Illyrian tattoos. Long black hair you could never resist running your fingers through. And his eyes, cauldron boil you, his eyes masterfully flecked with green and gold. It's as if the Mother herself took a paintbrush and carefully selected the perfect place for each color. You wished you could replace this chair with him and plant yourself in his loving arms. The only place you felt safe.

Snap out of it, you thought to yourself. You and Cassian argued this morning. You were supposed to be mad at him. He had gone to the River House in an attempt to give you both space to process what had been said, leaving the House of Wind to you. As if you could go anywhere else. You were an Illyrian with clipped wings. You couldn't fly and you couldn't winnow. You surely weren’t taking the ten thousand steps down the mountain.

It had been at least five hours since Cassian left, and for the mere fact he knows you can't leave without him, you hope he’ll come home soon. He knows how anxious you get when you feel trapped. Your anxiety was a contributing factor to why you and Cassian argued in the first place. It was also what sent you into a state of panic.

You two had been talking about future theoretical children when the concept of joining the Illyrian camps came up. You would never allow your children to experience the abuse you did growing up. Being close friends with the High Lord of the Night Court and living in Velaris, you couldn't fathom subjecting your children to the same horrors you endured when you were fortunate enough not to have to.

But, Cassian views it differently. The Illyrian mountains shaped him into the male he is today. He embraces his heritage, barring some of the less desirable aspects, and he would be honored to witness his children follow his legacy. Unlike you, Cassian was able to turn his past into something that motivated him. He always had something to prove. He always had a battle to win. You suppose you shouldn't expect anything different from the General. The Illyrians saw him as a bastard brute, and he would die before he accepted defeat in changing their minds. One day, he would show everyone he was more than a bastard, and Illyria was more than the culture of misogyny and violence it harbored.

Your past quite literally weighed you down in the form of wings dragging behind you. While the bat boys were raised in Windhaven, you grew up in Ironcrest. It had been as terrible as the gossip the mothers told around the fires in Windhaven. They felt lucky to have their lives as opposed to those in Ironcrest.

Your mother died when you were a child. You hadn't been home at the time, busy with your chores around the camp. When you came home, your father was sitting on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees and a glass of alcohol in one hand. He was drunk. Not that it was anything new. What was new were the scratch marks down his face and a bloody, still-healing stab wound in his right wing. You still don't believe the story he told that day. ‘Your mother lost it,’ he said. Your kind, gentle, nurturing mother who would never hurt anyone. Unless it was life or death, she had taught you that much. How to use your surroundings and the resources near you to defend yourself. Your mother knew it would happen one day. Your father had never laid a hand on you until she died, but you’d always known he had a temper and he frequently took it out on your mother. She would tell you to stay away and lock yourself in your room, and she would keep all of his attention on her until he left for the bar. But then she died, and suddenly, your nightmares became your reality. He didn’t even wait a week before he clipped your wings - after he had knocked you unconscious with his fists.

Your father had never been punished. In fact, he had been praised by his fellow warriors. You knew, if something happened to your children, no one would help them. You doubted you or Cassian could be there in time, every time. Something terrible would happen one day.

The whole conversation had stressed you out, sending you into a spiral of thoughts of doom, doom, doom. They were absurd, of course. Creating all these fake scenarios in your head as justification for your opinions about non-existent children. But Cassian had well and truly riled you up. He couldn’t help himself when his pride was hurt, he felt backed into a corner, and he couldn’t stop the harsh words from tumbling out of his mouth. You attacked his pride, so he hit you where it hurt right back.

You never told him everything about what happened to you, not just the kind of life you were escaping, but how you got away and why you were so hurt when you arrived in Windhaven. You told them that you were running from your father, he had clipped your wings and intended to sell you to a vile male. Not far from the truth considering marrying you off was definitely on his agenda at some point. But you explained away your injuries by claiming as a defenseless female running through camps alone, you got into some trouble along the way. Rhysand and Cassian believed you. Azriel being the Spymaster remained skeptical. Not of your intentions, but your injuries did not add up to a couple of scuffles. He let it go, though. He understood not being ready to share the full, brutal truth.

But because of Cassian’s ignorance of the situation, he never understood why you were so jumpy, scared of the dark, and constantly afraid of things you couldn’t explain. Why you had such crippling anxiety that caused you to leave parties early. Why you rarely joined the Inner Circle at Rita’s. Why you have panic attacks over the smallest things. Your biggest insecurity was how different you were from him. He was the big, brave, Lord of Bloodshed. He killed people regularly for cauldron's sake. And you, the damsel in distress who can’t even walk alone down the stairs at night. You were powerless, defenseless, and flightless. The complete opposite of him. You were supposed to be his equal, according to the Mother, but you couldn’t help but worry about whether she got it wrong. Whether she shackled him to the wrong female, for eternity.

Him calling you dramatic was an arrow to your heart. It hurt. He hadn’t meant for you to take it to heart like that, he was referring to the current situation. But you couldn’t help yourself in thinking it was a secret he’d kept, just waiting for him to lose a little restraint before it slipped through his lips. Here it is, you thought. The moment you’ve feared since you and Cassian began courting. He would realize how pathetic you were compared to him. How you were more like a skittish child than the equal to a warrior.

When he left, you spiraled further and further down until you couldn’t breathe.

He’s going to leave you.

He’s not coming back.

He will find a female more worthy of him and bed her.

You didn’t want to believe the lies your anxiety told you, but without Cassian there to ground you, you were bound to crash. The panic attack was sudden; like a thunderstorm in the summertime. You thrashed and wailed, clawing at your neck just so desperate for air. Unsurprisingly, that was all entirely unhelpful and you eventually tired out on the floor by the fire. When you woke from your brief nap, you crawled to the armchair and asked the House for a book. You were utterly numb, but at least you could read about other people’s feelings.

Just as you neared the end of the chapter you heard the front door open and heavy boots step through the foyer. Finally. Keeping your eyes open was becoming difficult, the soft crackle of the fire lulling you to sleep. It was important to you both that you always talked things out eventually, specifically before you went to sleep at night. ‘Never go to bed angry,’ had been your promise to each other. As he approached the library, you gathered ‘eventually’ was right now.

Cassian slowly pushed the door open, the House purposefully causing the door to creak as he did so. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at that. Once he was through the threshold, he could see you facing the fire, turned away from him slightly. His hair was tied into a bun and his wings were tucked in tightly behind him. He took slow, careful steps as he approached. In his mind, you may as well be an injured animal. He knew he fucked up and he would deserve every snarl and lash of claws you gave him. His fierce, resilient, compassionate mate. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted to be. Before he left the River House, he needed his brothers to give him the confidence to face you. Your sharp tongue could slice him into a thousand pieces if you will it. And he prayed to the cauldron you wouldn't, but if that's what you needed from him, he would stand there and take it.

But as he grew closer to you and took in the dried tear stains down your cheek, red puffy eyes, and your mess of hair falling out of its braid- he realized you were not on the attack as he had expected. You just stared at the closed book in your lap, tapping the cover rhythmically with the nails of your thumbs, jaw clenched shut. Fuck, you were anxious. Probably had been for hours now. He knew he shouldn’t have left you but he couldn’t let himself, or you, continue down the path of spitting insults at each other. Plenty of lovers in his past had preferred those methods during arguments, but the two of you had never been like that and he didn’t plan to start today.

Cassian knelt in front of you and a pained expression took over his face as he noticed the raised marks down your neck. With his large, shaking hands, he removed the book from your lap and placed it on the side table. “Sweetheart,” he whispered as he enclosed your hands in his.

You had tried to prepare yourself for this. You wanted to be brave, talk this through like mature adults, but now that he was here his words rang through your ears like temple bells.

‘You’re being dramatic.’ You knew he meant how seriously you were taking the theoretical future lives of your children and not you, but in the moment it had felt more like a dig. You were dramatic. You had your anxiety to thank for that. Hypothetical, hypothetical, hypothetical. Your mind was consumed with hypotheticals every day and he had given you the signal to run with it. Until it went too far and you practically had steam coming out of your ears while Cassian paced back and forth muttering curses to the cauldron. That’s when he decided to leave for a few hours, which quickly became six after asking Rhys for relationship advice turned into him, Rhys and Azriel finishing a bottle of wine together.

You released a shaking breath as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes immediately welled with tears at the hurt across his face. Hurt for you. Hurt for him. You both said things you shouldn’t have.

Cassian didn’t hesitate to lift you before sitting down in the chair and settling you across his lap at the sight of your tears. He knew he had a temper and the Mother knew he tried so hard to keep it under control for you. When you first met, he was acting as General accompanied by the High Lord and Shadowsinger. They had come into the healer's tent to interrogate you about where you came from and you had been utterly terrified. Too terrified to even speak. Rhysand had let it go long enough for you to be treated and calmed down. You looked harmless enough and had been severely injured. He doubted you were looking to pick a fight in that state.

When they returned, you had been healed, cleaned, and fed. Looking less like the almost-corpse a couple of warriors dragged in a few hours prior and more like the beautiful female he held today. The bond snapped for you both a couple of months later, but Cassian courted you like a proper gentleman. He understood that mating bond or not, he had to earn your trust and your love. You had been hurt before and you weren’t going to so easily allow yourself to be vulnerable again.

The mating ceremony happened a year ago but you both had so much love for each other it felt like it had been hundreds. Cassian was going to make sure you knew that hadn’t changed, remind you that he loved you more than the stars loved the night. “Sweetheart I’m so sorry. What I said, i-it was terrible. And I didn’t mean to make you feel like I thought you, overall, were dramatic. It was a poor choice of words and I’m sorry.”

You burrowed your head into the crook of his shoulder and tightened your arms around his neck, shielding your face from his assessing stare. He was doing a damage check. He's not surprised a fight between you would cause a panic attack. Surprising or not, you hated how you reacted when things got tense or stressful. You always wanted to be strong like Cass, or unwavering like Mor. But behind the ferocious mask you could put on when you felt vulnerable and defenseless, you were still a traumatized female. A female who is still afraid any mistake could cause you to be sent back to Ironcrest. Afraid that any angered male might still strike you, despite being proven wrong by the gentle, giant bats of the Inner Circle. You could feel the mask crumpling. It had started falling apart ever since you became aware of his presence. You could never hide yourself from him.

The pads of his fingers brushed the hair out of your face. “Look at me, baby.” His voice was hoarse, his throat constricting at the thought of how upset you must have been, and he had left you alone.

You slowly turned your head away from his shoulder and looked up at him. You took a ragged breath before you spoke. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

He guided your hand up to the collar of his shirt, a spot he knew you liked to hold onto when you were anxious. The fabric in your grip and the faint thumps of his nearby heartbeat grounded you. “What happened here,” he asked, tracing the angry skin on your neck with tender knuckles.

You wiggled to get up, but he only reinforced his hold on you. “I’m fine, Cass please-”

“Shhh.” He gently pushed your head back to his chest and kissed the crown of your head. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. We both know you aren't fine right now. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You shook your head. Despite the heaving of your chest, and your body still sensing something wrong, you repeated; “I’m fine.”

“I can hear your heartbeat pounding like a drum. You know I’m here for you when it comes to these things. I’m your mate, this,”-he motioned to you in his lap- “is what I’m here for.” He started running his fingers through your hair, coaxing you to tilt your face towards him again. “Let me be here for you. Not just physically, but emotionally too. I know there… are things you haven’t told me about where you came from.”

Your whole body stiffened at that. He hates you. He thinks you’re a liar. He’s going to leave you. “Hey, sweetheart, look at me,” his stern, concerned voice swam through the muffling of your thoughts. He gripped your chin and you realized while you were looking at him, you couldn’t see him. It was all so cloudy and distorted. Tears. You’re crying again, damnit. And you weren’t breathing. How long had you not been breathing? You could feel your face heat and the thump, thump, thump of your heart hammereing around in your skull.

“Deep breaths for me, baby. In and out,” Cassian’s voice sounded again. You attempted to gasp for air but all that did was release the wrack of sobs that you had been barely keeping contained. He squeezed your waist and rocked you back and forth. “It’s alright. Let it out. I’m here.” Your hand found his shirt again and you gripped it like your life depended on it. Tears fell onto his shoulders and before your other hand could scratch at your thigh, he took it and started to rub your knuckles with his thumb. He knew it would be bad, but he didn’t expect this bad. Guilt gnawed away at him. Some mate he was, leaving you alone in a time of need. You were having two panic attacks within hours of each other, no doubt draining your little body. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he choked out. “I won’t leave you again, I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I will stay here for as long as you need, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Cassian knew, with a heavy heart, that he had discovered the magic words. Your wailing sobs turned to soft, shuddering breaths and he felt you finally hold his hand in return as you came back to reality. “You know I would never leave you right, sweet girl,” he asked with a strained voice.

The silence that followed was deafening. Cassian released a shaking breath of his own. “Alright,” he croaked. Now that you could see his face again, you noticed the silver lining his eyes. You did this to him. You hurt his feelings. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be completely honest with me, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You gave him a small nod, the slight movement sent your head into another throbbing fit.

“Why would you think I’d leave you? Over one argument?”

Your eyes were still glazed over as you stared past him. “Because he’d always leave after. He was never sorry,” you whispered.

Cassian’s hold tightened around you on instinct. “Who?”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth before you spoke. “My dad. He used to hurt me, Cass, that’s- it’s why I’m like this,” you exasperated gesturing to yourself. You turned away from his glare to face the fire, stopping the scold right on his tongue. Fine. He could remind you not to talk about yourself like that later. “He killed my mom, I think. No one but him knows what happened that day, but I knew my mom. And I know him. I don't need Azriel to put the clues together for me. I was so young and scared when it happened I never questioned him to his face. But as I got older, I grew more defiant and he hated it. He’d say I was worse than my mother. But my mother would only let him when she had to protect me. I only had myself to protect, but it was useless. I couldn’t fly and I was so much smaller, so much weaker than him. I just- I just wanted it to end.”

Cassian swallowed thickly. “What do you mean you wanted it to end?”

“It was so stupid,” you huffed. “I thought, maybe if I pushed him far enough he just wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop unt- until I didn’t have to live with him anymore. But my self-preservation kicked in at some point. I hit him with one of the dining chairs, and then I just started throwing everything in my reach at him until he collapsed.” Tears trickled down your face but they were slower, calmer than the ones from earlier. “I didn’t pause to check if he was still alive. I just ran. I ran out the back door and I didn’t stop until I could feel my body shutting down. I would hide. Sleep. Then start running again before dawn. It took me two weeks to get to Windhaven. I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was dead when those males started dragging me through the camp.”

Cassian was crying now. War General be damned, his mate had been through Hell, and she kept it to herself all this time. “Why didn’t you tell me,” he croaked. “We asked you what happened that day and- and you said-“ His jaw snapped shut. He should’ve known. Cauldron, some part of him had known. He may not be the Spymaster but your injuries had been severe. He had so easily believed some cruel, passing Illyrians had done that to you but it all made so much more sense now. Not just what happened to you that day, but the fear that kept you in a chokehold day in and day out. The constant anxiety, looking over your shoulder around every corner, eyes constantly roaming the room for threats.

“I didn’t tell you because, well, originally I just wasn’t ready. Then we found out we were mates and I felt all this pressure to be your equal and I was scared if you found out I wasn’t-“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Cassian’s commanding tone cut through. “You are my equal. Sweetheart, you don’t ever need to step on a battlefield or wield a sword to be my equal. In fact, I’d prefer it if you never did,” he said with a wink. “But you are strong. You are so strong. What you survived with your dad, and crossing Illyria alone, takes strength. Strength that even some of the warriors in my legion don’t have.”

You looked at him through your wet lashes and he took the chance to wipe away your tears with his thumb. “I never thought of it like that,” you whispered.

Cassian shot you a crooked grin. “That’s what I’m here for.” He gave your forehead a tender kiss and you let your eyelids close as you felt the warmth of his lips seep into your skin. “Have you eaten yet?”

The feral growl that erupted from your stomach was answer enough, causing you to blush. Cassian chuckled as he stood with you in his arms, careful of your drooping wings, and walked towards the dining room. “We need to fix that don’t we?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Time got away from me a little bit.”

“It’s alright, sweet girl. We’ll get you fed and then in bed. I’m sure you’re exhausted,” he suggested, earning a nod from you.

As he sat down at the table with you in his lap again, the House immediately provided a spread of small chocolates, fruits, and bread across the table. A second later a pot and two tea cups appeared in front of you and Cassian. “Thank you, House,” you giggled. You still weren’t used to just how sentient the house was. It knew you couldn’t eat a proper meal after the day you had, and instead opted for your favorite, comforting snacks.

Cassian poured tea into the cups and handed yours to you. “My lady,” he grinned. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until the sweetness of the honey started to soothe the scratchiness in your throat from all the crying, and you finished the cup instantly. You blushed even more as Cassian refilled your cup with a smile. “Good thing the house makes the pot bottomless.”

“I still don’t understand how all that works. I don’t have any magic so maybe I’m just stu-“ Cassian plopped a piece of chocolate into your mouth with a glare, hazel eyes blazing with determination.

“Do not,” the cold ferocity in his voice left no room for argument, “finish that sentence.” He clenched his jaw as his eyes bore into yours. He felt your body trembling slightly, cursed the cauldron internally, and cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb back and forth along your cheekbone. “You can’t talk about yourself like that, baby. You can’t. I love you. You understand? I love you, and it pains me to hear you say those things about yourself. I can’t even imagine what goes on in your head. I know it’s what you’re used to, it was all you had, and your damned father is to blame for it, but it’s not like that anymore. He can’t hurt you here, and I’ll kill the bastard myself if I ever see him, but you’re safe. You’re safe here with me, in our home, in my arms. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore, sweetheart. And I will spend the rest of our lifetime replacing every harsh word you say about yourself if that’s what it takes to prove you are worthy of my love and I will never leave you.”

You threw your arms around him and nuzzled into his neck. “I love you too, Cass. Thank you. I love you-“ your voice cracked as the raw emotion took over your chest. Cauldron, you loved him. How does he always know what you need to hear? He had learned a thing or two from the Spymaster, no doubt.

“Shhh. I got you,” he said as he tightened the arm around your waist and cradled your head with the other. “I love you so much.” He kissed the side of your head. “I’m so sorry about today. Let’s never fight again, agreed,” he asked with a chuckle.

You smiled as you inhaled his scent of snow, sandalwood, and burning fires. Safe. You were safe here, with your mate. In his arms where you always belonged. “Agreed.”

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and how they deal with their children and domestic life. part ii.

pairing: dad & husband! cyno, kaveh, alhaitham x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnant reader is mentioned to introductions but not too elaborated. not beta read. a bit longer than the previous ones.

kazuha’s part | part. i

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

 Cyno

If there was something that the General Mahamatra valued beyond justice and absolute truth, it’d be the loyalty of those around him without asking for anything in return. Cyno could count on both hands the number of people he’d risk his life to or who’d have his back, and to be honest, there weren't many of them. Thus, the passing of the years only solidified this philosophy, confirming that trust wasn’t something to be given, but earned — it being the reason why he only kept a certain number of people close to him.

However, this belief had also shown Cyno that some priorities were greater than others, and ensuring your happiness and safety became the main one of them all. Especially when you were also the one carrying his babies.

Your pregnancy announcement was unexpected, but the change in your husband's personality wasn’t. As your belly grew, you could notice that Cyno became a little more clingy with you, enjoying being by your side or placing his warm hands on it to feel his children's kicks. Though, the mahamatra also couldn't help but be more overprotective or bossy towards you, traits that seemed to have intensified over the months. 

Cyno liked to think that his overprotectiveness was justified since not only had he become a first-time father but of twins. His bossy acts weren’t for nothing either. It was just because your husband knew you and your impulsiveness very well, so the slightest thought of the risks that you could put yourself out there of your own free will stressed him out already.

And this last one you seemed to do on purpose to test him since you had put yourself in critical situations more times than he wished to count.

So, to ease his worries and keep an eye on you, the decision to temporarily settle in Vila Aaru was mutually agreed, providing Cyno with a momentary sense of peace knowing that his very pregnant wife would be surrounded by competent and trustworthy people. And then, his children could be born in a comfortable and safe environment.

The decision couldn't have been the best because a few months later and just a few minutes apart, Aryan and Isaar were born on a cold night.

The leader of the Matras still can remember that it was when he was returning to the village from a patrol when he was greeted first by your painful screams and then by the sight of your sweaty and tearful figure. Your husband didn't think twice before taking Candace's place behind your back to give you the support you needed, sharing his strength with you and whispering comforting words in your ear.

Internally, Cyno felt more than terrified for this new stage in his life despite all the previous months of mental preparation. But as he watched in amazement Aryan in his arms and Isaar in yours, the mahamatra concluded that there were no books or scrolls in the world that could describe the feelings that coursed through his veins at that moment. There wasn't enough knowledge that could teach him how to be a father, and even so, he knew he’d learn along the way to be the best he could.

The first few weeks of adaptation were exhausting for both of you. Cyno was on leave from his position, being at yours and his babies disposal and dealing with most of the household tasks, which relieved you a lot. But if he ever thought that nothing would overcome the hardness of his work at Akademiya, the sleepless nights with his newborn twins proved him wrong. 

It wasn't something he complained about or refused to take on, though. He preferred you to rest as much as you could after spending the whole day with the children — it was more his lack of confidence in dealing with the little ones in your absence that tormented him.

As time went on, however, what he thought were difficult tasks became routine, so he could say with some confidence that he had adapted to fatherhood quite well. The bond between father and sons was also something that developed beautifully as the days went by, and some mornings, you’d be greeted with the sweet sight of the General Mahamatra sleeping on the armchair in the twins' room while holding both of them in his muscular arms.

Speaking of the twins, Aryan and Isaar couldn’t be as physically similar to Cyno more than they were already. The babies, just a few months old, have already demonstrated that they share the same personality with each other, which they also take after their father — the stoic and slightly indifferent expression frighteningly similar to Cyno. Aryan was a little more sullen, refusing to acknowledge others' attempts to make him smile while Isaar willingly raised his arms to familiar faces with the intention of getting something in return. 

While you watched them in disbelief, your husband smiled proudly. It seems his children were already good judges of character.

Strange in its own way, but a home full of love. That would be the phrase to define your family. Although both you had divergent methods of raising your children, the twins still had complete freedom of decision about what they judged to be right or wrong. Cyno would never punish his sons for their choices; instead, he’d wisely correct them. Even though outwardly he shows rigidity and authority, Cyno is quite soft when it comes to his family so he can't stay mad at you for long.

It was honestly a strange sight for many, mainly his subordinates and the scholars who knew the man's unorthodox methods of discipline very well.

Even so, they couldn’t help but admit that fatherhood suited him well. Strangely, but still.

They only feared the possibility that in the future the boys would develop a sense of humor as horrible as their father.

Kaveh

If they asked Kaveh what his greatest achievements are, he’d readily answer that there are three of them, although two had the greatest highlights.

Even if the architect was proud of the effort and dedication that led him to give life to the Palace of Alcazarzaray, the importance of the project seemed to be irrelevant compared to the fact that he managed to win you heart. After all, maybe there was nothing so disputed between men and women all around of Teyvat but to capture the attention of the Gem of Liyue. And in a way as ironic and simple as it seemed to be, Kaveh was the only one to be able to accomplish such a feat.

As the younger sister of the Tianquan of the Qixing, it wasn’t surprising that you were also known for your intelligence, elegance and beauty, so it was expected of your people that you’d marry someone with all these qualities and wealth that could satisfy your desires. 

However, they didn't know you as well as Ningguang and how Kaveh came to know you, and so, it was unexpected news that resonated for weeks when you announced your marriage.

At that time, so much uproar from the press and liyuean citizens had made Kaveh doubt himself because, well… did he even have all the means necessary to provide you with a comfortable life? He was slowly recovering from his debts and had barely started building his own house. Compared to you who literally lived in a mansion and ate from a golden platter he had nothing.

Nevertheless, you assured him that no gold or mora in the whole world could equal the love you had for him, only his reciprocal affection was what you were looking for.

And because your husband cares and loves you so deeply, Kaveh couldn't feel anything but thankfulness when you granted him with the greatest pride of his life. His daughter, Zahra.

The baby hadn't even been born and was already very adored by her father. During your pregnancy, Kaveh had been nothing but a passionate and devoted husband, helpful and attentive to both you and her. His passion for art led him to challenge himself and bring only the best when it comes to projecting Zahra's room, as well as designing the crib and its decorations. You couldn't help but watch with a smile on your face as he worked hard to provide only the best for his child.

When Zahra decided to come into the world, your husband's tearful, fascinated face only confirmed what you already knew: Kaveh would be an extraordinary father.

“I swear that I’ll protect you from all the cruelty of this world. And even if the day comes that I don't have the strength to do so, I’ll still keep you safe”, he promised as he placed a kiss on the baby's forehead.

You just smiled with equally teary eyes at the sweet scene.

Kaveh didn't know the meaning of the word tired when it came to his daughter. The blonde man loved having the baby in his arms, and when it came to her basic needs, he was a great help by proudly taking on the tasks. In fact, in the first weeks of Zahra's life, he had refused to let her sleep alone in her new room, and when you insisted on putting her in her crib, Kaveh would spend the entire night by her side. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to his little princess in his absence.

You could just roll your eyes.

As Zahra grew up, she became an increasingly beautiful girl and was much loved by her parents. Her naturally rosy cheeks and golden hair decorated with barrettes or bows made people compare her to a doll. The girl has a beauty and features similar to her father, though her sweet and laughing personality is her own traits. Kaveh feared that one day the evil of the world would take away the melodious sounds of her laughter, but there was a slight mischievous gleam in her golden eyes that betrayed that she was quite clever too.

In addition to her parents' unconditional love, Zahra also has a close relationship with her mother's sister, who has a weak spot for her niece, and with her paternal grandmother. 

Shortly before marrying you, the older woman had tried to invest more in her son's life, now making sure of participating in dinners, commemorative dates or holidays.

For a long time Kaveh believed that he wasn’t worthy of such happiness. After his father's death and his mother's estrangement, the architect had a single objective: trying to survive one day at a time, fighting his own demons and relying on what little was left of his savings. He had never considered himself a man of honor, someone who was worthy of having his own family and a home to return to. In fact, he didn't consider himself a lucky man at all.

And yet, he couldn't feel as fortunate as he did because through all the paths he took and decisions he made, one of them led him to you and gave him the greatest achievements of his life.

Alhaitham

Hardly anyone would admit it out loud, but your presence in the halls of Akademiya was as fresh as a breath of spring air.

As the new Darshan teacher of Haravatat, your intelligence and passion for knowledge were characteristics that not only your students came to admire, but even the sages themselves gushed praise about, which eventually earned you a reputation that spread throughout the dendro nation. Furthermore, your beauty and charisma only complemented your charm, so there were many hearts that you had caught along the way — and consequently also have broken, as the slight bulge beneath your clothes and the golden ring shining on your left ring finger made it very clear who yours already belonged to.

To say that the beginning of your relationship with the Akademiya’s Scribe was even the subject of an academic thesis would be an understatement given that Alhaitham wasn’t someone who was known for his friendliness much less cordiality. In fact, his disinterested expression and acid humor worked precisely as a mechanism to purposefully keep people away from him, and even his friends weren’t immune to his unpleasant comments.

But even though the question remained, the students quickly learned that this attitude would never apply to you.

Like a moth drawn to the light, Alhaitham was equally drawn to you, they concluded. There was something about you that just your presence was enough to generate a small and not so noticeable change in Alhaitham's aura, even if to others he remained as rigid as he was. Besides, the progress of your pregnancy had also shown them that the scribe was as human as they were, he just had a less flashy way of showing his concern and care for his wife.

What the scholars and citizens of Sumeru saw, however, was just the tip of the iceberg compared to the affection you received from your husband when the doors to your home closed. Although Alhaitham hadn't shown his excitement as openly as you, the scribe was internally happy to begin a new stage of life by your side. And you could see this in the number of maternity books and notebooks with notes organized in his office, in the meals he had prepared meticulously thinking about nutritional values ​​or in the care he took to suggest and choose a simple and meaningful name for your baby.

His actions were small and discreet, but enough to prove to you that he already loved the child as much as you did.

Hakim's arrival into the world also showed you the efforts your husband would make for his son. With a smile gracing his lips and slightly teary eyes, Alhaitham allowed himself to express himself a little more in the face of such a beautiful moment. It wasn't something that even you saw frequently and, therefore, you’d certainly make sure to eternalizing the picture forever in your memory.

“Thank you”, was the only thing he could say to you while looking at you with enormous tenderness.

Despite the overwhelming happiness that coursed within him, the scribe also couldn't help but feel a little empty at his grandmother's absence. Even though the longing was something he had managed for a long time now, it was in moments like these that the lady's absence came back. He was sure she’d love meeting you and her great-grandson, but wherever she was, he also knew she was taking care of his family in her own way.

Furthermore, looking at you and the child that slept so peacefully in his arms, Alhaitham knew that there was nothing to fear and that his son would grow up in a home filled with as much love as he was.

Therefore, fatherhood wasn't something that scared Alhaitham nor did it make him doubt his ability to take care of his son. If someone asked him what his biggest challenges were, he wouldn't be able to think of any because every day he was faced with something new and learned from it. Plus, Hakim was a sweet and quiet baby, a mix of both parents' personalities. Understanding his child's needs was as easy as if they were his own.

Still so small, Hakim would be surrounded by reading and multiple knowledge, often being found in the arms of one of his parents while you were working or simply reading for pleasure. You discovered that the baby liked to listen to you or Alhaitham reading aloud, so it wasn't strange to find you or your husband somewhere in the house reciting some academic article with the little one within reach.

When the boy was old enough to sit up, that’d be the time when you’d return to teaching at Akademiya, and even if your baby's presence during classes had already been discussed and authorized, Alhaitham wouldn’t hesitate to take over his care — whether taking him to his own office or to the Sanctuary of Surasthana where he would spend hours enjoying the attention of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

You could say that Alhaitham is a simplistic man. He recognizes his flaws and knows that he came with many of them, which is why he distances himself from so many people. But it was in the moments when he returned home, returning to you and your son who were waiting for him with great enthusiasm that the man thought that there was nothing as perfect as his own home.

.

.

you guys will have to forgive me again but i did not beta-read this part (clearly) nor i'll have the patience to do so because i'm currently traveling at my granny's home and it's so hot here that i couldn't even write this whole headcanon without stop everytime to take a breath of fresh air. therefore, i won't have the patience to look for mistakes now. i'll let it with you tho.

also, i remember i've said in the last part that if perhaps i start to write a genshin dad series i'd write only for the first four man i came up the idea to. however, i'm hypocrital and slut for the sumeru men too so i couldn't stop myself but draft their children biography.

i really hope you've like it so far because, for real, alhaitham's part was the hardest one and somehow i feel like this isn’t good enough to be posted. nevertheless, thank you for your reading :)

[drakoneve]

A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."

[adoregojo]

mikage's 5 steps guide! - nagi.s

i missed writing for nagi... my loverboy.. also this writing style is so fun??? wth??? i need to write like this again. i can barely keep one eye open so if there's any typo, ignore pls pls.

warnings: some cussing ig?

nagi was never that charming.

'charming' couldn't even stand being a word in his dictionary to be honest, nagi truly had zero sense of romance within him. he was an actual brick-walled person when it came to these things, or anything of strong-emotions in particular, there was no thoughts behind those void eyes of his but a circle of: sleep, eat, go to work, eat again, play games, sleep, and repeat.

even back to his high school years, not once he recalls talking to a girl, let alone getting a girlfriend, that was something beyond out of his character. maybe there was a girl that confessed to him, he remembered on valentines day he got a letter saying that he should go to the school's roof. and he ended up leaving the poor girl hanging on the air till the sky was clean orange because he genuinely 'forgot', nagi then earned the title 'heartbreaker' for a year straight, he let it be since it was much of a hassle to keep on correcting them. not like his reputation was any better before.

so you could say that nagi wasn't that much of a company to have around, on the other hand was his friend, reo who was basically the opposite of nagi, if anything he was prince charming himself. those social skills were enough to befriend anyone on sight, he got the looks, money and attention was surrounding him 24/7.

and even if reo gather the earth power to try and motivate nagi would go down hill, every time he tried setting him on a date it's either gonna end up horrible or nagi using the excuse to go to the bathroom and vanish to the nowhere. what an asshole.

at some point, reo accept the fact that maybe he's friend will in fact die alone.

and things switched around when you came to the picture.

first it wasn't that hard to notice you, your desk was glued to him after all. it was weird when you would greet him every morning and wish him a good night when you left, no one ever did that to him before, he tends to ignore and ends up being ignored. it was nice, a little reminder that somone was seeing him, acknowledging him.

slowly, the walls between you two was falling apart with each introduction. when you would pat him from his little naps for lunch time, or when it was leaving time, then he would stare at your back until your figure disappeared with a last wave, staring at the door for a little too long, perhaps wishing for you to walk back in.. who said that?

it was getting worse, or better, not the best at analysing his feelings. but nagi found himself looking out for a glimpse of you around the office, he has no shame to admit that the world suddenly felt gloomy without your presence beside him.

maybe he raised his head a little too fast when you walked in, maybe not. but he mostly did.

then you would ramble about how your shitty neighbour refused to clean after his pets filth and you two had a screaming match for a while before realising you were late. the was the worst way to start a monday morning, so you closed your eyes shut, rubbed your forehead for a peace of mind. then you opened your eyes, a piece of your favourite snaked would magically appear on your table.

for some reason your eyes traveled to the white painted head, he was looking at the other side, avoiding your questionable gaze hoovering over him.

Mondays aren't so bad after all, you thought.

perhaps he did place it there, who knows. —but nagi just really didn't like seeing you glum.

possibly, did he grew fond of you? he doesn't know. all he knew that lunch box you handed him the next day is a blessed gift within his palms. too good for him, you were too good for him.

you were the prove that the sky itself favoured him above anyone.

and when nagi wanted to ask you out, he only had one person to guide him to your heart.

so the very mysterious person behind the scene (reo) had a astounding idea that if someone like nagi; mister, game-addiction-freak. that on every step he'll get points! 100-90 if he did well, 80-70 not bad, 60-40 could've been worse.. 40-20 definitely could've been better... 20-0 yikes....

so with that, nagi was sent on a personal mission to win you over and soothe you with his nonexistent charm.

STEP ONE: be straightforward! it's not good to keep on dancing on someone's mindset with hints, it may cause a lot of confusion feelings and misunderstandings! only ask under a certain circumstances, a suitable place where were you two sit alone so they could have they're attention on you only. SIDE NOTE: try to make a good welcoming conversation to ease up the tension first then ask!

so nagi did just that, maybe a little too well.

he couldn't even eat his own lunch and just kept on rubbing his sweaty hands against each other's, staring back forth —he just noticed how many unfamiliar faces were there? did he really only seeyou?一 he was extra quiet which made you ask him multiple times if he was okay, he would just hum in response. what a smooth talker.

"nagi, you haven't even touched your food. are you actually okay?" you questioned, concerned. after taking a brief sip of your juice, but nagi just shook his head in conform, you raised a brow, a little in disbelief that he would think an obvious lie would go through you just like that. there was something off. the tension upon you two was twisting.

the words were on the tip of his tongue, yet they felt un-removed. all this stressing over four words were a pain, and a heavy burden he needed to reales before he lose his breathing track.

and the moment you took a bite and chewing on it, he just had to drop the bomb carelessly.

"go out with me."

so nagi didn't try and sooth the air, nor start a decent conversation. and when he gathered the earth courage to speak up, it wasn't even a question, that was a whole ass demand.

although, it worked. but it definitely could've gone better than you choking on your own food that you swore you witnessed death himself laughing his ass off at you.

what a great timing.

after you saw the heavens gates open for you and life flashing through your eyes, weirdly enough, you accepted.

huh, maybe he didn't mess up everything like he thought (he in fact did).

20 points!

STEP TWO: dress nice and compliment their outfit! dressing well means that you take the date seriously, complimenting them to foster a better sense of comfort and confidence, and they'll compliment you back! extra points if you made them all blushy and giddy!

nagi really wasn't the best at this.

instead of dressing 'nicely', all he wore was a big white hoodie and pants. didn't put much effort to his hair and just went off. it wasn't his problem that picking an estimated outfit was such a hassle. it's good at least it is something that covers him, right?

it all went downhill when you showed up, listen. he always thought you looked fit and nice in your suit work, and now he definitely wasn't ready to see you in regular, uniform out of work place. you just looked... so good, even great, stunning and beautiful, you name it.

nagi barely breath out a greeting, his eyes too busy scanning you from head to toe over and over, he couldn't take his gaze out of your sight even when you were on your way to the table. and he almost stumbled over twice for that, the first was nearly his face planting on the floor, and the second time he almost knocked out a whole plate of drinks. you just somehow managed to muddle over half of senses with your looks alone, maybe he should've considered writing his last letter.

"nagi.. you're staring too much."

the of yours dragged him out of his thoughts line. he saw as you held a sheepish— extra points?—expression, it was either from his heart-eyes eating you alive, or the date itself was bringing you to the nervous state, or both?

nagi cleared his throat, slightly cringing at himself for staring a little too hard. he was absolutely not doing reo's steps justice.

"sorry. you just, look really pretty." if not the prettiest of all, but again, nagi has eyes for you only to pay a mind to others around him.

your breath halts at that, you don't know what to say for a second, nagi himself was complementing you? and the fact that he said as it was a matter of a fact was such an out character thing. but at the same time a an amiable change. and it was for you only.

"thank you, I appreciate that." you say as you kept on twirling your fingers over your hair, you felt like a lovesick teenager. "I think you look very nice as well." you add, almost like a whisper, he still managed to catch it.

nagi let out a scoff, not even a smile forming on his features for that. "it's just hoodie, really."

"i still like it, it's very like you. I'm happy seeing that you can be yourself around me."

he flinch a bit at that, he really wasn't ready for this- it takes a strong-soulful soldier to handle this. and he really, really wanted to be gods strongest warrior just for you. so he gets a grip on himself and mumble a thanks.

you smile sweetly at that, and nagi may really be not the strongest soldier under your spell.

50 points!

STEP THREE: make a conversation! show interest in their personal life and listen to every ramble they have, try to also throw side comments there and here to support them and blow away any negative feelings of the talk being one-sided. also try and talk about your own life to make it easier for them to talk all night. SIDE NOTE: try and joke around to bloom a friendly tune. extra points if you made them laugh!

third time's a charm, right?

however, since nagi was uncommonly unfond of others babbling. in fact he found it annoying and it was hard keeping his eyes evenly open. but then when it comes to you, he found your feathery tune to be airy, he grew ease to it pitch.

so he handed over all his senses of hearing to you on one knee, and let you speak freely. switching between different topics form nowhere, and like the world- his world- itself was turning for you only, his eyes and soul was for you to talk and he'll rot into a shallow void to your lovely enunciate to play on a broken radio repeating.

maybe he should tell you to stop, because your non-touched food was getting cold, and maybe he should tell that to himself that too because he didn't even realize his plate was even there.

it felt like he had drifted from the original plan, instead the tables were turned and he was the one being swoon by you..

not that he minded honestly. but ending the night with you being the one who filled the space was enough to create a makeshift reo berating him, nevertheless, nagi really, really wanted you to like him back. to consider the idea of another date with him.

plus, he also liked your laugh, he really did. didn't the guide say something about making you laugh? even tried telling a joke that you actually chuckled at, something that was unneeded to say that his book was empty, he had to search on google "funny jokes" for gods sakes, how hopeless can he possibly get?

"why couldn't the sunflower ride it bike?" nagi utter flatly, "why" you slope your head to the side. "because it lost it petals." the joke was old, dusty, forsaken. and the urge to recoil the second it left his mouth was understandable. but somehow you still pushed out a laugh at it, you don't know if it was an amusingly one, or because that nonchalant face was clearly begging you to laugh. with that monochromatic tone and all made it even funnier.

that bloomed the smallest amount of exhilaration within his rib cage. it was lovely, and what was made the giddiness to flourish inside his belly was the fact that he was the reason for it. it felt priceless. a sight to a crave in his midst. completely bizarrely about all of this, nagi let's you take over him. to consume him, his heart, his breath and soul were yours to claim.

at least he did something good that night?

70 points!

STEP FOUR: walk them back home! it's quite a simple act but very affected and gentlemanly, make sure to make them feel save and guarded! hidden notes: try to hold their hand!

after paying the price, you and nagi take your leave. with also nagi's off attitude with him opening the doors for you and let you walk first. although, who were to complain about such a treatment? you'll take it

but weirdly enough, nagi was a bit on the edge. like he had a n amount of ants in his pants, couldn't look at your direction, barely spoke out a response, or anything in general. and 一was he holding his breath???一

wait, was nagi actually.... nervous?

you glanced at him, shoulders stiffened, hands moving too much and fast, mouth was dry and agape, half dizzy 一when he isn't?一

now that you did not expect.

it was even ten times worse than him in the cafeteria earlier, it felt like nagi was about to confess to you his cruelest crime. the tenseness was mixed with the deep-seated tenderness, nevertheless, it was a bittersweet taste. and it kept on going until you two stood together by your home.

"i had fun tonight, nagi." you spoke first.

he finally flinched out of his own world, he sees you rubbing your arm, the gesture was sketchy, almost as if you were waiting for him to say something, anything.

but nagi's mind was blank, blow out an air in his ear and it will run out of the other, empty head. yet his mind was roaming, that need to say something clung up to him again. too many thoughts he cannot process.

but all nagi did know was he wanted you to stay a little longer.

"that's.. good?" he should have stayed quiet, what kind of answer is that.

you nodded awkwardly in agreement, breathing out an 'yeah..' he felt a bit guilty at making you feel uncomfortable, the fact of him being unfaithful may have crossed your mind, and nagi didn't like it. but you always managed to make feel weird, he always felt too warm when you would get close to him, words were lost when he would look at your eyes, and now this..

but despite everything, he felt like himself when he was with you the most..

every game had it secret move, and his was that he need to let himself be.

"can we do this again? i also had a good night." a part of nagi wanted to add that it was one of the best nights he ever had, yet it was too cheesy, cringe.

"yes!" you replied, too fast. you sounded so desperate! you palmed your mouth, embarrassment remains on your face as you cleared your throat. "i mean.. yes, we can do this again."

nagi had to physically bent down his head, he was gonna set you on fire alive with his eyes, if he may say, you looked cute when flustered. and his heart wouldn't stop beating so infuriated, almost bursting out raw of chest.

nagi for some reason, stretched out his arms. it was bold and he knew it, he just did it and hoped for you to handle it. "um.. can i?" he sees you halting at your place. eyes ogling around but his own.

you walk up all jittery to him until there's barely any inches left between the two of you, you kept your eyes glued to your feet as if it was the most interesting thing in this moment, but it's also like you were asking him if it was okay, unsureness. so he pushes your head gently forward to rest on his stiffen chest. an arm runs around your back to force you as close as possible to him.

you shrivel when nagi's nose would be buried deep unto your hair locks. your scent would draw him at slacken, his whole body bending against yours that you felt like he wanted to crawl under your skin desperately, searching for the seeds of endless love you endowed to him.

you didn't know if you were somehow intoxicated, but you swore that you felt a pair of soft lips pressing against your skull, god, you felt like melting and soon to become a paste sliding down between his fingers. you gently pushed yourself back, and perhaps you imagined nagi's whining for you to not let go. it's like you were gonna fly away once he unwrapped you free. the second you meet his face, a pout expression on his lips, and you couldn't help yourself from cupping his cheeks, squeezing them slightly. a smile made it way to your face as his eyebrows grew frowned.

nagi's hands were on yours, pulling them down from his face, but not too far. unabashedly keeping his eyes locked with yours, he was holding you tight and close, basically hostage. the bug-stomach is back at again but more fiercely than ever.

80 points!

FINAL STEP: kiss.

the dull hue travels down on your lips. boldly, he doesn't look away for what felt like eternity, if anything it seems like they grew heavy the second you parted them slightly to say something that sticked on your tongue.

"can i kiss you?"

was he trying to kill you?

you don't respond, instead you made a move to give him a quick peck on his cheek. backing off faster than ever. nagi stood still, rooting in his place, completely bamboozled. his mind stopped working and his eyes were drifting off in different directions.一is it normal that he felt like melting to the ground?一

"im so sorry, nagi- i just got really nervous and-"

"seishiro."

"eh?"

"seishiro, call me seishiro." he finally found a piece of mind to say. he didn't know if it came out as a command, but he sincerely wanted you to call him by his name. he'd die a happy man then.

"well.. goodnight, seishiro. can't wait for our next date," you said, weaving before your door. nagi barely being able to wave back, his mind was still half empty. you just made him see the light of the stars and left with with the sweetest, loveliest smile for him to think about for the next couple of weeks.

maybe he stood there for a little longer than he should have, his face was on fire, his heart on race track. antithesis of the nonchalant face he had, he made a move to rub the spot you pressed your soft lips against. and the first thing that came to his mind that it was definitely worth it.

and by now, he absolutely forgot about the points and the game itself. oh well, at least half of it worked. he just did it in his own version, which apparently was charming to you. nagi thinks if being charm to you, than he can come over anything.

limitless points! you have made your own path to the heart!

[rkiveinmarvel]

vsego dva prizraka - james bucky barnes des. barnes never trusted you, not once. but upon a different life, he would. notes. angst/comfort, enemies-to-lovers, mention of violence, curse words, idiots-in-love, sharon carter is a meanie here, trauma, torturing and avengers! shenanigans

hello! it's my bucky fic! part ii of upon a different life is here! thank you for supporting it, means a lot! anyway, here's part ii, uh--sharon carter is higkey unlikeable here so, i'm sorry! enjoy loving bucky!

(part i) (part ii) | w.c: 7.8k (got carried away, mb)

As you trace the track of living the endless cycle of you and the White Wolf stumbling in this much different life, James Barnes slowly learns fragments and side of you that were covered during the time in HYDRA’s grasp, don’t get him wrong, part of him still navigating in living and breathing around you but somehow, he doesn’t mind learning more about you, he somehow find himself tangled in your webs: in which he rationalized that maybe the words of HYDRA never left his head or maybe, just maybe, he felt a sense of familiarity with you, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that in the corners of the Avengers compound, someone understands him.

You, on the other hand, slowly make amends to the people you caused trouble when you were still HYDRA’s living leverage: some of them thanked you for apologizing while some did not take any apologies from you. Despite the hardship of earning people’s forgiveness, a part of you was grateful that the bed was even warmer than before, people actually smiled at you, talked to you, and you built the idea that the world isn’t always red and bruised. 

For another, you finally see the Sergeant that fell off the train in 1945, how his life is ultimately different to the one you previously known, how his attention is relatively closed-knitted with books rather than guns and knives, how his grumpy old gaze was just him being confused, and how his metal arm is for carrying Banner’s stuff rather than a weapon to be used. It is refreshing to see things in a different light, but there’s still a present guilt on how you stole these simple things from the Sergeant, a lingering disgust within you was still present. How you wish HYDRA didn’t use him; how you wished you didn’t use him–despite his given acknowledgement of forgiveness: a terrible little you burns the edge of your mind. Yet, as you meet his eyes while sparring, in missions, in the kitchen, and at night, it keeps you grounded that what you have now is a chance to prove yourself—that you’re more than just HYDRA’s stupid toy.

After a few months of the events of you and Bucky sharing a moment in Brooklyn, you two find each other’s presence more grounding, call it sharing a trauma or trauma-bonding but what is certain, the each of you became each other’s compass in wandering the softer edge of the world.

The mission was executed properly and Tony Stark, being the man he is, decided to throw a party at the compound: with close friends, workers, family, and the Avengers–as the people went through the party, you stayed at the bar and challenged drinks with Yelena and Sam.

Sam and Yelena are on their fifth drink as their visions start to betray them. It was a stupid challenge, really, but it was amusing to join. As you drank your fifth drink, you winced at the bitterness and warmth coursing through your throat. “You two okay…?” You asked, basically indicating that you are still in the right state of mind, body, and soul.

“Absolutely…” Yelena uttered but her words were shaky and unstable as Sam just nodded and tried to sit up straight. In another point of view, it seems like you poisoned the two, but in this challenge: pride was on the line. “You know, you two should take a rest…” 

The Falcon immediately protested his dislike at the idea of taking a rest, but before he could argue, he fell off his chair, causing Yelena to fall as well. “Told you…” You uttered under your breath. As Rhodes and Wanda helped the two go back to their room, you were left alone in the bar as a familiar metal arm tapped the table.

“You finally decided to show up.” Bucky nods and sits on the stool. “I heard that Sam fell flat on his face, so I had to see it.” You shook your head and nodded. “Anything I can get you?” Bucky decided whiskey on the rocks, as he was just taking a sip every now and then.

You asked the White Wolf why he wasn't joining Steve and Thor sharing drinks at the other side of the room, his eyes looking over the God of Thunder and Steve as he just looks back at his drink. “Just not feeling like talking to other people, everyone’s here is so different from the 40s.” You nodded as you sip your drink as well.

“Well, I’m not from the 40s, so, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you replied as you watched the people having fun. “But I guess, I do get where you’re coming from. I mean, people are actually…talking, not ordering me around.” You chuckled unsure, yet Bucky knew what you meant. 

As you sighed, you looked over at him. “How’s your trip with Peter? I heard the kid practically dragged you around Queens for his project.” A small sigh and smile left James’ lips. “Parker was talking a lot, he introduced me in the corners of Queens, it was nice. But I still choose—.” you continue his words.

“Brooklyn.” You both said in unison, as he nodded. After a while, you two just watch the party in the bar. In the scene of soft music and chattering noises, it was quiet on your side. As if there was another world being built there–a look of adoration of the people around the room is present in the eyes of two former people of HYDRA, call it a look of longing or even hoping; in the back of Bucky’s mind he remembered the days where he dance with girls in the 1940s while you wonder if being in a party means being happy in people’s company.

Bucky was about to say something when he saw people dancing on the dance floor. Despite the uplifting mood, some people swayed to the music, calmly, not out of rhythm but still a form of slow dancing. His eyes darted to you as he saw how intrigued and focused you are in the people dancing.

“First time seeing people dancing?” He asked, as you spared him a look and you nodded. “Would it be weird if I said yes?” Bucky shook his head a ‘no’. He knew what you went through as he took a sip and said: “It’s not weird. But, it’s surprising..”

“Why is it surprising?”

“Well, when you and Natasha went to the ball for an undercover mission, didn’t you two dance with people to blend in…?”

“Oh, the mission in Budapest.” You nodded. “I didn’t dance that night, not once in my life, I think…” He glanced at you, as you asked if he danced. The Sergeant had this nostalgic look in his eyes, as if he tried to remember the soft hands he held as he danced in the 40s. With a last sip of his drink, he had a smug look on his face. “1943. Her name was Connie.” You listened intently. 

He shared the Stark Expo, the memories he has as he danced with Connie before the war. As he grabbed a beer at a nearby table, to his surprise, you’re actually listening to him: He also told how he gave Steve a date that time, a double date, as he mentioned. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe the ambiance, but Bucky couldn’t stop talking to you—especially, when you’re looking at him as if he’s the only person in the world. Listening to him as if the music isn’t filling your ears.

He should not let the soft smile appear, yet he loves this. He loved being listened to. Despite, his demeanor and adjusting behavior around you; getting used with you, he let it slip—he hoped it was the alcohol, god, he hoped it was—he smiled at you, not an awkward one nor a smug one, it is a smile reserved for the times he felt at ease: the smile he had when he stayed at Sam’s hometown, the smile he had when he saw the flying car in Stark Expo, the smile he had when he was saved by Steve, and a smile that made his ears warm when he was dancing with Connie in 1943.

You smiled back, the Sergeant looked so handsome. A pretty man. In the moment, you two are like teenagers down the block or somewhat two strangers finally see each other eye-to-eye. As James ignored the warmth in his cheeks—pretending it was from the alcohol—he breaks the smile. As you question: “Was it nice…?”

Moments like this, James realized that you two are not far from each other; he got to experience becoming a human, before mess happened. While you lived in the mess, not knowing what it means to be a human—he pity you sometimes, he often wonders if you’re just making this up, waiting for a moment so, you can fuck him up but moments like this, he somehow recalls you had this look of ingenuity, as if you have no clue: how to live. 

And he knew, for he also had the same look in his eyes. So, he nods and looks at the people sharing a slow dance. “It felt nice..” As you sip your drink, the Sergeant wants to ask you something, yet a bitter voice in his head holds those words back. In that he settled with that answer, as he drank the beer while you watched the people dance. A simple breath left you: “I’ll figure it out how it feels..” 

If things were different, the bitter voice in his head would have not bothered him—but for now, he settled with whatever he had with you, as he left it at that.

You walked in the compound and smelled the spices in the kitchen, with a book in your hand—you saw Vision and Wanda cooking. Since the Redhead A.I has heightened senses, he welcomed and invited you. You felt like a trash third wheel, but as Wanda gave you a smile and offered what they cooked, it was more than welcoming. 

A look from the outside was watching the three of you, or perhaps, you. The blue eyes watched you, as if he was analyzing how different you look: you looked at ease, your shoulders aren’t tense; you looked so…calm. “Are you going to run or are we gonna be staring at them until it gets weird?” Sam eyed the Sergeant as he glared back.

“Shut up, I’m almost done with my lap.” He grunted, going back to the stupid running bet with Sam. As Sam catched up with the grumpy old-man, Sam snickered. “That cyborg brain of yours is functioning in a new gear.” The Falcon teased, to which Bucky ignored–but he couldn’t help but wonder why he felt different around you: it was wrong, at least, that’s what he tells himself—he firmly believes, it was nothing but a mere heat of the moment perhaps, a little assurance for the trauma that you two share.

It was a normal day, to say so at least, the rest were doing their own things—enjoying the uneventful day, when afternoon arrived, some found themselves seeking to shut-eye: but not the former secret service of HYDRA and White Wolf.

“How about George Owell’s books?” You asked the Sergeant who was reading a book as he sat on the library’s couch. He raised his head and looked up at you at the loft of the library. “Haven’t read it but Dr. Strange said it’s a good one.” you nodded as you continued to scan the books in the library of the compound.

After a few hours of Bucky reading, he realized you’re not back in the seat where you promised to sit after you find the right book for you—that was an hour ago. He placed the book, The Hobbit, on the table as he called out your name. Your lack of response was a little jitter in his head, it’s unusual, or maybe it is usual, but he couldn’t help but check on you. As he climbed on the loft, he found you, reading a book on the floor.

He was bewildered as he saw you, reading a book on the floor as he sighed and sat next to you. “You finished your book?” You asked as he just shook his head; he didn’t say anything, letting you read in silence. In that moment, maybe, he was reading it all wrong—not the book, but you: he longs to be near you, whether he admits it or not, he stole glances as you read the book.

He should still hate you, you stole everything from him. But, his heartbeat quickens when you two share a soft moment, his ears ring when he does something that makes you laugh, his hands shake when you don’t respond to his comms when you two are on a mission, he doesn’t get it. He should still hate you, but he can’t help it—maybe, he’ll get it, once you do too.

As you read thoroughly, you felt a head on your shoulder. Typically, you would push it away, but as you heard even breathing as a relaxed state, you let it be. You didn’t move an inch, as you let the Sergeant sleep on your shoulder. It’s not the first time you served as a pillow to your new home, it was mostly Wanda or Yelena; sometimes Thor, when he wants to annoy you—but this felt new and raw. Your heart pounds louder, god, you hoped that the White Wolf won’t hear it. 

It was scary to feel this, the loud banging on your chest, the tensed shoulder you had, yet as you looked over your shoulder, you saw his closed eyes and relaxed eyebrows—your memory drifted to the time you hear his screams when HYDRA removes his memory, you tensed as you remember how he bear the pain as you just watch across the room, and you remembered how the his furrowed eyebrows in the cryo-sleeping machine. The guilt was seething pain in your neck, it tasted bitter, but for once, you ignored the bitter taste in your lips, you found a better position, as you lean back, Barnes fell further in your shoulder as head touched the side of your neck.

You smiled softly—the one you gave Barnes at the party, the one you gave Barnes as you apologized; the smile you gave Bucky at the diner, a few months ago. With a heavy feeling, you leaned in his head as you rested your cheek.

You are damn sure, this will result into stiff neck, back pain, or even cramps—but just this once, you’ll bear it, just this once you’ll let your back and muscle scream, and just this once you let James Buchanan Barnes sleep, with a relaxed eyebrows in the warm presence of the library.

It wasn’t long when you feel sleepy too, it was an afternoon hit afterall, but a part of you wishes to stay awake, you want this to last, yet, you found yourself closing your eyes, relaxing in the library. You knew you’ll figure it out one day, whether it’s right or wrong to long for this, you’ll figure it out how to pour your heart to the person who has a broken heart because of you—you’ll figure it out, you know it—you just hope, Bucky will figure it out too.

Everything was doing fine with you and Bucky; the entire team felt it too—the sudden change, the loosen tension, and the given knowing look. You and Bucky did too but the trip to the destination wasn't an easy one, most of the time, Bucky steps on things he was not sure he can step on, other times you bit off things more than you can chew. Stark and Steve saw what was going on, the three steps forward yet four times back. 

But little things keep you on arms length with the Sergeant: it’s not easy to look past with what you’ve done to him after all; it’s not easy for James to just forget everything that was stolen from him—for another, a part of you was new to this, the unknown butterflies when the Sergeant would do something as he glance at you, the red ears but not from the cold but when you hear James laugh, and the fast-paced beat: it was new to you, you know this feeling, you’ve read it in books: one to many times already but feeling it was another level, one you cannot help yourself but deny.

A bitter taste fell out of your mouth as you listened to the comms as you sneak in inside a control system for a mission, you could hear it—in the comms how Stark, Barnes, Romanoff, and Carter were blending in naturally in the crowd: it was a common hideout, to be honest, a terrorist stealing vibranium and having the operation under a bar-party casino, what a common hideout, it wouldn’t bother you; in reality, it should not bother you—you were HYDRA’s weapon once, undercover and sneak in mission is nothing but a piece of cake.

That would be the case, if you don’t feel a conflicting emotion in your chest—god, you hear it, the little chuckles the fell out of Carter’s mouth as you heard Bucky’s line on the end, he sound so out of character, out of touch, way different as he interacts with you. Cursing under your breath, you entered the camera room.

Without warning to the team, you successfully put the camera in your control, protecting Wanda, Sam, and Rogers from the security’s grasp. In that, you heard Tony’s chuckle.

“There you go, Secret Service, everyone..” He compliments you as he continues his comms. “Told you, you’re fit for the role—I’m great at role assigning after all.” In some cases, you would thank him —but your mind brushes things as Romanoff’s response to the comms was blurry as you recall the planning earlier.

“It’s set in Europe.” Sharon Carter's voice informed the team, as you, Yelena, and Natasha were preparing the things for the mission. As the information was given by Stark and Carter, you waited for further instruction—thus, leading to assigning roles. It wouldn’t matter actually, you were a spy, this would be a piece of cake: but then again, you bit off on something you can’t chew.

“Carter and Barnes, you two will be the undercover Mr. and Mrs. Williams, when we get control of the camera systems, that’s when Rogers, Wilson, and Wanda can come in. That leads to Yelena for going in the vault as me and Ms. Romanoff along with Williams taking charge of what’s in the casino.” Stark looked at Natasha and Rogers for confirmation, they both nodded. 

But you scanned the fake invitations made by Stark for him and Natasha; for Barnes and Carter: The Williams—a new feeling burns within you, but you carry on—for all you see, was Barnes already talking to Carter after the planning—moments like that: you find another reason why you should deny the wanted warmth spreading in your cheek when you talk to Sergeant.

“Hey, secret service, talk to me–” Stark’s pull you out of your trance, you immediately replied. “Yeah? I’m here..” Stark chuckled, as he informed to prepare for a change in plans. 

“Copy that.” A sigh left your mouth and a familiar voice—a softer one than what you once heard in HYDRA’s—”Everything okay, сахарный тростник?” 

Everything okay, sugarcane? In different circumstances, that would have the cheesiest smile out of you, how a stupid toy turned into sugarcane. But things are different, way different—everything was out of touch, instead a monotone left your lips. “Everything’s fine, soldier.” 

“You were not responding for a minute, you sure?”

In his words, you knew Steve wasn’t joking when he shared that Barnes have girls lining up for him in the 40s, knowing damn well, if you existed that time—you would too but as you listen to him, you notice the subtle different tone he uses with Carter, way different when it comes to you, it stings but you already foreseen this: it’s never gonna work, you stole everything from him for fucks sake. It will never work out. Bucky will never figure it out.

Before you could respond, a security breach alarm was ringing the entire place, it was from Yelena’s position—the things happened too fast, you immediately went to Yelena for back-up, which you two gladly got out. Everything was a mess, as far as you can remember, you and Yelena took some enemies, it was an odd pairing as Stark teased in the comms but as you fight, a lingering and gnawing feeling broods in your chest, it wasn’t the fight nor the team’s safety.

It was you, you’re worried about you and the damn stupid butterflies in your stomach. Your mind drifts that even in this different life, you still can’t have what you want to have—unprofessional, sloppy, neglectful, and hideous: as you heard a gunshot and a seething pain in your abdomen, so much for HYDRA’s favored leverage. 

As you felt the pain, the adrenaline coursing to your body made you fight more of the enemies, but the ringing in your ear never left, maybe it was the anxiety or maybe it was the comms, or maybe it was Yelena begging the team to go back to quinjet because you’ve been shot—it would be tolerable, the pain would be tolerable until in the comms you heard a pleading, longing, a lost voice.

“Has anyone seen Carter?” It was Bucky, god, he sound so worried, so distress, that made you wince even the bullet’s pain was nothing, this was much worse, you stumbled your walk as you throw the comms away, luckily Yelena was with you, after a moment, the Falcon and Iron Man carried you and Yelena back to the quinjet, as a limping Sharon Carter and getting assisted by Bucky met your view as Sam made you sit.

Wanda immediately used her ability to heal you but you pushed her hand away. “I’m okay, Wanda. I can take it—look over Sharon and Yelena, yeah?” You smiled at her but as she was about to protest, Steve nudged her shoulder as Steve sat next to you. “My bad, Captain..” You gave Rogers a smile, a masked one—god, you’re in so much pain.

“...You okay?” Stark snickered as Steve sent him a glare. “Rogers, I am fine. You should see the other guy—” but before you can continue, Natasha cut you off.

“You were distracted out there. You were not responding for a minute; you got shot. Want to tell us, what happened?” There she is, the Black Widow, you play with air in your mouth as you look at Steve and glance at Barnes talking to Sharon as Wanda heals her injury. Normally, Natasha would tease you about it but as she notices the subtle glance. She waited for your answer.

“Was not used in that set-up, I guess.” Natasha gave a look to you, call it pity, sadness, but as you stood up, watching as the fabric that Yelena tied in your abdomen was pooling red, you used Steve's shoulders to lift yourself up. “Sorry, was distracted, it won't happen again.” 

Steve was about to guide you but you shrugged him off as you walked in the little bathroom in quinjet. Not-knowing an emotion filled eyes was longing behind your back—how a pair of cerulean colored eyes is watching behind you. The jet was quiet, not because of the tight tension, but a worried one. So, Yelena carried the mood: reminding everyone that the mission is a success, but it wasn’t for Bucky, you were bleeding; he wasn’t there—for him, the mission would rather fail than to see you wincing in every step you make.

You removed your clothes as you removed the cloth that Yelena used to stop the bleeding, you eyed the injury as you knew this was a bit worse than you expect it, with running water, you cleaned it—scrambling the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, applying gauze—-you can ask Banner or Maximoff to look on it, for now, this’ll do.

Few weeks back in the compound, it felt like the time didn’t move. You were pissing off at HYDRA wishing they inserted the serum at you too—so, the healing process would be much faster than you bed-rotting in your room—but you guess, that was better; with Yelena being the closest things you have in sister–she told you everything. Especially the blonde woman hanging out with the terminator. 

She tells stories about them as she sometimes passes out in your room—you love Yelena, there’s no doubt, you thanked her every time she and Natasha would look at you as if you live with them. In the middle of the night, you got out of your bed as you fixed Yelena’s blanket next to you—-your light footsteps left your room, as you went to the kitchen. 

You wanted to make tea, but the heating pain from your abdomen, your movements were slow—it would take—“Sam would’ve ran sixteen laps and your tea is not even close to done.” Of course, the Captain’s voice. He was in his night outfit as you chuckled and nodded. “A little hand, then?” you asked the old man. 

That night, Steve Rogers made you tea as you watched and sat on the counter. “I can feel you staring at me…” Rogers uttered as you shook your head. “I never got to thank you…” You added as he placed a fresh tea on the counter as he also has one too. 

As you sip, a smile left your face—you liked the tea he made. “Peggy taught me in the 40s.” You nodded as he told you how Peggy taught him—before you knew Steve, you thought he just got lucky being Captain America, but with him sitting and studying your look: he’s also a human being that falled in the wrong path of time. With that, you looked at him.

“Does it get easier?” You asked him, it was a broad question. But, somehow, all the speeches he made for the team had the same weight when said: “I lived on ice for 70 years, it’ll eventually get harder.” Not the answer you wanted, but somehow, you knew.

“....but you have us. Eventually, it’ll be okay, not easy, but okay.” He sip his tea as he pulls the picture of Peggy in the compass he carries. 

“You must’ve really liked her…” You added–as he nodded, acting shyly—as he tells his story, but not the one written in the museum, somehow, the longing feeling in your chest was bigger, how he talks about Bucky, is so different from the Bucky you know, it was painful—but at this point, you mirrored Rogers, not missing how his eyes shimmered when he thought of Peggy. With a cup of tea on your hand, you figured it out: you absolutely, without a doubt:

You love James Buchanan Barnes.

Your heart clenches as you settle with the realization—“I’ve seen how you look at Bucky..” Cases like this, you would wanna talk to Natasha first, but, knowing Steve would not let it go, you continued—it’s your way to thank him for the tea, afterall.

“I do, I felt that, months ago—realized it, now. I saw how you talk about Peggy yet I think about how I talked about him.” You chuckled. “Guess his 40s charm never left, but, who would take me—why would I bother with this? I hurt him, stole everything from him and now we're a bunch of agents and icons, there’s no room for that—especially ... .especially with me.” Steve listened intently.

“Pepper and Tony would say otherwise.” You raise your head and meet his gaze. “Barton and his wife would not agree too. Parker and MJ would argue with you about it. Wanda and Vision would explain themselves to you—” You laughed, as you get his point.

“It’s not the same, Rogers—I hurt him. A million times, stole who he is, used what he is—how would he take me?” A bitter chuckle left your lips as cleared your throat, you stood up not wanting to talk more. “Thanks for the tea…” As you closed the door in your room, Steve sighed as he looked at the man standing in the dark corner of the room. 

“You heard her…” Steve got the cups and placed them on the sink, as the man in the corner stepped out. “How would you take her..?” Steve quotes your question. The man lingered his blue eyes in the door of your room. 

“All of her.” 

 It’s true, Barnes should still hate you—but, all at once, next to you, he feels like a child. Like, all the things he felt was damaged within him, felt undamaged—felt like you seen him in his bullshit: the 40s one, the Sergeant one, the Winter Soldier one, the White Wolf one, the James—the Bucky: you take them all, so, he would be a fool not to take all of you too.

Maybe, in the height of it all, 40s Bucky would never forgive you but—in his heart, a growing hope—thanking the stars, the pain, the stitches, the loss—for all of that: he thanked that he was still alive in hope for this love.

Steve nodded and looked at his friend— “Talk to her, Buck.” Bucky nodded, not saying anything but feeling everything—with a soft look at Steve, he realized that he got it—he understood it, that in your shoulder at the library: everything felt right: you hurted him, that is true, god, he hated you.

But in the dreaded past, meeting you, knowing you was the tattooed dream etched in his mind, that inside of the Sergeant, White Wolf, grumpy old man: was his inner child, wishing to spend the rest of his days until the time lets—god, he loves you.

The next day, alarms were all over the compound, you walked out of your room—seeing Tony and Steve in their suits; a missing cerulean eyes. “Where’s Bucky?” Sam immediately went to you, as he tried to push your back into your room.

“You’re still injured, let them handle–this–” You pushed his arm. “Don’t bullshit me, Sam—I am fine, where’s Barnes?” you repeated but as Sam was about to say something, Stark was at your room’s door. “Power Broker got him—” Without a word, you grabbed your stuff and changed your clothes to the uniform Stark made for you.

“Hey, hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Sam’s voice was louder as Tony did his best to stop you too. “Secret Service, listen to me, you’re still injured—you have to stay–”

“Stay?! I will not stay here, Stark, Bucky is—he’s not here—I’m not gonna stand here and hope you guys get him back! What if Zola found him! What if—” Stark cut you off. “We’ll bring him back—your Barnes.” In that you calm down, as you nodded and sat on your bed. As Stark left your room, Sam looked over at you.

“Sam?” 

“Yeah?”

“...I’m gonna follow them..” With that you clutched your bed sheets and begged to all the heavens of the universe to bring him back. Your love back.

James Barnes was sitting in a familiar chair, a chair that reminded him of his past, reminded him of all the blood—it’s happening again, he’s gonna lose all his memories again, he wanted to fight the doctors surrounding him but the drugs in his system were blurring everything. 

His metal hand was strapped as well as his chest and feet—he felt helpless. “Ah, you’re awake.” A voice, Sharon—she visited Bucky’s room last night, for whatever reason, Bucky thought Sharon needed help but as he turned his back, all he felt was the cold floor and woke up with the doctors all over the place with him tied up on the chair.

“Sharon, what the hell is wrong with you?” His voice is bitter, in pain, god, it’s all coming back— “Wrong with me? I am this, солдат.” Soldier. It is different when you say it, that’s the first thing Bucky noticed. “And I am selling you to the market. You are a great deal, Winter Soldier.” 

Of course, Bucky would be used again—the machine starts to produce a sound—a distinct familiar sound, is it always gonna end up like this? But in his throat, he can only plead—he felt like a kid, not the same kid that wishes for you, the kid that was begging to be freed, it felt so weird, familiar, painful, to be back here.

As the machine covers his left eye as he grunts in pain—he thinks of you. He wished he memorized you, he wished he knew how to make your tea, he wished he would remember your words, he wished he was back in the shore again as you ask for forgiveness as he eats the sugarcane, how he wished he was eating at the diner with the jukebox again; how he wished he took you to a dance. 

Then, it was nothing. 

“Солдат?” Sharon called out a name—Soldier?

Against the dark room, a soldier spoke: “Я готов ответить.”  The Winter Soldier was ready to comply.

“Tell me, it’s not you on the comms, Secret Service.” As Stark and Rogers rush inside the building, which was supposed to be a duo-mission, they hear a crackling noise on their comms. “That would be so boring if it wasn’t, right, Stark?” You chuckled, before Rogers can even argue about it—Stark already did.

“You stubborn–You just had your stitches! We’ll handle this! Stay put in your location–you—” But you cut him off.

“Even if you have stitches, Stark! If Potts is there—you’ll do it too, so, let me help…” Stark and Steve sighed, they knew they couldn’t stop you. After Stark sorting you out, you get on the other side of the building while the other two lurk on the other side. It was a dark building, as you successfully sneak in: you immediately scan the area.

The dark room makes you think of HYDRA years ago: it was triggering, your skin feels cold—if you’re feeling like this, what more to Bucky. You need to find him fast, but the pulsing in your head, also doesn’t help, maybe it was the anxiety or maybe when Sam tried to stop you earlier.

“I told you, I won’t let you!” Sam groaned as he blocked your path, for a thousand times. “Sam, please, Cap and Stark need us! They need me, we have to help them!” You fought him, but you knew he was holding back because of your stitches. 

“Work with me, Sam, please..” You pleaded but he got you in a headlock, as you calmed down. He loosened when you tapped his hand. “Please….It’s James. I don’t want him to go through that again, it’s the only way—only thing I can do, Sam—” 

Sam cared about Bucky and you knew that, at this moment, Sam hates that he cares about you too. “Fine, but—” You smiled at him— “I won’t tell Steve.” In that Sam just nodded and let you go. 

Never in your life, thought you would let your feet touch the casket for a man—a man whose heart and past are all broken because of you. You never thought you would see the day why people fought lively in the war because they have someone to go home to, you never thought you would see the day where all can be damned—just not you and Barnes.

The other side of the building is thoroughly occupied by fights: Stark and Rogers are really pushing through—while you see a laboratory, you immediately sneak inside. As Stark updated their situation of being occupied in a fight, you entered the lab. You finally saw Bucky, in the same chair, the first time you saw him. You were angry, pissed, and everything is being in the last line of your moral defense. 

“Oh, Bucky..” you immediately went to the buttons and let the machine let James go, but he remained seated. “Barnes, we have to go—come on–” You checked his face if he was injured, or even concussed, but all you met was a familiar eye, an unwanted one, the one would burn in your guilt—In his dilated eyes, the Winter Soldier is back. It’s not Barnes, not Bucky—HYDRA’s favorite: the one that killed people without blinking. With such hope, you pulled him up but to no avail, Carter’s voice broke through.

“Soldier, attack.”

The Winter Soldier immediately slapped you away, causing you to hit the wall—if it wasn’t for Tony and Shuri’s invention in your suit—you would’ve died but you met the Winter Soldier’s eyes again, this time—you stood at the same spot of his victims before, you knew what they meant: for the first time, you were scared. As Stark had scanned the area from his location, he asked you to stand down and wait for them—but the comms he was giving was meeting the cold floor.

You look at the Winter Soldier. “You really wanna do this, Sharon?” Sharon snickered as she cockily revealed her plan selling the Winter Soldier to the underground. “You’re nothing like Peggy, not a bunch.” Sharon scrunched her nose.

“Because Peggy never stepped up—she could have all this and yet she stayed at the stupid camp. But me, after the government go up against me, I finally find the purpose—”

“What? Like a criminal dealer?” Despite you tensing up, to fight against the Winter Soldier up—you snarked up a reply to Sharon. “That’s lame, you know, if I were you, I would go bi—”

“Shut up! Like you know better, you better stop pretending to be one of them because…you are just like me.” You stared at her; back at the brooding Winter Soldier. “Or not. Soldier…kill.” In that The Winter Soldier immediately attacked you.

For a while, you were able to keep up with his fighting style, you were once a HYDRA after all but a lingering warm feeling scattered in your chest: you can keep up with him because you spar together, you catch up with his speed. Despite the Winter Soldier’s attacking skills, you didn’t fight back, you just put yourself in defense and you tried to whisper words that would trigger his memory. You hoped Steve would arrive and pull the Soldier out of trance, as the Soldier pinned you to the wall, you finally attacked back—you kicked him as he stepped away.

“Soldat, ты меня бесишь.” The soldier grunted, he knew what you meant—he was pissing you off. In that his attack became more aggressive; You tried to recall all the memories, even the one Steve told you but none of them reached the Soldier. He kept punching and kicking you, until his hand hit your stitches, you fell on the ground as you clutch yourself in pain—the soldier reached for the gun, with the last strength you kicked the gun away. 

It fell on the floor as you grabbed it and aimed it at the Soldier. “Stay back, Soldier.” Yet, for the first time, your hand shakes holding a gun. Without abandon, the Soldier still charged, pushing you down to the floor—with an intention to kill,he grabbed a knife but instead of you pulling the trigger, you felt the knife getting deeper in your shoulder, the Winter Soldier twisted the knife, but he flinched when he heard you:

“Full circles…” You winced. “I am really sorry, Bucky…” Suddenly, the Soldier heard the shore, the sweet taste was familiar on his lips, your swiss knife on his hand—Bucky. 

He pulled his hand away as he stared at you. “....Sugarcane..” In that a bitter chuckle left your mouth as you nod. “Barnes..” You felt yourself tear up as you reached his cheek and caressed it. “You’re back…finally, you’re back..” Bucky was tense, he knew what he did but the way you looked at him, melted his inside. He was about to say his apology but a loud explosion occurred. He used his body to shield you as he carried you to the side.

He saw the blood in your suit, as you slowly got dizzy. “Hey, hey, don’t you dare. Sweets, come on–”Bucky tapped your cheek as he saw in the explosion was Stark and Steve, Steve threw his shield to Bucky as Bucky catched it he warned: “Steve! We gotta go, she lost a lot of blood.” Even Tony felt Bucky’s panic. 

“The quinjet is up north the mountain.” Steve said as he and Stark went to catch Sharon Carter. Bucky’s hand was dipping in your shoulder and waist as he carried you back to the quinjet, he kept checking if you were still breathing—he prayed, he was shaking in fear: he can’t lose you, especially not like this. His breathing was ragged as he reached the jet. He was hoping Wanda was there but all there were the buttons of the jet. 

He placed you on a chair as he grabbed the medical kit in a cabinet, he immediately sat on the floor and remove the suit—your stitches thorn and a bleeding shoulder, he was mad at himself, how did he even let it happen, he should not have hurt you, he should—

“Calm down, James…” He felt your hands on his cheek again, grounding him in his panic. He immediately shook his head. “No, no, I did this, I was—”

“You didn’t have a choice…” you smiled. “Besides, I think we’re fair now.” You joked but the giggle didn’t leave Bucky’s lips—-is he going to lose you too? His hand reached for your head as he ran his hand in your hair. “I should’ve asked you to dance with me, that night….” He whispered slowly.

As you nodded, relaxing in his touch. “I guess you owe me…”

“I do, I definitely do, sweets.”

Bucky was reading George Owell’s 1984—despite being a great book: it seemed a tale of HYDRA, he read intently in the library. After a while, he looked over the loft, recalling the memory when he fell asleep next to you. 

“Hey, sweets?” His voice called out, noticing the afternoon turned into night, knowing they drifted in the loft, next to each other. “Yes, Barnes?”

“We’ll read 1984 tomorrow?” He asked but neither of them moved, the proximity within them is warm, it’s home. With a chuckle, a reply left you: “If you’re up for it…”

After a while, he left the library with a longing look on his face as he carried the book, adoring the shared memory, longing for it, wishing he can experience it again—

— Suddenly, he met you carrying new bandages and band-aids. “Didn’t Banner tell you to stay on the bed?” He asked, immediately rushing to you.

“....Did he?” you asked, as you looked like a kid that stole a candy bar. “Well, Banner and Stark went out and my bandages are getting itchy so—I kinda, need to change them.” 

“Couldn’t Natasha or Yelena help you?” You nodded. “I can’t find them and they’re really itchy, Barnes.” You walked away from him as he held your shoulder. “Let’s change it then, sweets.”

Barnes made you sit on the sink of the bathroom as he changed the bandages in your abdomen, as you winced lightly. “This okay, sweets?” You nodded as he purely focused on the bandage. Later, reached another batch of bandages, as you see the guilt look in his face: as he changed the one in your shoulder. “Barnes…” You knew he wasn’t listening, he’s probably blaming himself in his head again.

“Bucky?” you called out, this time, he looked at you. As you reached for his metal arm, he pulled away but then you pulled it as you felt the metal texture. “I’m sorry…I hurted you.” He sighed as you held the wrist of his metal arm. “Guess we’re even—” He shook his head, not liking your humor.

“There could’ve been worse! I could’ve killed you—I could’ve lost you and it’s gonna be my fault–” In his panic, his right hand lightly hit your shoulder—but as he was about to say sorry again, you grabbed both of his cheeks. “We’re alright, Bucky. We’re okay…” You muttered, as you rested your forehead into his. 

“We’re okay.” You both muttered, as he calmed down, he continued to change your bandage on your shoulder, as his body heat was radiating into you. As he wrapped and cut the last bandage—you both stared at each other. His eyes were blue like you remembered, as his eyes linger in your eyes yet longer in your lips. 

Suddenly, it’s just him and you—above anything else, he kissed you. 

To which you smiled as you kiss him back, in the soft edge of the compound, it’s just him and you, his hand rested in your waist as you hold him in his shoulder—you kissed him as if you were memorizing him and he kissed you like he would want to keep your lips on a bottle so, he can get addicted and taste you anytime he wants. 

He pushed further as you pulled away and you chuckled. “I thought the 40s were supposed to bring them on date first…” Bucky eyes glistened with joy— “My bad, sweets, you looked like you wanted to kiss me.” 

As he kissed you lightly again, lingering a little longer—as he pulled away he tucked your hair in your ear. “I suppose I owe you a dance, sweets?” You smiled as you nodded, as you opened your arms for embrace as he indulged in your warmth. “Only if you change my bandages, until I get better?”

He nodded as he kissed your forehead: “You don’t have to ask me, sweets, I got you, always.”

“....You always call me that, after I said sorry to you…sweets, I’m not sweet, I’m a spy like Natasha and Yelen—”

“The sugarcane, sweets. The sugarcane, I still remember that was the only thing we ate that time—yet, even when I was mad at you, you still got me sugarcane, it was really…sweet of you.” He whispered as you laughed. “Steve wasn’t lying when you got your words.” 

He lightly kissed your injured shoulder and muttered a sorry to it. As you two hugged again, you can’t help but hum the song from the diner—playing in the jukebox: I’ve never been in love before—but as you smiled and relaxed at the sink—it felt different, it felt more human—warmest than ever been. 

Upon in a different side of life, you never knew it will turn out like this, watching stars with Barnes, holding hands, dancing in the rhythm, planning what’s for dinner with him;—despite the guilt brooding in each of your chest about what could’ve been in the past the future remains uncertain, as the old man said it will eventually be okay; maybe there was hate or maybe regret: but for a man who woke up 75 years later, he was finally certain as he decided that in each time he will fall in love..

— it's always going to be you.

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3 ₊˚⊹♡ taglist: @yesiamthatwierd, @bitchimasnake-sss, @cjand10, @jayflwr, @buckys-wintersoldier, @buck-buck-buckaroo, @the-winter-spider, @buckys-other-punkk, @mostlymarvelgirl, @winterslove1917. @winterfrosted, @the-winter-spider @nayala, @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast, @samthemarvelfan, @sinner-as-saint

:please message me if you do not wish to be tagged! <3

[jaethaone]

Coming For Whats Mine

Part 2

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black female reader, mentions of Carmelo Hayes x black female reader

Rating: 18+

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: None really. Slight angst? maybe? Hint of toxic at the end. That’s all really.

Summary: Set at SummerSlam, Four Months after Wrestle Mania, Yn is set to defend her WWE Women’s Championship Title after her win at Wrestle Mania. It’s also been four months since she’s last seen, or heard from Roman despite their “relationship” at the time. How will things go for the Champion when the rumors of his return prove true.

A/n: So this is the first fic I’ve written in like 4 years, SummerSlam kind of gave me a sliver of inspiration so bear with me. I’m always up for feedback so reblog, comment, let me know what you guys think. I also left it open for a possible part two.. maybe. This Is Also Considered An AU since the events in the story don’t exactly follow real life.

GIF: @jeysuso

The bustling energy at SummerSlam 2024 pulsated through the air backstage as sound technicians, lighting crews, and wrestlers flitted about like frenetic fireflies. Excitement brimmed over in every corner; tonight was pivotal, not just for the promotion but for wrestlers both in and out of the ring.

Yn took a moment for herself, the chill of the backstage environment a welcome contrast to the crowded chaos outside. She stood before a mirror, The glint of the title belt rested on her shoulder like a crown she’d fought hard to earn, the gold reflecting her determination. The echo of cheers from the audience seeped through the walls, only intensifying her focus. Yet, despite the momentous occasion, a lingering heaviness sat in the pit of her stomach.

It had been four months since she had claimed the WWE Women’s Championship, and it felt like only yesterday when she had tasted victory after a grueling match against IYO SKY the same night Roman Reigns had lost his title to Cody Rhodes.

“Yn, you ready champ?”

Bianca’s voice broke through her thoughts bright and buoyant. She appeared at Yn’s side, her own hair styled to perfection, radiating confidence as she and Jade entered her dressing room after knocking.

Bianca, her fiery spirit contrasting with Yn’s calm demeanor, wore a dazzling outfit that shimmered under the harsh lights. Jade followed, her presence like a grounding force, her eyes full of both mischief and wisdom.

“I’ll be fine,” Yn replied, forcing a smile as she turned to face her friend. “Just another match, right?”

“Just another? It feels monumental to me,” Jade said thoughtfully, nudging her friend playfully. “Especially with the rumors swirling about Roman returning tonight. You two used to be… close?”

“Yeah.. close,” Yn replied, her tone fluctuating between nonchalance and suppressed emotion. “That feels like forever ago.”

“Or a different era,” Bianca added, eyebrow raised.

Despite Yns indifferent tone she couldn’t mask the tightness creeping into her chest. Days blurred together into months since that fateful night at WrestleMania, where Roman lost the title to Cody Rhodes, and Yn was crowned champion. It was supposed to be a moment of mutual joy, but the victory had felt hollow. Roman had ghosted her, leaving a void where triumph should have blossomed. Despite their burgeoning friendship, one that had hinted at something deeper, he had vanished, and with him, her hope.

“Four months is an eternity in WWE time. You really don’t feel anything now that he’s back?” Bianca asked breaking through Yns thoughts

Yn shook her head, pushing strands of hair out of her face. “No. I mean, we all have our lives to live, right? Roman ghosted me after ‘Mania. I saw it for what it was.” Despite her words, she felt a flicker of uncertainty. She had believed in something that night, something she wished wouldn’t fade with his silence.

“Uh-huh! Sure,” Jade challenged, eyeing Yn with skepticism. “You’re telling me you don’t care at all? You two had something special, and now he’s just…gone?”

“Seriously, Yn,” Bianca added. “You can’t deny it. You liked him.”

Yn inhaled sharply, steeling her heart against the memories of laughter shared and conversations that crawled past midnight.

Yn brushed off their concern with a laugh, but it felt hollow. “I’m all good. I don’t think about Roman. I have a match tonight, and I need to focus on that. It doesn’t matter what he does or doesn’t do anymore. Besides I’ve got Carmelo. We’re not serious, but he’s here.”

“Carmelo? Really, that’s your takeaway?” Bianca Deadpanned. “Just be careful; he’s not exactly your usual type.”

“Great!” Yn grinned, but it was a little forced now. “Your concerns about Carmelo are adorable, but I can handle myself.”

She could hear the raucous cheers outside growing louder, a reminder of the pressure that lay ahead. Tonight was about her, her title, her reign. To maintain that, she needed to block out everything else. But as the show rolled on, Yn couldn’t escape the gnawing apprehension filling her thoughts. It surrounded her like a fog, thickening with each moment that passed leading to her title defense.

Time passed in a blur. The moments leading up to her entrance felt drawn out, yet time seemed to tick away invisibly. When it was her turn, the lights dimmed, and the arena erupted. The audience roared, adrenaline coursed through her veins, but the shadows of the past clung stubbornly.

Despite this she stepped out to face her challenger, she was an embodiment of strength and resilience. The adrenaline fueled her, and nothing was going to stand in her way. Each cheer, every shout of her name, ignited the fire within, and her determination flared to life.

The match unfolded with a punctuated rhythm of hard-hitting action, each move resonating with the audience who cheered her on. Yn felt powerful, confident, her expressions dropping into fierce concentration.

It was brutal yet exhilarating. Yn gave everything she had, countering her opponent’s moves with the skill she had honed over countless hours in the ring. The crowd rallied behind her, and she thrived off their energy, pushing herself beyond limits, chasing victory as she’d always done.

Time melted away, and at last, the bell rang. Yn stood victorious, breathless and basking in the exhilaration of the win. She raised her championship high, the bright lights illuminating her triumph. Cheers erupted, but all the while, there was a nagging sensation in her gut, the victory felt hollow.

As she exited the ring, the crush of bodies shifted, and the atmosphere in the locker room transformed. It was electric, reminiscent of old times tinged with uncertainty.

Yn sat in her locker room as the rest of the night cruised by, watching the remaining matches unfold. Unknowingly holding her breath as she watched the match between Solo And Cody For The Universe Championship.

Watching as every “member” of the Bloodline came out to assist Solo in trying to secure his win over Cody You stood to your feet as the familiar music hit your ears and the pop of the crowd could be heard from your room. The rumors were true.

The Tribal Chief was back

After watching Roman superman punch and spear Solo allowing Cody to retain his title, and also watching Roman tell Cody that said title belonged to him, you felt that it was time to head to your hotel. Granted you could have left a long time ago, not watching to face the real reason you decided to stay behind.

She steeled her racing heart and grabbed her bags, stepping out into the quiet of the halls, the noise of the crowd now a distant crescendo.

As she rounded the corner there he stood. Roman Reigns, backlit by the leering lights of the arena, as if he had stepped out of a dream.

He looked different yet the same—strong, confident, and undeniably captivating.

“Yn!”

“Roman,” she replied, her heart hammering. She hadn’t anticipated this confrontation, nor was she prepared for the swirl of conflicting emotions erupting in her chest.

“Congratulations,” he offered, an easy smile playing on his lips, yet something felt rehearsed.

“Thanks,” she replied curtly, crossing her arms in subconscious defense. “Interesting timing, coming back after all this.”

“I’m back for good,” he clarified, an edge in his tone indicating the seriousness of his intention. “But I wanted to say—”

“Say what?” Yn interrupted. “Say you’re sorry for ghosting? For pretending we meant something?”

“You ghosted me, Roman. Four months. All this time, and not a word.”

He winced, an ache dancing in his eyes.

The air between them was thick with unresolved tension.

“I missed you.”

She laughed at that. “You have a funny way of showing it”

“It wasn’t just that night, Yn. that lost. It felt as if I lost everything. I had to rebuild.” His gaze softened, making her heart flip against her will. “You… you were a part of that journey I thought I needed to let go of.”

“And what? You think just appearing will change anything?” Yn shot back, her frustration rising. “You put me through hell—and yet, I fought to be the champion! To earn this belt!”

He stepped closer, reducing the distance with every heartbeat thrumming in her ears. “You’ve always been a champion babygirl. I’m just glad the rest of the world gets to see what I’ve already known”

Yn’s chest tightened, anger and nostalgia battling for dominance at the nickname. “You think it’s that simple? You don’t just disappear and then show up like a knight in shining armor because you feel like it."

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said, his voice steady. “But I want to earn it. I need to try. For you.”

“I also see you.. with him—” he gestured vaguely, as if Carmelo were an afterthought.

“Carmelo treats me right,” Yn insisted, but doubts flickered like shadows behind her bravado.

“Does he?” Roman's intensity was disarming. “I never wanted to let you go; I was scared. But I know what you’re worth now.”

Yn’s heart raced, torn between the spark ignited by Roman’s words and the steady, purposeful connection she had built with Carmelo. “It’s not about you anymore, Roman. You chose yourself. You didn’t want what we had. If you want to play the game, you’ll have to accept that I’m moving forward.”

His expression faltered, and for a moment, she found herself yearning for their shared past, pushing against the memories of laughter and warmth. Yet, it was all too easy to fall back into the gravitational pull of his world—a world filled with echoes of promises and guilt.

“I’m here, Yn,” he said quietly, as if hoping his words could reshape her very understanding of their reality. “What I did was wrong, but I’m not here only for redemption. I’m here for you, if you’ll let me.”

The moment stretched like elastic, both thrilling and frightening. Yn remembered the spark she felt when they were together, the laughter, the whispered dreams. But she also recalled the shattering silence that followed his departure.

“I—” she started, taking a deep breath, heart racing as she grappled with the looming decision.

For what felt like an eternity, Yn stood silent as the shadows of doubt and desire melded and twisted within her. She thought of Carmelo, the person who had been there for her. Their relationship was light and airy, a painful attempt to distract herself from the past. Yet here Roman stood—the embodiment of unresolved emotions she had tried to bury deep.

“Roman—” she began, but he interrupted, stepping closer, the distance closing.

“Just give me a chance to explain. I was scared, Yn. Scared of what I felt for you, scared of the title loss, and scared—I know I didn’t handle it well. But I’m back now, and I want to make things right.”

“Things can’t just go back to the way they were,” she countered, a part of her wrestling with the truth of his words. She could fall back into this, but the other side—the need to protect herself—screamed loudly.

“You’re right. They can’t,” he agreed, his gaze unwavering. “But we can create something new. If you’ll let me.”

Yn felt the weight of indecision settle heavily. A part of her craved the safety of the stable friendship she had begun building with Carmelo, but her heart ached at the possibility of all she’d sought and lost with Roman.

Ultimately, she would have to choose. Would she risk the familiarity and comfort of her connection with Carmelo, or would she allow the flame that had once flickered so brightly with Roman to reignite?

“Tonight, I am the champion,” she whispered, steadying her resolve. “But I don’t know if I can be your...whatever it is you want from me.”

“I— I just don’t know if I can trust you again. I have to protect what I have built alone, Roman, even if it isn’t what you think it should be.”

A smile ghosted Roman’s lips, bittersweet but hopeful. “No rush. I’m not going anywhere this time. Just know that I’ll be waiting—should you choose to return.”

And as the air thickened with possibilities and remnants of the past hung like a thin veil, Yn found herself standing at the crossroads of longing and familiarity.

Meanwhile Roman was back not only for his spot as Tribal Chief and Head of the Table, or His Championship.. those will all come in due time trust. He was back for what was his, and that included Yn.

[that1geek06]

Hi, how are you? Could you write Harry Hook and male reader? The reader is Audrey's brother and super shy, and he meets Harry when the group of VKs went to save Ben.

HOWDY THERE, I'm alright thank you for asking :D I hope your doing good as well, but I can DEFINITELY do this, I'm so happy that my descendents work has been liked by the fandom and its time for the FIRST ROMANTIC FIC YAYYY so I apologize if its not amazing, lmk if there's anything I can do betterr

-SEEN-

Harry Hook x Male!Reader

Warnings: None (lmk if that's wrong)

Audrey Rose, the most popular and recognizable child of Aurora and Phillip. But not many people know or realize that she has a twin brother, Y/N.

He doesn't blame people for not knowing his lineage, he was the complete opposite of his sister. He preferred comfort over style, singularity instead of popularity, and quiet rather than loud. The only one Y/N really talked to was Ben, who would often hang out with the twin when he courted his sister. But even when the VK'S came and he got with Mal, Ben still showed his friendship and even introduced him to the darker group.

And Y/N loved the VK'S.

They just didn't care, and he admired that, without having to talk to much he became close to the small group. They almost took him under their wing and looked out for him. Basically, he never had any issues with Chad once the VK'S started hanging out with him.

So when he heard about Mal running back to the isle and the plan to get her back. He begged to go along. Ben disagreed at first but with some convincing Y/N was allowed to go with.

He had never been so excited for something before, as Evie dressed him and Ben up the clothes felt so nice, the darker tones of red and grey felt suiting, she even made his outfit to be incorporated as a hoodie which he loved.

And then finally they were off.

Ben was very nervous about being there, but with some guidance from Evie, Jay, and Carlos, they got the ways down quite quickly.

They finally made it to Mal's hideout, and Ben went up to talk to her. Y/N waiting for him to return at the bottom of the steps with the others. Though the stomping of his footsteps proved their conversation didn't go to well.

"She's not coming." Ben said annoyed and stomped off through the streets. The others paced and tried to get the attention of Mal. But Y/N ran off to catch up with Ben.

After a small jog he's back at his side, "T-try not to worry to much Ben. Mal's going through a lot, I'm sure she'll come around here soon." He said in a soft tone, trying to comfort the soon to be king.

But Ben just sighs and shakes his head, "I doubt she will, I pushed her to far.."

The two turn a corner, when suddenly they see 2 other shadows, with a low chuckle one spoke. "Well ain't this just perfect, Uma will be please with this catch. A king and a prince, aye now that's somthin' special."

They step into the light, the taller one had a kind smile on his face surprisingly, his eyes set on Ben. "I knew I recognized you Ben! My dad wishes yours would rot in the underworld by the way." Y/N was confused by the guys happiness, and turned to look at the one the spoke earlier, only to find his eyes already on him.

The boy in the red coat smirked, twirling the handheld hook in his hand. "That you did Lad. Now, lets get this crown an' beauty to Uma." And then everything went black. But Y/N wasn't scared, he only thought one thing.

Did that VK really recognize him?

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

Y/N slowly opens his eyes, the smell of salt water stinging his nose. He squinted and looked around, eyes adjusting to the light, he tries to move, but he finds himself tied up to a pole.

A light chuckle makes him look up, "Welcome back sleepin' beauty, sorry ya didn't geta kiss like your mum." The boy from earlier smirked, but instead of feeling threatened, Y/N's heart skipped a beat, cheeks turn a light shade of red.

"...w-who are you?" He asks in a small voice, earning a large smile from the other boy. "How rude of me, tha names Harry, and I'm sure this piece o' metal can help ya fill in the rest." He answers, twirling it around once again.

He just nods, putting together he was Captain Hooks son. "Your a quiet one aint ya. Never really talkin' much at those fancy meetings up there." Harry comments, a teasing smirk on his face as he looks him up and down.

Y/N's eyes widened at that, "You've.. noticed me? You know who I am?" He asks in such a quiet voice it was barely a whisper. And he watches as Harry's face falls for a second. He goes to answer when Ben starts to wake up. And that crazed facade comes back as he turns his attention onto the young king.

After a few minutes though the other boy who helped capture him who he learned to be Gil announced Mal and the groups arrival. They had actually brought the wand. But when she pretended to use it on dude, Y/N knew that something wasn't right.

But Uma believed it.

Harry cuts the ropes off of Ben and Y/N, complaining about how his fun was ruined, though it felt almost as if his touched lingered a little longer than normal when he cut the ropes off of Y/N.

Then Mal and Uma trade, and the two royals were back with their group.

Mal starts trying to rush Ben away as Uma attempts to use the wand, and like he suspected, it didn't work. And then a big fight breaks lose.

Y/N fights, but nothing to harm anyone, he couldn't do any such thing. Finally they get space between them and the pirates and are getting ready to make an escape, until-

"BEAUTY!!" Y/N hears Harry yell, he looks back and makes eye contact with him, the pirate smirks, still dripping wet from grabbing his hook out of the water, clothes clinging to his body.

"I always noticed ya!" He yells again, answering Y/N's question from before.

He felt is face flare up and his heart drop as he stare into the other boys eyes. Only for the contact to be broken by Jay pulling him to follow out.

In a daze Y/N followed, mind and heart hooked on the pirate that had noticed him..

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

YAYY I loved this sm I hope you do tooo, and anon I hope this makes your day dreams a little easier to imagine <3

-Also, if anyone's interested, I'd be willing to make this a part two?? Tell me if I shouldd-

Lmk if there's anything I can do to improve I welcome any and all help, also, PAUSE. RN. GET A SNACK. Reading is so fun on a full stomach, but anyways, HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT MY GOOBERS, happy readingg 👾

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: a lot violence. death. anxiety and angst. mc goes haywire for a few minutes. flashbacks. mentions of cybertronian blood. anxiety. no appearance of canon characters.

#NOTES: here's the third chapter of my fic which i've officially named duskbound, afterlight. enjoy!

part one | part two | part four | part five

taglist: @buubblegum

You were knocked back a meter or two before you clutched your mid-section, your tank twisting and the sizzling air of Kaon burning inside you. Clumsily, you tried to counter his next jab, but the kick sent to your knee plates caused you to buckle and fall like a sack of stones.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you desperately attempted to defend yourself, your movements erratic, uncoordinated. But your efforts proved futile against the experienced maneuvers of the mech. Blow after blow rained down upon you, each sending shockwaves of pain through your circuits.

The sharp, metallic tang of energon permeated the atmosphere, curling around you like a shimmering veil. It intertwined with the pungent aroma of oil and various fluids, creating an intoxicating compound that stung your olfactory sensors. Your ventilators whirred incessantly, battling against the oppressive heat that threatened to overwhelm you at any moment.

A heavy blow landed squarely on your chassis, sending you crashing to the ground with a resounding clang. As you struggled to regain footing, your opponent loomed over you, their optics gleaming with malice.

With a surge of adrenaline, you lashed out with renewed determination, striking back with all the strength you could muster. But it was too little, too late.

The mech quickly overpowered your feeble attempts at resistance, driving you back with relentless force, and suddenly, you lay sprawled upon the unforgiving floor of the arena. You gasped as your servos instinctively clad around the mech’s, which were pressing against your neck plates. Darkness surrounded you as the mech towered over you, swallowing you whole.

The volume of the crowd was loud enough to sound as if the whole of Cybertron had packed into the small stadium. With coolant and energon streaming down your cheeks, you surrendered to the inevitable. This was it. You were going to die here. Your spirit broken, your hope extinguished in the merciless light of the arena.

Only, gazing into the light, you were transported to a much simpler time.

"If you could change anything in the world, what would it be?"

The chamber was extremely quiet, save for the occasional tinkle from Starlight’s digits as she caressed her daughter’s helm, comfortably snuggled on her carrier’s breastplates and sleeping her questionably-earned exhaustion away.

"Mmh," you hummed out loud, turning to look at your friend from your berth, "I don’t know, what would you change?"

Starlight smiled harder, though the rest of her face plates remained the same, so it was quite the rare expression. "I wish Vaportrail was born in a nicer place, Cybertropolis, maybe."

"You wouldn’t wish to change anything for yourself?" you asked.

"I have you, and there’s not another you anywhere in all of Cybertron."

Starlight, was this what you felt before dying?

Starlight, was this what you felt before being killed?

Starlight, was this what you felt before being murdered?

You couldn’t breathe. Black tinged the edges of your vision. Then it turned red, scarlet, maroon. In that moment, something snapped inside you like a sea wave crashing against the rocks at the beach, like the snapping of a rubber band, like a balloon being popped, and all semblance of fear evaporated, replaced by a singular focus: revenge.

An awful rage so deep it reminisced the sun started bubbling inside you. A wave of anger so profound it dried up every drop of liquid in the world and replaced it with sand. Indignation blurred everything you’d ever been and ever would be, and you felt yourself gaining colossal strength. You needed revenge. You needed it like you needed to breathe. You wanted him to hurt.

And so, when your tremoring was at its greatest, your resentment was beyond bitterness and revenge, and the mech was about to enclose you in a makeshift grave—you just let go.

With a guttural scream that echoed across the arena, you unleashed your pent-up fury upon your assailant. You struggled and battled with a wild intensity fueled by nothing but the sweet, cold feel of revenge, scratching and gnawing as you attempted to escape from the hold that confined you.

Dams broke, and your processor slipped into a high of adrenaline so strong you didn’t know whether your body would purposely overheat. You couldn’t feel the pain of your wounds or the shooting pains in your gauntlets and your mandible. Had you inwardly deactivated your pain receptors?

You wrestled the weapon from your opponent's grasp with a lethal cascade of adrenaline-fueled strength and swung the blade in his direction.

The keen clangor of the blade hitting the mech's helm wreaked the arena into a hysterical state.

The mech stumbled backward with a scream as he gripped his facial plates.

But you didn't just stop there.

You leaned over him and swung the blade.

It found the base of his helmet.

A sickening crunch of metal against metal.

The mech staggered. He even dared to gasp in shock.

You swung again, a pained cry leaving his dermas.

Another crack.

You pulled back your elbow, a spray of energon hitting you on the plates of your face.

You swung again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Ag̷̹͈̭̟͎̰̳̳͙̞̃̈́̌͑͒̍̐͠͠ain.

Agá̷̧̡̨̛̪̫͍̻͓̭̖̠̿̎̾̍͛͝in.

A̸̖̳̠͊g̷̹͈̭̟͎̰̳̳͙̞̃̈́̌͑͒̍̐͠͠á̷̧̡̨̛̪̫͍̻͓̭̖̠̿̎̾̍͛͝i̵̝̖̬̬͐̿̓̒͆̐̄̀͠ņ̷̤͕̣̙͈̏͌̎̃̎̾̀̃͒̓͊͗̽̚͝

W̸̧̘̣̝̻͎͕͉̥͖̋͊̍̌̅̚ì̷̝͋͠th a final, cathartic scream of defiance, you drove the blade deep into the mech’s helm, watching with grim satisfaction as sparks flew and circuits sputtered.

There was a brief, abrupt silence while the mech moaned more quietly, attempting to move. It crumpled inward with a low huff.

A pool of energon gushed out from his wounds, soiling the ground around him as you backed away to watch him die. You were shaking—breathing heavily, limbs quivering with exhaustion—and moments later, the other gladiator went limp.

You willed yourself to raise a hand toward your dermas, coolant pooling around your optics.

But the spectators erupted as your servos went up to your face.

And when the adrenaline finally wore off, you were almost sent to the ground at their sheer volume.

They were cheering for you.

It only took a moment to register the blinding pain.

You turned around and stumbled away from the pit and into the building, your optics tracing the ground and your servo scratching at the metallurgic skin over your sternum to ensure that your spark was still whole.

You stumbled down the corridors, the roaring cheers from the arena fading distantly and morphing into something you could not comprehend anymore, but their echoes still haunted your audials. The steady drip of energon from your body was driving you crazy, some of it your own, but most of it not.

Your servos trembled uncontrollably, the once-raw adrenaline slowly draining from your systems, replaced with an overwhelming surge of panic. I killed him. I killed him. The words repeated in your processor like a damaged disk, a nightmarish chant you couldn't silence no matter how hard you tried. Your optics darted around wildly as you moved deeper into the complex.

The tunnel's cool metallic walls closed around you. You forced yourself to keep moving, your breathing shallow and frantic, as if the very walls themselves were constricting around your chassis, squeezing tighter with each second. 

Your servos—trembling, bloodied—kept reaching for the walls, hoping to steady yourself, but every step sent your processor spinning. You were panting, desperate not to overheat your body, vision blurring as your optics struggled to focus. What have I done?

Then, you saw it.

In the dim light of the tunnel, your optics caught a glint—a flash of silver reflecting the low glow of the overhead lights. You staggered toward it, desperate for something, anything to ground you. The surface of a discarded metal panel gleamed like a mirror, and it was there that you saw yourself.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your reflection stared back at you, but it was a version of yourself you didn’t recognize.

Your armor, dented and scratched, was smeared with dried energon, your own, and the mech’s you had killed. Your pale and trembling faceplates were streaked with the liquid, your optics wild and wide in disbelief. You could barely make out your features beneath the mess of fluids and grime.

You looked... feral. Broken.

But alive.

You were alive.

Somehow, against all odds, you had survived.

Your trembling slowed. The ragged, panicked breaths you’d been drawing in deepened as you stared at your reflection, the horrible truth settling into the pit of your spark. You had made it through that pit of death. You had won.

Slowly, your servos reached up, brushing over the dried fluids and scratches as if confirming that the wrecked reflection was indeed yours. You were bruised, battered, drenched in energon—but you were still standing.

That strange, cold realization started to settle in your spark.

"I’m… alive."

Then, cutting through the fragile silence, a voice crackled through the speakers above you, the distorted sound making you cringe.

"Winner," the voice declared.

You recognized the voice immediately.  Bullway. His tone was cold, devoid of emotion, and very different from the charming facade he’d put on in your old satellite. "I want to see you. Now."

A chill ran down your spinal strut. Bullway. If he wanted to see you, it wasn’t because he wanted to congratulate you on your victory. Had you done something wrong? You had won. You had given them the entertainment they wanted!

Your optic twitched as Bullway’s voice echoed in your audials again. You swallowed hard, your stabilizers shaking as you tried to regain your footing. There was no time to hesitate. You had no choice in this. If he wanted to see you, then you had to go.

Taking one final look at your reflection—bloodied, battered, but alive—you wiped a trembling servo across your faceplates as if trying to erase the horror of what you had just done. But it didn’t come off and just smeared across your cheek like a second paintjob.

You turned just in time to see a mech waiting for you across the hall.

"Hey, come with me."

Not trusting your voicebox to articulate what you wanted to say correctly, you wordlessly nodded, following after him.

Albeit a small part of you felt smug about it, you didn’t comment on how the mech visibly cringed at the energon staining your faceplates, quietly realizing that he was walking a great distance from you, as though if something he said would set you off the wrong way. As if you would repeat your previous actions upon him.

A few clicks later, you noted that the hallways were different, and with great dismay, you realized that he wasn’t leading you to the bosses’ offices. An ugly thought of what they might do to you now that you had unexpectedly won the match knocked on your processor. It would explain why the guard was leading you somewhere else. Your optics widened as it appeared and disappeared just as quickly.

"Hey," you called out to him, waiting until he briefly turned his head to glance your way. "Where are you taking me? This is not the way to see the bosses."

"The lobby." he said curtly, "You’ve won your place there with us, gladiators only."

"You’re a gladiator?"

"Yeah," he nodded, turning to look at you. "We were told there would be a match worth watching, so we all knew that Bullway had snatched a new batch of rookies from somewhere. Normally, rookies lose, bloody fights and all."

"I didn’t lose."

"That you didn’t," he answered, a ghost of a smile pulling at his dermas. "It was a horrible fight, you know. You finished it quickly and left right after. You gotta drag it out nicely if you want the audience to go crazy, but knowing that you are a rookie, I guess that’s why the crowds went wild."

The mech's relaxed demeanor grated on you, sharply contrasting with the turmoil still bubbling under your armor. You could sense the adrenaline coursing through you, the lingering echoes of the bloodlust that had propelled you through that arena, and now this gladiator was speaking as if it were just another routine battle.

As if the brutality you’d unleashed was nothing more than an expected performance. His words only heightened the gnawing discomfort in your spark, but you forced yourself to stay calm.

"Is it like that for everyone?" you asked, voice strained but steady. "Just... another fight?"

The mech glanced at you from the corner of his optics, his pace slowing just enough for you to fall in line beside him. "For some, yeah. For others, it's a way of life. Once you’ve been in the arena long enough, it’s just routine. You win, you survive. You lose, well... you don’t have to worry about much after that."

His matter-of-fact tone, almost automaton-like, grated on your nerves incessantly. There was nothing routine about what you'd just done. You looked away, staring down the dimly lit hallway as you walked, trying to ignore the thick, cloying scent of oil and energon still clinging to your frame.

"I didn’t expect it to feel like that," you muttered, almost to yourself.

"Like what?"

"Like I became someone else."

He gave you another sidelong glance, his optic ridge rising slightly as he considered your words. "Yeah, that happens. You change in the pit. It's not always for the better."

You stopped walking for a moment, your steps faltering. He paused too, turning to look at you, his expression unreadable. You could feel the rage from earlier simmering again, but it was different now—colder, more focused. Disdainful.

The mech took a step toward you, saying, "First time’s always the hardest. But you fought, and you lived. That’s what matters. No one’s going to ask you how you feel about it."

You scoffed, the bitterness in your processor spilling into your voice. "I bet they won't. As long as I keep bleeding for them."

He shrugged, as if that was just the way things were. "That’s the game. But hey, at least now you’re in it. There are worse places to be."

"Yeah?" you muttered, bitterness twisting your words. "Like dead?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his optics studying your face for a beat too long. "Something like that."

Before you could respond, the hallway opened into a larger space, a sprawling, multi-leveled chamber. Above and around you, several balconies arced around the space in a tiered structure, almost like a coliseum turned inside out. Each level was packed with mechs—some leaning over rusted railings, others pacing along narrow walkways, their heavy footsteps echoing through the chamber.

From these balconies, stairs spiraled down to the main floor, where groups of gladiators clustered together, some repairing their armor, others sharpening weapons or talking in hushed tones. A few glanced up at you as you entered, their optics lingering on your energon-stained form for a moment before they returned to their own business.

The smell of energon hung thick in the air, integrated with the acrid tang of oil and the metallic scent of freshly-welded parts. Overhead, dim lights flickered erratically, casting long shadows across the grime-slicked floor. In one corner, a group of mechs were hunched over a makeshift table, clearly gambling away whatever shanix they had earned in the pits.

Here and there, you could spot racks of weapons—blades, maces, guns—lined up along the walls like trophies. Some mechs were testing them out, and the sound of sharpening blades and the low thrum of power cells charging filled the space. Despite the noise, an underlying tension threaded through the room, like a wire stretched too thin.

You caught a few mechs eyeing the stains that marred your armor, their optics narrowing with curiosity and something else—respect, maybe, or wariness. It wasn’t clear. You knew what they saw when they looked at you: a newcomer, fresh out of the pit, still drenched in energon—both yours and your opponent's. And yet, you had survived.

The mech beside you nudged your shoulder gently. "This is it. Gladiators’ lobby."

Everything was interrupted by the sudden, sharp clang of a door being thrown open.

All optics snapped toward the entrance as Bullway stormed in, his heavy frame rattling the metal grating beneath his peds. His presence was electric, and even the more seasoned gladiators went quiet at the sight of his fury.

No one was scared of him, not really, but everyone agreed it'd be better if they didn't anger the one bot who controlled rations and the few things allowed for entertainment.

You, of course, weren't aware of this rule.

His optics, blazing with indignation, zeroed in on you.

"You," he barked, jabbing a thick servo in your direction, his frame practically vibrating angrily. "You just cost me one of the best gladiators I’ve ever had."

Bullway’s voice reverberated through the chamber, louder than even the murmurs of mechs on the balconies. His tone was sharp and accusing, and the heat in his optics made it clear that he hadn’t come to congratulate you.

You straightened your frame but didn’t get a chance to speak before he stomped closer, his bulk imposing.

"I thought it'd be a good fight, figured he’d rough you up a bit, maybe teach you a lesson. But no, you had to go and kill him!" His fists clenched tightly, the metal creaking. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to build him into the fighter he was? And you—you just walk in there and ruin him in your first damn match!"

The crowd watched you both closely, their optics flicking between Bullway and you like they were watching another fight unfold. He was livid, but there was more behind his anger. It wasn’t just the loss of a fighter—there was humiliation, too. Bullway had bet on the wrong outcome, and now he was making it your problem.

You felt your spark flare with defiance. The words tore out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"I didn’t ask to be here," you shot back, stepping forward, the energon staining your frame somehow making you more confident in yourself. "But I won. Fair and square."

Bullway sneered, towering over you now. "Won? You think this is about winning? That mech was supposed to be my winner. You were just a piece of bait! A rookie!"

"Y/N."

His visage morphed into confusion at the single word that left your mouth, though there were still traces of the anger that had previously plagued his faceplates.

Your optics narrowed, and you repeated yourself. "Y/N. That is my name. Use it."

Bullway blinked, taken aback for a split second before his expression twisted into cruel amusement. "A name? You think that matters? In this place, you don’t have names. You’re all just numbers, commodities, pieces of metal to be used up and thrown away when I’m done with you. And I couldn’t care less what you want to call yourself."

His words stung. Bitterly, he was reminding you of what you’d been reduced to in this violent, brutal world. Yet, despite his callous dismissal, you held your ground. You were more than just a number now, more than the faceless gladiator he wanted to make you. You weren’t H-08 anymore, at least, not to yourself.

You hadn’t been since the day Starlight changed everything.

"My name," you said slowly, wiping energon from your cheek as your voice trembled with both defiance and strength, "is Y/N."

Bullway’s optics flared, but you didn’t stop. His words, his mockery—none of it could erase the truth of who you were.

You had once been H-08, a nameless designation in the cold, sterile halls of the satellite where you’d been force to mine until your protoform ran out of strenght—a number, nothing more. You hadn’t even thought it mattered, hadn’t known it could matter, until Starlight came along. She’d been the one to look past the designation, to see you for who you were, not what they made you to be.

She didn’t see you and think, "What is she for?" but instead, "What is she like? What are her hopes and dreams?" She didn’t once think to see you above or below her. Nor did she ever think you were better than her or she better than you. You were her equal; she drilled that into you.

Starlight had always pushed you to choose a name, something that was yours and no one else’s, just like how she had chosen Vaportrail’s name.

"You deserve that. Not a number, not some cold code in a system. A real name. One that means something to you."

At first, you hadn’t understood why it mattered. Why choosing a name felt like reclaiming something, like grabbing hold of a piece of yourself that had been hidden away. But as time passed, you’d grown into it, and when you finally said it out loud for the first time, Starlight’s optics had gleamed with pride.

That name was all you had left of her now, and you weren’t about to let Bullway or anyone else take it from you.

Bullway snorted, his optics narrowing. "Whatever you call yourself—it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still standing here because I let you. Don’t forget that."

But his words fell flat against the wall of resolve that had built up inside you. You met his glare without flinching, the weight of your name grounding you. You were Y/N, and no matter how many battles or insults Bullway threw your way, that wouldn’t change.

"I didn’t ask for this," you said, your voice initially a whisper, but soon growing into words that the entire room could hear, "but you threw me in that pit, and I survived. I earned my place here, and I’ll keep earning it. Don’t talk to me like I’m some scrap metal to be tossed around. I won. He lost. That’s how this works, isn’t it?"

The defiance in your voice seemed to shock him, and for a moment, the entire lobby went deathly silent. The mechs perched on the balconies leaned forward slightly, some in surprise, others in thinly veiled approval.

"You think that makes you special?" he spat, "Killing one gladiator doesn’t make you invincible."

"I don’t need to be invincible. Just strong enough to survive."

Bullway glared at you for what felt like an eternity, his faceplates tight with frustration. Finally, he exhaled, stepping back just enough to let the tension drop a fraction. His optics roamed over you as if sizing up what you had left after that brutal match.

"Well, congratulations," he said, turning on his heel sharply. "You survived. But don’t think this is over. There’s always someone bigger and stronger waiting, and next time, I won’t care how long they’ve been in the pit. You better be ready."

The door slammed behind him, the echo reverberating through the lobby.

"Don’t just stand there like a lamppost!" A mech seated by the stairs raised his voice, causing you to look his way instinctively. "For Primus’ sake, look at her. Somebot take her to the infirmary!"

[fastlikealambo]

Does The Wolf Apologize? || Qimir x Black!Fem Reader 

Summary: You’ve come back from a mission and The Sith is pleased. The lines between acolyte and master have been blurring between you two ever since he revealed his face but for tonight he will show you just how pleased he is.

Trigger Warnings: PinV, Consenting Force Choking, just fucking.

18+ minors dni.

TEASER CAUSE I DIDN’T WANNA LEAVE YALL WITH NOTHING TONIGHT

Please REBLOG my work if you can, I'm not sure what tags are best as this is a new character!

The head of the jedi was heavier in your hands than the saber on your belt.

You were bone tired, smelled of mud, and had blood under your fingernails but that didn't stop you from depositing the head at his feet.

 “Well done, you have pleased me.” He said, voice deep and automated beneath the helmet but you fell to one knee nonetheless, holding the lightsaber out in front for him to take. 

  “I have given you each and every saber you have asked for without question nor hestitation. Now I wish, no, I need my own, I’m ready.” You said quietly but firmly, standing up on shaky legs and began to remove your dirty coat and bag.  

  “You’re hurt.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

A click and a small woosh of air signaled that the helmet was off and even now, you dared not to turn around despite knowing the visage behind your back.

 Before you could remove the rest of your bloody clothing, you felt a tug in the Force, sliding you across the room to outstretched hands.

   “Forgive me, I’m tired, I don’t know what I’m saying.” You said softly as he gripped each side of your shirt and ripped it, exposing your bloody and burned back. 

  “What have I said about apologizing?” He asked,bending you over the counter to inspect your injuries. The pain was gone so quickly you moaned in relief, earning a chuckle from your mentor as he kept you bent over. 

 “Mice apologize, sheep apologize, we do not.” You recited. 

He pulled your pants to your ankles, healing the cuts and bruises there before looking up at you.

“How did it feel when you took the jedi’s head?” He asked, head cocked to the side, thumb absentmindedly rubbing up your thigh while he checked to see if he had missed any wounds.

“It felt safe, like no one could hurt me ever again, it felt powerful.” You muttered.He stood to his full height,calloused fingers tilted your chin to look into his eyes.

“And do you want power?”

  “I’m your equal. My training as your acolyte is over, you and I both know that, but my life, living freely by your side, has just begun. I want power and freedom but whether I do it without or without you depends on you. I pleased you?”

 “Yes.”

“Then prove it.” 

With a flick of his hand, the sith sent you flying through the air, landing on top of the table, legs open. He took his time striding over to you, cape thrown to the side.

  “You still have so much to learn.” He said,slowly climbing on top of the table, your hips lifting without your control but with your consent into position.  

 “My next lesson is to make you whimper, do you understand me?” He asked, his hand slowly closing into a fist and air escaped your lungs. 

“I understand.”

On their own, your underwear slid from your legs and his cock slid in you. In complete control of your airway and your pussy, the sith smiled.

“Then let’s begin as equals.”

need to fix the ending so the rest will be posted tomorrow!

[absolutebl]

Top 10 Great BLs That Are REALLY hard to find (but worth tracking down)

You may want to go hunting anyway!

Seven Days

Seven Days: Monday-Thursday

Seven Days: Friday-Sunday

Japan 2015

Never doubt my ability to recommend this show. One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses.

Cherry Magic AKA 30-sai made Dotei Da to Mahotsukai ni Nareru rashii

Japan 2020

The sweetest fluffiest magical realism BL, packaged as a pinning office romance, very low heat (practically chaste) but the cutest. It’s truly great.

Cherry Magic Thailand

Thai 2024

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth, with no-fuss execution from a consummate team and an OG lead pair proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up. Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it still stands. I personally like it slightly better than the Japanese live action, but I think that’s because I just really like Thai BL and I LOVE TayNew. Also all the kissing was both present and better than any other iteration. As it should be from Thailand.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

Thai 2023

IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). Steeped in history and family drama it edges into lakorn (but no as much as To Sir With Love and with way less scenery chewing). This is an elegant and classy BL... from Thailand which normally doesn't even try for classy. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. Pity about the ending. Oh it wasn’t that sad but it wasn’t good either. This show could easily have earned a 10/10 from me except that it fumbled the… erm… balls in the final quarter. Argh. Whatever.

All about the ecstasy and the agony here.

Restart After Come Back Home AKA Risutato wa tadaima no ato de

Japan 2020

Atmospheric study in rural Japan meets complex family dynamics built on a romance framework of city boy meets country boy, grumpy/sunshine. It’s beautiful and icy sweet. Slow moving in places but ultimately worth the patience, low heat, low angst, and stunning.

Given

Japan 2021

Boy joins band, falls in love with other boy. The singing is terrible, fast forward through that but with the possible exception of the hair styles, this BL could have been made in 2015 and no one would be surprised. As such, it wasn’t ground breaking, but it didn’t disappoint either.

Make a Wish

Thai 2023

A doctor who can see the dead strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love (from Sammon: Manner of Death & Triage). Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not-Ohm, but who tf cares because Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but still satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay AF - fag hag bestie and all the swagger. The cast is excellent even if the comedic stylings are a bit overblown and tonally off. It had sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency. Definitely recommended.

2 Moons The Ambassador AKA 2 Moons 3

Thai 2022

A Thai pulp that felt like it came out 5 yrs prior, with many of the flaws inherent to that time and studio system, including manufactured angst and convoluted plot, but an ultimately sweet main couple that (as a pairing) feels a bit more modern and satisfying to watch than they started out. This will probably go down in history as one of the few BLs where I genuinely didn’t care about any of the side couples. All that said, I find this show oddly appealing and rewatchable and I have no excuses for that except, I enjoyed it probably more than it deserved. Nostalgia & d**k, it's what's for dinner.

I Want to See Only You AKA Kimi no Koto Dake Mite Itai

Japan 2022

This is a beautiful well acted piece of cinema, about two boys who are opposite personalities and grew up together. Gifted and serious Sakura pines after outgoing eccentric manic pixie dream boy, Yuma. It is very pretty and this is the kind of atmospheric elegantly performed BL that only really comes from Japan (complete with dead fish kisses - what you though Korea invented them? oh no). If you want something stylish, this is it.

Triage

Thai 2022

BL does Groundhog Day featuring a doctor stuck in a time loop who must save a poor little rich boy from death by seducing the stuffing out of him, then PLOT TWIST, poor little rich boy must do the same for the doctor! Unfortunately... stuffing keeps leaking. I thought the plot was engaging if a little redundant and occasionally exhausting. The pairs were all well done, low heat but with decent chemistry and the support characters were likable (or unlikable, as required). If anything, the romance arc detracted and distracted from the main plot, but that doesn't stop this from being a genuinely good show.

HONORABLE MENTION

Great Men Academy

Thai 2019

Bodyswap involving unicorns turning a teenage girl into a boy makes this questionable as a BL (because, ya know, gender). But the fact remains that James is killer in the lead, and I (who do not like bodyswap) loved this damn show. Look, there is actual plot, hotties at boarding school, "bully the one you love" trope, some weird VR shit, very bad CGI, and yes, the boys end up together... whether they boys or not, so to speak.

Some of these shows may appear on a smaller streaming service, like WeTV, or they may be on a legal platform in your territory. I hope it goes without saying you should check there first.

(source)

This list updated Spring 2024, not responsible for cool stuff that went missing (or was added to a platform) after that date.

It's it last in a series the rest of which are:

[mvjerbs]

 “Ami! I was going to pay for us!” Kenji complained as he walks out of the restaurant together with Ami who continues to ignore his complaints. She had called him for another exclusive interview but eventually got distracted and started chatting about other things, sharing tea and gossip about other players and people. Ah, the perks of being friends with a journalist.

“Amiii, let me pay you.” Kenji whined causing Ami to sigh in annoyance.

“Oh, just let it go already. I don’t want to feel like a leech! Besides, I was the one who asked for the meet up therefore I am the one who is obliged to pay for us.” Ami reasoned.

“But I have money to burn. Lots of it!” Kenji replied, raising his arms up in the air to prove his point. Ami only rolls her eyes with a smile, still not giving into the offer.

“Ok millionaire, I gotta go now. Chiho is waiting for me to go home.” As if on cue, Ami’s phone rang causing both to look at the source of the noise. Ami fished out her phone from her bag and answered the call, but before she could say hello, Chiho’s voice yelled ‘Mama!’ loudly causing Ami to flinch away from her phone for a moment. Kenji laughed which earned him glare from her.

“What a timing. I’m guessing she’s going to ask you to buy something for her?” Kenji said. Ami replied with a nod before waving goodbye to Kenji who, in turn, waved back before heading to where his Motorbike was parked. As he walked to the parking lot, he passed by a bookstore where he found the brightest and the most eye catching storybook he has ever seen that even got himself hypnotized. Kenji has to admit, he has never seen anything quite like it before, it was adorable and brightly colored. Something Emi would like, it’s been awhile since he last bought her a story book and Kenji decides it was perfect for her. Well, appearance wise that is, he has to check the contents of the book to make sure if it was suitable for her. With the decision in his mind, Kenji walks in and went to the children’s corner where he found the book he was looking for. He read the story for himself to check and was satisfied with it, he turns around to head to the cashier and pay for it only for him to run into someone he didn’t expect to meet. Just a few feet away from him with a basket full of books on one hand while browsing the shelf was-

“Agamatsu?”

The man turned to Kenji and his eyes widened from surprise.

“Sato?” Juro called. The initial shock wore off from Kenji and was now replaced with a smirk.

“Well, it’s a surprise to see you here Agamatsu. What are you doing in the nerd shop?” Kenji asked. Juro turned to fully face Kenji as he gave him his own smirk.

“Was going to say the same thing, but the children’s book says so otherwise. What’s that for? Don’t tell me you let your dad read you bed time stories” Juro replied.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, bookworm” Kenji said in a mocking tone. Despite the insults being thrown at each other, they both felt a strange sense of playfulness in each word causing them to feel slightly comfortable around each other. In fact, Juro merely laughed at what Kenji said causing him to smile. Juro eventually calmed down before asking a favor.

“Hey, listen. Let’s timeout for now, I need help on something.” Juro said, surprising Kenji but nonetheless obliged from the request.

“I honestly thought you forgot about that since it has been months, nor did I expect to do this again with you but I’ll bite. What do you need help with?” Kenji said, curiosity over coming him.

“Of course I wouldn’t forget it, it was something unexpected, but anyways. I need help looking for a book series. The birthday of my friend’s sister is coming up and she has been wishing to get this series as a gift.” Juro explains. Kenji nods along, finally knowing the purpose of the ‘timeout’.

“What do you have so far?” Kenji asked as he peered into the basket.

“So far, I only found 2 parts which is the series’ book 2 and 4.” Juro continued while picking up both books to show to Kenji. 

“I need to have all 5 parts of the book series but I can’t find the rest and I have circled this god forsaken bookstore 4 times already.” Juro complained, looking slightly frustrated at the situation he is in. Looking closely, Kenji could see the exhaustion from walking and looking around. No wonder he’s desperate enough to ask help from him.

“Alright then, I’ll help. Where do we start?” Kenji asked slightly lifting his sleeves to emphasize his seriousness in helping. Juro smiled at the gesture. Both immediately got to work and spent the whole time in the bookstore digging, asking, searching, and complaining about how some costumers won’t return books to where they were originally placed and how it cost them their energy (the other parts were scattered in different parts of the bookstore). Eventually, they found the rest of the parts, all except for the last. Kenji was starting to feel frustrated and Juro was in the verge of giving up, he turned to Kenji to tell him that they can stop then when he was cut of by him.

“Juro, Look!” Kenji exclaimed and pointed. Juro followed the direction to where he was pointing and there he saw someone holding the last book that they needed. And from the looks of it, she was about to return it to the shelf. Both started to head towards where the woman was.

“Excuse me ma’am, I just wanted to ask if you were going to buy that book you are holding?” Kenji asked, catching the attention of the woman causing her to turn around.

“Oh, no I’m not. In fact I was just about to put it back on the shelf. Do you want this book?” The woman asked, pointing at the book.

“Yes please ma’am, thank you so much. You have no idea how long we have been looking for this.” Juro thanked her, both him and Kenji let out a sigh of relief. Their book hunt was now finally over after hours of searching.

“Well, it’s a good thing you both found me before anyone else can-“Before the lady could finish and hand over the book, someone passed and snatched the book away from them and proceeded to walk away.

“Wuh- Hey! That’s ours!” Kenji yelled, pissed because someone had the audacity to snatch the book from them after finally finding it. The man turned to and proceeded to give them a dirty look.

“Yours? You don’t seem like the type to read these type of genre. You don’t seem like the type to read at all. Besides, she was putting it back so I’m claiming it.” The man replied and left, leaving no chance for Kenji to speak.

“Son of a-“Kenji was about to march over to the man, ready to fight for the book when Juro grabbed his arm causing him to stop.

“What are you doing? We should go after him.” Kenji asked, anger evident in his face, but he noticed that Juro’s expression was the opposite. He was strangely calm for someone whose gift was stolen from him. Kenji wonders what he has in mind.

“We will, but I have you ask you something.” Juro said, still staring at the man took their book. Kenji gave him a confused look but turned to him to show he was listening.

“How do you feel about going low?” Juro asked. Kenji smiled in response, glancing at the thief one last time before walking closer to Juro to listen to his plan.

“Fools, they should’ve grabbed it immediately instead of talking. Now my collection is complete!” the man said, smiling to himself as he walks into an aisle, browsing the shelfs and occasionally grabbing a book to read its synopsis. The man was engrossed on the book he grabbed that he failed to see Kenji approaching. As he got close, Kenji ‘accidentally’ bumps into the man causing him to drop all the books he had.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I really should’ve looked where I was going” Kenji apologized. Bending down to help the man in picking up the books he dropped.

“Maybe you should, idiot.” The man muttered loud enough to make sure Kenji hears it. Kenji gritted his teeth, holding back the urge to actually punch the man in the face. After collecting the books, he handed them back to the man and apologized once more before turning to leave.

The man continues to grumble while checking if he was missing any books, and he was. The man slowly started to panic as he wonders what he was missing and where it went before realizing which book was missing. It was also the moment when he realized who bumped into him. Enraged, the man dropped his books and started to look for Kenji, repeatedly chanting ‘thief’. It didn’t take long for him to find Kenji who was just an aisle away from where the man was, he was browsing and looking at the books he was passing by.

“YOU!” The man exclaimed loudly, causing everyone to turn to him including Kenji. Kenji swears he could hear steam coming out of his ear with how angry the man was as he was marching over towards him.

“YOU STOLE MY BOOK! WHERE IS MY BOOK?!” The man said, grabbing Kenji by the collar of his shirt causing him to slightly bend forward. The man was quite short compared to Kenji.

“Book? What book? Can’t you see I am trying to look for a book as well?” Kenji replied, standing back to his full height causing the man so slightly stumble forward.

“LIAR! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHICH BOOK YOU T-“The man shook Kenji angrily, but then he saw something at the corner of his eye. By the cashier, he saw the missing book that was being held and packed inside a bag by the cashier and Juro handing over the cash to pay.

It turns out, Kenji had stolen the book when he had accidentally bumped into the man and was passed on to Juro who was hiding behind a shelf that was close to the cashier. With book acquired, Juro heads for the cashier while Kenji walks away from Juro to serve as a distraction for when the man realizes one of his books are missing.

The man panicked, letting go of Kenji and started to bolt for the cashier.

“NOOOOO” He yelled out, the world seemed to slow down around him as he watched the cashier print out the receipt and handing it to Juro.

“Here you go sir! Thank you for shopping in-“The cashier yelped in surprise as Juro immediately grabbed the book when he noticed the man dashing for it. He held the book up and backed away from the man who was currently attempting to grab it from him.

“NO THAT’S MINE, YOU CANT HAVE THAT.” The man yelled, trying to get close to Juro and grab the book from him.

“Dude, I just paid for this!” Juro said, still keeping the book out of the man’s reach.

“NO GIVE IT BACK YOURE STEALING YOU THIEF.” The man said accusingly.

“Thief?! I just bought this, its on my receipt. You’re the thief here since you’re trying to take what’s technically my property!” Juro snapped back. This caused the man to throw a tantrum and was about to lunge at Juro when he was suddenly apprehended by the security. He continued to cry out as he was being escorted out of the building. Both Juro and Kenji watched as the man pathetically cried and hurl insults at them before eventually being thrown out of the store.

“Finally, that guy was gone. We have been waiting for an opportunity to do that since he kept disturbing other costumers.” The cashier said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“He does that all the time?” Kenji and Juro asked at the same time, both shocked at the revelation.

“All the time.” The cashier confirms and thanked them once again for shopping. After all the books were paid, both exited the building where they stood there for a moment to process the events that had transpired in the store.

“…do you think we went too low? I mean, we basically embarrassed the guy and got him banned.” Juro asked, finally breaking the silence.

“…nah, he deserved it.” Kenji said. Both looked at each other before bursting out in laughter, tears forming in eyes from how hard they were laughing. Eventually they both calmed down.

“Oh man, that was amazing.” Juro said, wiping the tear from his eyes as he slowly regained his posture. Kenji nodded in agreement, finally calming down from his own laughter.

“Alright. I should pay you for my book-“ Kenji said, reaching for his pockets to fish out his wallet when Juro grabbed his hand to stop him.

“Oh, No need. Take it as thanks for helping me out today.” Juro said, grabbing the story book out of the bag and handing it.

“Ughh, c’mon man. You’re the second person who paid for me today, let me use my money!” Kenji groaned and Juro laughed in response.

“Too bad. Suffer the rich people problems.” Juro replied, Kenji pouted but still accepted the book. He’s going to find a way to somehow repay him for it. As Kenji grabbed the storybook and noticed the contents of the bag.

“Hey, speaking of books. Are those Robotics and Engineering books?” Kenji said, pointing into the bag.

“Oh, yeah they are.” Juro confirmed, fishing out a book to show Kenji.

“Are they for someone as well? They must be a genius to be asking for that kind of book.” Kenji said, thinking about how his dad and the person might get along with their interests.

“No, these are for me.” Juro replied. Kenji looked at Juro with eyes wide in surprise.

“Yours? I didn’t think you were the type at all. No offense.” Kenji commented. Juro simply shrugged at him, looking at the book he has on his hand.

“It’s just a hobby of mine. Nothing much.” Juro said dismissively.

“Nothing much? Bro, my dad is the same as you and I still get impressed with what he makes. You should really show me some stuff, I could show it to my dad too.” Kenji said, Juro looked away while running his hand through his hair. A habit that Kenji notice him do often.

“I’ll think about it. Thanks again by the way. Our timeout can end here.” Juro said as he gave Kenji a soft smile, and Kenji mirrors it.

“Alright, I’ll see you later…nerd.” Kenji said, his smile now replaced with a smirk.

“Really? After you just learned about my hobby I’m a nerd now?” Juro said, playfully as he watch Kenji slowly walking away from him.

“It fits!” Kenji said, still smiling.

“Whatever, thief!” Juro yelled, causing a few people to turn to them.

“You can’t just say that out loud!” Kenji yelled back, now embarrassed as he noticed a few stares from people. Juro only laughed loudly. He watches as Kenji gets on his Bike and drives away while flipping him off as he drove past where he stood, Juro laughed harder and waved at him. As Kenji’s figure disappeared from his sight, he turns around and headed for his car that was parked not too far from him as well. On his way, he recalled the events that happened in the bookstore and Kenji’s laughter echoes in his mind as they laughed about what happened. Juro smiled, suddenly feeling warm and fuzzy inside, he made a new friend. As Juro steps into his car, he silently wished they could have another timeout.

[wishluc]

Fair Play

CW: Yandere character, jealousy, mentioned abuse of authority

PAIRING: Yandere! Neuvillette x GN! Reader

Sigh…I can’t get him out of my head

Whenever Neuvillette makes time to visit the Champion Duelists’ arena, it's only ever to see you fight.

He reasons with himself that it is only because of the fascinating way you weave your battles. He is far from the only spectator to these duels—not just anyone can earn a place among the Champions, after all—though he is the only one who remains silent when the crowd erupts in cheers and praise. He prefers to send his compliments privately, through a regrettably short conversation after the audience has cleared out. He thinks you might appreciate his thoughtfulness, because you always stand up a little straighter and smile a little wider when you see him approaching you, ever so bright despite the sweat painting your skin.

Anyone who has watched your duels would say the same, would sing the same praises that he calmly conveys to you—that your movements are graceful, your strokes swift and your stance sharp. That you are a marvel to behold. He observes how your eyes narrow as your sword slices the air, and he finds it a breathtaking sight. Your duels—your skillful attacks and quick steps are a form of art, one that you embody with every lunge, swing and pause, and one deserving of a revering audience.

—However, he does not tell you all this in detail, as Furina had advised him against it. He settles for simpler statements; “You are extremely talented. Thank you for using your abilities to uphold honour and justice,” among others, and he is rewarded with your eager gratitude, your smile and your joyous call of his name.

Regardless, he's not pleased with all the attention directed at you.

He could understand those who admired you and your abilities. It was only right that your hard work be recognised, even if the cheering crowd often took your attention away from him. But the way the Harbinger looked at you was with an unsettling kind of admiration, running too close to bloodlust and exhilaration, that made his fingers clench and his gaze harden unbeknownst to himself.

You respond with your usual grace, listening intently to his introduction (Neuvillette pretends it does mot bother him how you seem unbothered by his status as a Fatuus, and a Harbinger at that), and smiling at his compliments. He wonders if you’re pleased by his praise, if it’s his status that leaves you awestruck. The Harbingers must be good fighters, too, and Tartaglia had his fair share of scars to prove his prowess in battle.

Then, he asks you to duel him.

In itself, the request is not an unusual or unreasonable one. Duels could be requested (and at times commissioned), though Neuvillette was unsure if outlanders knew of this, or wished to try their hand at it.

But seeing that it was the harbinger—Tartaglia—who was asking, Neuvillette could not help but be suspicious of his intent. Even if it was only a fight he wished for, why did it have to be you, out of all the Champion Duellists? And why was he so...close? He had moved closer to you now, a lopsided grin on his face as he suggests taking him on as a partner sometime, assuring you that it would be fun. Neuvillette hopes you find his self assuredness just as irritating.

Instead, you humor his offer.

"A duel?" you look bemused, "And what for, Master Tartaglia? Your honor?"

Tartaglia laughs, his head thrown back, "Anything you want."

The teasing air of your words sends a chill down Neuvillete's spine. The skies darken as his heart thunders, misery gripping him painfully. He wonders if he ever sounded as natural with you. If his words had that same ease, or if he sounded as awkward as he felt around you. If you would ever think about treating him with such informality, like you would a friend.

The obvious fact that you did not acknowledge him as such only further glooms the sky and his heavy heart.

The Harbinger walks away, apparently done with accosting you, and you turn to catch sight of him in the distance. Your steps quicken and your smile widens as you approach Neuvillette, a spark in your eyes that he tells himself was missing before. You say his name in a delightful way, teeming with cheer, and he questions, not for the first time, if you could hear the awe in his when he had the chance to call your name. He wonders if you’d be upset by the possibility.

“You were wonderful, as always.” You glow at his words.

“But that person you were talking to,” He hesitates, “Was that a friend…?”

“No, just someone interested in a duel. Though he did seem a little intense.” You shake your head, “No, I suppose there are people like that, hungry for fighting. There is quite a thrill to it.”

“And will you?”

You shrug, contemplating your answer for a few more minutes.

“I don’t know. Somehow, I have a feeling that he’s going to find trouble soon.”

Neuvillette, in the back of his mind, recalls the sentence for treason, and conspiracy. He promptly shoves that thought to the corner, where tendrils of frustration and envy reach to carefully cocoon the unjust idea. He is the Chief Justice, and he has to remind himself of the fact—his feelings should not affect him.

But you are a Champion Duelist of the nation, one who upheld the justice he strived for in your actions. And you are at risk of being manipulated by this criminal. Would it not be cruel to allow you to stray any further?

“With an appetite like that, it’s likely. But I would advise against it for his sake.”

You chuckle at that, fixing your gloves, “It would be foolish of anyone to wreak havoc here and risk making an enemy of you, Monsieur Neuvillette.”

That was true—Wasn’t his duty to exact justice for your sake? And when you spoke of him with such admiration, how could he let you down?

For once, he thinks he may be able to put aside any concerns for justice. There would be no need to involve the public or consult the Oratrice. This was his personal sentencing, to satiate his own raging thoughts—judgement excecuted by his very hand.

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

[xmalereader]

Kylo Ren x Teen! Male Reader

☆— MASTERLIST —☆

REQUEST: I just wanted to know if you maybe could write Kylo ren x child/teen male reader. Where the reader is like his apprentice aaand he shows him the force and how to fight with a light saber. And while training he gets hurt or something and Kylo is all dad-like :3

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Fluff, slight angst, knights of ten, training, slight back story, Kylo showing his Ben side, father and son relationship, platonic, teenager reader, mentions of purrgli.

WC: 2.1K

TAGS: @justalonleyboy

NOTES: Finally! First request is up! I hope you enjoy this shot, I tried to make it as father and son relationship as possible, but other than that thank you for the request it’s been a long time since I’ve written for Kylo Ren so it feels nice writing about him again.

“Again.”

His masters voice echos in the training room. He’s standing opposite of his opponent, panting and sweating from the dueling session. He’s been training all morning nonstop and he still hasn’t managed to take down one of the knights of Ren, he can sense them smirking behind those mask as they all watched him train.

His eyes drift over to the others, inhaling some air into his lungs and shakes his head. He couldn’t go any further his body feels sore and his legs are screaming at him to sit and take a break.

“I can’t.”

He felt guilt and shame for disobeying his masters words, expecting a scolding from him as usual only this time he approached him and used the force to summon his saber into his hand. Y/n is surprised by his actions, breathing hitching as he looks up to his master who stared him down.

The masked man looks at him up and down and can clearly seen the kids fatigue. “Leave us.”

The knights respect his wishes and leave the training room, hearing them murmur amongst themselves and leaving the two alone. As the doors close behind them they are finally left alone.

“I told you not to push yourself.”

“I didn’t want to disappointment you.”

Kylo remains quiet when hearing his response, earning him a deep sigh as he reached up to remove his helmet, revealing his face and the scar that was left behind on his right cheek. It was a nasty wound that he received from the Jedi and remembers that day clearly even though he was his apprentice he stayed by his side in the medical wing while he was healing, being the one to check his face evert once an while until it healed, leaving a scar behind.

“You didn’t, but I also can’t have my apprentice draining himself when training. You could have gotten hurt.” Kylo knows how rough the Knights of Ren can be he’s trained with them before and faced the consequences of their training methods the amount of bruises and pain he went through. He wouldn’t want Y/n to go through the same and kept an eye on him during training and became strict whenever he didn’t listen to his orders.

“Go wash up and get something to eat.” Said Kylo. “Rest.” His last word was stern, ordering him.

Y/n sighs to himself. “Yes, master.”

Y/n leaves the training room, leaving Kylo on his own while he makes his way back to his own private room. Once he’s far away and alone he lets out a groan and rubs his sore hips. “Damn knights are gonna kill me.” They’ve been dropping him to the ground every time he trained with them, using the wooden sabers to smack him each time he failed.

He deeply disliked them and would prefer using the trainer droids.

When reaching his room he waves his hand, using the force to open the door and doing the same when closing it after he walks inside and gets himself undressed and towards his shower where he can finally get washed up and relax a bit before getting something in his stomach. As much as he hated the training he should be grateful if it wasn’t for Kylo he would have remained in the slums slaving away in order to survive.

Kylo had sensed him and came to him.

Before he could officially leave the slum, Kylo had given him a test in order to prove that he would be a worthy apprentice. Y/n was desperate to get off that damn planet and accepted his test, not realizing the dangerous potential he carried. Since his test he always stuck by Kylo’s side, following his orders and listening to what he had to say.

He was afraid of the man at first.

Witnessing his anger issues and the amount of troopers he had killed out of pure anger. The times when he’d grow desperate to show their power and hunting other force sensitives that they could find. Many of the generals and engineers murmured about him, saying that he wouldn’t last long and would possibly anger his master enough to get himself killed.

Only for Y/n to prove them wrong.

The first time that Y/n disobeyed orders he almost got himself killed trying to capture a rebel in order to get further information about their plans. Kylo was not happy, yelling at him for his actions. Everyone would have expected Y/n to cower away and take the scolding only to argue back with the Sith, spitting back words as the two scream at each other.

They’d think that Kylo would have killed him that day, but instead Kylo had let him win the argument and stomped away angrily.

Since then the two found a weird way of bonding with each other.

After Y/n finished washing up and getting some clothes on he made his way to the mess hall where he grabs himself something to eat and takes his tray with him. He doesn’t eat with the other troopers since no one really had the courage to speak with him, to afraid to approach him.

So instead he spent his time eating in Kylos room.

It became a regular routine between the two. When Y/n enters the room he doesn’t find Kylo anywhere which was expected and sits by one of the windows, watching them fly through hyper space as he eats his food in silence. After some time, Kylo finally returns back to his own room, door closing behind him as he removes his mask and sets it down on his bed.

“I’ve never seen a purrgil…have you?” Y/n looks away from the window and over to Kylo who removed his saber from his belt and sets it on his empty desk along with Y/n’s saber. Kylo still hasn’t given him the approval of wearing it yet and simply waited for that day.

“They are nothing but stories, no one has seen one.” Said Kylo.

Y/n hums in return and looks back out the window. The silence between them was comfortable as Kylo did his own thing by doing his daily check ups on Hux’s work and making sure that everything is going in order. After Y/n finishes his meal he leaves the tray aside and steals one of Kylos holo pads in order to read something.

“Don’t forget your training starts again in an hour.”

The teen mentally groans to himself, eyes on the holo when speaking up. “Who will I be training with this time? Cardo? Trudgen?” He’s basically trained with each Knight and already knows the routine he has with each one. He just hopes its not Vicrul he’s the most ruthless one out of all of them and never holds back.

Kylo stands from where he sits and approached Y/n, taking the pad from him. “You’ll be training with me.”

His eyes slightly widen by his words. It wasn't rare for him to train with Kylo he was the first one he trained with when he first got here. He taught him about the force and how to wield a saber before the knights of ren came in to further his training while he watched him. “I will be testing your skills today and see how well the knights have been training you.”

“Of course, Master.” He softly whispers out, growing anxious as he quickly gathers his empty tray and leaves his room, rushing out to get ready for his final training today. He’s been training for this day and shouldn’t feel nervous, but somehow he can’t help himself.

When getting ready for his training he makes sure to put on a proper training suit in case Kylo goes a little rough on him. He doesn’t need anymore bruises showing each time he looks in the mirror. He laced up his boots and makes his way to the training room once he’s done getting ready.

When entering the training room it was usual for him to find the Knights of Ren training before him. Only this time they are standing on the side, watching him carefully as he enters the room.

“Don’t kill yourself kids.” Said Cardo, obviously smirking under his helmet.

Y/n glared at him when approached the training weapons, only to be stopped when Vicrul approached him. “You will be needing this.” He holds out his saber only this one wasn’t his. It was different from the one Kylo let him use.

He takes the saber in his hand, getting adjusted to the feeling of it in his hand and walks towards the middle of the room. He doesn’t get much time to mentally prepare himself when Kylo walks into the room, wearing his own helmet and without the cape this time.

Kylo doesn’t really give him time to prepare and approached him quickly, holding out his own saber and igniting it and takes a swing at him. Y/n is surprised by the quick attack and side steps quickly, igniting his own saber in order to defend himself. He holds it with one hand, focusing on Kylo as he takes another swing at him.

He’s quick to block it with his own saber. This one felt lighter to use than the one that Kylo got for him like it belonged to him.

He moves fast with each strike, groaning by the pressure that Kylo puts on his saber with each swing he takes. He can’t back down now a Jedi could easily kill him if he doesn’t fight back properly. He doesn’t know how long he’s been fighting for, but Kylo wasn’t backing down until one of them yielded.

Y/n holds the saber in his tight hand as his eyes follow Kylos movements. Y/n makes the first attack, swinging it close to his head which Kylo quickly dodged no realizing his own misstep as his own master swings his own red saber down on him. His eyes widen and quickly thinks, thrusting his hand out and using the force to stop the saber from killing him.

He can feel the hot saber close to his face, groaning and tilting his head away as he uses his power to push back only to grow weaker and tired. His hand is shaking and the saber is getting closer the red saber burning on his shoulder as he cries at the pain.

He can feel hot tears running down his face his emotion is enough for Kylo to stop, turning off his saber as the teen falls to the ground. A hand on his shoulder as he bites his lip hard trying to contain his muffled groans.

Kylo doesn’t hesitate to drop his saber, getting down on his knees and grabbing onto the kid. “Let me see.”

Y/n sniffles and whimpers afraid to show his wounded shoulder and shakes his head.

“Y/n.” Kylos voice is stern, enough to make the kid move his hand from where it lies as he shows his wound to Kylo. It wasn’t deep but it was burnt that he’ll need a patch and some bacta spray to get it healed up. While Kylo focused on Y/n’s wellbeing the Knights stood on the side, noticing his actions.

“He is still to weak and needs further training.”

Y/n looks away as he grows ashamed by their words only for Kylo to frown under his helmet.

“He is still a kid.” Kylo speaks up while looking over his shoulder, glaring under his helmet as he comes to a stand. “Get me a medical droid.”

“Ren—“

“Now!” Kylo shouts at the knights, reminding them who they follow as they leave the training room and search for a medical droid.

Kylo puts his focus on Y/n again and touched his shoulder which makes him wince. “It hurts.” He groans out. “I know it hurts and its gonna hurt even more if you don’t let me see if properly.” Y/n whines and lets Kylo examine the wound. The two are quiet until Kylo finally speaks up in a soft tone. “I’m sorry, I overstepped and got you hurt. I was rough on you.”

Even though Kylo was the most intimidating man on the ship only Y/n had the privilege to see his soft side which was very rare. He never pointed it out and simply went along with it, accepting his apology with a small nod as he lets him tend to his wound. “Well, at least I know you can handle a rough battle.” Y/n choked out a chuckle, sniffling back his tears as he sticks close to Kylo as they wait for the medical droid.

[shinidamachu]

Do you think Kikyo should’ve been nicer to Kagome and thanked her for all those times she saved her? Some of the fandom even thinks she owed her Spiritual training as well, what do you think?

To me, the thing about Kagome and Kikyo's rivalry is that it felt very one sided. Obviously, they both had extremely valid reasons to hate each other's guts at first — reasons that go beyond Inuyasha —, but Kikyo was the only one actually acting on it.

And she kept doing it even after Kagome has proved, time and time again, that she can be trusted and that she is in no way deserving of Kikyo's hatred.

I think that was a great dynamic because Kagome and Kikyo parallel each other so well: while Kagome was strugling with her own feelings in order to understand Kikyo's and accept her as a part of Inuyasha's life...

...Kikyo was fighting to do the exact opposite and hold on to her grudge. You can tell it by the way she can recognize what Kagome's true intentions were but still belittle her for it and refuse to say anything nice to her face.

It's a extremely compelling "yin and yang" sort of thing that worked very well at the start. What happened was that, at a certain point, Kagome has done so much for Kikyo that any ressentment towards her just felt a little ridiculous.

And I'm not even saying Kikyo should've been nicer and thanked Kagome. I think it's perfectly okay for a female character to dislike another. They don't have to be friends just because they're women, especially when there's so much bad blood between them.

In fact, I don't think there's room for a canon friendship there without it feeling awkward and forced — even though Kagome was obviously trying. I also think Kikyo being nice and thanking Kagome would be out of character and honestly a little underwhelming.

After everything that happened, a simple "thank you" doesn't even begin to cover. And as much as Kagome deserved to hear it, she didn't do anything because she wanted to be the better person or for Kikyo to be in debt with her. She did it because she's a good person and therefore will always do the right thing.

In my opinion, it wasn't exactly to Kagome that Kikyo owed anything, but to the narrative, as a way to earn her so called redemption by being held accountable for her actions, which she never really was.

Rather than Kikyo being nicer to Kagome, I think it would've been much better for both characters if Kagome was allowed to tell Kikyo off every now and then without it being an illusion.

And rather than Kikyo thanking Kagome, it would've been way more natural and meaningful for her to die saving Kagome's or Inuyasha's life instead of Kohaku's. It would've shown more regret and gratitude than any words ever could. Everything would come full circle — since she tried to kill them both while they were only trying to save her — and her closure would feel actually earned.

As for the spiritual training thing, I see where people are coming from and in another universe I think it would've been totally cool for them to have a dynamic like Aang and Roku had in Avatar, but again: it doesn't really work in canon.

More importantly: it goes against a theme that was introduced very earlier in the show, which is Kagome being her own person, doing her own thing, aside from Kikyo.

We literally see her trying to channel Kikyo's powers and failing...

...Then just being herself and succeeding:

If anyone was obligated to train her, that's Kaede, but particularly I like the idea of Kagome being self taught and making the moves up as she goes even better. I think it adds a lot to her character, I just wished Takahashi had explored it properly.

Plus, let's be honest: Kagome was doing a fine job on her own. Kikyo was the one making her life a thousand times harder by coming up with those nonsensical plans. In the end of the day it wasn't Kagome who needed Kikyo to defeat Naraku, but rather Kikyo who needed Kagome.

That being said, if Kikyo were to be nicer and thank someone, I think that person should've been Inuyasha and I will die on this hill. He was risking everything he had because she guilt tripped him into thinking he owed it to her.

"You came for me, that is enough" was not a thank you nor an apology. I can understand her reluctance when it comes to Kagome, but I can't justify her treatment of Inuyasha. Not when she was supposed to love him.