#i’d climb in but i’m too weak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sirenedeslily · 2 months ago

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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒 ‎𐦍 𝐦atthew 𝐬turniolo

❛ i’m 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 from the 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞. ❜

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 matt thought the crash was the first tremor, the first sign that everything was unraveling. but when yn vanished, the woods grew colder, the trees twisted into shadows, and nothing—not even their love—could hide from the dark that followed.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, angst, cannibalism (not too descriptive), psychological manipulation, slight use of religious imagery, trauma, gore, morally grey characters, death, this is set in a yellowjackets-inspired universe, drawing on the show’s general premise without incorporating its specific plot.. so no spoilers of the actual series !!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭, 3k !

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬, this fic’s plots is completely me, i cannot stress it enough !! while the yellowjacket girls make an appearance, i only borrowed the general themes of the crash and the cannibalism aspect from the show. what happens here is completely separate from the actual series, so the outcomes of the yellowjacket characters do not reflect their portrayal in the show. eeeeeeeenjoy

the crash wasn’t the worst part.

not the grinding sound of the engines tearing themselves apart mid-air, not the cabin screams that split the air sharper than metal, not the sick pull of gravity as we spiraled down. not even the splintered bodies lying limp in the wreckage. that part ended. it was brutal, yes, but quick. final.

the worst part came after.

the fear swallowed us whole, silent and endless. the trees whispered things that didn’t make sense, shadows moved at the edge of sight, and the fear burrowed into our bones, becoming a part of us. hunger, though, that was louder than any scream. it started small, a tremor, an ache, and then it became everything. it clawed through every thought, every shred of hope.

“we’ll make it.” that’s what matt said. his voice had this strange certainty, like words alone could hold back the dark. we were dragging scraps of metal and wood into a crude pile that might pass as shelter. his hands were red and raw. “you’re tough, yn. you’ll survive this.”

i nodded because i didn’t want to say what we were both thinking.

hunger changes people. you don’t notice it all at once, just the little cracks forming. one day, someone takes an extra bite from their ration. the next, someone else disappears into the woods, and when they come back, their pockets are empty, but their lips are slick. we watched each other through the smoke of the fire, saw the hollows forming in each other’s cheeks, the glint of something desperate in everyone’s eyes.

i was the first.

the others would pretend it was the forest, the cold, or god himself that took me. but it wasn’t. not really. it was them—their eyes, their hunger, their hands.

i didn’t climb that tree to save myself. i climbed it for matt. his stupid lighter, the one he swore was more important to him than anything else, had gotten stuck in the branches. he said it was the last piece of home he had, the last piece of himself.

so i climbed.

the bark splintered in my palms as i climbed higher, the wind ripping at my face. i didn’t think about the branches snapping beneath me or how far i’d fall. i didn’t think about myself at all.

i thought about him.

when the branch pierced my stomach, i didn’t scream. not at first. i just stared at it—jagged, wet, too much. then i slipped, and the second branch tore through my thigh.

i held onto the lighter. i held on even when i hit the ground.

but no one came.

i lay there for hours, the blood soaking into the dirt beneath me. i tried to crawl back, but the woods stretched on endlessly. my nails scraped against the earth, my breath hitched in my throat, and the sky flickered above, like a fading light—undecided, as though it couldn’t choose whether to help or simply watch me die.

by the second day, i was too weak to move. the blood had dried, sticky and black, and the roots curled around me like they were pulling me under. i tried to pray, but my voice cracked, so i bit into the dirt instead.

god didn’t save me.

but the woods were there.

they buried me beneath the leaves, letting the branches weave themselves through my skin. they made me part of them—part of everything.

the others didn’t find me until it was too late.

i remember the way they stared.

shauna cursed under her breath, her face hard like she was trying not to care. jackie gasped, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes filling with tears she wouldn’t let fall. nat turned away, and tai kept her arms crossed, biting the inside of her cheek like she wanted to disappear.

but matt…

matt knelt beside me, his hands trembling as he picked up the lighter from where it had fallen, his thumb brushing over the bloodstains on the metal.

he didn’t cry. he just stared at me, like he was seeing me for the first time.

i don’t know how long they left me there. maybe it was days. maybe weeks. the forest swallowed time like it swallowed me, stretching it out until they couldn’t take it anymore.

they stopped looking at me like i was yn—the girl who argued with nat about firewood, who laughed too loud when jackie told bad jokes, who kissed matt behind the cabin when no one else was looking.

they started looking at me like i was something else.

lottie was the first. she whispered that i was chosen, that the forest had claimed me but left me for them. she lit candles by my body, pressed her hands to the ground like she was trying to feel my heartbeat through the earth.

the others followed.

they stopped saying my name. they started calling me a gift. a sign. a saviour.

matt didn’t say a word.

but i could feel his hands, brushing the leaves from my hair, smoothing the blood from my cheeks. i could feel how he stayed by my side even as the others began to lose themselves.

it wasn’t devotion.

it was desperation.

and when the hunger finally broke them, it wasn’t lottie who made the first cut. it wasn’t shauna, or misty, or even tai.

it was matt.

i watched him with the knife in his hand, his jaw tight, his eyes dark. he told himself it was for them, that it was for me. but i knew the truth.

it wasn’t love that drove him. it was guilt.

the air was thick with smoke and desperation. they whispered things like “it’s what she would’ve wanted.” like that made it less cruel.

they consumed me piece by piece, carving me into something i never was. i felt it all—not the pain, but the betrayal. lottie whispered prayers as she chewed. shauna didn’t say a word. nat wouldn’t look at me, her shoulders shaking as she tried to convince herself this wasn’t what it was.

it took them weeks to tear me apart.

but it would take them years to forget.

matt wouldn’t, though.

he carried me with him, in the dirt beneath his fingernails, in the whispers of the trees, in the ache that settled in his chest every time he thought of me.

they called me an angel. a prophet.

but i wasn’t.

they called me a saviour. said i saved them. turned my name into something holy, something they could cling to when the guilt crept in.

they lied to themselves because the truth was too much to bear. i wasn’t their salvation. i wasn’t their light.

i was the first.

the first meal.

the wilderness turned me into something they could use. a forest maiden wrapped in moss, silent and still, hanging like the last line of a song.

the roots, the branches, the dirt. i was the hunger that twisted them into something monstrous.

and matt?

matt would never escape me.

because no matter how much of me he consumed, no matter how much he buried me beneath his guilt, he knew the truth.

i wasn’t a gift. i wasn’t salvation.

i was betrayal.

and he loved me anyway.

i lingered in him like rot.

everytime matt closed his eyes, i was there—my body stretched out on the forest floor, blood pooling beneath me, my fingers still curled around that lighter. he could still see the wounds, the gaping holes that the branches had carved into me. and he could still hear my voice, though he told himself it was just the wind moving through the trees.

i wasn’t letting him go.

the others moved on in their way. lottie twisted the story of my death into something holy, a sign of the forest’s will. she told them i had been chosen because i was pure, because i had given myself to something greater. they needed to believe it. they needed to make my suffering mean something.

shauna didn’t believe it—not really. but she clung to it anyway, like she clung to everything that made her feel powerful. she became a shadow of herself, the dog that lottie trained to obey. shauna sharpened the knives. shauna prepared the fires. shauna made it easy for them to swallow me, to carve me into pieces until i was unrecognizable.

jackie didn’t touch me.

she stayed in the cabin most days, silent and trembling, her eyes red and swollen. i think she knew what would happen to her next. it didn’t matter that she hadn’t eaten me, that she had refused to look at me once they carried my body back. she knew the forest wouldn’t spare her.

and nat—god, nat. she carried the weight of all of it on her shoulders. she cursed herself for not finding me sooner, for not hearing my screams. she never prayed with lottie, never touched the offerings. but she wasn’t innocent. she had eaten me too. they all had.

even matt.

especially matt.

he stayed by my side, even when the others began to look at me as a thing, a relic, a resource. he refused to leave the spot where they had placed me, curling his body around mine like i could still feel his warmth. he whispered to me when no one else was listening, told me he was sorry, told me it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

but his hands betrayed him.

when they carved into me, when they pulled me apart, matt didn’t look away. he didn’t stop them. he held the knife himself, trembling but determined. i don’t know what he told himself in those moments—maybe that i would’ve wanted this, that it was a kindness, that it was survival.

but i could feel him breaking.

he tried to bury what he had done, what they had all done. but i wouldn’t let him.

i was in the dirt he walked on, in the branches that scraped against the cabin windows at night, in the silence of the forest that stretched on for miles. i was in his mind, in the flicker of the lighter he couldn’t bear to throw away, in the breath he couldn’t seem to catch every time he thought of me.

matt loved me.

but love wasn’t enough to save me.

and now, it wasn’t enough to save him.

because i was everywhere now. in every shadow, in every prayer lottie whispered, in every crackling fire that reminded them of the warmth they had once known.

i was everything they had turned me into.

and i was never leaving.

they carried me with them. not my memory, not the person i was, but what i’d turned into. they left pieces of themselves in the leaves, the dirt, the jagged roots of the forest that had consumed me. but they carried pieces of me, too—in their blood, in their bones, in their guilt.

when they walked out of the wilderness and into the arms of rescue, i stayed behind.

the world called them survivors. they painted them as heroes, as victims, as something worth saving. they didn’t know the truth. they didn’t know what they did to me, how they turned me into something i wasn’t

but matt—matt still visits me. not the real me, not the girl i was before the crash, but the idea of me that he’s convinced himself exists. he comes every year, kneeling at the polished stone that bears my name. it isn’t really my grave—just a polished stone with my name on it, a symbol for the girl you needed me to be. a hollow monument, as hollow as the promises he whispered into my dead ears.

“you saved us,” he whispers sometimes, like saying it enough times might make it true.

but i wasn’t their saviour.

i was their sacrifice.

and they had no right to me.

he brings lilies every time—delicate, white, pristine as the snow that buried jackie later, pristine as the image of me he’s built in his head. he lays them down carefully, his hands shaking as if the act itself is sacred.

i hate the lilies.

he doesn’t talk much, just sits there for hours like the weight of my name carved into stone might somehow balance the weight on his chest. Sometimes he cries, quiet and ashamed, like he knows i’m watching, like he can feel the anger twisting in the empty space i’ve become.

but other times.. most times, he’s silent. not out of peace, but out of exhaustion. he looks thinner every year, his face pale and hollow, haunted by the ghosts he doesn’t dare name aloud.

i wonder if he hears me. if he can feel the cold breath of my resentment when the wind rustles the trees or the sharp edge of my betrayal in the silence that stretches between us.

it doesn’t matter.

none of their apologies matter.

because i am not that girl in the stories they tell themselves to sleep at night.

tai, who circled like a vulture, never touching but always hungry, until she finally sank her teeth into me, reshaping me into something twisted, something unrecognizable; nat, who whispered quiet lies into my ear, feeding me fragments of myself until there was nothing left but the hollow echo of who i used to be; shauna, who sharpened the knives and prepared the fire but pretends she wasn’t the first to look at me with that kind of hunger. van, who laughed too loudly and cried too quietly and ate me anyway. misty, who smiled as she said my name, who let herself believe it was all just survival. even lottie, with her empty eyes and her false divinity, calling me something holy while she carved into me like i was already gone.

they all came at first.

in the weeks after they were found, they came with trembling hands and whispered prayers. they placed offerings at my grave—tokens of their guilt disguised as gratitude. “you saved us,” they said, over and over, as if they could rewrite what happened with repetition alone.

but then they stopped coming.

the world beyond the wilderness swallowed them whole, wrapped them in warmth and comfort until they could almost forget the cold. almost.

nat tells herself that every breath she takes is a result of my sacrifice. she thinks of me when she looks in the mirror, when the guilt weighs heavy on her chest. she pretends that my death was necessary, that it’s what kept her alive, but she knows the truth—she watched as i was consumed, and she couldn’t stop it.. didn’t stop it.

tai tells herself that what she did was survival, that it wasn’t personal. she thinks of me when she’s alone in the dark, when the night feels too quiet. she pretends that my end was just another part of the game, but the truth gnaws at her, and she can never quite forget the way she let it happen.

shauna tells herself that every joy in her life is my gift to her. she thinks of me when her daughter laughs, when the candles on the birthday cake flicker in the warm light of her kitchen. she pretends my death bought her happiness.

van dreams of me, sometimes, though she never speaks my name. she sees me in the shadows, in the dirt beneath her fingernails, in the roots that still cling to her boots when she wakes. she tastes me in the back of her throat, bitter and rotten.

misty doesn’t dream at all.

and lottie—lottie prays to me. even now, even after everything, she still believes i was chosen, that i was destined to feed the earth, to become the roots and the trees and the endless, hungering dark.

but matt—matt keeps coming back. year after year, he carries my ghost with him, dragging it behind him like a broken promise. he looks at the stone, and i wonder if he’s seeing me or the version of me he created to survive.

i wasn’t a saviour. i wasn’t a martyr. i wasn’t the girl who gave herself willingly for the sake of the group.

i was terrified. i was angry. i died clutching the edges of my own fading humanity, praying that someone, anyone, would remember me as i was, not as what they turned me into.

but the wilderness doesn’t let you stay human.

it hollows you out. it makes you a vessel for hunger, for fear, for survival. and when it’s done, it spits you back out into the world, a monster in the shape of a person.

matt isn’t a monster, not in the way the others are.

he’s worse.

he’s the one who carries the weight of all their sins. he’s the one who lets it break him, piece by piece, as if his suffering could ever be enough to absolve them.

but guilt isn’t justice.

it’s not forgiveness, and it’s not redemption. It’s just another kind of hunger, gnawing away at the edges of his soul.

i want to scream at him, shake him, make him see that his penance means nothing to me.

but he doesn’t know me either.

none of them do.

they don’t know the girl who climbed that tree because matt’s lighter was stuck at the top and he couldn’t sleep without it. they don’t know the girl who laughed too loudly, who loved too fiercely, who was afraid of the dark but never said it out loud. they don’t know the girl who screamed when the branch stabbed through her side, who crawled, bleeding and broken, through the dirt while the wilderness swallowed her whole.

they don’t know the girl who died alone, hungry, cold, choking on dirt she thought might keep her alive just a little longer.

all they know is the version of me they created.

the saint. the saviour. the pretty girl consumed by death.

you don’t know the girl i was, the girl i could’ve been if you hadn’t taken everything from me. and now, i am the trees, the roots, the forest itself. i am the thing you buried and the thing you carry, and you will never escape me.

matt, you will never know me. no matter how many lilies you bring, no matter how many hours you spend staring at that stone, whispering apologies i’ll never accept.

i am not your saviour.

i am the girl you betrayed.

and every year, when the lilies bloom and the wind whispers through the trees, I wonder if you feel it—if you hear my voice, sharp and cold as the wilderness that made us.

you don’t even know me.

and you never will.

the wilderness stripped us bare, turned us into something monstrous, something less than human. you think you carried me out of it, but i was gone long before you walked away. i’m hanging from the tree, suspended in your mind, a phantom you can’t escape.

i hope you know i loved you. even after everything, even after the lies and the hunger and the fire, i loved you. but i wasn’t your saviour. i wasn’t your salvation.

i was just a girl—a girl who loved, and in the end, that was all i was allowed to be.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ we knew this was bound to happen as the #1 yellowjacket truther.. sneaked in some jackieshauna and lottieshauna for my own personal benefit :p also i know it’s repetitive but it’s purposeful.. omg send me asks ab this plsplspls

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss @madifilipowiczslvt

#sirenedeslily ✶ ˖ ࣪#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #yellowjackets #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets x you #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets

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rowdyluv · 7 days ago

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congrats on 600!! if you are still doing requests: 7g connor bedard she/her!! I can sooo see that being him. have a lovely day 🩷

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: 7ɢ: “Dᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴄʀʏ. ⵊ ʜᴀᴛᴇ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ.”

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 902

Y/n stumbled through the front door, the chilly Chicago wind biting at her nose. She had just come back from the pharmacy, her pockets jingling with change and a plastic bag of flu medicine in her hand. She sighed, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter, fishing out the box of medicine, and grabs a water from the fridge. As she shuffled down the hallway, the walls lined with pictures of her and Connor, she couldn't help but feel the heaviness in her chest grow. If he was home she would be on her way to curl up on the couch with him, and they would watch her favorite show.

Instead, she was left with a thermometer, nasty tasting medicine and a lonely evening.

Y/n trudged into the bedroom and tossed her coat onto the chair. The room was cold and uninviting without Connor's presence. She climbed into the bed, feeling the coldness of the sheets against her flushed skin. She grabbed the blanket, pulling it tightly around her, as if trying to wrap herself in his warmth. Her thoughts swirled with the feverish haze, longing for the gentle touch of his hand on her back or his soothing voice telling her everything would be alright.

Just as she was about to drift off into a fitful sleep, her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Connor's name, and she answered before the second ring. His face popped up on the screen, and even though she was tired and sick, she couldn't help but smile. He looked tired too, his eyes a bit sunken and his hair messy, but to her, he was perfect.

"Hey, baby," he said, his voice filled with concern.

"Hi beds," she greeted, her voice quivering. She sniffled and held back a cough. "I miss you."

Connor's expression softened as he took in her reddened nose and the sheen of fever on her forehead. He was over a thousand miles away, playing in sunny Florida, but his heart ached for her back in freezing Chicago. "I miss you too," it came out soft, almost a whisper, trying to keep his own voice steady. "But I'm here now." He leaned closer to the phone, studying the bits of her he could see. "How's my girl feeling, any better?"

Y/n felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she tried to wipe it away before he noticed. She didn't want to burden him, but the pain in her throat and the ache in her bones was too much to hide. “I think I feel worse.” Her voice wavered a bit too much and her lip wobbled before she could pull it in.

Connor’s heart clenched at the sight of her pain. He was in his hotel room, surrounded by the distant murmur of his teammates. He was in Florida with the team he was drafted first overall by, for what he’s worked his entire life to achieve, but all he could focus on was his sickly sweet girl back in Chicago. He hated being apart, especially when she was feeling so low. “I’m so sorry I can’t be there right now, baby. I’d give anything to be there holding you, to make you some tea and soup, to take care of you the way you need, the way you deserve.”

Y/n’s eyes grew wet, and she felt the sting of tears. His words were like a warm embrace, but the reality was, he was miles away playing the game he loved. The flu made her feel weak, but his absence was a whole new level of pain during her sickness. “It’s okay. You have to be there. It’s for your career.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you, taking care of you, making sure you’re okay. You’re all I’m thinking about right now.”

The tears rolled down her cheeks. The mix of wanting his company, his comforting voice and soft soothing touches right then overwhelming her. Especially when the aches from the flu hit sporadically.

Connor's stomach twisted at the sight of her tears. He knew how much she was suffering and his inability to be there to hold her, to wipe her tears, was a torture for him. He leaned closer to the screen, his own eyes filling with a sadness that mirrored hers. "Don't cry, please," he begged, his voice cracking. “God, baby girl please don’t cry.” He begged again. "I hate seeing you like this, and not being able to do anything." He wished more than anything that he could reach through the phone and stroke her cheek, kiss her forehead, tell her it was all going to be okay.

Y/n sniffled and wiped her face, trying not to let her mascara run. She took a shaky breath and attempted a smile. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I just miss you."

Connor's heart broke a little more at the sound of her sniffle. "I know, baby," he said gently. "But listen, I've got some good news. After this road trip, I'll have a few days off aside from morning practices. I promise to come home to you, and we'll make the most of it, okay?"

Y/n's eyes lit up, even through the fog of her fever. "Really?" she whispered hopefully.

"Yeah," Connor nodded, a small smile gracing his lips. "I'll have mom walk me through making that dish you really liked, we can binge-watch that new show you've been dying to see but won’t watch alone, and I might even let you win at Mario Kart."

Y/n's laugh was weak but genuine. "You're so on, Bedard."

#cay chats✿#rowdyluvs 600 celly #cay writes #connor bedard #bedsy #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard x y/n #connor bedard x fem!reader #connor bedard blurb #nhl blurb #chicago blackhawks

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novaursa · 1 month ago

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Between Pride and Fire (to secure an alliance)

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: his match

- Next part: dragon bride

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @punk-in-docs @barnes70stark

The cool air of the tower pressed against your skin as you adjusted your dress, smoothing the fabric down with trembling fingers. Jason stood nearby, lacing up his tunic with a satisfied smirk plastered across his face. His disheveled hair and the faint marks you had left on his neck were the only signs of the wild encounter you had shared moments before.

Your legs still felt unsteady, a slight tremor betraying the aftershocks of what had transpired. You took a deep breath, hoping the flush in your cheeks would subside before you faced anyone else.

Jason, of course, noticed. He always did.

“You’re not going to faint on me, are you?” he drawled, leaning casually against the tower wall. His green eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’d hate to have to carry you back. Though,” he added with a sly grin, “I wouldn’t mind the excuse to hold you a little longer.”

You shot him a sharp glare, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the faint wobble in your knees. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

Jason stepped closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “Fine enough to still go on that ride, Princess? Or has our little...detour left you too winded?”

Your cheeks burned at his audacity, and you straightened your back, ignoring the weakness in your legs. “I’m more than capable of riding, Jason. You overestimate yourself if you think otherwise.”

His grin widened. “Oh, I don’t know about that. The way your legs are shaking tells a different story.”

“Jason,” you snapped, your voice sharp, though there was no real bite to your words. His teasing had a way of simultaneously irritating and disarming you, and he knew it. “I’m going, and there’s nothing you can say to stop me.”

He chuckled, falling into step beside you as you exited the tower. “Of course, Princess. Far be it from me to question your stamina.”

The walk back to the courtyard was mercifully brief, though Jason filled the silence with more sly remarks, his tone low enough that only you could hear. You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on calming your racing heart.

As you rounded the corner to the courtyard, Ser Lorant was already waiting on his horse by the gates. His polished armor gleamed in the sunlight, and he inclined his head respectfully when he saw you. A stable boy stood nearby, holding the reins of your horse. Jason followed you, his usual swagger evident as he escorted you to your horse.

“Allow me,” he said, stepping ahead of the stable boy and taking the reins. He guided the horse toward you, his hand brushing yours as he passed you the reins. “You’re in good hands, my lady. Well,” he added with a smirk, “you were a moment ago, at least.”

You shot him a warning look, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “You’re incorrigible.”

Jason leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

“Adorable is not a word I’d use for a Targaryen,” you retorted, climbing into the saddle with practiced ease.

“Fierce, then,” he said, stepping back to admire you on your mount. “Though I think I prefer you disheveled. There’s something about that wild look in your eyes.”

You scoffed, straightening your back and gripping the reins tightly. “I’m leaving.”

Jason chuckled, his gaze following you as you guided your horse toward Ser Lorant. “Ride carefully, Princess. I’d hate for you to fall after all that exertion.”

His crude insinuation made you pause, your head snapping around to glare at him. “You—” But words failed you, and with a frustrated shake of your head, you turned back to Ser Lorant.

Without another word, you nudged your horse forward, joining Ser Lorant at the gates. You didn’t look back, though you could feel his eyes on you, lingering long after the gates of Casterly Rock had disappeared behind you.

Jason Lannister adjusted the cuffs of his tunic as he strode through the gilded halls of Casterly Rock, his every step exuding the confidence of a man who rarely heard the word “no.” The lingering heat of his earlier encounter with you had not entirely left him, and the memory of your flushed cheeks and sharp tongue brought a smirk to his lips. But now, his focus shifted to more formal matters. This was about more than passion; this was about legacy.

He found King Viserys in the private chamber, basking in the warm glow of the setting sun that poured through the stained glass windows. The king sat in a high-backed chair, a goblet of wine in one hand and a relaxed smile on his face. A servant hovered nearby, ready to pour more at a moment’s notice. Viserys looked up as Jason entered, his expression brightening instantly.

“Lord Jason!” Viserys greeted warmly, setting his goblet down and rising to his feet. “Come, sit with me. It’s been too long since I’ve visited the Rock, and I must say, you’ve been a most gracious host.”

Jason inclined his head, his golden hair catching the light. “Your Grace, the honor is mine. Casterly Rock has not shone so brightly in years as it does now, hosting the royal family.”

Viserys chuckled, gesturing for Jason to sit. “Flatterer. But I’ll take it. Now, what brings you to me at this hour? Surely, you’re not here to discuss logistics of the feast tonight?”

Jason sat opposite the king, his demeanor shifting slightly from casual to serious. “Not logistics, Your Grace, but something far more important. I wish to speak to you about your daughter.”

Viserys leaned back, his expression softening further. “Ah, my youngest. A fiery one, isn’t she? I can only imagine what tales you have to share after spending time with her.”

Jason allowed himself a small, knowing smile. “She is... spirited, Your Grace. And that fire is precisely why I’ve come to speak with you. I wish to formally request your permission to propose to her.”

Viserys straightened slightly, his eyes lighting up with clear delight. “Ah! That is what I had hoped to hear when I accepted your invitation. I must say, Lord Jason, I’ve been expecting this. You’ve wasted no time, and I commend you for it.”

“I see the strength and potential in a union between our Houses, Your Grace,” Jason said smoothly. “The blood of the dragon and the wealth of the Rock—a legacy unlike any other.”

Viserys nodded eagerly, reaching for his goblet again. “Indeed, indeed. You’ve thought this through, I see. And I have no objections, Lord Jason. In fact, I welcome it. But—” He paused, swirling the wine in his cup with a knowing smile. “You should brace yourself, my good man.”

Jason arched a brow, his confidence unshaken but his curiosity piqued. “Your Grace?”

Viserys chuckled, his tone one of fond exasperation. “I’ve spoken to her, tried to sway her to see reason. To see you in the light you deserve. But she is stubborn, as all my children seem to be. She does not take to being... pushed.”

Jason’s smirk returned, a spark of challenge shining in his eyes. “I wouldn’t expect her to be anything else, Your Grace. That fire is what makes her who she is.”

Viserys nodded in agreement, a hint of pride in his expression. “You’ll need to tread carefully, Jason. She doesn’t like feeling as though decisions are made for her. But I believe, in time, she’ll come to see the merit in this match.”

Jason leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. “Your Grace, I assure you, I have no intention of forcing her into anything. But I also don’t intend to give up so easily. Tonight, during the feast, I would like to make my intentions clear. With your blessing, of course.”

Viserys smiled broadly, lifting his goblet in a toast. “You have it, Jason. By all means, propose tonight. Let’s see how my daughter handles this. Though I suspect, in her heart, she knows this is the best path.”

Jason raised his own imaginary toast, his confidence bolstered. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will do my utmost to prove myself worthy of her.”

Viserys laughed, clapping Jason on the shoulder. “I have no doubt you will. But just remember—winning her hand may be the easy part. Winning her heart? That will be a challenge worthy of a Lannister.”

Jason chuckled, the king’s words only fueling his determination. “As I said before, I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, Your Grace.”

With that, the two men shared a drink, their conversation drifting to lighter topics, though Jason’s thoughts remained on you. Tonight, he would make his intentions known, and whether you met him with fire or frost, he was prepared for the storm that was you.

The clatter of hooves echoed through the gates of Casterly Rock as you returned from your ride with Ser Lorant, the wind still tugging at the loose tendrils of your hair. The cool breeze of the ride had done little to soothe the dull ache in your temples that had persisted all morning. As you dismounted with practiced ease, handing your horse's reins to a stable boy, you massaged your temples discreetly, hoping the pressure might ease yet another headache that had only grown worse with time.

Ser Lorant offered a polite bow. “A good ride, my lady?”

You managed a tight smile. “Refreshing, Ser Lorant. Thank you for accompanying me.”

Before he could reply, a familiar voice called out from the castle steps. “Sister! Back so soon?”

You turned to see Rhaenyra descending the stone stairs. Her expression was playful, though her eyes were keen as they always were when she observed you. She waited for you to approach, folding her arms with an amused air.

“You look troubled,” she remarked once you were close enough. “Don’t tell me you’ve been bickering with Ser Lorant, too.”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” you replied, sighing as you fell into step beside her. “It’s this incessant headache.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, studying you with sisterly concern. “Again? Perhaps the maester has something for it. Or,” she added with a teasing smirk, “perhaps it’s the company here at the Rock that’s wearing on you.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “Speaking of the Rock, I noticed Lord Jason is preparing yet another feast this evening. I’m beginning to think all he does is drink wine and plan dinners.”

Rhaenyra’s smirk grew wider, her tone dropping to one of playful conspiracy. “Ah, but this evening’s feast won’t be just another meal, dear sister.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Rhaenyra stopped walking, turning to face you fully. Her expression was entirely too pleased with itself as she said, “Jason intends to propose to you tonight.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you simply stared at her, the dull throb of your headache forgotten. Then, slowly, your eyes narrowed, and your lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course, he does.”

“You’re not surprised?” Rhaenyra asked, her amusement evident.

“Not entirely,” you replied with a sigh, rubbing your temples again. “He’s been circling me like a lion stalking prey since we arrived.”

Rhaenyra laughed softly, stepping closer to loop her arm through yours. “Well, you must admit, he’s persistent. And Father is thrilled by the idea. He’s practically already planning the wedding.”

You groaned, your annoyance evident. “Of course, he is. Jason can do no wrong in Father’s eyes.”

“Can you blame him?” Rhaenyra asked, though her tone was light. “A union between you and Jason would solidify a powerful alliance. The wealth of the Rock combined with the blood of the dragon—it’s a match that makes sense.”

“It might make sense to everyone else,” you muttered, “but not to me.”

Rhaenyra’s amusement softened into something more understanding. “I know you don’t like being pushed into anything, least of all a marriage proposal. But think of it this way—Jason is charming, wealthy, and clearly infatuated with you. You could do far worse.”

You shot her a sharp look. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

She laughed again, giving your arm a squeeze. “At least try not to look so miserable when he asks. You know Father will be watching your reaction like a hawk.”

You sighed deeply, resigning yourself to the inevitable. “I’ll think about it. But if Jason gets too smug about this, I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Rhaenyra interrupted, her eyes filled with mischief. “Scold him? Threaten to set him on fire with your dragon?”

“That depends on how unbearable he is tonight,” you replied dryly, though the corner of your mouth twitched in a reluctant smile.

Rhaenyra grinned. “Well, I’ll be sure to sit nearby. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

As the two of you resumed walking toward the castle, your headache returned with a vengeance, though you couldn’t tell if it was the lingering effects of the ride or the looming proposal that weighed on your mind. Either way, you braced yourself for the evening ahead, knowing it was bound to be anything but ordinary.

The great hall of Casterly Rock was alight with chandeliers, their glow reflecting off polished silver goblets and plates as the feast reached its peak. Laughter and conversation filled the air, mingling with the sweet strains of music played by a troupe of musicians tucked in a corner. The aroma of roasted meats, spiced wine, and rich Dornish desserts permeated the room, making it feel as grand as any royal celebration.

You sat at the long table, half-listening to the chatter around you. Your goblet of wine sat untouched, and though you managed polite smiles when necessary, your focus was elsewhere—on the man who had been mercifully keeping his distance all evening.

Jason Lannister, resplendent in his crimson and gold finery, held court at the head of the room. He was engaged in animated conversation with King Viserys, his twin brother Tyland, and several visiting lords, his laughter ringing out now and then. For once, he seemed entirely absorbed in his company, leaving you to breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps he had reconsidered his plans for the evening. Perhaps this feast would end without incident.

But deep down, you knew better.

Sure enough, as the plates were cleared and the music softened, Jason rose from his seat, his expression calm and assured. The hall quieted as he began to make his way around the table, and you felt every muscle in your body tense. When he reached your side, he offered a hand, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Princess,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying just enough charm to make the hall listen. “Would you do me the honor of standing with me for a moment?”

You hesitated, casting a quick glance at Rhaenyra, who watched with thinly veiled amusement. Viserys’s face practically glowed with expectation. Resigned, you placed your hand in Jason’s and allowed him to pull you to your feet.

Jason guided you to the center of the hall, his grip firm yet careful, his expression shifting to something more serious—or at least what passed for serious with him. The gathered lords and ladies turned their attention to you both, the room falling into an expectant hush.

“Your Grace,” Jason began, addressing Viserys with a slight bow. “Honored guests, lords and ladies of Casterly Rock, I stand before you tonight with a heart full of purpose.” His gaze shifted to you, his golden-green eyes warm and unyielding. “It is no secret that I have been captivated by the beauty, grace, and fiery spirit of Princess Y/N since the celebratory hunt. And so, I wish to make my intentions known before all.”

You stiffened, your face carefully composed as your mind raced. Here it comes.

Jason turned to you fully, his voice lowering just enough to make it feel intimate while still carrying across the hall. “Princess, I ask for your hand in marriage, to unite our houses in strength, legacy, and—” his lips quirked into a smirk just for you, “—passion.”

The hall erupted into whispers and murmurs, but Jason’s hand tightened on yours, his voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. “You look breathtaking, even while plotting ways to kill me,” he murmured, the amusement in his tone unmistakable.

You narrowed your eyes at him, but he wasn’t finished. “Say yes, Princess,” he whispered crudely, his lips brushing your ear. “Imagine the things I’ll do to celebrate with you later.”

The audacity made your blood boil, and you could feel every pair of eyes in the room on you as silence fell. You stared at him, your expression carefully neutral even as your fingers itched to slap the smug grin off his face.

Finally, with a sigh that spoke volumes, you inclined your head. “Very well,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I accept.”

The hall erupted into cheers and applause, the tension broken as Viserys beamed and raised his goblet in celebration. Jason’s grin widened triumphantly, and before you could stop him, he reached into his pocket and withdrew something small and glittering.

He stepped behind you, lifting a golden necklace into view. The piece was as intricate as you remembered, crafted of gold and rubies. The pendant depicted a lion and a dragon entwined in what could be interpreted as a dance—or a fight, depending on one’s perspective. The lion’s ruby eyes gleamed fiercely, while the dragon’s wings were inlaid with delicate amber, the craftsmanship so detailed it almost looked alive.

You stiffened as he fastened it around your neck, the weight of it both literal and symbolic. It was the same necklace you had rejected days earlier, calling it atrocious, and yet here it was, resting against your skin for all to see.

Jason leaned close, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “It suits you,” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

You turned your head slightly, your voice just as quiet. “You’ll pay for this.”

Jason chuckled softly, brushing a hand over the pendant as though adjusting it. “I’m looking forward to paying my debt,” he whispered, his voice wicked. “Preferably in our marriage bed.”

You scoffed, pulling away from him as the crowd surged forward to congratulate you both. The cheers and well-wishes washed over you, but all you could focus on was the smirk Jason wore, the same infuriating expression that promised this was only the beginning of his schemes.

The clamor of the great hall filled your ears as lords and ladies toasted your betrothal. Despite the applause and laughter ringing out around you, you remained still, the weight of the gold and ruby necklace on your neck a heavy reminder of your predicament. Your jaw tightened as you saw Jason, now swarmed by a group of western lords, basking in their congratulations with his ever-present smirk firmly in place.

“Ah, sister,” came a familiar, teasing voice from behind you. You turned to find Rhaenyra approaching, her expression alight with amusement. Her gown, a rich shade of crimson embroidered with black dragons, shimmered in the warm light of the hall. She held a goblet of wine in one hand, her lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Congratulations are in order, I suppose,” she said, tilting her head as she looked you over. “Or should I say condolences?”

You sighed heavily, your fingers brushing the pendant at your neck. “Spare me, Rhaenyra.”

“Oh, no,” she replied, stepping closer. “This moment is far too delicious. You, of all people, accepting a marriage proposal? And from Jason Lannister, no less.” Her tone was light, but her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I have to say, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

You cast her a sharp glance. “It wasn’t as if I had much choice, was it? Father has been planning this from the moment we arrived.”

Rhaenyra laughed softly, taking a sip of her wine. “Perhaps, but I seem to recall you vowing that no man would ever trap you into marriage. ‘I’ll never be anyone’s pawn,’ you said. And yet—” She gestured pointedly at your neck, the ruby eyes of the lion pendant gleaming. “Here we are.”

You shot her a glare, but her amusement only deepened. “Don’t look at me like that, sister. You might not admit it, but I suspect you’re not entirely as miserable about this as you pretend to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked sharply.

Rhaenyra leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You forgot the royal hunt.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you kept your expression impassive. “You are overreacting.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, grinning. “It’s a little poetic, don’t you think? The man you swore you couldn’t stand will now be your husband. I suppose the real question is whether you’ll make him pay for every moment he’s bested you.”

You huffed, folding your arms. “Every moment.”

Rhaenyra laughed again, clearly enjoying herself. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to lose all your fire just because you’ll be wearing a Lannister necklace.”

Before you could retort, a booming voice interrupted. “Ah, my daughters together! What a sight!”

You turned to see King Viserys approaching, his expression jubilant, with Queen Alicent at his side. Viserys’s face was red from wine, his eyes alight with pride as he embraced you both. “Isn’t this a wonderful evening?” he declared, his voice carrying over the din of the hall. “My youngest daughter, betrothed to the Lord of Casterly Rock! A union to rival the greatest in history.”

Alicent, ever poised, offered a softer smile. “Congratulations, stepdaughter. Lord Jason seems… enthusiastic, to say the least.”

You nodded stiffly, glancing back toward Jason, who was still surrounded by well-wishers. His laughter rang out above the crowd as he clasped the hands of one lord after another, his golden hair catching the light like a crown.

“Yes, enthusiastic,” you murmured, your tone dry.

Viserys, oblivious to your tone, continued, “Jason is a fine match. A strong lord with a proud house. This is exactly what our family needs—a union to strengthen the realm.”

Rhaenyra’s lips twitched, and she leaned closer to whisper, “You’ll make him pay for this later, won’t you?”

“Absolutely,” you whispered back, your eyes narrowing as you watched Jason raise his goblet to another round of cheers.

Jason Lannister stood at the center of a circle of well-wishers, his face flushed with wine and triumph. Lords from the Westerlands and beyond congratulated him with hearty handshakes and claps on the back, their laughter mingling with his own. He was the image of a man who had won a great prize, and he relished every moment of it.

“Thank you, my lords, thank you,” Jason said with a broad grin, raising his goblet in a mock toast to the group around him. “It’s not every day one secures a dragon for a wife.”

The crowd chuckled appreciatively, and Jason’s grin widened. He was in his element, basking in the admiration of his peers, when a hand clapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he found his younger twin, Tyland, standing there, his expression more restrained than the revelers around them.

“Jason,” Tyland said, his voice quieter, though there was a pointed edge to it. “A word?”

Jason raised an eyebrow but nodded, gesturing for Tyland to follow as he stepped out of the circle of lords. Once they were a few paces away, in a quieter alcove near one of the hall’s stone pillars, Jason turned to him, still grinning. “What is it, brother? Come to offer your congratulations in private?”

Tyland’s sharp gaze swept the room before settling on Jason. “You’re enjoying yourself a bit too much,” he said evenly. “You might want to exercise some discretion.”

Jason laughed, a rich, carefree sound, and clapped Tyland on the back a little too enthusiastically. “Discretion? Tyland, I’ve just secured one of the most sought-after matches in the realm. The princess herself will soon be my lady wife. Why should I be discreet?”

“Because,” Tyland said, his tone more forceful now, “your little escapade during the hunt hasn't gone unnoticed like you thought.”

Jason’s grin faltered for a split second before returning, though now it carried a hint of defiance. “And if it has? Soon enough, she’ll be in my bed every night. Whatever anyone thinks they might have seen or heard won’t matter then.”

Tyland’s expression tightened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. “It will matter, Jason. I've told you already, the princess is not some lowborn girl you can toy with. She’s a Targaryen—a dragon. If you embarrass her or this family before the wedding, it won’t just be her wrath you’ll face. Her father is the king.”

Jason waved off his brother’s concerns with a dismissive gesture. “You worry too much, Tyland. The princess accepted my proposal, didn’t she? Whatever fire she has will only make her all the more thrilling as a wife.”

“You need to watch how you talk, Jason,” Tyland snapped, his tone losing its usual evenness. “Especially in public. Until the marriage is sealed, this alliance is fragile. One misstep, one wrong word, and everything could fall apart.”

Jason tilted his head, studying his brother with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “You’ve always been the cautious one, haven’t you? Fine, Tyland, I’ll ‘watch my words,’ as you say. But trust me, there’s no misstep here. The princess is mine now. Whatever battles she fights, she’ll fight them in my name soon enough.”

Tyland stared at him for a long moment, clearly unconvinced. “Just be careful,” he said finally, his voice quieter but still firm. “You’ve won this, but don’t let your arrogance ruin it.”

Jason chuckled, patting Tyland on the shoulder again. “You’re a good brother, Tyland. Always looking out for me. But you’ll see soon enough—there’s nothing to fear. This is only the beginning.”

With that, Jason drained the last of his wine and strode back toward the crowd, leaving Tyland standing in the shadows, his jaw tight and his eyes watchful.

The feast had begun to wind down, the lively music softening into something slower and more intimate as the final moments of the evening approached. The air was heavy with the mingling scents of wine, roasted meats, and the faint perfume of the gathered lords and ladies. Jason stood near the center of the hall, his goblet long since abandoned, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on you.

You were seated at the head table, your posture elegant yet rigid, the weight of the evening clearly etched on your face. As if sensing his gaze, you turned slightly, catching his eye. Jason smirked, the glint in his eyes enough to make you grit your teeth.

The music shifted into the opening strains of a familiar Westerosi waltz, and Jason seized the moment. He crossed the hall with an easy confidence. Lords and ladies parted for him as if by instinct, the whispers of their approval trailing in his wake.

When he reached you, he extended a hand, bowing just slightly. “Princess,” he said smoothly, his voice loud enough for those nearby to hear. “Would you grant me the honor of the final dance?”

You stared at his outstretched hand, weighing your options. Refusing him would draw unwanted attention, and besides, your father’s delighted expression from the high table left little doubt about what he expected. Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

“I suppose I have no choice,” you muttered under your breath, though your face remained composed for the sake of the watching crowd.

Jason chuckled softly as he led you to the center of the hall, where the musicians waited for their cue. “Oh, you always have a choice, Princess. But let’s not pretend you don’t enjoy sparring with me.”

You rolled your eyes as he placed a hand on your waist and took your other hand in his, leading you into the first steps of the dance. “Sparring implies an equal match,” you retorted. “What we have is more like me tolerating your nonsense.”

Jason’s smirk deepened as the two of you moved in perfect time to the music. “And yet, here we are, betrothed. Perhaps you tolerate me more than you’d like to admit.”

The dance spun you closer together, and your gaze narrowed. “I accepted your proposal for reasons far beyond personal preference, Jason. Don’t mistake practicality for affection.”

He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping just enough for only you to hear. “Oh, I don’t mistake anything, Princess. But I do find it curious how often you blush when we’re alone.”

You flushed despite yourself, the memory of his earlier whispers still fresh. “Perhaps that’s irritation, not affection.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded, his hand tightening slightly on your waist as he guided you through another turn. “But irritation has a way of sparking something deeper, doesn’t it?”

You tilted your chin up, refusing to let him win this round. “It sparks the desire to throttle you, certainly.”

Jason threw his head back in a low laugh that carried over the music, drawing a few amused glances from the nearby lords and ladies. “You’re delightful when you’re angry,” he said, his green eyes dancing with mirth. “It makes me all the more eager for our wedding day.”

You stepped a little harder on his foot than was necessary, but he didn’t falter, merely grinning as though he’d won some unspoken battle.

The music swelled into its final notes, and Jason used the opportunity to dip you slightly, holding you close enough that your faces were mere inches apart. His breath was warm against your cheek as he whispered, “Careful, Princess. Keep this up, and I might think you actually enjoy dancing with me.”

You stared at him, your expression caught between annoyance and grudging amusement. “The moment this dance ends, I’m leaving.”

He smiled wickedly. “But until then, you’re mine.”

The final note hung in the air as Jason straightened, guiding you back to your feet with a flourish. The hall erupted into applause, though you barely noticed as you stepped back, reclaiming your hand and fixing him with a glare.

“Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Lord Lannister,” you said quietly, your tone sharp.

Jason bowed slightly, his smirk never faltering. “Oh, I will, Princess. And don’t worry—I’ll be counting the days until our next dance.”

The morning light streamed through the high windows of the council chamber in Casterly Rock, bathing the room in a warm glow that softened the imposing stone walls. Jason Lannister sat at the head of the long table, flanked by his closest advisors. His mood was as bright as the sun outside, and the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his satisfaction with the previous evening’s events. Today, however, was about looking ahead—preparations for his soon-to-be lady wife, a Targaryen princess, and all the unique challenges she would bring.

The advisors murmured among themselves as the last of them took their seats. Jason leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled as he surveyed the room. “Gentlemen,” he began, his tone casual but commanding, “we have a great deal to discuss. The princess will bring many things with her when she comes to the Rock after our wedding, but none so important—or so large—as her dragon.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the topic settling over them. Morrath, your she-dragon, was infamous even among Targaryen dragons—a sleek, black-scaled beast with glowing amber eyes and a temper as fierce as her rider’s.

Maester Ronnel, an elderly man with a stooped posture and a face lined by decades of study, cleared his throat. “My lord, there is a practical solution we might consider. One of the dried-out gold mines near the base of the Rock could be repurposed. It would provide ample space for the dragon to nest, as well as a certain level of security, being naturally fortified.”

Jason nodded thoughtfully. “A dried-out mine. That’s… creative. Morrath is not a beast that will be easily pleased, Maester Ronnel. We’d need to ensure the space is suitable—ventilation, access for feeding, and, of course, the princess’s approval.”

Ser Garreth, a younger knight with a pragmatic air, chimed in. “My lord, if I may? The dragonkeepers in King’s Landing would have the expertise to ensure the dragon is properly managed. It might be wise to request that the king send a few of them to Casterly Rock. Handling dragons is not within our experience, and I’d rather not see Morrath take offense at a mistake.”

Jason considered this, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair. “You make a fair point, Garreth. I’ll send word to King Viserys requesting a contingent of dragonkeepers. Better to have them and not need them than the alternative.”

There were murmurs of agreement, but another advisor, Lord Meryn, raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, my lord, but have you considered the… risks? Dragons are unpredictable creatures. Even with proper care, having one so close to the Rock could—”

“Could make Casterly Rock unparalleled in strength,” Jason interrupted, his tone sharper now. “A dragon is not a burden; it’s a symbol of power. With Morrath here, no house in the Westerlands—or the realm—would dare challenge us.”

The room fell silent, and Jason’s gaze swept over his advisors, daring anyone to challenge him. When none did, he leaned back again, his expression softening. “The mines, the dragonkeepers—we’ll make it work. I want Morrath’s presence to be seamless. The princess must feel that she and her dragon belong here.”

Maester Ronnel nodded. “I’ll draft a list of necessary preparations for the mine, my lord. And I’ll consult with the builders to ensure it’s ready well before the wedding.”

“Good,” Jason said with a curt nod. “Now, on to the next matter: my chambers.”

The advisors exchanged glances, and Jason’s smirk returned. “The princess and I will be sharing my private chambers after the wedding. They will need to be rearranged, expanded, and redecorated to suit a lady of her stature—and mine.”

Ser Garreth raised an eyebrow. “Expanded, my lord? The private chambers are already among the largest in the Rock.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively. “Large, yes. But they were designed for a single occupant, not a married couple. We’ll need more space for her belongings, a larger sitting area, and—” He paused, his smirk deepening. “A more… inviting bedchamber.”

There were a few stifled chuckles, though Maester Ronnel maintained his usual solemn demeanor. “I’ll consult with the masons and decorators, my lord. Do you have specific preferences for the decor?”

Jason leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Gold and crimson, of course. The Lannister colors should dominate, but I want accents of black and red—Targaryen colors—to make her feel at home. And a grand bed with dragon motifs carved into the posts. Let her see that this is as much her space as mine.”

“And the sitting area?” Maester Ronnel prompted.

“A tapestry of her dragon, Morrath, alongside the Lannister lion,” Jason said without hesitation. “Let it be a reminder of the power our union represents.”

The advisors murmured their approval, though Tyland, seated quietly at the far end of the table, simply observed his brother with an unreadable expression. Jason caught his gaze and grinned.

“This will be the start of a new era for Casterly Rock,” Jason declared, standing and raising his goblet as if to toast himself. “Let us ensure that everything is perfect for the arrival of the future Lady Lannister. She deserves nothing less.”

The advisors nodded in agreement, and the meeting dissolved into the hum of logistics and planning. Jason, still riding high on the triumph of the night before, left the chamber with a spring in his step, his mind already racing with ideas to ensure every detail was flawless.

Servants hurried to and fro. The royal family’s visit to Casterly Rock was coming to an end, and preparations for their departure were well underway. Trunks were being carried out, horses saddled, and banners rolled tightly for the journey back to King’s Landing.

You stood by your father, King Viserys, as he gestured animatedly, speaking of something or another that you were only half-listening to. Your mind was elsewhere, the events of the past days swirling in your head—Jason’s proposal, the cheers of the feast, and that damned necklace that still rested against your collarbone, an inescapable weight.

“Ah,” your father suddenly said, interrupting your thoughts. You followed his gaze to see Jason Lannister approaching, his stride confident and his ever-present smirk firmly in place. “There’s your betrothed now.”

Viserys smiled warmly as Jason came to a stop before you both, bowing slightly in greeting. “Lord Jason,” Viserys said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come to see us off?”

Jason inclined his head, though his eyes were fixed on you. “Of course, Your Grace. It would be remiss of me not to bid my future lady wife a proper farewell.”

Viserys chuckled, clearly delighted by the display. “Well, then, I’ll leave you two to it. I’m sure you have plenty to discuss.” With that, the king excused himself, stepping away with an amused look that you didn’t entirely appreciate.

You crossed your arms as Jason turned his full attention to you, your pointed stare meeting his unflinching gaze. “Here to charm me into submission again?” you asked dryly, though the heat of your annoyance wasn’t entirely convincing.

Jason chuckled, his grin widening as though your resistance only amused him. “No, Princess. I simply wanted to spend a little more time with you before you leave for King’s Landing. After all, it’ll be far too quiet here without you.”

“Quiet?” you quipped, raising an eyebrow. “Somehow, I doubt Casterly Rock will be anything but loud with you at its helm.”

He stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back in a gesture of courtly grace that belied the mischief in his eyes. “Ah, but it won’t be the same kind of noise,” he murmured. “Your absence will be… noticeable.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Jason leaned in, his hand brushing yours as though steadying himself. To anyone watching, it might have seemed a tender gesture of affection—a gallant lord bidding farewell to his lady. But his next words, spoken in a low whisper, sent a jolt through you.

“You know,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, “it’s going to be a long wait until our wedding night. I was hoping to steal just a little more time alone with you… to keep me warm until then.”

The insinuation hit you like a dragon’s flame, and you froze for a moment, your lips parting as the memories of your earlier encounters flooded back. His hands on you, the way he had whispered equally brazen things into your ear, the heat of his touch—it all came rushing back, unbidden and overwhelming.

“Jason,” you managed to say, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his smirk deepening as he noticed the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. “Yes, Princess?” he asked, feigning innocence.

You swallowed hard, determined to regain your composure. “You are insufferable, as always.”

“And yet,” he said, his tone light but his eyes gleaming with something more, “you haven’t walked away.”

You glared at him, though the force of it was lessened by the heat still lingering on your cheeks. “What do you want, Jason?”

“Nothing more than a moment with you,” he replied smoothly. “Is that too much for a man to ask of his betrothed?”

Your mind raced with reasons to refuse him, but none seemed convincing—not to him, and certainly not to yourself. Finally, with a sigh, you nodded curtly. “Fine. But make it quick.”

Jason’s grin widened, and he offered you his arm with an exaggerated flourish. “Quick, perhaps,” he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear, “but unforgettable, I assure you.”

You rolled your eyes but took his arm nonetheless, your heart beating faster than you cared to admit as he led you away. You told yourself it was just to keep appearances, but deep down, a part of you couldn’t deny the strange pull Jason Lannister had over you—a pull you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to escape.

...

Jason led you through the winding halls of Casterly Rock with practiced ease, his hand resting lightly over yours as he guided you away from the bustling servants and, more importantly, the watchful eyes of Ser Lorant. The knight had been hovering ever since your betrothal, but Jason, as always, seemed to have a knack for avoiding inconveniences.

“Jason,” you said in a low, warning tone as he pulled you down another secluded corridor. “Where are you taking me?”

He cast you a glance over his shoulder. “Somewhere we won’t be interrupted. You didn’t think I’d let you leave without a proper goodbye, did you?”

“Goodbye? This feels more like an ambush,” you muttered, though you didn’t pull away. There was something about the way he moved, so confident and sure, that made it impossible to resist—even when you wanted to.

Finally, he stopped in front of a heavy oak door, pushing it open to reveal his private chambers. The room was grand but unmistakably his, with deep crimson and gold furnishings, a massive four-poster bed dominating the space. The scent of cedar and leather lingered faintly in the air, a reminder of the man who lived there.

Before you could protest, Jason closed the door behind you, his smirk softening into something almost vulnerable as he turned to face you. For a brief moment, he looked at you the way he had in Lannisport—the day you first saw a crack in his otherwise unshakable bravado.

“Why do I feel like I’m about to regret this?” you said, crossing your arms in a half-hearted attempt to mask the fluttering in your chest.

Jason stepped closer, his hands moving to your waist as he dipped his head, his voice low and sincere. “Because you know exactly what I’ll do to you, Princess. And you don’t know if you’ll hate it—or love it.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his lips captured yours before you could utter a word. The kiss was heated, demanding, yet laced with an intimacy that caught you off guard. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you flush against him as your fingers instinctively tangled in his golden hair.

“Jason,” you breathed when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

“Yes, my fiery princess?” he murmured, his voice rough with want.

“I still hate you,” you said, though the breathlessness in your tone betrayed you.

He chuckled, his hands already moving to the ties of your gown. “Then prove it. Push me away.”

You didn’t. Instead, you helped him, your hands eager as they tugged at his tunic. Layers of fabric fell to the floor as the two of you moved toward the bed, the air between you charged with an urgency that couldn’t be ignored.

“You’re terrible,” you muttered as your fingers skimmed over the hard planes of his chest.

“And you’re beautiful,” he countered, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. “A dangerous combination.”

As he guided you back onto the bed, his kisses grew hungrier, wandering lower as he pushed the last of your clothing aside. His hands were firm but careful, his touch igniting a fire that spread through your entire body.

“You’re lucky I’m indulging you,” you managed to say, though your voice faltered when his lips brushed the curve of your breast.

Jason glanced up at you, his usual smirk replaced by something raw and unguarded. “Oh, I’m more than lucky, Princess,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “I’m the luckiest man in Westeros.”

His kisses continued downward, leaving a scorching trail across your skin. By the time he reached your hips, your protests had dissolved into breathy gasps.

“You should be careful,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “The things I’m about to do might make you rethink your hatred of me.”

“Jason,” you hissed, your fingers clutching at the sheets as his lips traveled lower.

“Say my name again,” he murmured, his tone wicked as he settled between your legs. “Louder this time.”

Before you could formulate a retort, his mouth found its mark, and every coherent thought fled from your mind. His touch was relentless, his kisses igniting a pleasure so intense that it stole your breath. You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as your body arched involuntarily.

“Jason,” you gasped, your voice breaking as he pressed further, his words becoming a blur against the overwhelming sensation.

He pulled back just long enough to glance up at you, his smirk returning as he whispered, “That’s more like it.”

Jason’s lips moved back up your body, tracing a line of fire as he kissed over the curve of your hips, the swell of your stomach, and then higher, until his mouth met yours again. The kiss was slower this time, deliberate, as though savoring the moment. His weight settled above you, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he gazed down at you. His green eyes, darkened with desire, held a rare vulnerability that made your breath catch.

“Princess,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, a quiet reverence threading through the hunger. “You’re more than I deserve, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone else have you.”

For a moment, you almost softened completely, the rawness in his tone disarming you. But then he shifted, guiding himself to you with a deliberate motion that stole your breath and sent a jolt of heat coursing through your body.

“Jason,” you whispered again, your hands gripping his shoulders as he began to move, his rhythm measured and unhurried. The intensity was different this time—not the wild frenzy of before but something deeper, more intimate. Each deliberate motion felt like a silent claim, a melding of passion and possession that made it impossible to look away from him.

“You feel… perfect,” he groaned, his forehead dipping to rest against yours. “Every inch of you, Princess. Mine.”

You narrowed your eyes at him even as your body arched into his. “Still as arrogant as ever.”

He grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light of the room. “And yet you’re still here beneath me,” he teased, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Clinging to me. Tell me, do you hate me now?”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but your silence only emboldened him. He dipped his head, his lips brushing against your ear as he said, “You don’t, do you? Not when I’m inside you like this, making you feel things no one else ever could.”

“Jason,” you hissed, your voice trembling with a mix of indignation and pleasure.

He leaned back slightly, his smirk softening into something far more intense. “Say my name like that again,” he commanded, his voice quiet but firm.

“Why don’t you make me say it again?” you shot back, your words defiant despite the heat pooling in your core.

His movements quickened just slightly, a deliberate escalation that sent sparks shooting through your entire body. “Oh, I’ll make you do more than that,” he promised, his tone wicked. “I’ll make you scream it.”

“Big words for a man still trying to prove himself,” you retorted breathlessly, though your nails raked over his back in a way that betrayed your composure.

Jason groaned, the sound deep and guttural, spurred on by your defiance. His lips found your neck again, biting gently before trailing kisses over your collarbone. “You’re going to drive me mad,” he muttered, his voice vibrating against your skin. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You’d better not,” you managed to say, your hands moving to his hair, tugging slightly. “You couldn’t handle anyone else.”

Jason chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against yours as he murmured, “Oh, I don’t need anyone else. Just you. Only you.”

The sincerity in his words made your breath hitch, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the mingling of your gasps and the soft rustle of the sheets. His pace remained steady, unrelenting but controlled, each thrust pushing you closer to a peak you couldn’t deny.

“Gods, you feel incredible,” Jason rasped, his voice rough with emotion. “Like you were made for me.”

Your response was a quiet moan, your head tipping back as his mouth claimed your throat again. “Stop talking,” you muttered, though the heat in your tone spurred him on.

“Never,” he growled, his rhythm intensifying slightly. “I want you to hear every filthy thing I’m thinking, Princess. Like how I’ll take you again the second you’re mine, truly mine.”

Jason’s pace grew more demanding, his movements precise and deliberate, as though he were determined to draw every ounce of sensation from you. His hands, strong and steady, framed your hips, anchoring you beneath him as his weight pressed you deeper into the plush mattress. His golden hair hung loosely over his forehead, damp with exertion, and his green eyes were darkened with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“You’re so quiet today,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but teasing. “I thought dragons were supposed to roar.”

“Maybe if you were doing it right,” you shot back, though the tremor in your voice betrayed the rising heat building inside you.

Jason grinned, his lips curling into a wolfish smirk. “Oh, I’m doing it right,” he countered, his voice dripping with confidence. He shifted his angle slightly, and the motion sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, ripping a gasp from your lips despite your best efforts.

“See?” he murmured, his tone quieter now, more intimate. “That sound—how could you ever deny it?”

Your hands found his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you arched against him, unable to stop your body from chasing the sensations he stirred. “You’re entirely too pleased with yourself.”

“And why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, leaning down so his lips hovered just above yours. “I’ve got the fiercest, most beautiful woman in Westeros under me, clinging to me like I’m her salvation.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but Jason stole the words with a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that left you breathless. His hands moved to cradle your face, his fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss, his body never faltering in its rhythm.

When he pulled back, his voice was softer, more vulnerable. “Tell me you feel it,” he said, his forehead pressing against yours. “Tell me this is more than just a game.”

You hesitated for the briefest of moments, your heart pounding against your ribs as his words sank in. “I.. I don't…,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“That’s enough,” he said, his lips brushing against your jaw. “I’ll take that.”

He lowered his head, trailing kisses down the column of your throat, his movements slow and deliberate as though savoring every inch of you. His lips found your collarbone, then the swell of your breast, before he pressed his forehead against your chest, his breathing ragged.

“You drive me mad,” he admitted, his voice raw and unguarded. “Every look, every word. You undo me, Y/N.”

For a moment, his vulnerability mirrored your own, and your hand moved instinctively to his hair, your fingers threading through the golden strands. “You don’t make it easy to like you,” you admitted, your voice shaking as the heat between you built to a fever pitch.

Jason looked up at you, a genuine smile breaking through his usual smirk. “Good,” he said simply, his voice rough with emotion. “Because I don’t want you to just like me. I want you to come undone with me.”

His lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with a passion that was almost unbearable. His body moved against yours, each motion deliberate and unrelenting, driving you both closer to the edge.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his voice a quiet growl as he pressed his forehead against yours once more. “That’s just us, Princess. Just you and me.”

The wave of pleasure that overtook you both was overwhelming, leaving your body trembling beneath Jason’s as he held you tightly. His groan echoed in your ear, raw and unrestrained, mingling with your own cries of release. His body stilled against yours, his chest heaving as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath against your skin, the weight of him pressing into you, and the faint hum of satisfaction between you—it was all-consuming.

Jason didn’t pull away. Instead, he tightened his arms around you, keeping your bodies flush together as though afraid to lose the connection. After a moment, he lifted his head, brushing his damp golden hair out of his eyes with a lazy smirk.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, “I think it’s safe to say that was... unforgettable.”

You scoffed, your hand coming up to press against his chest, trying to push him off. “Don’t get used to it.”

He didn’t budge, of course. Instead, his grin widened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your jaw. “Oh, Princess,” he drawled, his tone rich with amusement, “I’m already used to it. And so are you.”

You glared at him, though the heat still lingering in your cheeks made it less effective. “You’re impossibly smug.”

“And why wouldn’t I be?” he countered, his green eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’ve just spent the most incredible moment with you, and I’d wager it’s one you won’t soon forget.”

Your glare deepened, and you shoved at his chest again, harder this time. “Get off me, Jason.”

“Not until I’m ready,” he replied smoothly, his hand sliding to rest on your hip, his thumb brushing circles against your skin. “Besides, I like you right where you are.”

You rolled your eyes, though your body betrayed you with the faintest shiver at his touch. “You’re heavy.”

Jason chuckled, his head dipping lower so his lips hovered near your ear. “And yet,” he murmured, “when you’re lying in your cold, lonely bed in the Red Keep, I’ll bet you’ll miss this. You’ll miss me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you retorted sharply, though the slight tremor in your voice made the words less convincing.

“Oh, it’s not flattery,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “It’s fact. You’ll think of me, Princess. You’ll think of the way I made you feel. The way I’m the only one who ever could.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but his lips brushed against yours before you could form a response. The kiss was slow, lingering, carrying a tenderness that caught you off guard. When he pulled back, the vulnerability in his eyes was so brief you almost doubted you saw it.

“You’ll remember me,” he said quietly, the confidence in his tone tempered by something deeper. “Even if you try not to.”

You hated how his words settled in your chest, how they stirred something you didn’t want to acknowledge. “Not likely,” you said, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed your composure. “That's just your ego talking, as usual.”

Jason grinned again, his usual swagger returning as he finally shifted his weight slightly, though he still kept you close. “Maybe,” he admitted, his lips brushing over your temple. “But I’m right.”

You glared at him, but he only smiled wider, his satisfaction palpable. “You’ll miss me, Y/N,” he said again, his voice quieter but no less confident. “And when you come back to me, I’ll make sure you never want to leave again.”

...

The procession was a grand affair, as befitting the departure of the royal family. Banners bearing the Targaryen sigil fluttered in the crisp morning breeze, and the sounds of horses’ hooves on cobblestones mixed with the chatter of servants loading the final trunks onto carriages. The courtyard of Casterly Rock was alive with activity, yet you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of relief and reluctance as you prepared to leave.

Your father, King Viserys, stood by the first carriage, chatting animatedly with Jason Lannister, who appeared far too relaxed for someone bidding farewell to his betrothed. Alicent was seated within, her gaze flitting between the two men, and your half-brother Aegon was already fidgeting beside her, eager to be off. As did Rhaenyra, who smirked once she saw you.

You made your way toward the second carriage, the hem of your gown swishing against the stone, when Jason intercepted you. He stepped in front of you with his usual flair, bowing dramatically before taking your hands in his.

“Princess,” he began, his green eyes filled with something between mischief and sincerity. “Before you leave me to languish here in solitude, I must say my farewell properly.”

You raised an eyebrow, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Properly? What was all that at breakfast, then?”

Jason grinned, his fingers tightening around yours. “Mere formality. This, my dear betrothed, is the real thing.”

With a theatrical air, he brought your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles. “Your Golden Lion will be waiting for your return.”

You couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped you. “Golden Lion? Is that what you think of yourself?”

He tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Of course. Do you not agree?”

“I think,” you said, your tone dry, “that your ego is far too inflated.”

Jason chuckled, stepping closer and breaking the decorum of the moment. His voice dropped slightly, his teasing edge softening. “The Rock will be ready for you, Princess,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours. “Every corner of it will know you belong there.”

For a moment, you were caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Then, just as suddenly, he resumed his usual charm, lifting your hand once more and kissing it with exaggerated devotion. “Until we meet again at our wedding.”

You shook your head, trying to hide your small smile as you climbed into the carriage. “Try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

Jason stepped back, his grin undiminished. “And you, Princess—try not to miss me too much.”

The carriage door closed, and the procession began to move. Through the small window, you caught one last glimpse of Jason standing tall in the courtyard. His expression was a mixture of smug satisfaction and something you couldn’t quite name.

...

As the procession disappeared from view, Tyland approached his brother with a measured stride. His expression was neutral, though there was a faint glint of irritation in his eyes. “You do enjoy the dramatics, don’t you?”

Jason shrugged, turning to his twin with a carefree smile. “Why not? Life is dull without them.”

Tyland gave him a long, scrutinizing look before sighing. “I’m returning to the capital with the royal family. Someone has to ensure our House’s interests are maintained on the small council.”

“Of course,” Jason said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “And while you’re there, keep an eye on her.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow. “Her?”

“Y/N,” Jason clarified, his grin turning slightly sharper. “Make sure some ambitious lord doesn’t try to worm his way into her good graces and steal her from me.”

Tyland’s expression turned flat. “You do realize she’s betrothed to you? No one is going to ‘steal’ her.”

“Still,” Jason said, ignoring his brother’s exasperation. “A lion guards what’s his, even from afar.”

Tyland sighed heavily. “I’ll watch over her, but only because I don’t want to hear your whining if something goes awry.”

Jason laughed, clapping his brother’s shoulder again. “That’s the spirit! Enjoy the capital, Tyland. I’ll be here, making the Rock perfect for my lady wife.”

With that, Jason turned and strode back toward the keep, leaving Tyland to shake his head and mutter under his breath. “Gods help us all.”

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #fire and blood #hotd x y/n #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #hotd jason #jason lannister #jason x reader #jason x you #jason x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #between pride and fire

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urinarythreatinfection · 3 months ago

Text

Kindness Isn't Spineless

Luffy x GN!Reader. TW Mentions of abusive relationship. Some cursing. 3045ish words.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

While the two of you are walking you choose to stay silent. You’d like to talk, of course, but you’re scared. It’s stupid, you told Luffy and yourself that you wouldn’t be like this; but the thought of Luffy finding out you had such a relationship feels so shameful. Not to mention, what if he doesn’t believe you? Mante has done so much more good than you, of course anyone would doubt it; sometimes, even you doubt it. Mante, the handsome, kind, talented philanthropist. The man who had climbed from the bottom, the one that gives hope to others that were in his position. Maybe... it’s just better if Luffy doesn’t know. What if he finds you weak for allowing yourself to be manipulated and abused for so long? The other option is he does believe you, but if that happens he isn’t going to brush it off. Even if you don’t like it, Mante is good for people. You were just the exception, and not all the time. Your mind goes to the people in his charity, the kids that light up at the sight of food. You… you just aren’t as important as the majority. Even if you want to think otherwise, you can’t. All options lead to ruin if Luffy finds out. ‘We haven’t been on a date like this in a while, just focus on that.’ You tell yourself, too distracted to notice Luffy staring at you.

“(Y/n).” He says and you jolt slightly.

“Y-Yeah?” You’re clearly anxious, dread filling you. Luffy frowns, he can tell you aren’t okay.

“Nevermind.” He wants to force you to tell him, or make assumptions to help you; but he knows that won’t help. Not in the way that you need. You two eventually make it to a hill with some trees, a good view of the festival below. He sits down with you next to him, fighting his instinct to grab you immediately and tell you you’re stupid for hiding things from him. You’re his crewmate, his nakama, his love. You taught him that romantic love doesn’t always have to be passionate, something you have to change yourself for, or complicated. He just wishes that you were as understanding and bold for yourself as much as you are for others. His hand squeezes yours lightly and you stare at it, then at him. Luffy’s face is calm, but his eyes are slightly nervous.

“Luffy…” You hate that you’re making him make that face. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place. Do you fight for yourself and escape this prison of self doubt and forced silence; or do you let yourself be whittled away for the greater good. You aren’t even with him anymore, you escaped him, but it feels like you haven’t. You can talk and make connections, but it just feels like your cage is bigger. That the spaces are wider, you’re still trapped but if you narrow your sight to the space outside your cage, you can pretend that you’re free. While you’re lost in your thoughts you feel yourself pulled closer to your boyfriend. He doesn’t say anything, just holding you there, holding your hand through the bars of your cell. Tears prick at your eyes, but they don’t fall yet. Instead you reach for comfort, turning to hug Luffy’s side with your face on his shoulder. Being this sad when you’re away from your ex to where it’s affecting your current relationship, you feel like a bad person.

“I think you’re great.” Luffy says softly and you look up at him, shocked for a moment how he somehow read your mind. He laughs slightly at your reaction, “Shi shi shi, did I get it right? I knew you were thinking bad stuff about yourself.” his bright smile turns to a warm one. “It feels like a thought you’d have when you’re like this.” He presses his forehead to yours. “And it feels like a thought maybe I’d have if I was like this.” His mind goes to Ace and how he had let the death of his brother almost ruin his life, almost erase the memories of friendships he had made. Support in that time saved him, so he’ll be your support now.

“Luffy, I’m sorry.” You respond, guilt welling up inside you realizing you’re making him remember his own trauma. “I don’t want to keep things from you, I don’t; but it feels so… complicated. I wish it wasn’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” The captain says, but you know better, this is different from what Luffy has gone through or how he had saved your other crewmates. You know this isn’t as simple as beating someone up. You put your head in your hands, you’re stressed. So stressed, it feels like your cage is only getting smaller and the void around you is only getting darker. It’s only when you hear Luffy getting up when you panic, did he get tired of this?

“(Y/n)?” It’s like cold water was splashed on you, you turn around and see him, Mante. “Gods, it’s really you.” His face is blurry, your brain instinctively trying to block it out to protect you. Luffy steps in between you two, his face serious. Mante’s intimidated, but his focus is on you so much he manages to stand his ground. “I haven’t seen you in so long, I thought you might’ve died for a while but I saw your wanted poster and-”

“Hey.” Luffy’s voice booms. “What do you want from them.” Mante flinches, you’re all outside but the tension is high as if in a stuffy room. He has a nervous smile on, trying to save face.

“I’m not here to do anything bad. I just wanted to see them, maybe talk for a bit. My performance ended a while ago and I had noticed you and your friend-”

“Boyfriend.” You manage to correct him and his expression falters.

“...Boyfriend.” He repeats. “I.. I noticed you and your boyfriend going somewhere earlier, but I couldn’t follow you since I was busy.” You scowl, the audacity for him to try and come to you; and for what?

“I left you, Mante. I don’t care how I did it but I left you.” His eyes darken for a moment, Luffy catches it and gets into a fighting pose.

“I’m not even doing anything to you and you’re being rude to me. Did you even actually 'leave' me? You just ditched me, I know I had faults but to leave without even saying anything is cruel.” Memories of your escape come to mind from Mante’s words, and how risky it was.

“Cruel?” You scoff and stand up. “I’m the cruel one? What were you gonna do if I said something? You were unstable, you could barely handle me saying anything ‘bad’ about you.” You clench your fists. “You fucking asshole, acting as if it was that easy. As if I could just go to you and say ‘Hey I want to break up’ when you know damn well you would’ve done anything to stop me. Even if you had to kill me to do it.” You’re shaking, terrified. It’s to be expected, he had broken you down over and over to make you like this. Weak, pliable, “kind”, scared. Luffy can see your trembling and he’s doing everything in his power to stop himself from punching Mante to hell, telling himself that you deserve to do this yourself. If he were any younger he would’ve already snapped and tried to solve this with what he thinks would help, but he’s matured now; even if he’s radiating murderous intent. Mante can’t even take a step towards you. Your hand goes to Luffy’s, holding it. He calms down slightly.

“You.. You’re exaggerating, I wasn’t that bad. You’re remembering things wrong since we were both in rough times.” He’s defensive, already using those same words you would hear back then. “You have to understand my point of view, (Y/n). I never wanted to hurt you, I would just lose control sometime but still never hit too hard-” Luffy snaps and tries to run to Mante but you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Let go! He hurt you!” Your boyfriend says, adamant. Even with his maturing he can only tolerate so much.

“Luffy please, just.. stay with me.” Your voice is breathy, stopping yourself from having a panic attack. The sight helps him calm down slightly and he hugs you.

“We don’t have to be here, I’ll tell the rest of the crew we can leave.” His anger is only pacified by your comfort being more important.

“W-Wait, I’m sorry.” Mante suddenly apologizes. “I didn’t think you were this affected, but I should’ve been better to you anyway. I.. I’m sorry for that, and I’m sorry for treating you badly in the past.” The apology you wanted for so long… you’ve gotten it. So why is it so much less satisfying than you thought? The cause of your pain is here, looking genuinely guilty, you should be happy. This should be it for you, fix you, free you; but it isn’t.

“...Did you even love me?” You ask your ex, continuing to talk before he can respond. “You hurt me, so much. You’re right, you were going through a rough time, I thought about that every time I would have to stand there and take your anger or calm myself down alone when I had the chance. ‘He’s stressed, that’s all.’ ‘He loves me, just has trouble sometimes showing it.’ I made excuses for you over and over. After I escaped I didn’t know what to think, I didn’t have anything. Sometimes I even considered going back to you because I would struggle so much being alone. Maybe I even would’ve, if I didn’t have the privilege of being found.” You look at Luffy, who feels a mixture of anger and happiness. “I can tell what you’re thinking, you think I could’ve done it on my own even if you and the others didn’t find me, right?” He stares at you, then nods. “I knew it, feels like a thought you would have.” Your words calm him more and brightens a little, smiling at you. Mante stands there, face dark. “Are you expecting me to expose you? Let everyone know how horrible you can be inside?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you decided to, but I.. I really hope you don’t. I’m helping people, and you’ve already seemed to have moved on.” He has a point, except you haven’t been fully able to move on yet. You hug your boyfriend for a bit, then pull back to walk to Mante.

“I’m not going to tell anyone.” You say and both his and Luffy’s eyes go wide.

"You aren’t-”

“You aren’t!?” A crowd of voices say. You’re startled, and look to the side to see your friends minus Robin and Franky. They were hiding, and attempted to hide again. It’s pointless and Usopp quickly tries to save it.

“Well we were just passing by and we just got here don’t worry-” Usopp starts but Zoro interrupts him.

“I’ll slice him to pieces if you want me to.” Usopp stares at Zoro in betrayal. “Only if you want me to.” He reiterates.

“You’re seriously not going to say anything? Are you still scared?” Nami says, worried as she casually pushes the two men to the side. “You don’t have to be scared, you know.” She knows how it feels to be stuck, too scared to ask for help that you’d even cover for your abuser. Nami doesn’t want you to feel like that. The sight of your friends, here and worried, unlocks something in you, helps you realize something. You can get out of your cell, that you didn’t have to hide this for so long. Here you were, assuming that they wouldn’t be able to take it, that it would bring up bad memories or make things uncomfortable but even Nami isn’t forcing you to do anything. Your chest feels lighter, and you turn back to Mante.

“I’m not doing this out of the kindness of my heart.” You say as you shake your head, walking to Mante. “I’m doing it because I can, because I decided that I’m tired of letting him control me.”

“(Y/n)..” Mante says, looking guilty but touched. “I don’t deser-”

“Yeah, you don’t, and I’m not doing this for you. Don’t get me wrong.” Your hand reaches up and grips Mante’s neck. “I am not a pushover that’ll forgive anything. You do good to the world and you seem to have been trying to repent, that’s the only reason I’m letting you free.” Your hand tightens its grip and Mante tries to gasp, struggling. “Your retribution will be using the rest of your life to help others. If I ever hear even a rumor that you’ve done something like this again, embezzled money, taken advantage of someone, stopped your charities, anything. I’m coming back, and I’m giving you your punishment with my own hands.” With that, you let him go. Mante coughs and gasps to gain his breath, your friends more satisfied now. He looks pathetic like this, coughing, like your places have switched. You’re different from him though, anger is only a sign he still has a hold over you. You’re done letting his emotions control yours. “I want you gone. Leave.” He looks up at you, emotions conflicting in his mind. Guilt, appreciation, fear, but you want none of it. He stands up and you take a deep breath. “Wait” You say before he can leave. He turns to face you and you punch him in the stomach, hard. He coughs and gasps, you do it again with your other hand. Okay, some anger is natural emotion, and you won’t let him go free without some pain, he just objectively deserves it. Plus, if he gets a bruise his dancer outfit will show he can just cover it up, you did it plenty of times. “Okay, now leave.” He struggles to walk and you watch him as he limps away. Once his figure has faded you breathe a sigh of relief, another big weight lifted off your chest. You crouch down with your head hanging, you did it, that was insane you actually did it.

“Shi shi shi.” You hear a familiar laugh from next to you. Luffy’s crouched down next to you too, looking happy. “You didn’t need me at all, see?” He says, pleased. You wrap your arm around him and pull him in for a hug, which he gladly reciprocates while kissing your cheek. The joy emanating from him is contagious and you end up smiling too, pulling back to smooch him. He smooches back and soon the two of you keep peppering kisses on eachother’s faces, giggling a little.

“Yohohoho~ Youth is very good to see.” Brook says with a hand on his mouth as you two act lovey dovey.

“Hahaha!” Jinbe laughs heartily. “That it is!” You look at your crewmates, all of them looking happy, even if Zoro is pretending he finds it annoying. He’d rather have this than you miserable. Sanji is happy for you two as well, of course, even if he wishes he also had what you have, no he’s not crying from jealousy he’s just having a nosebleed from his eyes. Usopp gently pats him on the back, offering comfort awkwardly. You look back towards the festival, you’re happy. Even if this isn’t magically going to completely pull you from the cell you’ve been trapped in, Luffy and the others have opened the door, letting you know that even if it’ll take time for you to fully come out, they’ll always be there. You even spot an eyeball and an ear surrounded with petals on a tree, smiling at it as the firework show starts. Everyone sits with you, watching it as they start to talk and enjoy the pretty lights. They couldn’t leave you behind after all, and walking around in a crowded area is overrated anyway. Chopper jumps up and down happily, making happy noises as his eyes shine. Your eyes trail to Luffy’s, whose hand is intertwined with yours.

“Thank you.” You whisper while looking down to not only him, but all your friends too. You’d assume they didn’t hear you, but when you look up at Luffy he’s smiling at you.

“You’re welcome!” He says, and you look to the side to see your crewmates looking at you too. Apparently you had whispered it in the small moment it was silent before the fireworks continued.

“You’re welcome too.” Nami smiles at you and winks.

“Me too, me too!” Chopper exclaims while hopping onto your lap. Everyone else says the same, even Zoro who was quietly arguing with Sanji, and Usopp who had pretended not to hear at first to save you from the embarrassment. Is this bad luck or good luck? You’re so happy to hear these “You’re welcome”, but you also feel like collapsing and playing dead possum style from getting caught saying something sappy. The fireworks have already started up again though, so you decide to slowly turn your attention to that, praying that your friends and boyfriend take the hint. Thankfully they do, and you all spend the rest of the festival in each other's presence.

Bonus:

“WAHHHH YOU’RE WELCOME TOO (Y/N)!!!” Franky says while sobbing, pouring tears from his eyes as Robin lightly chuckles, having finished telling Franky what had happened.

“You can tell them when they’re back.” She says to the shipwright, who’s on his hands and knees crying so hard he would definitely pass out if he weren’t a cyborg.

“Y-You’re right.” He says, getting motivated. “I’ve got to make sure they have a SUPER place to come back to.” Franky says as he gets up, quickly running inside the ship to build you something you’d like. Robin puts her hand to her eye again, looking at your embarrassed but happy face, her mood improving more when she sees your hand squeeze Luffy’s. She’ll get something ready for you too, you’re her precious friend as well, after all.

Phew finally finished, sorry I took so long I suddenly lost the motivation for it and I got into replaying P5r then I started Hollow Knight. But I got it. Sorry if the ending and how it ended up is unsatisfying. There are a lot of stories where everything ends up okay and I kinda felt like not doing that. Ofc things CAN end up being okay but I felt like there wasn't enough stories where the abuser wasn't just very clearly evil and no good. As someone who's been through bad things from people who have multiple sides I felt like this was the best thing to do. If you want Mante in jail you can say that he ended up doing something bad and you did whatever punishment you want, I left it somewhat open for that, but this is where it ends for the story I wrote. People are many, even bad ones, and life is complicated. If you have someone in your life that you are unable to fully cut off or bring to full punishment i feel for you. This ending wasn't a "Well you should just forgive and forget" it was more of a "Even if things are complicated there is still ways to break free from your abuser"

#one piece #anime only #one piece x reader #anime #fanfiction #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #angst #hurt/comfort #gender neautral reader #luffy

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itsthewritergal · 10 months ago

Text

Get up Buck - B.Barnes X reader

Here it is! The final part.

I hope you all enjoy :)

TW; suicide, death, character death, swearing, (happy ending tho!)

PART 1

PART 2

“She is to be kept on 24 hour surveillance for the next four days. She is going to be tired and weak and you need to be looking after it. It is going to be hard work for everyone involved and you need to never make her feel bad for it” The Psych Doctor explained to Steve and Tony,

“I understand, I can promise she will be safe” Tony said firmly, “Is she ready to go?”

“You’ve signed all the consent forms?” The doctor asked

“Everything’s been signed and paid for” Steve said, “I’d just like to get her home”

“On the understanding that you bring her back the moment you can’t handle it”

“I don’t need handling” Y/N said firmly appearing in the doorway of her room,

“I didn’t mean it like that” The doctor said gently

“You can’t keep me here so if you don’t want me at the compound I can go home” She said, and Tony felt his heart break.

“We want you at the compound” Tony placed his hand softly on hers,

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked searching Tony’s face for any sign of uncertainty

“Yes” Tony said, picking up her suitcase that was packed

“Y/N, here is a few emergency numbers you can call if things get bad again” the doctor said handing Y/N a pamphlet filled with self-help book recommendations and numbers for therapists.

“She won’t need them, but thank you” Steve said

The ride to the compound was filled by the soft humming of Wanda to the radio, Steve and Bucky muttering in the back of the car and Nat trying to pull conversation out of Tony who was clearly preoccupied with googling all the best therapists near to the compound. Y/N had her head resting on the cool glass of the window as the compound rolled into view. It was a sight she had wanted to forget, her hands balled up in her shirt trying to disperse some of the anxiety of moving in. Tony had taken her to her apartment a few hours before to get her things together.

“I gave Vis and Clint clear instructions for your room, your stuff will be in there” Wanda said

“They won’t have unpacked it though?” Y/N double checked

“No of course they won’t have” Steve said softly “We will have to check your bags though”

“I’m not going to smuggle in anything that’s going to hurt me” Y/N said with a roll of her eyes,

“We can’t take that risk, you can choose whoever to check through them but we have to check” Steve said in an authoritative tone

“Nat” Y/N said quietly

“Sounds good sweetheart” Nat said with a soft smile,

“Movie night tonight, what are we watching?” Tony said trying to lighten the mood

“I think it’s Bucky’s turn to pick” Wanda said gently, Bucky felt his heart squeeze

“Friends” He said without skipping a beat

“Friends?” Tony asked,

“Yeah, I want to watch Friends tonight” He said, he knew it was Y/N’s favourite show to watch when she was feeling down. It wasn’t much but it was a start to making her feel better.

“That’s not a movie but I guess we can watch it” Tony said with a huff,

“Y/N sweet or salty popcorn?” Wanda asked

“Either, I think I’ll probably head to bed. So it might be a better idea for someone else to choose” She said quietly

“I want both” Clint interrupted, as the car rolled to a stop

“Nat can you show Y/N her room?” Tony said as they climbed out the car.

It had been two days, Tony had kept Y/N under close super-vision. Not that she would have known it. He made sure that all the agents had been briefed to know that she was to be treated normally, just like she had been treated when she was at the compound with Bucky.

“You need some sleep” Steve said as Tony slumped into the meeting room with yet another cup of coffee

“Everyone’s either too tired or on missions to do the over night shifts of watching her, so I don’t have a choice” Tony said “Sleep is for the weak”

“What if I took the overnight tonight?” Bucky suggested “You’re giving her the sleeping tablets so she won’t wake up, I’m not on missions this week so I don’t mind one all-nighter”

“What would you do if she did wake up?” Tony asked, Bucky knew it was a test. He wasn’t stupid, but there was a part of him that was insulted

“I’d come and get you or Steve and I’d stay away” Bucky said, it was a lie, he wasn’t sure how he’d react. Wasn’t sure if he could stay that far away from her if she was hurting, but he had to try

“I don’t know” Tony said warily

“It’s one night, then you can look after her 24/7 the rest of the week” Steve suggested,

“Fine” Tony agreed.

The night was going smoothly, Bucky felt a little like a stalker watching Y/N sleep on the secret cameras Tony had installed. But he took a little bit of comfort in watching her so peacefully, it had been one of his favourite past-times when they were together. Not that she ever knew about it, back then she would have teased him mercilessly if she had found out. He would have loved it, he’d love it even more if she was to find that spark again, but he knew better than to wish for that much.

Y/N stirred a little in her sleep and Bucky felt his chest tighten, she was wearing his shirt. He was sure he had lost it months ago, yet here it was. Bucky zoomed in a little on the camera to check that she wasn’t waking up, her face contorting into a pained grimace. Suddenly she sat bolt upright and was desperately searching in the duvet for something. Bucky could sense the panic, his hand hesitating over the button that would call Tony and Steve. Until she stopped, her hands wrapped around something. Something that Bucky couldn’t believe. And so he called for Steve.

“Is she okay?” Steve asked out of breath,

“I need you to put me in a cell tonight” Bucky said calmly, it wasn’t a request Steve wanted to hear,

“What’s going on? Do I need to call Shuri?”

“She’s got the bear” Bucky said quietly,

“The bear?” Steve asked in a dumbfounded way, he knew it was the middle of the night but his brain was desperately trying to keep up with Bucky’s train of thought

“When we were together we went to this bear shop, where you could design your own and she made a Bucky Bear” He said, tears daring to fall from his eyes “She paid extra for her bear to have a matching arm to mine” His metal fingers flexed, “I always said that as long as she had the bear I’d be with her” His voice broke on the last syllable

“Buck”

“I need you to put me in a cell because otherwise I’m going to go in there and I can’t betray Tony like that”

“I won’t lock you up” Steve said

“Then call Tony” Bucky snapped

“No” Steve said firmly

“Steve I have very little willpower right now. I can’t stay away from her when she’s hurting like this” Bucky said

“I don’t think you should” Steve said quietly, “I think she needs you”

“She hates me”

“She doesn’t”

That was all Bucky needed to hear, he was soon outside her door, his knuckles tapping on the soft wood of her door. It creaked open to show Y/N with tear trails down her cheeks. She didn’t dare move when she saw Bucky, almost as though she had forgotten how to.

“Y/N,” Bucky started but he couldn’t find the words

“What did you want Bucky?” She asked tiredly rubbing her eyes,

“I can’t” He took a deep breath “I lied, when I broke up with you. I lied to keep you safe, I was scared I was corrupting you. I wanted to keep you safe and I fucked up. But Y/N, I need to make it better tonight. I need you to let me hold you” he rambled quickly,

“Bucky” Y/N started

“I promise I will talk to you properly in the morning, you can yell or tell me you hate me, but please I can’t loose you. I won’t loose you. I need you to want to live, and I swear I will prove to you ever single day that life is worth it. Just please Y/N, if you can’t live for you, then live for me?” Bucky said he fell onto his knees begging Y/N,

“Get up Buck” she said softly

“Y/N” He started

“I’ve always slept better with you in the room” she admitted.

taglist

@cookingdancingchick @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @olipiaa @scifinerd1818 @ordelixx @differenttyphoonwerewolf @unaxv @bumblingbamblingbandofbaboons @classyunknownlover @julvrs@scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @pigeonmama @sassyqueencowboy @callmissrogers @wintrsoldrluvr @weallhaveadestiny @almosttoopizza@blackhawkfanatic @violetwinterwidow01@abbyyourlocalmilf @am-3-thyst @buckitostan @hoomansstuff

#bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #itsthewritergal #bucky masterlist #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes x #bucky barnes smut

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estrellami-1 · 1 year ago

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie exchange looks. “Can you tell how long?” Nancy asks.

“Less than a day,” El says, sounding apologetic. “Other than that…” she shakes her head and slips the blindfold off. “I am sorry.”

“You’ve done more than enough, El,” Robin soothes. “Thank you.”

“We have to go after her.” Nancy looks pleadingly at Steve. “You want to save her, too, right? Not just Will?”

“I do,” Steve nods. “I didn’t know how long we’d have. I’d hoped we’d have more time, but it looks like we’ll have to go in twice: once for Barb and Will, and once to kill Vecna.” He looks around the room, focusing on the three boys. “I know Will was the artist, but Lucas, I know you can draw too. If we get you a map, can you find points and direct us?”

Lucas sets his jaw and nods. “I’ll do my best.”

“Okay. Here’s the plan, then: you three, stay here with El.” He looks at Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. “We’ll have walkie talkies, so we can keep in constant communication. El, how long can you stay in that space?”

She looks at him steadily. “I can do it.”

Steve looks at her, then nods. “I trust you. Robs, you’re with me?”

“Just try and get rid of me, Dingus.”

Dingus? Jonathan mouths to Nancy, who shrugs.

“Nance, Jon, and Eddie. You’re with us. We’re getting in and out as fast as we can. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have two more people coming with us on the out. They’ll be weak, but between the five of us, we can and will get them out safely. Robin, you stay here, direct the weapon-making. Make sure I get a bat. I’m going to go get walkie talkies, masks, and a whole lot of first aid supplies.”

“Got it,” Robin nods, then points at Eddie, Jonathan, and Nancy. “You three, with me.” She leads them to the backyard, and Steve knows she’s bringing them to the shed, where his old sports things and various tools are.

He looks to the boys. “Keep working on those plans. We’ll need them for the second attack. El, do you want to rest before we begin?” She considers it, then nods. “Okay. You know where the bed is. I’ll be back in less than an hour, alright?”

She nods and begins climbing the stairs. Steve looks around once more, taking stock, then grabs his keys and walks out the front door.

He gets to the store no problem, walks inside and starts filling his basket. Seven walkie talkies, seven masks, seven pairs of goggles, antibacterial cream, bandages, a suture kit, some ice packs. Two bottles of pain pills. He thinks about it, then makes his way to the front desk, smiling at the employee. “Hey, could I use your phone for a minute, please?”

He looks at Steve, unimpressed, then shrugs and gestures towards it. Steve thanks him and dials his home number.

“Hello?”

“Dustin. Do me a favor and get Eddie?”

“Yeah. One second.”

He hears Dustin yelling for Eddie as he walks outside, then a minute later, Eddie’s on the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, Eddie. I grabbed some pain meds, but I’m wondering if they’re going to be strong enough. I can pay you, but could you…”

“Yeah, no, I’ve got it. And no, dude, you’re not paying me. Not for this. I’ll head home and get them right now.”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “Thanks so much, Eds, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Uh, y-yeah, no problem. I’ll, uh, go now.”

“Okay. I’ll probably beat you back. See you there.”

“See you,” Eddie agrees, and they hang up,

Steve looks around for a few more minutes, finds a package of nails, adds those to his basket and goes to check out.

He’s well aware he probably looks like a serial killer, but he knows from experience the cashier is blindly scanning his items.

His luck runs out when Chief Hopper walks in and ambles towards the checkout counter. Steve does his best to keep the sigh internal. “Chief,” he says, giving him a little nod. The chief returns the greeting, peering over into Steve’s basket.

Steve suddenly becomes very interested in the gum options.

“What’s all this?” Hopper asks, inclining his head towards the basket.

Steve shrugs. “A few different things.” Please accept it, please accept it, please accept it-

“Like what?”

Dammit. “Uh… well, I noticed I didn’t have a first aid kit, and I figured I probably should, y’know? And I wanted to do some work around the house.”

Hopper grunts. “The masks and walkies?”

“Um.” Steve blanks. “It’s for a game with my friends?”

Hopper sighs. “If I get a call from your neighbors-”

“You won’t,” Steve says. Promises.

“Fifty-one sixty-four, sir,” the cashier says. Steve’s never been more grateful to be interrupted.

He pays, grabs his things, and sends Hopper a salute on his way out the door. He notices Hopper watching him as he leaves the parking lot, and he forces himself not to speed on the way home.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

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squishy-squish-deathfeeder · 1 month ago

Note

I got an extreme fantasy for ye:

By the time I’m 900 pounds, you’d have long since set my fate in stone. It was clear for anyone to see. A breathing tube always pumping air into me now that my massive moobs crush my lungs. A tube that connects to my far deep buried cock under my fat pad and belly that will suck me off every so often when you want to watch me squirm in my prison of lard I can a body. My bulging, useless legs so grotesquely fat you can’t tell where my thick becomes my calve, come to a massive nub where you amputated my feet. Long before immobility, you made sure I’d never leave, the world is oh so dangerous, much too scary for a weak pathetic fat boy. I’m safer inside, with you. Why would I need feet if I don’t need to leave? You reasoned. You thought it was cute telling people it was because of Diabetes, but they still thought it was strange how much excitement was in your eyes as you explained it.

For a time now, you’d already been looking online. sometimes you’d hook up my feeding tube, pump me full on mind softening drugs and lay on my sprawling body, scrolling through accounts, finding good candidates. You’d tell me about them. Where they are starting, you’d read their posts, their little horny writing about how badly they want to be fattened to the size you’ve made me. You’d show me their beginner bellies and starting weights. Comparing them to my start points and old photos. I think you enjoyed seeing the rush of emotions that flashed in my eyes as you showed me my coming replacements before the drugs kicked in and my eyes relaxed into lazy glazed over gazing into space.

You move him in, and introduce me to him. From that moment, I’m nothing but a sideshow pet locked in this room. You spend your time with him, keep me pumped with intense gainer shakes and drugs. In your mind I might be more of a pet, or a farm animal you passively keep, waiting for the right time. But I kept growing and growing and growing. After you shave me bald and keep me naked, I become a total pile of incomprehensible lard. My mind to numbed and rotted I’m barely even conscious or sentient. I sit quietly in my room verging on a weight you can’t wait to find out after I’m gone, but clearly well over 1000. When suddenly my heart monitor will ring out loudly, rapidly increasing. Gurgling choked muffled coughs ring out from my tube stuffed mouth. You and my replacement rush in knowing it’s time. Finally! My body convulses what little it can under the crushing weight, my eyes still glazed over and emotionless despite the pain, it feels like my heart is swelling. Pressure everywhere, in my skin from the fat, in my stomach from the shakes, on my lungs from my moobs, my heart from everything. His cock bulges in his pants and you breathe rapidly with excitement. In a mad rush of sexual rage, you both begin to fuck each other on top of me. I feel my heart rush faster and faster from both your weight now on me as the funnel seemed to almost rush more shake into my choking mouth. In my ears all goes quiet but for a building thump, thump thump, thump, almost on cue, matching the rhythm of you madly riding his cock, already half buried in a developing fat pad. And as if on cue from both of your intense orgasms, my heart erupts in my chest as we all finish.

And after im done, and you’ve had your fun with me, all emotional connection to me is gone as I’ve fulfilled what you wanted for me. He clears out as you take a moment to marvel at my massive motionless form. All your hard work paid off. And now for the profit. You climb up on top of me and give me one final kiss on the flabby cheek and reassure me that I won’t go to waste. Your new pig has big shoes, or a big bed, to fill. You jiggle my rolls and grip one in your hands. Who knows how many calories are in there. How much lard. How much meat. You can finally try those special gainer shake recipes you’ve been wanting to feed someone. With that, you reach beneath my bed and pull out a large case of fine cutlery and get to work. Your new pig in the other room, jerking off already from how horny he is thinking about his future. He grabs a handful of, of his belly fat and jiggles it as his mouth waters hearing the ring of sharpening knives.

Such a glorious fatting story.. god~ a perfect piggy dream ripe for the making.

#death feederism #fat belly #death feedist #bhm wg #death feeder #gaining weight on purpose #feedism kink #immobile feedee #fatboy #growing fatter #female death feeder #femalefeeder #female fat admirer

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novashelby · 6 months ago

Text

Why Not Me? - Isaiah One Shot

Pairing: IsaiahxReader(based on Evie...but friendly to all)

Warnings: No Sex, but intimacy. Mostly fluff.

Though it is not a smut, I am adding this to the 100 prompt challenge.

Word Count: 2k

Summary: She just broke up with her boyfriend and Isaiah is there to tell her what's up.

Please enjoy. I appreciate reblogs and comments. Likes are kind and thoughtful, and I appreciate you reading my work. However, reblogs really help writers out. So, please, considering rebloging.

“She’s crying again,” Finn said, rolling his eyes as he exited her room, the sandwich still in his hand. Again was the keyword. Some girls just suck at dating, and unfortunately for her, she was one of them. University didn’t make it any easier despite what her Aunty Ada said. Boys in university are intellectuals. Though, Ada herself didn’t know if she truly believed it. Finn sighed and bit one half of the sandwich before handing the other half to Isaiah, who’d been sitting on the sofa the whole time. “I’ll be back. I just got an errand for Aunt Pol downtown.” Finn swung his jacket on and nodded to his slightly older friend before leaving.

Isaiah put down his tea and turned his back, frowning a bit as he eyed the first door one reaches when climbing up the stairs. Her room. Poor girl spent quite a few days in that room crying. Though partially her fault. Isaiah slid from the couch and made his way up the stairs. Nervously, he hesitated knocking-his fist just hovering over the wood. Clearing his throat, he closed his eyes and knocked. When she didn’t answer, he knocked a bit harder, eyes glancing at the stairs. Through the door, there was a muffled, “Finn, I don’t want the sandwich…just eat it.”

Isaiah scratched his nose and stuttered out, “um-hey, uh…it’s not Finn. It’s me…Isaiah.” Never had he considered himself a nervous man. Women were never a challenge and he was always smooth with his words. But her? Tommy Shelby’s little girl was something else. You had to handle her delicately. There was a slight gap in conversation before she mumbled a wait a minute. For what? Tommy forbade her keeping a lock on her door…she was a sneaky child, a sneaky teenager, and now? A sneaky adult. “Can I just come-oh!” As soon as his hand touched the brass door handle, it turned and opened. His eyes couldn’t help but go to the toes and scale up to her head, skimming over her body. Isaiah felt heat rise to his cheeks. To avoid embarrassment, he looked off to the side. She’d been wearing her white silk bathrobe. Underneath? He doubted it’d be smart to start letting his mind wonder. A pretty girl. Perhaps not conventionally…like the girls he usually chased after. You know? The model type with toned legs and symmetrical physiques.

But she was pretty. The unique type with features that weren’t carbon copies on every other female. Isaiah appreciated that about her. The way she never tried to force herself into any box. As his brain tried to connect the wires, he thought about how her thighs touched even when she walked or how her belly rolled when she sat.

And she never fucking cared. She wore what she wanted, ate what she wanted, talked to who she wanted. Her confidence was unmistakable. That’s why her crying behind her wooden door after some stupid breakup was pathetic. He couldn’t understand it. One boy after the other, and she’d wither away for a few days. Over boys that probably were too weak to lift her against a wall.

“Is there something you need?” she asked, breaking his train of thought.

“W-what?” he blinked. Her brows raised, a grin for the first time that day played on her lips. “Oh, oh! Sorry…um, are you okay? Finn said you were upset about someone-thing…something. Not much, of course. Not that it’s my business or any-”

“I’m fine,” she said, holding her bathrobe together with one hand as she placed her other one on his shoulder. “Thank you, Isaiah. Now, if you don’t mind,” she said, words dragging as she was sliding by him. “I’d like to take a bath.” His eyes followed her as she started to walk down the hall.

“Wait!” He called out her name, and she paused, but didn’t turn. “You don’t deserve that…any of it. And y’know, you don’t talk to me anymore…about anything. Once you went off to university, you just-”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, still not turning to him. Tears were laying heavy on her lids again. At one point when they were kids, the four of them would go off and cause mischief. But Finn was learning the family business, Martha was getting married, Isaiah was working under Tommy, and her? She wanted to study nursing. They were no longer kids. Instead, people with lives. It was a good day if she and Finn even had a conversation. What did she have to say sorry for?

“Explain something to me,” he said, walking towards her. And it was his time to rest his hand on her shoulder. He spoke her name again and slid around her. It was her time to avert her eyes attempting to hide the wetness dripping down her cheeks. But Isaiah didn’t mind any of it. He knew she was crying. Gently, he cupped her face, but when she flinched, he dropped his hands. “What’s changed? Me and you?”

“Something had to have been for it to change,” she said, insinuating nothing had ever happened between her and him. He chuckled for a moment, itching the tip of his nose. “What?”

“It’s funny,” he said.

“I know, you laughed. I’m asking what is funny-”

“You,” he accused. “You’re funny, Miss. Shelby…you used to talk to me. We’d joke and dance. When Finn would fall asleep, it was you and I who’d finish off the whiskey and discuss life’s biggest questions.”

“Times change-”

“You still live at home,” he said. “You still live at home. You go to the local university three days a week. You still frequent the same jazz clubs. You still go to the same parties! For fucks sake, you’re the same person…nothing changes that much in a few months.”

“Isaiah-”

“No.” He shook his head. His hands gently gripped her arms, thumbs caressing her. She felt her body gently be pushed against the wall, head lightly pressing against a wobbly picture frame. She knew which one…the painting of her father’s mother. “You’ll fuck around with Tiny Tim from art class who can’t even bother to got to the door and introduce himself to your father-”

“I don’t need my father’s approval,” she snorted. “I’m grown-”

“You’re eighteen,” he said. “Hardly grown. Plus, you’re a lady under your father’s care. It’s the sensible thing to do-”

“And you introduce yourself to every womens’ father? Especially the ones you fuck on a Friday night and leave the next morning?”

Isaiah went quiet for a moment before saying, “no. I don’t. But that’s different. And don’t ask how because I’m not explaining casual sex to you.”

That’s when she eased herself a bit, laughing lightly. That was the girl he knew. “And you, Mr. Jesus, enjoy casual sex? Why don’t you want to explain it to me, eh?”

He matched her smile, resting his forehead on hers. “Because, Miss. Shelby, casual sex isn’t for ladies. Besides, I think your father would kill me.” She looked down, playing with her hands as she wore a little grin. Isaiah cupped her face, thumbs caressing her lips before moving down to hold her hands. “You are much more than a casual encounter, Miss. Shelby,” he said in a whisper, bringing her hands up to his lips, and kissing them.

“But how do you know I don’t like casual encounters?” she teased, but he wasn’t having it.

“Shhh,” he said. “It’s not like that…you and I, and I refuse to let it be that.”

“And are you my father?” she asked. “Everyone in this family thinks I’m-”

“Don’t,” he stopped her. “You’re deflecting. You knew exactly what I was saying-”

“That you’ll respect me in the morning?”

“Shhhh.” He kissed her cheek, lingering there for a moment before asking, “why not me? Huh? Why Tiny Tim and Stupid Steve and Dumb Danny and Asshole Adam and Prick Peter, but not me? Not idiot Isaiah-”

“I never dated boys with any of those names except a Peter-”

“You’re deflecting again,” he said. “Why not me?” Gently, he grabbed her chin and said, “I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you unlike Tiny Tim….”

“Who is Tiny Tim?” she laughed, not exactly denying him. In fact, she snaked her arms around his waist and pulled him closer, feeling a sort of comfort in his chest.

“That small fuck you were running around with last week,” he said, lowering his lips against hers. He brushed them against hers, a little smirk spread across his lips. She teased that he was being silly, but soon yelped as she felt him move his hands under her butt and lift her up. To hold herself steady, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Though he was pretty good about keeping her in place from the way he pressed her against the wall. “So, you didn’t answer me, why not? Why not me, Miss. Shelby? Huh?”

“You never asked,” she grinned, just about pecking his lips. She pecked, but pulled away when he tried to lean in, teasing him. “So, I had to fuck around with Tiny Tim and Stupid Steve-”

“And Dumb Danny,” he added, moving in to kiss her, but she teased him again, biting his bottom lip. When he tried to rest his lips upon hers, she moved away again and kissed his jaw up to his ear, biting his lobe.

“Don’t forget that prick Peter.”

“I want to forget,” he said, bracing her with his body weight and one hand while his other gripped her jaw, bringing her in. “C’mere,” he whispered, pressing his lips against hers. It was soft at first; just a string of pecks that became longer. His hand moved from her jaw and started to caress down her body. Without wanting to intrude, he slowly rested his hand upon her breast; not squeezing, just lightly running his hand along the curve before slipping it under the silk. As he moved it over her soft breast and down, the lacing came undone and the robe slipped down her shoulders. He stopped the string of light pecks and kisses, and asked, “we can stop if you’d like.” Shook her head, enjoying the feeling in her; warmth and excitement. She wasn’t an easy girl…her father made sure of that making sure she knew her worth. That’s probably why so many ‘boys’ left her…she never gave in so easy.

She did him. Or was it really easy when it was something in the making from their youth?

She licked at his bottom lip before nibbling and pulling it. “Shhh,” she said as she took control, sucking and slipping her tongue between his lips, playing with him. Their pecks turned into fully blissful kissing that neither wanted to stop. Air was no longer important, they found as their lips followed each other’s movements. Her fingers tickled up the back of his neck to his hair before tangling in the curls. While his hand moved down her body, dancing over hips and walking over her thighs. Her skin was so soft, sweet, and innocent. He wanted nothing more, but to place a kiss over every inch of her body. For the first time, he felt like fucking was juvenile. It wasn’t about the sex. No. He wanted her close. It was all about the closeness. He wanted her so close to him that he could consume her. That he could just breathe her in and nothing else in the world would matter.

He pulled away, catching his breath, “sorry. Um, I don’t want to rush this.”

“What are we rushing?” she teased, trying to kiss him again, pressing herself against his aching crotch.

“I want to take you to dinner,” he said, letting her down. “I want to do it right. If I’m going to do this right with anyone, it’d be you. So, please, Miss. Shelby, can I take you to dinner?”

“I dunno,” she sang, reaching up and playing with his buttons. “Are you paying?”

He laughed out and shook his head, pinching her chin. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, alright,” she agreed, sliding from him and walking to her room. “But, you have to ask my father.” Isaiah grinned and eyed the phone on the small table downstairs.

“Already on it, Miss. Shelby,” he called out. “What do you think I am? A lousy gangster?”

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #fanfiction #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders oc #ao3 #fanfic #wattpad #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #isaiah jesus #Isaiah Jesus x oc #Isaiah Jesus x reader #Isaiah Jesus fanfiction #original character

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moonlightspencie · 2 years ago

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hiiii! :3 would you mind write a quick fic with ted or aaron where the reader is a cart girl at a golf course. they meet while the men are golfing and flirting ensues? just smut or fluff or whatever! anything works <3

those tg golf pics came to mind and i can’t help but think of all of the dbf and bfd!hotch fics so…. aaron hotchner it is!!!

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: fliiiirting, everyone thinks reader is mad hot & hotch is all googly-eyed

Aaron whistled, looking over the lay of the land for their next hole.

“You’re close, but I’ve still got the lead,” he noted in good humor. “Good luck on this hole.”

Rossi scoffed. “You just wait for next week.”

Aaron laughed, watching as Rossi’s friend Mark teed up. He heard the beverage cart rolling up behind them as Mark stood, ready to swing. All three turned around, the current swing forgotten.

“I could use a drink,” Rossi noted, starting to walk closer as the cart drew nearer. Then, he paused. “I wouldn’t mind a fourth wife, either, now that I think about it.”

Mark walked near them. “I can’t say I disagree.”

Aaron laughed, though he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t seeing the same thing they were. The beverage cart girl was wildly attractive. He swallowed as she pulled up next to them, a dazzling smile on her face.

“You boys looking for a drink?” she asked, her voice like honey.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rossi replied, walking up to introduce himself as she climbed out of the cart. “I’m Dave.”

Aaron’s eyes were glued to her. Her tennis skirt showed off a pair of legs that had him very distracted. Not to mention the tight top that accompanied it. He stared her down, hardly realizing she’d already helped the other two men and was waiting on his drink of choice. There was a glimmer in her eye and a knowing smirk on her face when he finally noticed she was looking right back at him.

“Uh, just a water for me, thanks,” he said curtly, slowly walking closer.

She smiled again, grabbing a water bottle from the cooler and handing it over. Rossi paid up for all three drinks, insisting that they’d just have to make it up next time. Both Aaron and Mark knew they’d never really have to repay him for it.

Mark started walking towards his tee again with one last lingering look at her. Rossi debated staying, but after noting how she looked at his colleague he decided Mark’s swing would be more appropriate to linger around.

“Um, I— My name’s Aaron,” he said, reaching out a hand.

She took it, and he realized the handshake was a mistake on his part. Her hand was soft and pretty-looking in his own, and he was sure all of his feelings were apparent on his face. She’d already clocked him once.

She introduced herself, giving him yet another smile that had him feeling weak in the knees.

“You must be new,” he stated. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“And you’re so sure you’d remember the beverage girl, huh?” she joked.

He smiled softly. “I’d definitely remember you.”

Now, he reveled in the fact that there was a bit of a nervous smile on her face rather than his. She nodded slowly, looking at him through her lashes.

“Fair enough, Aaron,” she said in reply at last. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

‘So many things’ he thought to himself.

He looked towards the other two men who waited on him. He then reached into his coat pocket.

“I don’t think so, but,” he started, pulling out his card. “If you ever need me to solve a crime or… To buy you dinner—”

“Solve a crime,” she asked with a laugh, taking the card. She looked at it, then back at him with a new, mischievous look on her face. “I see. I might just call you up sometime, G-man.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said with a wink, gaining confidence at last.

She smiled once more, then got back into her cart and drove off towards the next group of golfers.

He strode towards Rossi, a new pep in his step.

“And I thought I was the flirt,” Rossi said with a smile.

“Maybe I’m just spending too much time around you,” Aaron replied.

His smile was stuck in place as he hit his ball, all the way through until that night when an unknown number came calling. After that, it lasted all week long.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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luvv4j4ybe11 · 1 year ago

Text

With time

✧𝐓𝐰𝐢n 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐥𝐨’𝐚𝐤

✧Tw!!: mentions of death,sibling loss, lo’ak dies instead of neteyam, lots of crying, first time celebrating birthday without your twin brother, mentions of su!c!de, underaged dr!nking, mentions of alcohol,mostly angst with some fluff towards the end (if you squint),feelings of grief and depression and I think that’s all, enjoy this lil Drabble<33

✧Dividers by @benkeibear

✧ translation(s): Skxawng-moron,idiot , kuru-queue, hammerbrow fish- the goldfish that kiri was playing with in that one scene (idk how else to describe it😭)

(Listen to this to make it extra sad🥰)

You woke up feeling the weight on your chest being even heavier than usual. Your face still wet with tears from last nights realization. That realization being that today was your birthday but not just yours, it was his too. Ever since the night he died, you haven’t left your side of the marui since.

Even though it’s been four months since your twin brother died, that day just keeps replaying in your head, the sound of your mother screaming, the look of absolute devastation on your older brothers face, the blood on your hands, the sound of tsireya crying, lo’aks cold expression, the way your father looked at you with complete disappointment and spat out a cold, “you’ve done enough”

Every time you thought about it you felt sick.

And naturally, being Navi twins you guys were connected more than normal siblings were, you felt each other’s heartbeats, felt when the other was happy or sad, uncomfortable or frustrated. So when you felt cold and utterly alone, you knew he was gone.

But yet there’s still times you hear his heartbeat, you feel how lonely he is and how much sorrow he’s filed with. And it makes you weak with sadness every time.

Being pulled out of your thoughts by a small pair of hands on your bicep shaking you back and forth, you turn around to see your baby sister staring back at you with a smile on her face, her eyes still washed with sadness. Yes, she was young, but she certainly wasn’t stupid. She knew how to read the room better than kids your age did.

“Sis, come on, get up! It’s your birthday!” She says while climbing onto you to give you a hug, which was something she did every year, but this one was more gentle and genuine than the others. You break the hug to place a hand on her head, lightly ruffling her braids,“Maybe later tuktuk, I’m still a little tired.” You say,weakly trying to hide the pain in your features with a fake smile.

She frowns at this, making you let out a soft chuckle as you go to push her off of you. Making her cling onto you more. “That’s what you always say!, please sis, can you get up? For me? For lo’ak?” She says while looking at you with puppy dog eyes. The slight mention of his name brings tears to your eyes, not ready to start this day without him.

“Sister, leave her be, alright? How about you go see what kiri is up to?” Neteyam says as he lifts the curtain to get into your side of the hut, holding it open for tuk to run out eagerly to find her sister.

Closing it, he glances at you before siting on your sleeping mat, “Sister, I’m-” “Teyam don’t. I can’t go through today with this fake sympathetic bullshit!, you guys were constantly on both of our asses for everything! You guys never cared about how we felt! How he felt! You know how many times he came to me telling me how dad made him feel like shit? Or how kiri was pushing him about certain things? Or how he caught dad talking to you about how he’s, “too reckless” and he “wouldn’t be surprised if he got himself killed”?”

His ears pin back to his skull immediately, knowing the exact conversation you were referring to. “Sister, you think that didn’t bother me too? I told him that lo’ak only acted like that because he wanted to be like him. But of course he didn’t listen. And do you think I wasn’t aware of how you guys felt? Why do you think I’d always have both of your guys backs whenever you got into trouble? Why do you think I came up with lies left and right to mom and dad so you two wouldn’t get your asses beat? I wanted to avoid making you guys feel like that, but I only have so much control y/n..” he says as he squeezes his his fists in anger, his feelings from that night bubbling to the surface again.

You move from your comfortable position to sit next to him, bringing him into a much needed hug. “Brother, I know you did. I know you try every single day. And I look up to you because of that. You’re stronger than I am. You keep pushing forward even though there’s so much shit happening to you, I don’t understand how you do it.” You say as you feel tears flowing from your face, the hug reminding you of how lo’ak used to hug you whenever you were in a mood.

“I do it because of you guys. Because of him. You guys are the reason I keep pushing. And especially the both of your skxawng asses” he says with a soft chuckle before breaking the hug, placing his hand on your head softly, something he did with you and lo’ak that became a comfort thing for the both of you. “You can do this today sister, I believe in you, we all do.” His tone making tears automatically spill over your eyes, and causing you to notice his tear filled eyes.

Looking for some sort of grounding you place your hand over his and squeeze, taking multiple deep breaths before speaking. “Teyam.. I can’t, I miss him so much. Everytime I wake up I feel so alone and cold, but I can still hear his breath, and his heartbeat. My pain is not only mine, but his too.” You say in between sobs, watching neteyams breathing get more shallow as he tries to hold in his tears. His features covered in concern.

“Oh baby sis..” bringing you into another much needed hug. He places a light kiss on your forehead before rubbing your back and gently swaying you from side to side,trying to calm down your cries.

Kiri walks in quietly, the feeling of your pain drawing her to your room. Her whole body goes slack and cold when she sees your state, making her glance at Neteyam. That feeling intensifying even more once she saw the pain in his eyes. She takes her place behind you, quickly inserting herself into the hug. Wrapping her right arm around your waist and the other overlapping with neteyams so she can hold him too,her chin resting on your shoulder.

“You feel him don’t you? His heartbeat? His sorrow? His breath? Like he’s just a word about to be spoken?” Without lifting your head you nod quickly, too mentally exhausted speak anymore. “I know how you feel sister. Take that feeling as a way of him telling you to keep going. Keep breathing for him, keep your heart beating for him. That sorrow will be gone once he sees that you’re living for him.”

Her words make you sob even more. Knowing she’s right, he’s always hated seeing you cry, and he did anything to fix it. Purposely making himself look like a dumbass, making you go on an ikran ride with him, asking you to go exploring with him, taking you to you guys secret spot, pinky promises. He did anything for you. And so did you.

A wave of calm suddenly hits you, making your sobs come to a complete stop, and your breathing becomes more level. Feeling the change, your siblings give each other a confused glance before looking down at you. “Sister?..” they both say in sync as you break the hug and get up, your features going completely cold. “I’m going to visit him..if that’s ok with you guys” you say while lifting up a blanket, revealing a stash of alcohol you’ve been keeping ever since his funeral.

Quickly you take a bottle and cover it back up, grabbing your hunting knife and putting on both you and lo’aks matching bracelets you made on your 10th birthday. Walking towards the curtain to leave, you’re pulled back by a gentle pull on your shoulder.

“Y/n..don’t don’t drink today. It’s not gonna stop you from hurting, and you know that.” Kiri says while gliding her hand down to your hand that was holding the alcohol firmly. “Yeah, I know that kiri, but it dulls it somewhat. And it stops me from wanting to throw myself off of a cliff so I think it’s worth it. Plus it’s my birthday! I’m allowed to drink as much as I want today!!” You say in a fake enthusiastic tone, your sarcasm reminding them so much of lo’ak.

“Y/n.” Neteyam says in a soft but stern tone, the one that told you that whatever he was about to say was gonna be serious. “Don’t drink. I know you’ve been hurting more than we have but we need you here. Lo’ak needs you here. You know how much he hates seeing you hurt.” He says as his voice starts to crack slightly, remembering all the things the three of them would come up with whenever you were anything but happy and content.

Feeling the tears well in your eyes again, you squeeze the bottle tighter, fighting the instinct to drown your feelings in the burning liquid.

Glancing over at them, your heart breaks seeing the genuine hurt on their faces because of the realization you’ve been drinking this whole time and they didn’t know. Sighing angrily,you shove the bottle into neteyams chest. “Fine, but when I get back just save me a bottle, because I know it’ll be gone by the time I come back.” You say while turning out of your room swiftly, leaving kiri and neteyam there speechless.

Once you get to the spirt tree, you thank payakan and tell him that you’ll see him soon. Ever since lo’aks passing you’ve only really left your marui to go see payakan, knowing he carries the same weight as you do.

While swimming towards the tree, you mentally prepare yourself for this painful experience. You’ve been avoiding coming to the tree in the first place, because you knew how much it take out of you. And he knew the same.

Connecting your kuru to the tree, you’re brought to you and lo’aks secret spot back at your actual home. The only place that brought you two comfort. Tentatively, you walk through the clearing, lo’ak still not in sight.

“Lo?, where are you?” You call out, the sound of your own voice making you realize you weren’t 15, but you were younger. Walking towards a curtain of flora that led to a small river, you catch a glimpse of your brother, making you walk quicker.

Once you get there you see lo’ak sitting at the edge of river with his feet languidly swaying in the water, just staring into the water. Almost like he was waiting for something, or someone. You don’t say anything at first, just taking in the sight of him after not seeing him for months.

“Brother..” you say softly, not wanting to disturb his peace. His head whips in the direction of your voice, his expression lighting up as he gets up and walks towards you. “Sister!!, I thought you’d never show!” He says as he takes you into a hug, the sound of his voice making you giggle since he was also his younger self.

“Of course I did, it just took me a little time. You know I’d always come to see your skxawng ass” you say as you break the hug to shove his face with your pointer and middle finger. He giggles at that, his smile making the weight on your chest get lighter.

Grabbing your hand, he guides you to where he was sitting. Taking your seat beside him, you gaze out into the water with him.Nervously playing with your extra finger, you take a breath before talking about what you were avoiding for so long.

“Brother I’m-” you exhale slowly before continuing, noticing out of the corner of your eye how all lo’aks attention was turned to you. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be here. It should’ve been me that got shot that night. I was the one that put the idea into your head to go save spider. I should’ve just told you and teyam to go so I could’ve got spider by myself-” “Sister,” he cuts you off, your rambling making the pain in his heart worse. “It’s not your fault. You need to stop hurting yourself like this. It’s not fair to you. You need to focus on now. Not ‘what if’. And plus, It’s not like I would’ve listened to you if you told me to go anyway, there’s no way in hell I’d let that happen.”

Both of you giggle at the last part, knowing that he’s not lying. Once your laughs die down, you look down at your hands, that feeling of guilt still lingering in your chest. Glancing over at you, he notices how you’re playing with your pinkies, a telltale sign that told him something was bothering you.“Sister, what else is it?” He says as he leans back onto his hands, noticing how your shoulders slightly go stiff from his question.

Turning your body to face him, you don’t fail to notice the genuine look of concern in his eyes. “You know what day it is today?” You ask, making his expression completely drop. “Yeah, I know.” The words feeling like a weight on his tongue. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do today without you lo’. I can’t. It hurts too much.” You say as the tears finally spill over your face, the grief crawling back up your throat once again. “No, y/n, you can and you will. For me. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean you can’t live out there. Live for me, y/n. Stop letting yourself be consumed by grief and guilt. I hate seeing you like this and you know that.” He says sternly, making sure you know he’s being serious.

All you do is nod your head, not trusting your voice with the lump in your throat and the never ending tears that keep falling from your eyes. The sight of your hurting form makes lo’aks heart twist in pain. And the fact he couldn’t really do much hurt even more. “Come here, sis,” Placing his hand on your shoulder he pulls you towards him. Giving you a much needed hug, immediately making you sob into the crook of his neck.

“I miss you, twin” he says while resting his chin on your shoulder, letting the tears fall freely from his eyes. You let out a broken, “i miss you more” as the void in your chest grows the longer you two hug.

Once you finally calm down,you break the hug, now seeing each other how you guys remember. “Well shit..” you both say in sync, making you both laugh. “You look so grown. I don’t like it.” Lo’ak says as he admires you a little longer, a feeling of peace swirling in his chest. “Yeah,me neither” you say in a soft tone, once again feeling guilty for moving on without him with you.

Placing left hand on your head, and his right on your shoulder he looks at you with a soft smile on his face, “Y/n,you’ll be ok. I’ll always be watching you, and I’ll always protect you.” The tone of his voice making you inhale sharply so the next wave of tears doesn’t come. He raises his pinky finger towards you, waiting for you to do the same. You let out a soft chuckle at his childish behavior before obliging.

Once both of you pinkies are holding onto one another, he grips your shoulder tighter. “Promise me, that you won’t give up on yourself, that you won’t push everyone away, that you won’t drink your feelings away. Promise me that you can get over this feeling. That you will live through this feeling.”

You squeeze his pinky even tightly as you feel the tears well up in your eyes, realizing that time will make no difference to how much you miss him. But it will for how much you will grow through this feeling.

Tugging his pinky towards yours, you nod your head ‘yes’ before saying, “I promise. I promise I’ll do my best for you. I promise that I’ll try for you.” The words making a smile appear on his face. He brings you into a loving hug, the warmth of comfort washing over both of you guys.

“Happy birthday,twin” you guys say in sync again, a soft giggle coming from both of you. Breaking the hug, he grabs your hands and squeezes them tightly “ow! That hurts!” “I don’t care! I want you to have fun for me today alright? Celebrate us! Spend time with everyone that loves you and gives a shit about you. You deserve it!” he says through his laughs, making you smile softly at his childish demeanor.

“Alright I will!! I’ll come visit you again tonight and I’ll tell you all about today!” You say in a giddy tone, noticing that this has been the first time you’ve been somewhat happy since these last 4 months.

“You better” he says while rolling his eyes dramatically, knowing he did it to make you laugh. Once your laughter dies down, you both look back at the water. Not wanting this moment to end already. “I love you,bro” you say while bumping your shoulder against his, making him laugh and do the same to you. “I love you more,sis” he says with a soft smile on his face, one that replaced the one on yours.

You two stay like this for a while, just basking in each others presence and invading each others space. Thoughts of leaving suddenly crowd your head and the second those thoughts occur, your brother says something about it.“Y/n go spend the day with them. You know how they get on our birthday, plus they’ll make you feel better.” He says in a delicate tone, a soft smile on his face from remembering how much they loved celebrating your birthdays. You sigh softly, before reluctantly standing up.

He gets up with you, bringing you into an affectionate hug. Without breaking it, he whispers “I’ll miss you,sister.” With complete sadness laced in his tone. A tear falls from your face from the sound of his voice,“I’ll miss you more than you’ll ever know, brother.” You two stay like this for a while, until it starts getting harder to breathe, a harsh reminder of the truth.

Breaking the hug, you give him a look that lets him know that, making him hesitantly let go of you. “I’ll see you later tonight brother, I promise. I love you!” You say while turning around to leave, hearing him let out a little ‘I love you, too’ before you leave.

Once you reach the surface you catch your breath, calling out to your ilu and mentally going over your interaction with your brother to avoid acknowledging that void in your chest.

It’s a peaceful ride back home, until you start getting in your head about ‘having fun’ today without lo’ak. Because it wasn’t just your birthday, but his too. And celebrating without him just doesn’t feel right, even tuk knows that.

But right when you start having those doubts, a group of hammerbrow fish swarm around you and your ilu, stopping you in your tracks. One of them swims up to your face and flicks your forehead, making you furrow your brows and shove it away. They swim around you and you ilu for awhile longer before leaving, one of them staying back a little longer to look at you.

The whole interaction left you with a smile on your face, knowing that it was definitely lo’ak telling you to calm down, and to stop worrying about unnecessary things. Making hope swirl in your chest.

With time, you know you’ll be okay.

A/N~ this took SO LONG to write oh my fucking god. But we made it!! And I hope you guys enjoyed this (and this is my first angst fic so pls cut me some slack if some phrasing gets repetitive😔) because I did, didn’t enjoy the tears I cried while writing this but it was worth it🩷 if you made it to the end and you’re reading this I wanna thank you so much for reading this whole long ass fic, must really love me huh😏?? LMFAOO but anyway! Otw to write for kinkmas now🏃🏽‍♀️💨

Duces🫶🏽,

Luvv4j4ybe11

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