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

[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."

[goldsbitch]

That one night stranded

There is good sex...and then there is good sex. And when you know and love someone, it's very easy to tell when they fall into an anxiety trap and try to fuck it out.

Lando is determined to have good sex only for the rest of his life.

Or - Lando and Y/N get stranded in between flights. accidental 7k epilogue p.2 to That one Christmas flight, but can be read as a stand-alone

warning: angst, shit family, smut, p in v, oral, minors DNI, typos, couple therapists, please leave, i'm not ready for your judgement

//

There were two very different text message chains happening in the hotel lobby, where the young couple stood, waiting for the receptionist who was coding they key card.

Lando's phone was bursting up with family photos, taken the day before. Lots of smiley faces, tables overflowing with food and pictures blurred up, because the person taking the photo was most likely laughing too hard to stay still. And even better - most of the messages were words of praise his family had for his no-so-new girlfriend. He knew well enough his family was proud of him nevertheless. Somehow, bringing home someone who fit in right easily, laughed at the same jokes and earned a sincere approval, filled up a hole he had no idea was present in his heart.

This one night they'd "earned" by the delayed flight felt like a reward. They'd done great together. Alone time was a rare luxury, especially when it was unexpected and not planned out for weeks. He glanced over to her, glued to her phone in a similar way that he was. Only difference being the furrowed brows.

The other text chain was Y/N and her mother. Right when the reality sank in - the fact that no plane would be able to fly to Japan with these weather conditions - her heart did too. She'd somehow hoped it would be different. That her mother would save the snarky comments. Yet she found a way to make this all seem like Y/N's fault.

You should have taken an earlier flight.

She knew it was irrational. But yes, if they had opted for the earlier flight, they'd be in the air by now. Funny, how only parents know the exact formula to make one��s brain switch off the rational part. It was the hidden undertone in the text messages. Her mom would usually save those for phone calls. The last thing Y/N wanted to do at the moment. You're too reckless. Not organized enough. Being late is your fault. Bad planning. Do you even care about seeing me? I took a day off from work to spend time with you. Are you sure about bringing the racer boy over here?

Guilt filled up her stomach and her eyes were glued to the phone, hoping for more letters to appear. Something along the lines like "have a safe flight". Or "I'm looking forward to finally meeting Lando". Words she knew would never appear. She felt her boyfriend's arm embrace her as he exchanged few final words with the receptionist. The specific info got lost on her, but the tone spoke on it's own. Even a stranger could pick up on his unmasked joy and comfort. He didn't mind they were stranded for few hours. She wished for that kind of peace of mind. His family had been incredibly lovely to her. Accepted her the way she was and gave her enough space to express herself. She was ready for "double checking" or some sort of acceptance tests. Expected to have to prove herself to them more. None of that came. Part of her was secretly infuriated by that. There was no way in hell Lando would get the same treatment. Y/N wished she could provide that comfort for him too. It resembled the same feeling she had when he came to her apartment for the first time and she forgot to put away all the mugs overflowing the nightstand. Like something that was her responsibility to fix, clean up before he even knew this was a thing.

"Look at me, honey," he said in the elevator, his finger pulling her chin up. His eyes scanned her with a look she grew to love. Pure, unfiltered adoration. "Feels like we got gifted a night only for ourselves. I can't think of anything better to receive." She smiled as best as she could, trying to get on his level of ease. But one thought sat in her brain, unwilling to make space for anything else. Today's bliss for tomorrow's misery.

"You're right, as always," she replied, trying to convince herself maybe more than him. The kiss she gave him afterwards was to divert his attention from looking at her, because she knew from experience, he'd soon see right through her.

"Have you texted your mom that we'll be late?" he asked, unaware of her bubbling anxiety.

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, trying to dismiss the situation.

//

Who cares that mom thinks he's just a reckless celebrity. Would an immature asshole who "can't possibly care about me in the longterm" be say things like that? It was pure fire running through her veins. Maybe it really was a gift, these few hours they got extra. The reality was that even if they'd arrived on time, fresh and dressed up as a cookie cutter loved up couple, her mom would still find something wrong to drill about later. Screw that. Last few moments of solitude.

She was standing in a hotel room bathroom, looking into the mirror, trying to calm herself down.

This worked perfectly into Lando's favor, him still being completely high on the good Christmas vibes. The minute she excused herself, he got on the phone with the hotel concierge and offered to throw any amount of money at them if they'd manage to follow up on his impromptu request. By some miracle, the trail with cold champagne, strawberries and few roses arrived before she returned from the bathroom. When his lovely girlfriend entered the room again, he greeted her with a dramatic spin, rose in one, a tall glass in the other hand. His interpretation of an angelic smile plastered on his face. The plan of catching her off guard worked. She stood there for a moment, taking the scenery in.

"Lando..." she said, speechless enough to muster anything more.

He winked at her and stepped closer. "It is technically our anniversary..." he said, like an open invitation.

Y/N stared at the loved up guy standing in front of her. Mother's voice still ringing in her head. All composure she managed to gain by staring at herself in the mirror gone in a second. How can anyone, ever and anywhere think that Lando, her Lando, is anything but a perfect boyfriend. How can her mother feed her with words like reckless, immature, wild and careless...without ever even meeting him in person. Her phone dinged with the sound a text message and she just knew it was her mom again. She didn't even bother looking at the notification.

"You're perfect, you know that?" she blurbed slowly. Once again, as if more to herself than to him.

His smile grew wider. "I try my best," he noted with a tone that could only be described as playful.

"Many people forget anniversaries..."

"To be fair, it is easier if it's pinned to annoyingly recognized holiday..." he joked and handed her the glass. "Do not ask me when we actually got together, because I don't think there is enough champagne around here for me to apologize for not knowing that date."

She smirked and accepted the glass.

"You did kind of just admit that yourself, you know..."

"I know, but, you didn't ask, so it doesn't count."

He knew her well enough to know that she was about to ask exactly that just to tease him, so interrupted her before she had a chance to even breathe in.

"Toast! To us! To the best outcome a desperate secret meeting at Honda could ever have!"

Giving up on teasing him, she clinked her glass with his. "To the Christmas champagne tradition."

He leaned in and kissed her before tasting the champagne. If it weren't for the symbolic gesture, he'd order anything else. Champagne had a weird undertone of podiums and that was something he hated to get reminded of during off season. But that was not something he needed to tell her.

She gulped the whole glass, happy have something to take the edge off.

"How bizarre, we managed to make it here," she remarked, courage building up.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, honey."

That's it. He was being the ultimate boyfriend, while she was there, barely participating. No more of that. She grabbed the glass from his hands and downed the liquid he barely touched anyway. Surprised Lando only raised his eyebrows and watched her put both of their glasses away.

"Bed. Now," she ordered him, changing the tone of the conversation.

Fascination overruled Lando's facial expression and he obeyed, without a single word. Usually, he was the more dominant one in their sex life. He couldn't help himself, forever horny teenager. But, sometimes, out of nowhere, she whipped up her bossy side. He often fantasized about that when he was alone, racing around the world.

She waited for him to absentmindedly kick his shoes to the corner only to sit at the edge of the bed. Shook her head and nodded toward the pillow. He obeyed and pushed himself further to the back. His eyes were literally inviting her, encouraging her to continue.

With full determination, she took her shirt off, following by swiftly removing her bra. Then she climbed over to him, never breaking eye contact.

Lando wanted to say something, anything, but he was worried that would somehow break the spell. He followed her every move, tuning in. They had spent few days in the family circus and they were about to enter another one. It's been the longest they'd gotten without sex while being in the same timezone. Even though he was not demanding or expecting anything, he was craving it like a starved man.

She wanted to feel hot. Determined to prove that she is a good girlfriend. Swung her leg over his, practically sitting on him. Their lips crashed together in a messy kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. Lando sighed when she parted them. But she was on a mission now. Knowing well enough Lando was a boobs man, she pulled his face towards her nipple and he didn't think twice about what to do next. She watched him suck and pure physical relief washed over her. All will be well soon.

She grabbed him over his jeans, pleased to find that he was already getting hard. Abandoning the kiss, she moved over to gain access to his crotch. Locked eyes with him while opening his zipper, almost violently.

"Take this off," she ordered and boy, did he do as he was told.

The air was heavy with anticipation on both parties.

With thick determination, she knelt over and took him into her mouth. He grew in her instantly, reaching full erection almost immediately.

Wasting no time, she started to move, up and down and suck him off. One hand called over to help at the bottom of his shaft, the other used as a support for her to lean on. She quickly got lost in the rhythm and continued, almost like someone dead set on completing a task. She had to prove herself. He was a great boyfriend and she needed to be the best girl he had. Because tomorrow, only ugly judgemental looks from her mother would await. No warm family welcome, this bliss they lived in for the past few days would be long gone. She could almost see it already happening, Lando desperately trying to impress her mother and her just dismissing him, because she had already made up her mind about him.

But he was perfect and Y/N was head-over-heels in love. With her eyes closed, she kept on moving, barely reaching for breath, ignoring the growing pain in her back, because the pit of despair growing in her stomach was louder anyway. It was all worth it for making her lover happy. Because who knows how it will all look tomorrow. If she could back down from the trip, she would. Her mom does not deserve to criticize someone so perfect like Lando.

Out of nowhere, felt his hand reaching over to her shoulder, somewhat bringing her back to Earth.

"Y/N," he moaned, with an unusual undertone. She took it as a sign to speed up her movements.

"Stop," he continued instantly. She froze, not quite sure what had happened.

"Ok, ugh," he pulled away unwillingly. "I can't believe I'm about to interrupt...Whatever amazing thing is happening right now."

She swallowed her own saliva. Got up a bit, slightly mortified. Why did he stop her. What has she done wrong? He never complained before? That's it - this connected with the treatment her mother had prepared instead of Christmas dinner would be the final straw ending their lovey-dovey period. Her thoughts were tripping one over another, making up an incoherent mess.

Once again, he pulled up his finger and arched her chin up.

"Is everything alright?"

Silence followed. He gave her a questioning, puzzled look.

"I thought you liked my blow jobs," she said with a stern look stripped of any emotion.

"Believe me, I do," he said with a heavy sigh. He couldn't believe himself, never expected himself to pause a perfect blow. "But something feels off about you."

She failed. She failed at going with Lando's flow and ruined what was suppose to be a nice romantic holiday evening. Giving up, she threw herself on her back, lying 90 degrees next to him, eyes glued to the ceiling. If they hadn't been so comfortable with each other, she'd feel very small, lying there like that, him with his dick out and her topless.

Lando had hoped his intuition was wrong. But sadly, he recognized the signs correctly. Without knowing this emotion had pained her ever since the plane got delayed, he felt his own anxiety pile up. Only years of mental preparation for his overly demanding job had helped him to avoid jumping into conclusions too quickly. Even though, deep down, he was terrified that her sudden mood change was due to the fact she didn't love him anymore. It was always the first thing he thought about, no matter how much he tried to work on it. But - years of mental training - he was going to cash that in.

He watched her, hoping she'd look back at him. When she didn't, he reached his fingertips towards hers. Her own hand responded instantly and their fingers tangled together.

"What happened...Did I do something wrong?" he opened with, reaching for any clues.

She kept her stare up the ceiling and chuckled. How cute it was, finding him so unaware.

"No. Lando, you're amazing. Annoyingly so, lately."

He took that as an invitation and shifted his body over so that they shared the same angle and joined her at the "staring at the ceiling" activity.

"I hope that is not the problem - I have hard time not being like that," he joked, hoping it would diffuse the tension a bit. The Lando she met a year ago would probably run away in a situation like this. Or maybe even ignored the obvious distress of his sex partner and let he blow him to his release. But not the Lando of today.

Her lips curled into a small smile.

"Oh, if only all of us were like you," she couldn't help but comment sarcastically.

"You know that you're more than perfect to me, right?" There was no lightness to be detected in his tone. She shifted, a wave of uncomfortableness washing her over.

I may be, but not my family.

"Yes, but I need you to know...I need you to understand, that I truly love you and I am totally mesmerized by you. To me, you are perfect. Even when you irritate me to heavens," she admited, making sure to highlight the words of praise. Scared that if she didn't build enough foundation today, there will be nothing to stand on once the challenge comes tomorrow. She'd tried to warm him about the meeting, but it always seemed to go through his ears.

It was like she was speaking in riddles. "Why do you need me to understand that now?" he asked, eyes now fully glued at his girlfriend, searching for some clues.

She felt his eyes on her and out of nowhere felt very naked. "Because...." ...Words were hard.

"Go on, I'm not backing away from this," Lando insisted, trying to get them both on the same page.

A loud sigh. "We had such a great time with your family..."

It was like she was speaking in a language he was not yet fluent in. "Don't divert the conversation," he hissed, eyes on her like she was some sort of target.

"I'm not!" she gasped, almost offended.

Lando was still not following. "My family is basically in love with you, I have messages if you need proof."

"Yeah. And that's the problem," Y/N smirked bitterly.

He leaned closer to her. "I think we should look up a definition of the word problem..." he joked.

She was still burning holes in the ceiling with her look. "We missed the flight. It's another bullet to my mother’s gun." Stupid, stupid mistake.

"Who is she planning on shooting?" Lando asked softly.

"Us, I'm afraid." She finally met his look and the only emotion he was able to read in her eyes was concern.

If this relationship had taught Lando anything, it was that the hard way is sometimes the only way. So, he finally allowed himself to ask the one thing that had been on his mind for a while now. "Does she not like me?"

Deep down he was suspecting this might be one of the reasons why his girlfriend is acting sketchy. He just hoped it was something more trivial. "She's never met you," she whispered, as if she was defending him for something he hadn't yet committed. So far, there had been only one moment when her mom Facetimed her when he was right next to her. One greeting, awkward wave and a smile that was not reciprocated. He made up some excuse to leave them alone promptly after that, feeling like he was intruding on a private conversation.

"I wondered when you were going to tell me that," he remarked, ready to go full on. He was just now allowing the thought that his lover's parent might have been feeding her bitter doubts for some time now enter his brain.

The obvious change of Lando's expression made her stomach turn, kind of like drinking milk that's gone off does. But, they'd vowed to be fully honest with each other after their first big fight. Deep breath. "She um...It's not like you can say she is exactly on board with all of this,“ she gestured between them. 

And there it was. The confirmation he feared. He did his best to remain as calm as possible. "Don't worry, I figured, you sort of hinted at that few times before. And I'm planning on charming the hell out of her. After all, you do share genes. Some of my tricks gotta work on her." It was more of a plea, lacking his general playful confidence. When she studied his look, it reminded her of the times when he was hiding his real emotions in front of hungry reporters.

He told her once he wanted her to be blunt, rather than deceptive in difficult times. The words started to leave her mouth without much of a filter. "But, what if it does not work. She has this habit of making her mind up before I have any chance to affect it."

Somehow, the fact she voiced it, made it easier for him to react. "Honey, don't take this the wrong way. But, I only care about your opinion. It would be great to have your mom on our side...However, I'd like to believe it's not the base of our relationship."

"No, it's not," she said quickly, silently hoping it was going to be enough for them to survive this challenge.

"So, tell me. What does she think about me?" he asked, suddenly craving to know it all.

She bit her lip. "Lando, don't make me say things like that."

Wow. That bad. "I'm used to getting hate from thousands of people who don't know me. I can cope. The more specifics I know, the better I can prepare...Come on, spill it," he countered, trying to convince her that he can handle it. However, it wasn't like he himself was completely sure of that. Her face was expressionless and he nodded to confirm it nonverbally.

"She thinks you're reckless," she spoke slowly, skipping few heartbeats. She was used to being on the other side, praising Lando when he doubted himself. This place, where she found herself at, was not one she liked.

He analysed it for a moment. "Well, I do get into a car every week to purposefully drive it as fast as possible, so I can she from which angle she might be coming from. Nothing new."

"You're a party boy," she shot back faster than she could think.

And he shot right back at her. "You're a party girl, but I assume your mom has no idea, huh."

"No...," she admitted. For some reason, this calmed her down a bit. She finally took another breath.

"What else," Lando's stared at her, following his internal feeling they hadn't arrived to the end yet.

No point in holding back now, she figured. There was a weird ball of tension in her chest, almost asking daring her to push him to the limit. "She googled you. A lot. And she made sure to tell me names of all your model exes. Then proceeded to tell me I look nothing like that," Y/N deadpanned.

Lando knew this was probably the one thing that stung her the most. But, the thought of someone she held so dearly voicing it her was making him extremely angry. "That's just fucked up-"

She continued, before he had any chance to react more.

"And, she thinks you'll affect my school. That the lifestyle around you is shallow and only attracts bonehead people."

Now, this was finally getting to Lando. Of course, he could not let Y/N know that, not in this moment.

"Do you think that too?" he asked, because he craved to know the truth. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when the world around felt silent and his mind had time to roam freely, he found himself thinking about this. He never really studied and was never going to. His life was based on different approach. He loved it. But that didn't stop him from feeling a bit inferior from time to time.

He expected anything, but a laugh. For a moment he figured she was mocking him. Only once she reached to touch his face he realized just how still and stiff he became throuout out their conversation.

"I think it's shallow and bonehead to assume that. I've met some amazing people in your team, smart people who have dedicated their lives into the sport I'd grown to love while watching get so passionate about it."

There was an unspoken question hanging in the air. Lando dared not to say it outloud.

"And, no. I don't think you deserve to be called any of those words. Only when you're looking in the mirror, because that smug face deserves to be punched one day."

He chuckled. It would take him few moment to truly let her words sink in. "You didn't seem to think that one time in Abu Dhabi." That time when he fucked over a bathroom sink and made sure that she watched them the whole time. Lando watched with joy as her face started getting some color again. He couldn't fight his urge to get closer to his partner, break the tension even further. So, he rolled over to bury his nose in her neck. It was almost automatic at this point. None of his previous girlfriends were this understanding of his overly touchy needs. Words were important, but they grew more on meaning when he could feel her skin, explore her light shiver, watch how her body reacted. When he felt her pushing towards his touch, he swung his arm over her, with the notion of providing some heat to her naked chest.

A more comfortable silence fell upon the hotel room. Both of them lost in their own thoughts. Lando was taking in all of the newly found information. It was a heavy burden, not because of the substance, but because it was coming from someone Y/N held dearly. It was hard not to feel a little injustice of it all. But more than that, he was grateful that she was able to avoid internalizing all of that what was fed to her from her mom. He approached all of this as he would any strategy meeting before a difficult race. Find the strengths, capitalize on them and try to minimize the advantage "the opponent" might have. But truth be told, he'd rather not have to have this sort of competition.

"Thank you," he whispered into the crease of her neck. "Thank you for not giving into it all." He hoped, prayed, that was he as saying was true. It was not just about her mom. It was the press, some of the overbearing fans and anyone who dared to challenge them without having any real insight in their relationship. "I know it must be really hard and not exactly what you might have signed up for."

What did I sign up for? 

She reached over to embrace him, mindlessly drawing circles on his back. The pit inside her stomach was growing smaller. Without really intending to, signed up for a partnership, exciting love affair that got out of hand. Anyone who came before him was redundant. He outshined everyone. 

"I’m pretty sure I must have bribed faith in my past life to have you thrown in my life." 

"Aren’t you my little smart poetic girl," he murmured approvingly and started to cover her skin with kisses. Few moments flew by. "We could order some food, put on the show you like and drift away. How does that sound?" 

She understood his intention. It had been a long day and another one was coming. Her emotions were clashing from one end to another and as much as she tried to hide it all, Lando was proving to be hard to fool. And no - she did not want to chill in. Burning all of it out sounded more fun. To be held for a moment, stuck in the timelessness only lightheaded orgasm created. 

He was still trailing her neck with small pecks, arm locking her in. The untamed curls almost tickling like small feathers. Everything was heightened, as if his skin was loudly calling her in. His words of initiating a calm wind down not matching his action. 

"Please, no more of this PG fun. It’s been days."

He stopped all of his movements. "Well then, pray tell, what do you have on mind?"

The next words flew out of her mouth before she could filter them. "Are you in the mood to fuck me?"

"Am I in the mood to fuck you," he repeated, in his signature sarcasm dripping style. He was having trouble processing how his sexual partner could ever arrive to this question. Unsure whether to address her clumsy dirty talk first instead of the absurdity of the question, he arrived at a simple "Charming…".  Of course he was in the mood. Always, anytime and quite literally anywhere.

"Well it's just, it's been quite a tense talk..." she hinted back carefully. To her surprise, his face went into smirk mode. 

"I will ask you the same thing next time you're hyperventilating about school and you come in begging for stress release," he jested, once again making her eyebrows shooting up. 

"I am never begging," she defended, unwilling to give into his narrative. 

And then he shot back, with his signature you-don’t-have-any-chance-to-resist look. "I said what I said."

Blood ran boiling in her veins. If oil had been in such abundance as his audacity, the world would be able to run cars freely for centuries. "Tell me one example of me begging for sex with you."

Lando turned his head slowly. Oh. Oh, it was on.

Very quickly she realized her own mistake. She ran into that one like a fool. "No, Lando, don't-"

"You know, it has been indeed quite a long day, I think I'm gonna hop in the shower and get a healthy dose of beauty sleep," he declared dramatically, sat up and removed his t-shirt. She rolled her eyes as high as humanly possible. No way would follow through with this premise. "Fine, Lando. I’ll be here, munching on strawberries, naked and horny, all by myself," she tried to tease and leaned over to grab one of the bright red fruits from the trail. Eyes locked in with him as she shamelessly sucked on it. There was a glitch and a twinkle in his look. Almost got her thinking she had this one in the bag. He stepped closer, noses almost touching as he whispered: "Have fun, honey," gave her a little peck on the cheeks while having the nerve to grab her exposed breast. His tone was teasing, daring her to dare a little more. It was annoying in a typical Lando fashion.

"Lando, you gotta be kidding me right now," she sighed, impatience getting the better of her. 

"Few magic words and you get exactly what you want from your reckless racer fuck boy,“ he mocked everyone who ever doubted them. "Oh, sorry, forgot to add, very good at taking your edge off. Am I right?"

His presence was more intoxicating than usual. As if he radiated some hormones making her feral. All the complicated emotions leaving the conversation one by one. Nothing but the two of them left in the room. His hot breath on her cheek, fingers circling over her nipple and his body heat reminding her of each time she wrapped her arms around him as he pushed into her. 

"Yes, that you are," she responded mindlessly and searched for his lips with her own. He allowed her a small peck, like a chef would at a tasting menu. Enough to hook, but not enough to fill up. And with that thought in mind he broke their kiss. "Come on, say it. I want to hear it."

Few moments of silence, her breathing heavy and his almost undetectable. Two ego’s fighting a battle so pointless it was almost amusing. She couldn’t just give in like that, no matter how dizzy her head was getting. 

"Fine by me, honey. Your choice," he danced away, letting her hanging. There was something infuriating about how nonchalantly and elegantly he smiled, knowing well enough her was winning this battle. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as to prevent herself from watching his tone back. 

This. This was her Lando. Always pushing her into a direction she had no idea she wanted or needed to go. Never the same thing twice, somehow, he always dug up something new. 

She sat on the bed, dumbfounded, playful anger replacing all the anxiety she had felt just moments ago. Was this his plan all along, or did he just have a natural talent at steering her mood into a place where she’d happily go and give into anything he’d suggest her to do?

He was grinning all the way coming to the shower. It was a statement, a game and something to ease the tension. Once the water started, he’d allowed himself do a light check-in with his own feelings. It wasn’t easy to hear all those things. In fact, some of them hit a little close to home. Lando made sure to separate what he had heard from Y/N as a person. She wasn’t the author of these thoughts. Someone else was. A person who he had not yet even met. There wasn’t a single cell in him that would doubt that everything she stared had been said by her mother at some point. 

He closed his eyes and aimed his face directly under the shower head. Images of him and Y/N all coupled up at his family house started to come in, like a set of developed photos. So natural, calming and most of all - honest. Comfort memories he knew he’d be reaching for once the new season and it’s challenges catch up, when the distance and loneliness hit. But at that moment, there she was, right next door and probably still a bit fired up by his uncharacteristic postponing of sex. His hand slid over to his crotch, squeezing himself casually and switching up the mental images to less family-friendly moments. He was sort of expecting her to come and join him in the shower. But no, of course not. Not when he set her up like that. They were all too similar for their own good.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, towel purposefully hanging dangerously low, he couldn’t stop himself from simpering. Once he got a look at her, sitting under the covers, phone in her hand and too stingy to pass him more than two looks. But, she did come for the second one and that betrayed her, aiming directly to where his tower barely covered his waist. 

To prove his point, he shuffled his wet hair, sudden movement making her glance once again. It felt really addictive to know he was the centre of her attention, despite how much she tried to hide it. 

Smugness and water dripping from him, he landed shamelessly on the bed, towel giving up on trying to participate. Her reaction was to frown, making her pet peeve of people getting into the bed wet known, once again. Something Lando became aware very early on. He used this information only when the situation required it. No words were said, as he leaned over her, making sure to leave some remaining water drops on her, and grabbed a moisturizer. 

Then he proceeded to slowly plump it and rub it on his body. The unreasonably loud sounds of him doing that were cutting the silence of the room like a knife. 

His partner sitting next to him hummed quietly. "Whatever this is, it’s not working."

He replied, elegant as ever. "I don’t know what you’re insinuating." He pretended to be as focused on his activity, the same way as he did when doing PR bullshit. "Ah, honey. Would you be so kind and help me reach to my back?" Lando asked overly nicely. Y/N watched him, almost admiring just how bad his acting skills were and how he proceeded with his act without any remorse. He was reaching over to his back, unable to do so, and making it look like the biggest tragedy human kind has ever experienced. And with puppy eyes, he decided to go for a low blow. 

"Please, baby," he said in a tone so insincere it wouldn’t fool a child. This was yet another provocation. 

"You know it irks me when you’re wet in the bed."

He let out a chuckle. She was so bad at keeping herself in check. It was adorable. She just sat there, pretending to be scrolling Instagram, little lines around her eyes forming from how tense her eyebrows frowned. "I do. And we seriously have to get your accidental innuendos under control. Can’t have you walking in public saying these things." He wiggled the moisturizer in front of her face. 

Finally, she snapped. "You are the most annoying and immature guy I’ve ever met. You’re impossible." Lando looked at her, like one would at an angry puppy that’s trying to jump a little too high. 

"One would almost say a miracle, huh."

Once again, he shook his bottle of moisturizer. Having had enough, she snatched it from his hands and put it back on the nightstand.  "It’s a miracle I haven’t killed you yet."

Without missing a beat, he shot back. "And how will we celebrate?"

She let out a sigh so loud the people in the next room must have heard it. Sitting there, not knowing what do with her hands anymore. He wished they were pulling his hair. 

"Are you seriously gonna make me say it."

He simply nodded, arching himself up. If her mind had been clouded before, it was now full on can't-see-further-than-my-nose type of situation.

He leaned over even closer, getting up all over in her personal space. As if that was even a thing anymore. 

Somehow, for some reason he would have yet unpack, his heart was beating like crazy. Say it. 

Accepting that he won what ever this was, she gulped and finally whispered. "Please."

He gave her a questioning look, as if he didn’t hear her. "Hm? Sorry?"

Still debating whether she should smack him or not, she repeated herself. "Please."

"What, do you want me to put the cream on you too? Hydration is important for the skin,“ he teased, enjoying himself immensely. 

"Lando."

"Y/N."

If he were to be completely honest, he was extremely proud of himself to withholding this long. Also, not sure how longer he could go on, given the fact his erection has entered the chat. 

To make it more complicated, she sat up and put her mouth almost onto his. He could smell her aroused energy. Almost taste her on his mouth. And that as even before she licked his lips lightly with her tongue.

"Say it," he mumbled, unable to make it not sound like a plea. 

It was different than what they’d usually do. Many couples dabbled in talking during sex, they never really did. Then something hit her. Like a secret wavelength he was sending her way. Maybe he needed her to talk today. So, finally, she broke in. 

"Lando, please, fuck me.“ 

All those times, he waited for the five red lights to go out only for him to smash the pedal, paid off. Like opening windows in a stale room, he let the fresh air in. Ripped the duvet covering her off, he grabbed her legs to pull her into a laying down position, not even giving her time to gasp. His moves were quick and oh-so-sure of himself. 

"Tell me what you need, love,“ he ordered, while he traced the line of her neck with his tongue. 

He wasn’t certain if she was finding the idea of talking as hot as he did. But he sure as hell hoped. It wasn’t like he needed any guidance at that point. Had every inch of her body mapped out already. But he longed to hear it from her mouth. Towering over her, he nibbled on her neck, one hand running through her hair and the other squeezing her hips, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. 

He noticed she stopped her breathing and locked him with her arms, holding on for dear life. 

"You, I need you, Lando,“ she let out, suddenly all uncertain and shy. It was the vulnerability in her tone that got him. He moved his lips a little lower, so that he could leave a mark on her collarbone, without fearing she’d regret it tomorrow. 

His body was moving on its own. Brushing on her upper thigh, opening her legs up and positioning himself between her. All the blood left his brain. 

"I want you to touch me. I want to walk with marks made from you in public, a secret only you will know.“ 

He was only now realizing how good of a fuel this was for him. Lightheaded, he folded her legs and pushed them to her stomach, making as small as possible. So that she would be completely in his control. 

To grand her wished, he left one mark just below he collarbone and moved to leave a second one on her breast. She let out a heavy breath. 

"Lando, please. I need you inside.“ 

He was almost getting too dizzy not to comply immediately. His erection throbbing into her leg. 

Then, out of nowhere, he flipped them both. 

"Get over me, baby,“ he hummed and positioned himself on his back. She gave him a questioning look and knelt above his dick. 

But he shook his head and grabbed her hips once again. "Up here.“ 

His hungry look must have encouraged her, so she moved until he stopped her, ending up directly above his mouth. "Sit down.“ 

His statement was followed by his strong hands literally pushing her down on his mouth. 

Eyes finally locked again, he smirked for the last time, before he buried his mouth in her. 

Lando wished he knew what he looked like from her perspective. Squished between her, licking and sucking, letting her move in the exact way how she wished. He felt her legs tense up with each move his tongue made. This all got even more intense when he squeezed her nipple between his fingers. 

He twirled his tongue through her folds, circled around the clit, which had her melt. 

"More,“ she demanded and positioned herself so that he could only access. 

Saliva and her juices were mixing in his mouth, the smell of her arousal hitting his nose and making him high. 

He upped his pace and went for the moves he already knew from the past would work. Watching her crumble, barely being able to keep herself up, to the point where she had to balance herself against the wall, was probably becoming his definition of heaven. His tongue moved in a fixed rhythm, exploring every possible place she had to offer. 

"Lando..." she moaned, completely lost due to the moves his tongue was making. 

He felt the urge to stop and take a breath, because judging by the slight movements of her thighs, she was getting close. 

And only moments later, her first release came. Wetter than ever, she held on dearly and with one high pitched sigh, she collapsed almost completely. He had to stop her from crushing his face. 

"Sorry," she let out mindlessly, unable to give him more reaction. 

Amused, he helped her back down and rolled her over on her back. 

Wasting no time, Lando pushed two fingers in her immediately, not giving her any time to calm down or rest. 

Wondering in which dimension he managed to send her off to, he watched, as she squeezed her eyes shut with every little twist her made. As her moans target to get intense again, he shut her off with a kiss. His tongue matching the movements of his fingers. He waited patiently, before he felt like she was getting lost in the same haze as bare minutes ago, only to remove his fingers and stop kissing her out of a sudden. 

Confusion and mild anger washed over her. 

"What-"

"I can’t hear you, baby," he teased and hovered his wet fingers above her mouth. "What was it that you wanted from me? Must have slipped my mind."

The look of pure desperation she gave him was the hottest shit he’d ever seen. 

"Lando…"

"Let’s made a deal, sunshine," he proclaimed and slowly shoved his wet fingers into her mouth. Like the good girl she was, she sucked on them without hesitation. „I’ll stop anything we’re doing, the moment you shut up. Ok?“

They were so close to each other with every possible body part. But it was not enough. It would never be enough. She nodded and he pulled his fingers out, slowly. 

"Deal, Norris."

A lightning shot through his body and nearly split him in half. She never used his last name before, ever. Why was that, out of all the things, doing it for him. She must have picked up on his momentary relapse and gained more confidence with that. "Stop fucking around, I want you inside. Now.“ 

He was already almost touching her entrance with his dick. Eye locked, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. 

"Please,“ she said, loud and proud, making it sound like a demand.

When he finally pushed into her, it was like anything else stopped existing. He belonged there and nothing else mattered. 

"Oh my God, yes,“ she whined, keeping up at her promise. "This is the best shit ever.“ 

Lando’s autopilot kicked in as the last braincell was truly gone. He started to move in a steady beat, finding it incredibly hard to keep himself from literally pounding into her immediately. 

„Faster,“ she encouraged as she held his shoulder with her other hand, to help her find balance. 

Lando was lost, in the best way possible. In her body, in his mind, in the fact that having sex was something completely different when you absolutely adored the person you’d be lying on top of. The built up energy finally finding its release, after days of dancing around. With each thrust, he lost touch with reality more. Only pure pleasure and reminiscence of her voice finding their way in. 

"Oh, God, baby." "Yes." "I need you." "It’s only you." "Shit, you’re so good."

Lando figured a long time ago that, for the lack of better comparison, their bodies must have been made for each other. Different shapes fitting perfectly into each other. They shared their sense of rhythm. It was never too short or too long. She scratched the itch before he got the chance to mention he had one. Lando felt almost sad for anyone who did not get to experience that. 

Somehow, their sex got better every time. 

He missed when she came for the second time, as he was too lost in his own release. His thrusts got more uneven, his body completely arched and then finally - like the slap in the face, pure bliss washed over him. He felt it in what seemed like every muscle, every strain of hair and in every inch of his lower stomach, spreading like nice hot drink in the middle of winter. All was good. There were no problems, only good things. She was perfect. 

He had a hard time recalling what were the exact words they’d share right after he came. The haze started to clear few moments after, when he found himself next to her, puddle of his cum in the middle of her stomach, noses touching each other and light kisses being left like little presents. 

As the heavy breaths grew lighter, he returned back to Earth.

"All good, baby?“ he asked, the sweetness in his tone coming naturally. Searched for any sign of discomfort in her face. He had hoped that she got exactly the kind of release she deserved. 

And many signs pointed towards that. The smile of her disbelief, red flushed face, sensitive skin that reacted to each light touch as if it was a strong grip. 

"I, um. Yes. More than good. Thank you.“ Most people would barely understand with they way she mumbled.

He chuckled. "You don’t have to thank me, ever.“ 

"I was taught that after every please comes a thank you, so pick you battle. All or nothing," she shot back, teasing as ever.

He didn't have to think much before replying. "Well, all of that then.“ 

She nudged him with her nose. "You seemed to enjoy me begging. Though begging might be a strong word. I would never do that." 

Even though she said it in a light tone, he knew it was intended seriously. "Maybe I just really needed to hear it today. That you want me. Need me.“ 

"What I love about this all is that we need each other. Both for different reasons, but that just makes it work even more.“ 

There was comfort in her answer. A realization, an answer to a question they never asked before. 

"I’ll be there for you tomorrow. We’ll crush it, as a team.“

[shomatoriashi]

12/08/24; 06:27pm

sylus x fem.reader

notes: from one sylus girly to another, this one’s for you @voidsylus (⺣◡⺣)♡

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus’s hot breath felt against the shell of your ear causes goosebumps to erupt all across your skin, making you shiver when he grabs at your earlobe with his teeth.

you had cast aside your clothes a mere few minutes ago, with sylus whispering hotly in your ear as his clothed erection brushes against your inner thighs.

“i want to try something new, sweetie.” his rich voice murmurs, “but first… i need your consent. and i need you to trust me.” your breathing becomes more labored then, feeling the moisture pool between your legs when sylus continues to speak to you in hushed, hedonistic tones. his large hand cups at your bare breast, using the pad of his thumb to gently tease at your hardened nipples.

your gasps for air earns a knowing smirk from the onychinus leader, watching as he licks his lips before giving your hardened nubs a hard pinch. “well, sweetie… what do you say?”

“of course i trust you… you can do whatever you’d like to me… i love you.” you manage to tell him between gasps for air.

and that was all the urging he needed to surge forward, sealing your lips in a searing kiss that takes your very breath away. his lips slot against yours, with you feeling the tip of his tongue tracing at the borders of your lips, practically begging you for entrance.

once you finally opened up to him, you feel the way sylus dives into you, fully tasting you as he fought for dominance against you. your moans were muffled upon feeling his wet muscle tangle with yours in a dance of passion. you continue basking in his kisses, not stopping until the need for air proved to be too much to handle.

sylus pulls away from you first, licking his lips upon seeing the string of saliva that still connected your mouth to his. “i love you, too; that’s what i wanted to hear. for i would feel no pleasure in doing something that made you uncomfortable.”

he leans closer to you, gently nuzzling at your nose before getting off of the bed. you swallow thickly, sitting back in bed as you watched his perfectly sculpted body stretch, feeling your mouth water when the waistband of his sweatpants began to slide lower and lower down his form, giving you the perfect view of his happy trail and the prominent v-shape settled below his lower abdomen-

and truly, sylus was by far the finest specimen of man you had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

sylus catches your stare while smirking down at you. “close your eyes and simply hang tight for me, sweetie.”

you nod and close your eyes, trusting sylus completely when you hear the sounds of his footsteps walking away. silence permeates the air for a brief few minutes before the same, heavy footsteps returns to you. you hear the sounds of something shifting together, eyes still closed as you felt your eyebrows become furrowed in response. you jumped when sylus grips at your hand, feeling something course and rough wrapped around your wrist before being tied to what you assumed was the bed post.

the same sensation happens with the rest of your limbs, making you gasp when you felt as though your body was straining against some unknown force. you tremble when you feel sylus’s added weight on the bed. “go on and open your eyes, sweetie.”

heeding his commands, you open your eyes and gasp, now realizing why your arms and legs felt like they were being pulled in all directions. sylus had tied your wrists and ankles with a thick, black rope, leaving your body spread wide open for him.

your breathing becomes labored, eyes following sylus’s movements when he stands over you, his crimson gaze now eclipsed by pure and utter darkness as evidence of his lust for you. he licks his lips, now pulling down his sweatpants while huskily murmuring, “if you wish to stop, use the safe word: kitten.”

biting down at your bottom lip, you give him a nod, yet felt the way your pussy clenches in response to his deep voice. your throat turns dry when sylus cups at his erection once it was freed from the confines of his pants and boxers. he gives his cock lazy strokes, using the pad of his thumb to collect his precum before sliding it up and down his shaft.

“you look beautiful… absolutely ravishing like this, my love.”

once he was certain that he achieved full hardness for you, his larger body descends upon you, settling himself on top of you, using the palm of his hand to gently caress at your inner thighs. letting out a hum of your name, he hides his face within the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent before dipping a thick finger into your slick folds.

you gasp, body arching against the bed at the sudden intrusion of his finger. trembling as you writhed against your bindings, you feel the way sylus harshly whispers within you ear. “fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my finger like this.” adding another finger within your heat, you were left panting when he pinches at your clit before rapidly thrusting his fingers in and out of you.

the sounds of your walls squelching with each thrust of his fingertips sends you over the edge, unable to fight against him as you were left completely open and vulnerable for him. your breathy moans and gasps for air echoes throughout the room, with you reaching a breaking point when you spill yourself into the palm of his hand.

“fuck, that’s it, sweetie… cum for me… cum for me…”

you flood sylus’s thick fingers with a broken cry of his name, permeating the air with the scent of your honeyed arousal. sylus inhales deeply while letting out a string of curses.

“i can’t take it anymore. i need to devour you-“

he pulls his soaked fingers out of your slick core, admiring the shiny quality of it before placing them within his mouth, licking them clean as the sight of it all was enough to make your cunt clench even harder for him.

licking his lips, he meets your gaze all while further spreading your outer lips with his hands, “so fucking sweet, you don’t mind if i get a better taste, right?”

you manage to weakly nod at him, eyes going wide when sylus descended even further down your body, not stopping until his face was directly in front of your pulsating entrance. “thank you for this meal.” was all you heard before sylus surged forward, placing the entirety of his mouth on your aching sex.

your back arches with a desperation at the sudden sensation, feeling his tongue swirl around your cunt as he collected all of your juices, lapping up all you had to offer. you kept pulling at your bindings, feeling your mind going hazy as you felt your core dripping into his mouth. with you being so open for him, you felt overstimulated at all the sensations that surrounds you, your abdomen clenching for a brief second before snapping as your release rushes out of you in waves.

sylus grunts, drinking in your love juices before pulling away from you. his lips were still shiny with the evidence of your release when he suddenly impales you with his cock, making you cry out to him.

“OH MY GOD- SYLUS!”

his breakneck pace was enough to have you drooling on his cock, with your arousal making the base of his cock froth as sylus kept fucking himself into you. his quick pounds against your scorching heat makes the bed bounce in tune with his passionate movement, with your bindings helping with keeping you spread wide open for him.

“ngh…!” sylus bites down on his lips harshly, nearly drawing blood as he kept moving his hips against you. there wasn’t a single spot where his dick wasn’t reaching you, making you see stars as your walls were felt squeezing him, refusing to let him go as you openly struggled against your bindings.

“hah… please sylus… i want to hold you. i need to wrap myself around you sylus, please-“

he needed no further urging, hands already ripping apart at the thick ropes with the help of his evol. with you now freed from your bindings, you greedily wrap your arms around his thick neck and legs around his waist, purposely trapping him against your body.

“yes yes yes! HARDER!” you didn’t care that your cries and demands were becoming more sinful, for the pleasure sylus was giving you outweighed everything else. your wanton cries earns a rich chuckle from your beloved, with sylus smirking down at you.

“what a demanding kitten you are.” he tells you with an amused hum, already tossing both of your legs on his shoulder, putting you in a mating press before continuing to pound into you. feeling him reaching even deeper inside of you, you began to see stars when sylus slams into you one last time before spilling yourself over him.

your broken moans echo throughout the room, making sylus lose all of his control when he feels your warm fluids surrounding him. his hips stutter before stilling completely, his cock growing in length before twitching several times deep inside of your core. he fills your walls with his seed, pumping you full of it with a grunt.

“that’s it… take it all as i empty everything- just for you.” sylus speaks to you in a low and husky tone, making you let out a soft moan when he kept emptying himself into you, not stopping until he was certain you had taken it all, milking him for all he was worth.

with your respective climaxes achieved, sylus lands on top of you with a tired grunt. sweat was seen coating both of your forms, with your breathing becoming labored as you struggled to calm your rapid heartbeat.

as you still tried to compose yourself, sylus was the first to experience the post love making clarity, gently pulling out of you. you moan at the sudden loss of him, body turning into mush when he picks you up, carrying you toward the bathroom.

he keeps you in his embrace, giving your damp skin soft kisses while praising you, “you’re such a good girl for me… always so sweet and willing to make all my fantasies come true.”

you manage to give him a sweet smile, leaning closer to him to press a lingering kiss against his lips, “of course, anything for you, my love.”

basking in his rich chuckles, you allow sylus to prepare a bath, filling it with your favorite scented bubbles before entering the tub with you. with your naked back pressed against his broad chest, you allow him to massage the ache felt between your legs, letting out a moan when he inserts a finger between your slick folds to help with cleaning you of your respective releases, with sylus moving his finger deeper inside of your walls, extracting his excess cum from it with a pleased hum.

your hands grip onto the edge of the tub, allowing his fingers to continue cleaning you. after spending several minutes cleaning you, sylus pulls his hand away from your aching core, choosing to massage your body now as you fell against him while letting out a purr of his name.

and truly, you could get used to more passionate nights like this.

end notes: siri, play freaky deaky by doja cat (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[capquinn]

can we get a blurb about quinn telling his parents he’s gonna be a dad, pretty pretty please???? i feel like he’d be nervous to tell them but also bursting at the seams wanting them to know. it’s probably hard for him being so far away for most of the year, that he wants them to be involved as much as they can, but he’d also want to respect his partner’s wishes if she wanted to wait to tell people until she was further along in case something happened

The decision about when to tell Quinn’s family about the baby over Thanksgiving weekend had been made weeks ago, but actually doing it was proving to be a whole different story.

For Quinn, the excitement of telling them had been almost overwhelming at first, a buzz of energy thrumming beneath his skin every time he thought about the moment. He could picture their reactions so clearly: Ellen’s face lighting up with joy and then tears, Jim’s steady pride breaking into a wide grin. He’d played it over in his mind again and again, letting the thought carry him through the quiet moments of doubt.

But now, as the reality of actually saying the words settled in, the nerves crept in too. It wasn’t that he doubted their reaction — they would be thrilled, he knew that. They adored him, a love larger than life itself, their pride woven into every word they spoke about him. A love so steadfast it felt unshakable. And over the years, that same love had effortlessly extended to you, not just welcoming you into their family but embracing you as if you’d always been a part of it.

However, the weight of the moment, of what it symbolised, suddenly felt heavier. This wasn’t just a fleeting piece of good news to share. It was life-changing, not just for him and you, but for them as well. They were about to become grandparents, stepping into a new chapter of their lives, and he couldn’t shake the pressure of wanting the moment to be perfect.

The confidence he’d carried on the flight home for the weekend was slipping, giving way to a swirl of emotions he couldn’t quite name. He’d been eager, almost impatient, to share the news, to feel the weight of it lifted and replaced with their joy, their pride, their unwavering support. He wanted them to share in the excitement, to feel connected to this life-changing moment despite the physical miles that often separate them. He needed them to know that their place in this new chapter, as grandparents, was as important to him as the one he was stepping into.

But now, standing on the brink of saying it aloud, a sudden wave of nerves hit him, sharp and unexpected. The enormity of it all — the love, the hope, the vulnerability wrapped in the words — made his throat tighten.

It wasn’t just an announcement. It was a shift, one that would ripple out and reshape everything. Parenthood, after all, was still something the two of you were learning to grasp.

The first evening back home unfolded in the warm glow of Ellen’s kitchen, the scent of roast chicken and fresh-baked bread filling the air. The house alive with warmth — the crackle of the fireplace, the low hum of laughter, and the familiar cadence of Jim’s voice as he spun a tale about the neighbour’s runaway tractor. He gestured animatedly, earning chuckles and interjections from Ellen, who corrected him at every exaggerated turn. It’s a familiar, comforting scene — the kind of moment Quinn usually soaks in without a second thought.

But tonight, his mind is a thousand miles away.

You can feel the tension humming beneath his relaxed posture, the subtle way his fingers tighten around yours every few minutes, like he’s trying to ground himself. His gaze keeps darting to his parents — catching the glint of Ellen’s wedding band as she leans forward in her chair, the crinkle of Jim’s eyes as he laughs at his own joke.

He wants to tell them. You can see it in the way his lips press together, his chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate breath as though he’s rehearsing the words in his head.

We’re having a baby.

It’s right there, sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the perfect moment. 

Quinn shifts in his seat, his free hand sliding up to rub the back of his neck as he leans forward slightly. You can feel the faint tremor in his grip as he laces his fingers tighter with yours, like he’s steadying himself for something big.

Jim’s voice carries on in the background, the rich cadence of his story weaving effortlessly with Ellen’s laughter, but Quinn’s focus isn’t there anymore. His gaze is fixed on the table, the firelight catching in his eyes as he takes a deep, deliberate breath.

You recognise the signs immediately. The way his shoulders draw back just slightly, the faint movement of his lips like he’s practicing the words in his head. It’s coming — you can feel it in the subtle shift of his energy, the way his knee bounces once under the table before he stills it with a hand.

He glances at you, and in the flicker of his gaze, you see everything — the love, the nerves, the overwhelming weight of what he wants to say. 

Your expression softens, and you give his hand a gentle squeeze, a quiet I’m here. You’ve got this.

Quinn swallows, his throat working against the knot of emotion rising there. 

“So, uh,” he starts, his voice low and hesitant, barely cutting through the warmth of the room.

Ellen turns toward him, her smile easy and expectant, and Jim sets his drink down, his brows lifting in quiet curiosity.

It’s right there. The words are sitting at the edge of his lips, just waiting to fall out. We’re having a baby.

But they don’t.

Quinn falters, his mouth opening slightly before he closes it again, his jaw tightening as he drops his gaze to his lap. His hand squeezes yours, and the quiet pressure feels like an apology.

Ellen’s eyes flit between the two of you, a flicker of concern crossing her face. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” she asks gently, her voice laced with the kind of maternal intuition that always catches him off guard.

He looks up at her, his lips curving into a faint, practiced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Nothing,” he says softly, shaking his head. “Just... it’s good to be home. That’s all.”

You watch as Ellen’s concern melts into warmth, her smile returning as she reaches over to squeeze his arm affectionately. 

“Well, we’re glad you’re here, too,” she says simply, her love for him evident in every word.

Quinn nods, his gaze falling back to his lap, and you can see the frustration flickering just beneath the surface. He’s upset with himself — not because he doesn’t want to tell them, but because he does. Desperately. He just… can’t.

You lean into him slightly, your shoulder brushing his, and when he looks at you, you offer the smallest smile. He exhales slowly, his grip on your hand relaxing just a bit, and when Jim launches into another story, the tension eases from Quinn’s shoulders — if only for a moment.

The second opportunity comes the next morning, when the day feels impossibly slow and golden, like it’s giving Quinn every chance in the world to speak up. The two of you lie in bed longer than usual, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains as you talk quietly, voices still hushed with sleep.

“We can’t leave without telling them,” Quinn says suddenly, his voice quiet but resolute, like the realisation is finally settling in. His gaze is fixed somewhere on the ceiling, his brow furrowed in thought, the weight of his words pulling his shoulders just a little tighter. “I just… I want to do it right, you know?”

“I get it,” you reply, turning your head to look at him. His profile is soft in the morning light, his jaw flexing slightly as he wrestles with the thought. “You want it to feel special.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his lips twitching into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “Exactly. And every time I think about actually saying it, I freeze. Like, what if I screw it up and it’s not as perfect as I want it to be?”

You can’t help the way your heart squeezes a little at the vulnerability in his voice, the honesty of it catching you off guard in the best way. Sliding a little closer, you prop yourself up on one elbow, your hand brushing lightly against his arm. The movement pulls his attention, and for a moment, his eyes flicker to yours before settling back on the ceiling.

“Quinn,” you say softly, your voice laced with affection, “they’re going to love it. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be you.”

He doesn’t respond right away, the words settling over him like a quiet balm. His jaw flexes again as he chews on your reassurance, his hand absently dropping to your abdomen. It’s such a natural gesture, like he doesn’t even realise he’s done it, his palm curving gently over the barely-there swell. 

The corners of his lips twitch, like he’s debating whether to believe you. Then he lets out a soft laugh, low and self-deprecating, his free hand coming up to rake through his already-messy hair.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is easy,” you insist, squeezing his arm lightly, your gaze steady on him. “It’s you, Quinn. They’re going to be over the moon no matter how or when you tell them.”

His eyes flick to yours then, something unspoken passing between you — a quiet thank you, maybe, or just an acknowledgment that he’s holding onto your words a little tighter than he lets on. His thumb brushes a slow, thoughtful circle against your skin, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders ease, if only just a little.

“Don’t worry, you’ll tell them today,” you murmur. There’s a quiet encouragement in your voice, a steady belief that seems to seep right into him. Your fingers trace lazy circles over the back of his hand where it rests on your belly.

Quinn nods, his lips twitching into a small, tentative smile. It’s not the full-blown confidence he probably wishes he had, but it’s something — a flicker of determination breaking through the haze of nerves.

“Yeah,” he says softly, the single word carrying more resolve than hesitation. “I will.”

He sounds ready. You believe him. So does he.

And so the morning unfolds beautifully. Ellen, with her usual warmth and efficiency, packs coffee and snacks into a little canvas bag, insisting with a bright smile that everyone take advantage of the clear weather to walk the trails. There’s a lightness to her tone, a sense of simple joy that seems to catch on everyone as they prepare to head out.

Out in the forest, the world feels peaceful, quiet but alive. The rustle of leaves underfoot mingles with the occasional chirp of a bird or the soft swish of wind through the trees. The trail is dappled with sunlight, patches of golden light breaking through the canopy above. Quinn walks beside you, his shoulder bumping yours every now and then as the two of you amble along.

He’s quiet at first, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, but there’s a softness to him that doesn’t feel like nervousness — it feels like he’s soaking it all in. The crisp air, the sound of his parents chatting a few paces ahead, the steady rhythm of your steps beside him.

“You good?” you ask softly, nudging him with your elbow. Your breath fogs slightly in the cool air, and he glances over at you, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low but steady. And for a while, it feels like he means it.

At the overlook at the end of the trail that feels perfect, too. The sunlight glints off the trees, the breeze is cool and gentle, and his parents are close, their laughter light as Ellen unpacks the thermos of coffee. You can feel the moment hanging there, just waiting for Quinn to take it.

He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles. You glance up at him, catching the way his jaw tightens just slightly, his lips pressing together like he’s rehearsing the words in his head.

“Now’s a good time,” you say softly, tilting your head toward him. Your voice is quiet, meant just for him, but there’s an encouragement in it that you hope will nudge him past whatever’s holding him back.

Quinn nods, his shoulders straightening a little as he draws in a breath. 

His gaze flicks over to his parents, who are standing a few feet away, cups of steaming coffee in their hands as they admire the view. They’re relaxed, happy. Completely unsuspecting.

For a moment, it feels like he’s going to do it. He takes a step forward, clearing his throat softly, and both Ellen and Jim glance over at him. 

“What is it, Quinn?” Ellen asks, her voice warm, a smile playing on her lips.

You watch as Quinn’s hand flexes at his side, his fingers twitching like he’s trying to grab hold of the words before they slip away. 

“I—” he starts, but then his gaze falters, dropping to the ground for a fraction of a second. He hesitates, just long enough for the nerves to creep in.

Jim’s brow lifts slightly, his smile curious. “Everything okay?”

Quinn freezes, his jaw working as if he’s wrestling with the weight of the moment. You see the exact second he decides against it — the subtle shift in his stance, the way his eyes dart back to the view like he’s searching for an escape.

“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice low but steady. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

There’s a beat of quiet, and then Ellen laughs lightly, her attention shifting back to her cup. 

“Good,” she says, clearly not noticing the undercurrent of tension. “Come have some coffee before it gets cold.”

Jim watches Quinn for a second longer, his gaze thoughtful, but he doesn’t press. He just claps a hand on Quinn’s shoulder as he passes, squeezing lightly. 

Quinn exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging just slightly as he turns back to you. His lips twitch into a faint, sheepish smile, and he shrugs like he’s trying to laugh it off. But you know him too well to buy it.

You don’t say anything, just lean into his side a little, the warmth of him grounding in a way words wouldn’t be.

“Just… not yet,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost like he’s saying it to himself more than to you.

You nod, giving his hand another squeeze, a quiet reassurance passing between you. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice just as soft. “You’ll know when the time’s right.”

He breathes out slowly, his gaze flickering back to the view for a moment before settling on his parents again. And even though the moment passes, and the group begins to move again, their laughter breaking through the quiet hum of the forest, you can feel it. The way his hand tightens slightly around yours. The way his shoulders stay just a little too tense as you walk.

He’s still building up to it, you know that. But he’s getting closer.

Back at the house, the moment arises again, this time while everyone is lounging in the living room after lunch. Quinn sits beside you on the couch, one hand cradling his coffee mug, the other resting on your thigh. His parents are across from you, their chairs pulled close to the fire, and the warmth of the room feels almost tangible, a gentle weight of familiarity and love.

He’s relaxed now, leaning back into the cushions, his gaze sweeping over the room like he’s soaking it all in. His hand tightens slightly on your leg, and you glance at him, catching the way his eyes flicker with something you recognise — nerves, anticipation, resolve.

Ellen catches his eye and smiles, tilting her head slightly. “What’s on your mind, Quinn? You’ve been out of sorts today.”

Your heart skips, and you sit up just slightly, willing him forward with the quiet encouragement in your expression. 

This is it. He’s going to say it. You can feel it.

He clears his throat, straightening a little. “Just... uh,” he starts, his voice steady but hesitant. He glances at you, then back at his mom, and his lips twitch into a small, uncertain smile. “Just thinking how I’m gonna miss this when we leave,” he finishes, his tone light but not entirely convincing.

Your shoulders relax, a mix of understanding and disappointment flooding you as you press your knee gently against his. Quinn glances at you, his jaw tightening as he picks up on your unspoken it’s okay. Next time.

Ellen smiles warmly, tilting her head in that soft, motherly way. “It’s not long until Christmas,” she reminds him, though her voice carries a faint wistfulness, like she’s reminding herself too.

Quinn nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Not long.”

The following morning unfolds in the quiet, unhurried way that comes after a weekend of family time, everyone savouring these last hours together. The kitchen is warm and familiar, filled with the smell of coffee and the soft sounds of Ellen moving around, flipping pancakes on the griddle. Jim leans against the counter by the sink, drying dishes, while you’re perched on a stool at the island, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Quinn stands a little apart, leaned back against the counter with a piece of toast in hand, his damp hair sticking up in every direction, evidence of a quick shower.

The conversation drifts easily — something about Jim’s plans for the yard that afternoon, Ellen’s pancake technique, a joke about Luke’s questionable cooking skills. But Quinn is quiet, and not in the usual, thoughtful way. His eyes flick between his parents, to you, and back again, a pattern he’s been repeating all weekend. You know he’s been carrying the weight of the news, the excitement and nerves tangling together, keeping him from saying it despite countless opportunities.

And then, just like that, it happens.

“We have something to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but quiet enough that it cuts through the easy flow of conversation. 

The kitchen stills, all eyes turning toward him. Ellen pauses mid-flip, the spatula poised over the griddle, while Jim straightens from his spot near the sink, his brow furrowing slightly.

“What is it?” Ellen asks, her voice soft but expectant, her gaze darting between you both.

Quinn shifts slightly, his toast forgotten on the counter behind him. His hand brushes over the back of his neck, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to back out again, if the nerves will win one last time. 

But then he glances at you, his expression searching, and you nod gently, giving him the encouragement he’s been looking for.

“We’re having a baby,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush but steady, sure. His voice catches just slightly at the end, but his eyes stay locked on his parents, watching as the meaning sinks in.

For a moment, the room is silent. Ellen stares at him, her eyes wide and unblinking, her hand coming up to her mouth. Jim’s towel stills mid-fold in his hands, his gaze flicking to you as if for confirmation. And then Ellen gasps — a sound so full of joy and disbelief it feels like it fills the entire room.

“Oh my God,” Ellen whispers, her voice trembling as her hand covers her mouth. Her eyes dart between Quinn and you, wide and shimmering with emotion. “A baby? You’re having a baby?” She looks at you then, as if she needs your confirmation to believe it’s true.

Quinn nods, and the soft, tentative smile that had been tugging at his lips finally breaks free. It spreads wide, unstoppable, lighting up his entire face. 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low and steady but filled with something raw and achingly real. “We’re having a baby.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, the world feels suspended, as if the house itself is holding its breath. Then Ellen moves, her emotions bursting forth as she crosses the kitchen in a blur, her arms outstretched. She pulls Quinn into a fierce hug, her laugh bubbling up through a flood of tears.

“Oh, Quinn,” she says, her voice breaking with joy. “A baby. My baby’s having a baby.” Her hands cradle his face for a moment before she hugs him again, tighter this time, as if she can pour every ounce of love she feels into him.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around her as his chin rests against the top of her head. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

When Ellen pulls back, her focus shifts immediately to you. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, rounding the island with tears streaming down her face. “A baby. Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She pulls you into a tight hug, her warmth and joy washing over you in waves. “You’re going to be incredible parents. Both of you.”

Jim moves forward more slowly, his hand landing firmly on Quinn’s shoulder as a wide smile spreads across his face. 

“This is incredible news, son,” he says, his voice steady but with an unmistakable quiver of emotion. “Congratulations. To both of you.”

Quinn exhales then, properly exhales, like the weight of all his nerves and hesitations has finally lifted. 

For the rest of the morning, the kitchen hums with joy. Ellen flits between the stove and you, her emotions spilling over every time she catches Quinn’s eye. She can’t seem to stop smiling, crying, or imagining the tiny new addition to the family. 

“How have you been feeling?” she asks, her eyes searching yours with a mother’s concern. “If you need anything, you’ll let me know, right?”

Her hand briefly brushes over your arm, the gesture warm and reassuring, and you nod, assuring her that you’ve been well, that Quinn has been attentive, that everything is as it should be. It’s impossible not to smile at the way her joy bubbles over, filling every corner of the kitchen like sunlight.

Quinn, for his part, has shed every trace of hesitation. He talks easily now, the nerves replaced by an earnest kind of excitement. He shares the small details — the due date, how you found out, how ready the two of you feel — and every word seems to deepen the pride in Jim’s expression. He stands quietly nearby, his presence grounding and constant, his smile unwavering.

When it’s finally time to leave, the hugs linger. Ellen pulls Quinn close, whispering something through her tears before letting him go to hold you just as tightly. Jim’s hand finds Quinn’s shoulder again, squeezing it once in a way that says everything without words. There’s an unspoken promise in their goodbyes, a warmth that stays even as the front door closes behind you.

Quinn doesn’t say much as he helps you into the car, his hand brushing over your back as he opens the door. But as he settles into the driver’s seat, he glances back at the house one last time, his expression soft, a little dazed. When he turns to you, his smile is quiet, content, the kind that makes your heart ache in the best way. 

As you drive away, the crisp Michigan air shifting through the windows, his hand finds yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in that familiar, absent minded way, and you realise that for the first time all weekend, there’s nothing holding him back. The weight is gone, replaced by something steadier — joy, contentment, and the simple knowledge that everything is exactly as it should be.

[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.”

[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

[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 | part six

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!"

[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 👾

[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!

[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.

[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.

[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:

[void-detective]

Earned Place 💰

[[GIF NOT MINE! ALL DIVIDERS MADE BY CAFEKITSUNES]]

Author note: This is a request made by @eboni-napalm that continues as part to my Gunther series, check the other two parts here. My requests are currently open as of now 🖊️ Final part for the Gunther series as of right now! Sorry about lack of proof editing btw 🖤

Word count: 2,646

Warning: praise kink, 18+, sex, gentle sex, two way(?), and face fucking

Summary: After Gunther's king of the ring win the reader seeks a way to prove their spot within the Imperium. After winning the tournament the reader gets greeted by more than they had bargained for.

May 25, 2024 - Women's Queen of the Ring finals

After your previous encounters with Imperium you had sought out a way to prove you deserved a spot within the tag team. And what better way to do it then win the Queen of the Ring tournament just like how Gunther had won against Orton. It only seemed fair that you proved you could hold your own like Kaiser, believing you needed to earn your spot in their team.

So you worked your ass off towards the finals of the Queen of the Ring and ended up in one last match against Lyra who was an upcoming star like yourself but you had more to prove compared to her.

This was for Imperium.

You staggered backstage panting and skin glistening backstage as you smiled, feeling the adrenaline finally ebb away as you wiped down your face. You felt relieved with your win and secretly hoped it was possible that Gunther had seen how hard you worked to get the win on Lyra. You were still sore but felt happy with the results of your win as you brushed damp strands of your hair back with a satisfied look.

So you made it through backstage quietly walking down the corridor a bit lost in thought as you went with a small sigh letting the tension finally ease out your body. It felt nice to actually win a big match for once in your career and even more to prove you could hold your own as a singles competitor outside of NXT and the indies.

You were still buzzing from the match as you moved past other superstars till you made it towards the locker room. You exhaled a nervous breath and pushed open the door to the locker room. You peered around as you stepped further in being greeted by the ever smug and annoyed expression of Kaiser standing of course in the way of where Gunther was.

“Can I help you?” Ludwig narrowed his eyes as he folded his arms behind his back with a small frown, assessing you with a scrutinizing gaze. His brows drawn down in that glare and a bit of a sneer pulling at his lips as he stared you down.

You let out an exasperated huff and looked around the locker room for the General before you glanced back towards Ludwig. “Are you ever going to like me?” You questioned with a quirked brow giving him a half amused yet tired stare.

“Probably not.” Ludwig shrugged and chuckled in amusement at your frustration as he waved a hand. “I just believe he deserves better.” He muttered with a scoff and stepped out your way with his eyes narrowed and a bitter scowl present on his features.

You ignored his comment with a roll of your eyes as you moved further into the locker room with a sigh. You stopped coming across Gunther lounged on one of the couches with that nice navy suit that he wore when he wasn't scheduled to fight. You smiled shyly as you stepped towards him and he sat up straight to meet you with a friendly look.

“You did good y/n, always impressive.” Gunther chuckled warmly and smiled as he observed you carefully with a intrigued look. “You did well on your promise to earn your spot as a member and lucky for you, we have an opening.” The offering felt like the biggest luck and like your wish had been granted but you secretly felt bad for Giovanni who had been kicked out of Imperium not too long ago by Ludwig. It made sense because of the fact that he wasn't used much unlike Kaiser but it still stung regardless.

“Thank you, your praise means a lot to me.” You smiled warmly looking fond as you brushed your hair out your face. “Although I don't know if Ludwig will ever like me.” You added jokingly as you peered over towards Kaiser who was still standing nearby, listening in as always.

Gunther cracked a genuine laugh and patted his chest with a smile as he turned his gaze towards his tag team partner. “Ah well, he'll warm up eventually..if not I'll chop him for you.” He hummed back in a playful way but still in a serious tone that had the other man tense a bit noticeably.

Ludwig held his hands up in a placating gesture and chuckled as he looked off to the side as he cleared his throat. You couldn't help but laugh to yourself at the gesture and the way he looked at the response but you couldn't blame him either. Being on the receiving end of one of Gunther's chops sounded less than ideal.

“Anyway y/n, I had an idea to reward your hard work but I need to know if you're comfortable with..Ludwig too. If he gets out of hand I will straighten him out for you.” Gunther patted his lap leaning forward with his hands on his knees trying to ensure you saw he was serious as he gazed up at you intently.

“You mean like..as in sex?” You questioned as you scratched your cheek turning to gaze at the younger man with curiosity, feeling your cheeks warm up in embarrassment. Your heart beginning to race in your chest are the implications like it was the most dirty thing to do.

“No he means in the ring.” Kaiser muttered with an amused snort as he raised a brow in amusement over the situation. His lips turned up into a wide smirk as he eyed you in an almost condescending way. God you wanted to smack him.

The thought made your head reel but it wasn't an unsavory idea now that you thought about it. You weren't into Kaiser like you were Gunther but if it meant getting even more good favor within the group, you were in for it. Plus maybe he'd stop being such a dick about all of it.

“I'm good with it.” You whispered back fiddling with your ring gear as you smiled over at Gunther with a nod of reassurance. It made you feel a lot better knowing how considerate he could be even now in these situations.

Gunther nodded his head in approval and leaned back on the couch looking up at you with an appraising gaze almost like a proud mentor. “Well go ahead I'll let you choose whatever you want.” He chuckled, the Austrian accent still ever prominent and you couldn't help but internally melt.

You let out a small breath feeling your nerves rack but with his permission you told a lot more at ease as you walked toward him. You watched him relax and give you another nod before you slipped onto his lap, gently straddling him as you looked up at him with your thighs on each side of his legs as you looked up at him. You felt his hands slide up your thighs and stay there which you didn't mind anyway.

As you adjusted getting used to sitting on his lap you could just feel the warmth and difference in your sizes. He was a big guy in general with everything and you could never not marvel at it all. You knew a lot of the women in the locker room didn't find him attractive but to you he was and not just in looks but the style and passion for the business.

You hesitated and felt him gently squeeze your thighs in response, almost trying to silently soothe you and tell you it was okay. You took another deep breath through your nose and moved a hand over his arm and onto his shoulder. Your other free hand moving up to gently caress his face like he was fragile even though it would take a lot to even dent him at all. You saw the glimmer of amusement in those green eyes as he raised a brow in question at your gentle handling of him.

“..Sorry, uh just admiring.” You cleared your throat and felt your blush burn toward the tips on your ears in response and felt your heart flutter at the soft chuckle that left him.

“Really? You're an odd one y/n, I don't have many women say they're trying to admire me.” The Austrian mused with a shake of his head but didn't deter your touches, only looking amused by them.

Contemplating your next moves you leaned your head forward peering at him uncertainty before mentally saying ‘fuck it' and closed the distance between you both. You kissed him gently and sighed, relaxing as he reciprocated the kiss and you moved the hand to his shoulder.

Eventually you parted and avoided his gaze as you rubbed your neck looking down as you shifted in his lap. You had an idea for what you wanted so you shifted and rocked your hips forward against the erection you could feel hardening against your thigh. “This okay?” You whispered a bit breathless as squeezed his shoulders, getting a hum in response.

You lifted yourself up and helped undo the belt carefully with his help pulling the pants down enough so they wouldn't get stained. You shifted and felt your breathing hitch as he helped pull down your ring gear to help get better access. As you shifted he guided you to lean back a bit and ran his hand over your side gently.

“I'm going to have to prep you, I don't have any condoms on me either. Plus I need to ensure you stay quiet so..” He gently laid you down on the couch, shifting to lean over you as he ran his fingers over your folds gently. He chuckled feeling you shiver and whimper under him before he nodded to Ludwig who had been patiently waiting at the sidelines for que.

Kaiser smirked in amusement and dark enjoyment as he stepped forward as he pulled down his wrestling trunks. He coaxed you to look over by turning your head towards his now freed cock and stepped towards you. “I hope you remember last time.” He mused with a smirk as he guided you to take him slowly.

In time with Kaiser's thrusts you could feel Gunther's thick fingers scissoring the inside of your entrance as you whimpered around Ludwig. The feeling on both ends was overwhelming even as you trembled beneath both men who were assaulting your senses on each end.

“Breath princess, you're doing very good.” Gunther pulled his fingers free from you and he gently stroked your thigh as he watched Ludwig thrust into your mouth. One of his hands soothing your trembling thigh while his partner worked towards his release. “That's a good girl.” He whispered to you and rubbed the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You trembled, breathing through your nose as you hollowed your cheeks and gently reached to hold Ludwig's hip as the man steadied his ever shuttering thrusts. You felt his movement getting erratic as he grunted above you before grabbing a handful of your hair and pushing deep with a low groan. You internally grimaced as the salty taste went down your throat and grunted around him as you tapped his hip.

Ludwig pulled back from you and ruffled your hair with a chuckle as he stepped back. “She's all yours, Gunther.” He wiped himself clean and tucked himself back in his trunks as he turned walking across the locker room.

You coughed lightly and made a face as you huffed watching the other man leave with a small huff of breath. Your breathing slowly coming back to normal as you turned your gaze back towards the larger man above you.

The General smiled at you and brushed your hair out your face as he looked down at you from above. “Are you sure this is what you want, y/n?” He whispered and ran his thumb over your cheek in a gesture that was almost too sweet. Everything about him was so tough and dominant but it seemed he was showing you a softer side of himself.

As you nodded in confirmation and gently spread your legs, you could see him relax and his eyes flick up to your face as he moved over on top of you. One hand braced over the arm of the couch and the other soothing your side and coming down to rub your hip as if steading your nerves.

You breathed shaky and shifted, placing a hand on his shoulder and the other on his side, guiding him closer. You bit your bottom lip as you wrapped your legs around his waist and used your free hand to free his cock from the confines of his boxers. You felt his grip tighten on your hip as he lifted your body up towards him a bit and he positioned himself between your legs.

“Ready? I need you to breathe and tell me if you need me to stop okay? Alright..” The Austrian murmured gently soothing a hand over your stomach as he guided the tip into your entrance. “Easy love, easy..I got you.” He whispered, feeling you tense and whimper under him as he slowly pushed more of himself into you. “There, you're doing so good for me hm?” He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your jaw before he moved the hand off your hip to cover your mouth. “Tap me if you want me to stop okay? I can't risk being heard.”

You felt your heart racing in your chest both from anticipation and excitement as you slowly nodded in agreement to his words. You let yourself relax beneath him and jolted at the first experimental thrust he gave which made you feel just how much he filled you up. You trembled and exhaled through your nose as he set a steady yet gentle pace so you could adjust to the foreign sensation. The burning and discomfort slowly gave way to pleasure like sensation lightening your senses on fire.

Upon feeling you begin to relax and hear your soft muffled sounds against his hands he had begun to move a bit faster and with more force. The movements made you shake and jolt beneath him and you braced yourself by holding his shoulders as his hand clamped over your mouth more. He grunted softly with the effort and watched your reactions carefully for any signs of discomfort as you tilted your head back and arched your back into his movements.

It didn't take long for you to feel the familiar pooling in your stomach and increasing heat that was building towards your release. You trembled upon the intense feeling as you gasped softly against his hand and tightened your grip on his shoulder to try and anchor yourself as your mind began to blank.

“That's a good girl.” Gunther growled in your ear and thrusted deep making you lightly scratch his shoulder and tense up. “Let go for me.” He whispered and kissed your neck, keeping a hand over your mouth as he used the free one to rub the sensitive bud which sent you right over the edge. He grunted and scrunched his nose as you clamped around him as you moaned against his hand.

As your release slowly died down you could feel him pull out and rub your thigh. You watched as he sat back slightly and pumped himself a few times before he came with a low growl and panted softly. God you loved being underneath him. Even now boneless and spent you could feel your attraction and love for the man only increasing.

“You did so good for me, my queen.” He whispered and cupped your cheek giving you a soft kiss before he pulled back to watch you with a soft look. “You earned your spot.”