#last time this happened it was with my last partner & I lost so much weight in such a short time period

[sapphicautistic]

my old lady friend is dying. probably only a few days now.

this sucks so bad.

she and her partner are completely devoted to each other and i feel awful for both of them. i don't think he'll be here this time next year, he's been wasting away visibly with worry over her.

i hate death and resent it very very deeply and on some level it mystifies me. how is it possible for someone to just stop existing?

i've never been able to wrap my mind around it. for years and years after my mother died i battled an instinctive assumption that she was just... elsewhere. still living, still being herself. i don't understand how it's possible for a process as amazing as a human being to just... end.

i don't understand how one becomes okay with this. on a deep emotional level, i don't understand why death has to happen. none of my intellectual knowledge can touch that childlike bewilderment.

[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of. 

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart. 

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it. 

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory. 

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back. 

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted. 

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life. 

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward. 

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over. 

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.  

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another? 

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no���you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again. 

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone. 

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction. 

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him. 

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office. 

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does. 

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered. 

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts. 

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist. 

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it.  “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights. 

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions. 

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights. 

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react. 

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this. 

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care? 

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer. 

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan. 

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown. 

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up. 

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak. 

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you. 

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall. 

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate? 

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock. 

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt. 

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection. 

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you. 

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start. 

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him. 

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief. 

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze.  “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out. 

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze. 

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express. 

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport. 

—

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone. 

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost. 

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real. 

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back. 

There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants. 

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak. 

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold. 

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you. 

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room,  and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device. 

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement. 

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest. 

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink. 

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use. 

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving. 

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze. 

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well. 

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words. 

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. 

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you. 

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown. 

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely. 

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

[shroomierambles]

aaaaggahhahjahhhhh i fucking developed feelings for someone in one of my classes & the class we have together is today so my stomach’s giving me fucking killer butterflies this suuucccckkkkksssssss

[blakeswritingimagines]

Yesterday Seems So Far Away

Summary: Tactics and Whims in the midst of an impending war don't quite work out unless you're a throuple.

Word count: 8.3k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Rhaenyra is sitting by a room window, staring out into a dark night, lost in her thoughts. She is clearly troubled. Her heart had been hurt countless times, and she felt like her life was spiraling out of control. She heard the door open, and she turned her head. She smiled but quickly realized that it was not one of her advisors coming to visit her with news of victories across the Seven Kingdoms. It was you and Daemon. Daemon looked at the woman before him, the two he had given his heart to and was willing to do whatever he could to protect his wives. His thoughts were in a mix as he witnessed the troubled expression and wondered what was wrong. His eyes followed her gaze, and he saw nothing but the darkness of the night outside the room. He was curious as to what had her troubled and asked softly as he sat by her side. “What is troubling you, my love..?” He asked, placing his hand on hers. “Dear, tell us what’s bothering you?” You softly asked.

Rhaenyra slowly sighed and looked at you both, her eyes were full of unshed tears. "I am worried about everything." She whispered quietly. Rhaenyra couldn't really put her feelings into words. The world seemed so fragile, and the weight of her responsibilities was overwhelming her. She was trying to make the right choices and keep everyone safe, but it just seemed like everything was falling apart. She felt like she couldn't trust anyone, and that everyone had a secret agenda. Her heart was heavy with stress and fear. The prince listened to her speak quietly. He could already tell that her stress had her mentally and physically exhausted. He was beginning to understand her thoughts, but he didn’t wish for her to feel that way. The crown was a dangerous thing that could easily swallow a person, and he could tell that was what was about to happen to Rhaenyra. “Shhh, quiet now..” Daemon whispered, stroking her soft blonde hair. “Do not let the world get to you.” He said, gently taking her into his arms. Daemon placed a comforting hand on her cheek and looked at her with eyes full of love. It was one of the worst things to see either of his wives troubled by stress. The last thing he wanted was for you two to have to suffer. “My love, listen to me, you’re doing everything you can to keep the kingdoms safe, and I’m so proud of you for that. We are always here for you, no matter what may come.” You told her softly with a reassuring smile, your hand still placed on her cheek.

Early the next morning, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, having just woken up next to Rhaenyra and Daemon. You yawned and stretched but didn't move too much so as not to disturb your partners. The events of the previous day were still fresh in your mind and you couldn't help but worry about her. Rhaenyra was always a strong woman, but you could see that she was carrying so much weight, and you hated seeing her like that. You knew that the crown must be heavy, especially now during the dance of dragons. Rhaenyra was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on the map of the Seven Kingdoms laid out before her. She was tracing her fingers across the coastlines of the Realm, studying it and trying to plan out their next move. She was clearly still consumed by her worries and responsibilities. You could see this and came up behind her, pressing a hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder.

Jacaerys and Lucerys entered the room, giving Rhaenyra a small bow. As they approached her, she could see that they looked nervous and worried. They didn't say anything, as they waited for her to speak. She immediately felt their anxiety but tried not to show it. "Is there anything you would like to tell me?" Rhaenyra asked with a soft smile. She tried to hide her own worries and fears and to be strong for her sons. Jacaerys and Lucerys exchanged a look before Lucerys spoke to her, his tone was nervous yet sincere. "We wish to volunteer to go and gather more allies…" Lucerys gulped, hesitant to say the next words. He held his breath and waited for a reply from her. Jacaerys and Lucerys looked at each other nervously again, before turning their attention back to their mother. Jacaerys spoke up finally, his voice steady as he was confident in this choice. “We have decided to go and forge alliances on our own. We have discussed it between ourselves, and we have decided to go to Storm's end and the North.” He said, speaking quickly and nervously. His eyes were fixed on everyone, waiting for a reaction.

You could feel something about Lucerys going to Storm's End, like a premonition or a bad feeling. You couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but something about it just felt off. You decided to trust your instincts and speak up. You walked closer to Rhaenyra, wanting to pull her aside and speak with her privately. You whispered in your wife’s ear, “I have a bad feeling about Lucerys going to Storm’s End. Something just doesn't feel right about it.” Your voice was soft, yet filled with a mixture of worry and concern. You didn't want Rhaenyra to overreact, but you also felt like you had to speak up and say something. "I trust him," Rhaenyra whispered, giving your hand a squeeze as she leaned in to speak. Something about going to Storm's End just didn't feel right, but she tried to push those thoughts away. She had always taught her sons to be strong and confident, and she didn't want to undermine that by showing her own doubts. She also trusted Jacaerys to look out for his brother, and she was confident in their abilities to forge the alliances they needed.

Rhaenyra slowly turned her head to stare at Lucerys. Her face was solemn she knew that you had a good gut instinct, and she also knew that she shouldn’t ignore your concerns. She spoke carefully, trying to choose her words carefully. “But if you really feel that Lucerys shouldn’t go, then you have a good reason. Tell them. I will make adjustments in our plan.” A few more months had passed, with the tide of war slowly shifting in the Black's favor having intercepted the supplies to the Green capital. The news that came through the reports filled the couple with a sense of relief, knowing that the efforts were paying off. Rhaenyra can't help but allow herself a small smile as news of the victories comes in. The war is still far from over, but the tide is slowly turning in her favor. Having managed to intercept the supplies going to King's Landing, preventing them from reaching the Green base of operation. This means that the Green forces are stretched thin and they have a disadvantage on both land and sea. The Queen feels a sense of relief wash over her, knowing that everything is making progress. She can only hope this continues.

"I'm glad to hear about our victories. But I must admit, I'm worried about the common people. I know that we're fighting for the Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, but I can't help but think about all those people dying. And all those who lost their homes and loved ones… It breaks my heart. Do you have any idea what we can do to help them… to alleviate their suffering?" You ask your partners with a genuine concern in your voice. Rhaenyra sighs deeply as she hears your genuine concern. She understood the concern about the innocent lives caught in the crossfire of the war, it breaks her heart too. She knows that there is little that can be done now, but once winning the Crown, she intends to do as much as she can to rebuild the kingdom and help those who have suffered. "I wish there was more we could do, but for now we have to focus on fighting this war. We will rebuild when it is over, I promise." The Queen replies solemnly.

Daemon paused as he listened to your words, and a solemn expression quickly covered his face as he thought about the innocent people suffering the most from the war. He listened to you, his hands clasping your shoulder as he stared at you with a thoughtful look in his eyes as he spoke. "We have to win the war, that is the only way to stop the suffering of our subjects, that's the best way to help them." He paused for a beat before a pained expression crossed his face, "We cannot allow the Greens to win." Rhaenyra looks at you thoughtfully as you suggest doing more than their part. She appreciates the concern but also the initiative taken to help the common folks. The Queen sees the value in your efforts. Despite the war they are fighting, the Realm is still their responsibility and they must look out for the people within it. Despite not being able to act on it currently, Rhaenyra is open to exploring possible ways for them to help the common people during times of war.

Although the war has brought about great losses and suffering to the people of the Seven Kingdoms, you were determined to help them in any way you could. Over the next few weeks, you dedicated yourself to providing aid and support for the common folk, who have been hit hard by the conflict. You arrange for food and supplies to be sent to villages and towns throughout the land, providing relief for those who have been struggling as a result of the hostilities. Your efforts gain the recognition and appreciation of many of the locals and even win some of them to Rhaenyra's side. Daemon was glad to hear the news of how you were helping the common people, they were the ones taking the brunt of the war and needed all the help they could get. He had heard of how the locals were praising your actions and felt pride swell in his chest as he watched his love doing good for the people. In the weeks that followed, Daemon would join you in some of your efforts, doing all in his power to help the innocent people of the Seven Kingdoms. Both of you making sure not to let a single person go unhelped.

You paused as your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden feeling ill and your stomach had a sharp pain. This sudden sickness had struck you by surprise, and you could feel the nausea overwhelming you. You felt weak and felt the room begin to spin around you as you gripped your stomach. Both Rhaenyra and Daemon were immediately concerned when they noticed your sudden illness. Both were quick to your side and taking your hand, gently stroking it as Rhaenyra looked at you with worried eyes. "My love, what is it? Are you feeling alright? Rhaenyra said with a concerned look on her face, clearly worried for your well-being. You groaned as the nausea became overwhelming, and you gripped your stomach tighter while letting out a small cough. You managed to raise your head to look at both of them, your eyes were heavy and you looked washed out. A small sweat on your forehead, you attempted to smile at the two of them, but your efforts was in vain as you felt more ill. Daemon was by your side watching closely, his eyes filled with concern for your well-being. He placed a hand on your forehead briefly, and could feel your body burn up. "I-I'm fine."

The Queen was quick to notice the symptoms that you were experiencing. Your body temperature felt hot to the touch, along with the sweat and cough were signs enough that you weren't well. She glanced over to Daemon, their worried faces were telling enough. They knew you weren't okay. "My love, you are not fine," Rhaenyra said with concern in her voice. "Let us go see a maester about this." You nodded weakly, as you grasped tightly onto Rhaenyra's hands for the support you needed. You could barely stand up on your own, your legs were shaky and you felt as if you would faint. Despite your weakness, there was no denying how ill you were, and a maester was the only answer. Daemon supported you on one side, his hand tightly grasping yours. Rhaenyra gently wrapped her arm around you, while Daemon supported you on your other side to hold you up while they walked her to the maester's quarters. Both of your partners were concerned to see the state that you were in, it was clear that you were very ill and needed medical care. In the moments it took them to travel there, the Queen spoke softly to you. "My love, stay with me. I am right here, nothing will happen to you."

Daemon's hand grasped yours tightly as they led you through the halls, taking you toward the Grand Maester's office. As they reached the office, the Grand Maester stepped towards you, his expression concerned as he observed the condition you found yourself in. "What seems to be the problem, my Lady?" The Grand Maester asked, his eyes scanning the three of them, before narrowing at you. "Our wife has fallen ill, but we don't know with what," Daemon said, his voice serious as he watched the Grand Maester's expression. He could tell that the man's concern mirrored their own, the expression on his face was enough for him to know. You remained quiet next to him, letting out a small cough, while still clinging onto the Queen's hand. You smiled weakly as the maester approached, Rhaenyra's grip on your hands had given you some form of comfort, you were thankful that you could be able to lean on Daemon and Rhaenyra when you needed it most. Daemon's presence by your side was also a comfort, knowing that he was beside you, keeping his presence close. The maester's words alerted all of them in a quick motion, and Daemon spoke up again. "She doesn't feel well, she is nauseous and feels like she couldn't stand on her own," Daemon explained for you.

"I see." The Grand Maester's expression remained serious, observing your demeanor as you clung to your partners. His eyes darted from you to Daemon. When Daemon explained the symptoms you were experiencing, the Grand Maester sighed, before nodding to himself, as if something had just fallen in place. "May I speak with her in private, please?" The Grand Maester requested. Daemon and Rhaenyra both looked at you with concern, yet neither said anything as they awaited your response. Despite the feeling of nausea, you forced yourself to nod as the Grand Maester asked to speak with you privately. Your lips curved upward, and a weak smile was still possible on your face. You had a feeling of what the maester was going to say but decided to let him say it, you would not deny any help you were offered at this point.

The Grand Maester led you to a secluded room, away from Rhaenyra and Daemon. They all sensed the possible nature of the subject the Maester might bring up but remained silent as the two entered the room. The Grand Maester motioned for you to sit on one of the seats in the room, his look was sympathetic. "Now, dear Lady, I must ask you some questions." The Maester began, his tone was kind and patient. You sat on one of the chairs, feeling even more dizzy and ill than before, your mind was a blur and you could barely think straight. The room seemed to spin once more, and you thought you might faint. You gripped the sides of the chair, to keep still, and glanced up at the maester, feeling yourself getting tired. "Of course." You said to the maester in a small voice of your fatigue, your breath coming out in shallow rasps. The Grand Maester studied the condition you were in, with signs of nausea, weakness and fatigue. He sensed the possibility of one specific diagnosis given your symptoms. It was a diagnosis that they were all hoping it wasn't true right now, but deep down, they knew it could possibly that. "My Lady…" The Maester began again. "When was the last time you had your moon's blood?"

You paused for a moment, struggling to recollect your memories, it was all a bit of a blur to you due to the large fight taking place. You were exhausted at this point, even thinking was taking a toll on you. But you remembered, it had been a while since you had last had your moon's blood, far too long than it should have been. "I don't remember exactly, but it has been some time. Why?" You asked the maester with a faint look of confusion, feeling the weakness wash over you. The Grand Maester knew that he had his answer. His expression turned somber and his voice lowered to a somber tone. He didn't want to deliver the news, but someone had to. The Maester could only see the sorrowful and concerned faces when he revealed the truth. "Dear Lady," He began again. "My guess is that there might be a possibility that you are with a child. Do not lose hope, however, my Lady, my examination was not definite. I shall perform some tests and will confirm it."

When the Grand Maester emerged from the small room when the tests were done, his expression was grim, and the faces of Daemon and Rhyraena were also somber. Daemon was watching the maester with a keen eye, he was still on high alert, but he knew deep down the maester would confirm what he already feared. "The Lady of Dragonstone is pregnant with a child." The Maester spoke, and both Daemon and Rhaenyra remained silent as if they were still unable to accept it. They had suspected as much, but the confirmation made it even more real for them. The tense atmosphere remained, as they remained with the silent news for a few moments. Daemon took the lead again, as he took a step toward the Grand Maester. "How far along is she?" He asked with a solemn expression, his eyes fixed on the Maester. The Grand Maester looked back to Daemon, he saw the genuine concern and care for his partner in his eyes. Despite the severity of the situation, he had a sense of understanding that Daemon and Rhaenyra wanted to be there for their wife during the pregnancy. The Maester was quick to give your partners the information he found of your pregnancy. "She is about three months along, we can say she is halfway there." the Maester answered in a serious tone that matched Daemon's as he kept his gaze low.

The two of them entered the room with a sense of quietness to them, both of them were filled with concern and worry, and their steps were gentle as they walked towards you. You were no doubt in a fragile state of your pregnancy and their presence could only be a form of comfort to you at this point. Their eyes scanned the room as they approached, the room was quiet except for your soft breathing. You were still seated in one of the chairs in the room, you were clearly in a fragile state given your exhaustion and nausea. You kept your breaths slow and deep, you could still feel some nausea, but the feeling was slowly beginning to lessen. You could hear Daemon and Rhaenyra slowly approaching, their presence alone was enough to calm you down. Your eyes met theirs as they approached, you took note of the worry in their eyes and the gentleness with which they treated you. You were grateful for their presence. Each of you was filled with worry and concern, the pregnancy felt more real than ever - which was a blessing, but the thought of bearing a child under such circumstances was both a blessing and a curse. Your thoughts were mixed, and your mind was still foggy from the news. "I don't wish anyone to find out yet."

The two of them could feel the fatigue and discomfort that which you were facing, and so they remained a good distance from you, trying to avoid causing you any discomfort. Daemon understood the concern about the news being released to the world, so he did not want to rush into releasing the news so soon. He knew you were still in a delicate place, and wanted to ensure your well-being. Rhaenyra spoke gently to you. "We understand, no one shall learn the news until you are feeling better, we will tell no one our news." She said with a reassuring smile. "We would never tell anyone about this, your secret is safe with us," Daemon replied to you, your concern was evident through your expression and his voice held a level of kindness as he spoke, Daemon knew the stress and exhaustion that came with the news and decided to try and calm you down. The Greens were bound to know the news, after all, the Grand Maester could not keep such a thing hidden for long. This news had been leaked to the Greens, and then it had spread like wildfire across the Seven Kingdoms, and the Green faction had all the more reason to oppose you now. The people loved that you three were having a child, especially in this situation. Your pregnancy was seen as a blessing by the little people, the Greens hated it, but the small folks were praising it.

The small folk praised the pregnancy, not only for the reason that it was a blessing for you, Rhaenyra, and Daemon's marriage, but also because it symbolized the new era and new hope that would come with the child. The small folk would stand by the Black side, for you were the ones offering hope and prosperity to the common people. You were aware that Greens would oppose your pregnancy, but they could not deny its potential and the possibility of a new hope it brought with it. The child carried within you would change the entire scope of the conflict. The Greens are clearly dissatisfied with the news, in fact, the Greens find themselves completely appalled at the news. The knowledge of a child only made it more certain that they would oppose the Blacks, for this would be an outright declaration to crown Rhaenyra as Queen.

Otto attempts to sway the people back to their side, he tries everything to sway them away from the Blacks. However, the people were unwavering in their devotion to your pregnancy, and the Blacks, did not heed his words and simply ignored Otto. The Black supporters would have their devotion to the Blacks further confirmed, and would find themselves even more set in their choice to defend your pregnancy and support the Blacks. Larys would mention that he had a possible spy named Ada, which was no secret, as everyone knew about his network of spies across the seven kingdoms. He would go on to further mention how he was able to influence the thoughts of people and alter their views possiably, using this method to his advantage he would propose using the spy to sway some of the people's favor. He would offer his services to Otto as the two planned on how to combat the growing support for the Blacks and the unborn child.

Ada had infiltrated one of the inns near Dragonstone where the Black's supporters would often gather to exchange information and show their support for the Black's cause. The spy observes the people of the inn, noting down the conversations and thoughts, and listening to the concerns and what the perceptions of the Greens were. Particularly watching out for any whispers or conversations concerning your pregnancy, and how the common people felt about it. She would report all the findings back to Otto. During the next few weeks, the spy worked late into the night in the kitchens, before slipping some poison into the tea secretly, she managed to do it discreetly, slipping it inside the cup of tea that she had learned was part of your nightly routine without anyone suspecting anything. Delivering it to you before being dismissed for the night just to quickly leave without a second thought. You were feeling quite a bit better after resting for a while, you had no more nausea and the feeling of exhaustion was slowly beginning to lessen slightly. However, you still felt a little weak, the fatigue was still evident in your expression. You were currently sitting on one of the chairs in your shared room, trying to remain comfortable as you did so. You were not feeling as terrible as before but were still in a fragile state.

You had drank the tea given to you, unaware of the poisonous properties, and slowly you were suffering from the effects of the poison slowly spreading throughout your body. You began to experience discomfort and nausea again, with chills beginning to set in. You began to feel weak and lightheaded, and your fatigue became more profound. Rhaenyra and Daemon would find you sick and in an almost unconscious state, the pregnancy had weakened you already, and now the poison made things worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon's faces both turned grim, and their expressions grew solemn as they saw your fragile state of health when they entered the room. The exhaustion and fatigue were evident within you, along with the slight nausea and chills that were setting in. Your weak and lightheaded state caused greater concern for both of them, the pregnancy had already been taking its toll on you, and they feared what might happen to you and the unborn child. "We have to get the grandmaester right away," Daemon spoke firmly, taking note of your state. He could see the sudden sickness taking root and growing stronger and stronger, and the more time it had, the worse the effects would become. His words seemed to indicate that he had a gut feeling about how serious this could be, and a sense of urgency began to manifest in him.

They both knew they needed a Maester, to examine and attend their partner. Both Daemon & Rhaenyra frantically ordered a Grandmaester to come immediately. It was their worst fear realized, but they had to act quickly. You and the unborn child were suffering from the effects, they could not afford to lose you both. The order for a Maester had been heeded, and the Grand Maester soon entered the room and moved towards you. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained aside as the Maester examined you, they were both still in a state of panic, they prayed the Grand Maester would have good news for them, that he would be able to save you and the unborn child. Their hope remained that a maester would have knowledge that could cure you without harming the child. Both you and the baby meant the world to them. The Grand Maester examined you, observing your symptoms of fatigue, exhaustion, weakness, nausea and chills. The poison was slowly taking hold of your body and was the most likely culprit of your current condition, the poison was spreading in your system at rapid pace. The Grand Maester, in all of his knowledge, knew that the poison was not an easy matter to deal with, but he had to find a way to cure it without harming you or the babe. Knowing your safety and well-being was foremost in everyone's mind, most importantly in the minds of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

The Grand Maester worked immediately to counteract the poison, attempting to find an antidote or remedy that could neutralize it enough without harming you or your child. The curing process was risky and difficult, especially given the fragility of their partner and the pregnancy, so the Grand Maester had to be extra cautious to not make the effects worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon watched in silence, their eyes were fixed on the Grand Maester with intensity as the process took place. Their expressions were stoic yet worried, trying to keep strong for not only you but also their unborn child. The Grand Maester's efforts to counteract the poison continued for what seemed like ages. He worked tirelessly, monitoring both you and the unborn child's health to ensure the safety was not further compromised. After a significant period, he finally managed to find an antidote that effectively counteracted the poison's effects. He proceeded to administer the remedy, carefully observing your condition and waiting to see the impact it had on your health and the baby's.

The Grand Maester managed to find an effective antidote that helped counter the effects of the poison, allowing you to begin to recover. It took time, and the Grand Maester had to monitor your condition closely, making sure the antidote did not have any adverse effects. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained present in the room, watching intently as you began to show signs of recovery. Rhaenyra's expression relaxed, her tense demeanor from before had eased somewhat and she seemed more hopeful. As your condition improves, Rhaenyra realizes the need to find out what happened and how the poison ended up in your tea. She looks at Daemon and quietly speaks to him. "My love, we need to find out how this happened. Find out who put poison in our dearest's tea. The culprit must be found and brought to justice. Daemon nodded his head, knowing the gravity of the situation. He understood the need to get to the bottom of it.

Daemon nodded in agreement as he listened to Rhaenyra's words, he knew she was right. They needed to find out what happened and who was responsible for putting poison in their partner's tea. His expression hardened as he considered the gravity of the situation. He knew what needed to be done…the culprit needed to be found and brought to justice, and he was determined to do just that. "I'll find out who did this," Daemon said sternly as he locked eyes with Rhaenyra, his determination and anger were evident in his voice.

The atmosphere was tense as the Black Council gathered, the events that had taken place left an uneasy feeling over the group that lingered in the air. No one could deny the gravity that loomed over them as they all assembled, some faces looked tired, some still held an expression of anger and some showed relief. The Black Council had gathered amidst the storm of chaos, their conversations now held an air of importance. Rhaenyra sat at the head of the Black Council table, her expression stoic and filled with a sense of authority. She surveyed the group and the faces of her trusted council members, she could see the varying emotions on their faces as they sat before her. From the tired expressions to the ones full of anger and relief. Her eyes flicked between each and every one of them, waiting to hear their reports on the current situation.

As you made your entrance into the room, the atmosphere was immediately filled with an air of solemnness and tension. Though you were supposed to be resting, you couldn't stay away as you were compelled by guilt for what happened. The coldness and detachment in your expression didn't go unnoticed as you joined the Black Council, and Daemon and Rhaenyra, despite being relieved that you looked better, were concerned about your behavior and well-being. Despite your exhaustion and the recent events that had taken place, was present and sat between Daemon and Rhaenyra at the table. Your expression was cold and distant as you looked over the other members of the Black Council, your eyes lacked the warmth that was usually present. Your gaze was firm and determined, but there was a sense of pain lingering beneath the surface.

Daemon moved toward you, his expression filled with concern. He knew you were supposed to be resting, but here you were, showing up to the Black Council meeting and acting cold. He could tell you felt guilty for what had happened, and it was clear you needed rest and time to recover, but he knew you felt compelled to be here as well. He gently took hold of your arm, attempting to pull you aside for a moment. Seeing the cold expression on your face and the firmness in your eyes, Daemon couldn't help but immediately go to you, he reached out and gently grasped your arm, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Darling…you should be resting," he said gently, looking at you as if pleading with you, trying to persuade you to let them take care of things. You looked up at Daemon for a brief moment, your gaze softening for a moment. You understood his concern for you and the baby, you could see it in his eyes. Despite the firmness on your face, you couldn't help but feel the need to be here in the Black Council meeting even in your weakened state. You nodded your head in acknowledgment of Daemon's words of concern, but you gently placed your hand on his, silently reassuring him that you wanted to be here before you sat down. Your tone filled with a fierce sense of determination to be in the meeting. Your words were sharp, leaving no room for debate. "I will rest when the matter is handled. Until then, I will need to be here. Please do not fret over me, my love," you said firmly to him, your voice filled with a certain authority.

Daemon looked back at you with a mixture of concern and a reluctant acceptance. He could see the determination in your eyes, and he knew that nothing would change your mind. He nodded to you, reluctantly at first, but then with a sense of understanding. "Very well then," he said with a sigh, his eyes softening slightly as he took your hand in his. He understood how important this was to you, and he didn't want to add to your stress. Later on into the night as you lay there, sandwiched between Daemon and Rhaenyra, you could feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. The events of the day had been a rollercoaster of anxiety, concern, and uncertainty. However, being close to your partners, their bodies providing warmth and a sense of security, made you feel a little more at ease but couldn't seem to quiet your mind like normal causing you to get up carefully and step closer to the window. Daemon and Rhaenyra were both sleeping peacefully, oblivious to your turmoil. They seemed content, but you were too worried to sleep like they were, you had a weight on your shoulders, and it was keeping you up at night. Daemon stirred slightly as you stepped closer to the window, his eyes flickering open for a moment before he saw you standing alone. He silently sat up in bed, watching you with a look of concern.

Seeing you standing alone by the window, Daemon could feel the tension emanating from you. He slipped out of bed and approached you, his movements gentle and deliberate. He stood behind you with a sense of concern and understanding, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder. "What's troubling you? Why can't you sleep?" Daemon asked you gently, his voice tinged with worry. He hated seeing you so troubled and wanted to help alleviate your pain if you'd let him. The feeling of Daemon's touch was grounding. You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. You took a deep breath and turned your head slightly to look at him as you responded to his question. "It's the incident, the poison that was put in the tea… the thought that someone could do that to me, to us… it's troubling," you admitted softly, your voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. His expression darkened as you explained your worries about the incident and the poison. Daemon gently drew you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace as a sense of anger and protectiveness took over his features. He hated it as much as you did, and he wanted nothing more than to shield you from any harm. "I know…I know," he said, holding you close, his voice filled with a mixture of sympathy and anger. "But I will not let anything come to you. Neither will Rhaenyra. We will keep you safe, I promise."

You allowed herself to be enveloped in his embrace, finding comfort in his protective hold. You nodded in understanding, knowing that Daemon and Rhaenyra's support and protection meant a lot to you. However, there was a flicker of a small, wry smile on your face as you responded softly. "I don't doubt your determination, my love," you said, your voice filled with affection, your eyes glinting with a hint of playfulness. "But… you do understand I'm not a damsel in distress. I can protect myself too, you know." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle at your words, his expression softening slightly as he felt a sense of admiration for your determination. He grinned as he replied, a note of affection in his voice. "Oh, darling, I know you can protect yourself. You're a force to be reckoned with, but let us take care of the problem, yes?" He reached out to caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and respect. "We just want to keep you safe. You and our child." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle softly as you spoke, acknowledging your determination and strength. He knew you were no damsel in distress, and he recognized your ability to take care of yourself. "I know you can protect yourself," he said with a wry smile, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "Yet I will always want to guard and protect you. Our enemies will rue the day they ever threatened you or our unborn child," he said, a touch of steel creeping into his voice.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you heard Daemon's reply. You reached up to place your hand over his, holding it against your cheek. "You do love being the knight rescuing the fair lady," you teased, your voice filled with affection and a hint of teasing. "Thank you, my love. I am lucky to have your protection," you added, a flicker of sincere appreciation shining in your eyes. Daemon chuckled at your remark, enjoying your teasing banter. He gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, a soft and tender gesture. "Aye, rescuing fair maidens is just one of many of my talents," he responded with a wry smile. His expression grew more serious as you thanked him for his protection. His eyes held a gentle and caring gaze as he looked at you, his hand squeezing yours softly. "And I'm always here to protect those I love. You and our unborn child are my priority." The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, becoming more intimate and serious. Your eyes locked onto Daemon's, a flicker of regret and sincerity shining through. "Daemon," you started, your voice low and sincere. "I want to apologize. For earlier, for distancing myself and being cold. I should have let you in more, and I'm sorry for not considering your feelings. You're more than just my lover; you're my partner, my confidant. And I value your support immensely."

Daemon's expression softened as he listened to your words, his gaze filled with a mix of understanding and affection. He could sense the sincerity behind your apology and the regret in your voice. "Darling…I appreciate your apology, and I accept it. I understand that you've been under a lot of stress and going through a lot. But please, from now on, let me in. Share your worries and thoughts with me. You are never a burden to Nyra or me, and I want to be there for you, just like you are for Rhaenyra and me," he said, his voice gentle and sincere. You felt a pang of guilt in your heart, knowing that your distance had affected your partners as well. You reached out and gently took his hand, intertwining your fingers. "I will. I promise. I'll try not to shut you out and keep everything inside. From now on, we'll face everything together, as a team."

The months had gone by, and your pregnancy proceeded smoothly. As the time drew closer to your due date, you were constantly checked and monitored by the Grand Maester, given how risky the poison had been for you and the baby. Rhaenyra and Daemon never left your side; their constant presence provided you with comfort and reassurance. As the day of childbirth approached, your contractions grew more intense, and soon enough, you were ushered into the birthing room by the midwife and Grand Maester. In the birthing room, the atmosphere was tense as the midwife and Grand Maester prepared you for childbirth. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood by your side, their hands tightly clutching yours as you went through each contraction, offering their support and doing everything they could to try and soothe your pain. He whispered words of encouragement, his voice filled with love and worry. You squeezed Daemon's hand tightly, your grip almost painful but he did not flinch. Rhaenyra took a wet towel and wiped your forehead gently, whispering words of encouragement and support as well. “You’re doing well, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra's voice was steady and calming. “Just breathe through it, just like we practiced.” Daemon winced slightly as you squeezed his hand tightly during the contraction but held strong, his gaze filled with a mix of worry and admiration for his love's strength.

"You're an absolute warrior, darling," he said to you tenderly, his voice filled with awe and pride. Rhaenyra continued to wipe your forehead with the warm towel, her whispered words of encouragement filling the room with a sense of reassurance and love. She whispered soothing words and guided you with her words, supporting you through each contraction. You took deep breaths, feeling the pain and contractions growing more intense. You gritted your teeth as you shook your head, your grip on Daemon's hand never faltering. "I… I don't know if I can do this. It’s too much…" you managed to gasp out, your voice filled with a hint of despair. Then, you let out a low groan as your body tensed with another painful contraction. As the contractions grew more intense, Daemon tightened his grip on your hand, his heart clenching in worry and solidarity. "You can do this," he spoke firmly, his gaze locked onto you. "You're one of the strongest people I know, and you've got this. Just a little bit longer," he said, his voice filled with determination and belief in your strength.

The Grand Maester observed your condition closely, the pain and exhaustion evident on your face. The contractions were growing in intensity, and he could tell the childbirth would be difficult and dangerous. He turned to Rhaenyra and Daemon, his voice filled with concern and caution. "My Queen, my Prince, I fear the baby is in distress and the contractions are growing too painful. We may need to consider a cesarean section to ensure the safe delivery of both the mother and the babe," the Grandmaster said cautiously. Hearing the suggestion, your eyes widened and flashed with a mix of fear and defiance. You vehemently shook your head and protested against it. "No... No, I refuse," you gasped out, your voice a mix of pain and determination. As the Grand Maester spoke, both Daemon and Rhaenyra immediately tensed, worry etched across their faces. Rhaenyra's grip on your hand tightened, Daemon's heart filling him with dread and anxiety. He glanced at Rhaenyra before turning back to you with a mixture of worry and understanding. "Darling, the Grand Maester only wants what's best for you and the baby," he said softly, his voice tinged with concern. "Please, darling. Let's consider all options to ensure a safe delivery."

After refusing the c-section, you insisted on giving birth naturally. You ordered the Grand Maester out of the room and had the midwives fill a warm tub with water. Once everything was prepared, you let yourself be helped into the water, your body finding a little relief from the pain as the water gently cradled you. You reached out for Daemon's hand, your grip tight, while Rhaenyra remained by your side, ready to support you. Daemon turned to you, his voice filled with love and worry. "My love, do you truly want to go through this without the Grand Maester's assistance? The risk…" Once you finally allowed yourself to get into the water, you felt a slight relief from the intense contractions as the warm water enveloped you. Your grip on Daemon's hand tightened further, squeezing it firmly as though seeking his strength through your own. Rhaenyra stayed by your side as well, her presence a silent comfort and support for you. The midwives had left the room, leaving the three of them alone. Daemon's voice, laced with worry, rang out as he questioned your decision.

You nodded your head resolutely, your eyes filled with determination and resolve. "Yes, Daemon," you said softly, your voice betraying your pain. "I want to try to do this without the Grand Maester's assistance. I trust you and Rhaenyra to help me through. I know the risk, but I have faith in us. We can do this together." As the hours passed and your contractions intensified, the pain becoming almost unbearable, you began to waver in your decision. "I… I don't know if I can do this, my love…" you gasped out, your voice filled with despair. Yet, you steeled yourself and shook your head, your expression determined. "But… I have to." Daemon squeezed your hand, his expression one of love and encouragement. "You can do it, my love. Just a little more. You're almost there." After what felt like an eternity, the room filled with the sound of a wailing baby. Rhaenyra carefully placed the newborn baby, a healthy baby girl with tufts of blonde hair, in your arms. Tired but relieved smiles spread across their faces as they witness the arrival of their child.

Daemon stared down at the newborn child in your arms, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe, wonder, and a profound sense of overwhelming love. He reached out, gently cradling the baby's head in his hand, his touch filled with tender adoration. His gaze flicked between the baby's face and yours, his heart swelling with an unquantifiable amount of love and pride. As the sound of the newborn's cry filled the room, a wave of relief washed over Daemon and Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra looked at you and the infant with a mixture of love and wonder in your eyes, your own exhaustion mixed with the radiant joy of a mother. Daemon's eyes widened in awe and pride, his fingers tracing gently over the baby's soft skin. "You did it, sweet girl," Daemon whispered tenderly to you, his voice filled with admiration and love. "She's…. perfect."

Tears streamed down your face as you held their newborn daughter in your arms, your expression filled with a mixture of exhaustion, joy, and awe. You looked up at Daemon and Rhaenyra, your voice filled with overwhelming emotions. "She's here… she… she's real." You whispered, your voice choked with tears. You held the precious baby girl in your trembling arms, feeling a well of love and joy, unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Rhaenyra's heart swelled with pure joy and love as she watched the tender scene unfolding before her. She gently placed a hand on your shoulder, her voice filled with tender contentment. "Yes… she's real, and she's beautiful," Rhaenyra spoke softly, her gaze flickering between you and the tiny bundle of joy they had brought into the world. Daemon's eyes softened as he watched the scene unfold, his heart filled with an inexplicable love and gratitude. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of damp hair away from your forehead, his touch tender and filled with affection. "She is real. She's ours," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of warmth and a hint of awe. Rhaenyra leaned in closer, her own eyes gleaming with adoration and love as she gently wrapped her arms around you, creating a tight embrace.

As the three of them embraced, cherishing the precious moment together, Daemon leaned in close and whispered in your ear. "I am in awe of you, my love. Your strength, your determination… you're a force of nature. And now we have this beautiful, miraculous girl, all because of you. I will forever count myself lucky to have you ladies in my life." You leaned into the embrace, letting the exhaustion and joy wash over you. You were overwhelmed by the love and adoration that filled the room, the feeling of your family surrounding you creating an indescribable sense of fulfillment. You looked down at the newborn daughter, your eyes filled with love and wonder. You gently caressed the baby's soft cheek, your touch filled with a mother's tender adoration.

"I love you, sweet girl."

[spectorswife]

Where the Heart Never Left

Pairing: Kuai Liang/reader

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+ only, SMUT with plot, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, biting, fingering, edging, afab!reader, let me know if I missed anything please.

AN: this is my first time writing a fanfiction, so I apologize in advance if this is terrible. This is definitely not proof read

This takes place during part 1 of the story, after Bihan and Kuai fought. (I have not played the DLC yet so please no spoilers) but enjoy the read :)

MDNI PLEASE

It’s been weeks since you stood by Bi-Han, trying to rebuild the Lin Kuei in his image, and every day feels heavier than the last. A part of you keeps whispering that this is the right path, but the weight of what you left behind gnaws at you constantly—your partner, Kuai Liang the only person who ever made me feel like home; who is also Bihan’s brother. You thought you could live with that choice, thought you could bury it deep enough, but it still haunts you. The memory of that day claws at your mind every night, refusing to let go. You abandoned the love of your life, betrayed him for some misplaced sense of duty, and the guilt... the guilt is suffocating. You know you've let him down; you can feel it. He’s probably disgusted, and honestly, you don’t blame him. You deserve it. You  left him to burn while you sought comfort in the cold. 

*I keep telling myself to let it go, but my mind refuses to listen, dragging me back into this endless pit of doubt. No matter how hard I try, it claws at me, screaming that I’m wrong—always wrong. It was all too much. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, so I left. I left the temple, my Grandmaster, the Lin Kuei; only for a little while. I just needed space… I needed air that wasn’t thick with guilt, shame, and judgment in every corner, hearing Kuai’s voice whispering in my head begging me to not leave and his brother telling me I’ve done the right thing. I couldn’t take it anymore, too much for me to handle.. I know I’ll go back, I have to.. That place is a part of me, no matter how much it hurts.*

——————————————————————————————————

*I’m home, but nothing feels right. I thought the voices, the guilt, would stop once I left the source of my agony altogether for a bit. But damn, it’s still here, eating away at me. I want it all to stop. I want what’s best for the clan, but not at the cost of my own sanity. I miss how things used to be. No feuds, no Shang Tsung—just... peace. Gods, I miss you.. I miss you Kuai. I miss what we were, before I walked away. Every part of me wishes you’d come back to me, even though I know I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. I can’t shake this gnawing feeling that I ruined it all, and there’s no going back now. I must live with it, even though it keeps me up at night.*

The nightmares never stop. You can barely sleep, and when you do, it’s worthless. Most nights, you stay up, trying to outrun the horrors that haunt you the moment you close your eyes, but it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Being awake is just another nightmare—one you can’t escape from. Every breath, every second, is a reminder that you're still trapped, still living the same twisted nightmare; the loss of the love of your life. Sleep offers no peace, but neither does staying awake. It’s a never-ending cycle, and you're drowning in it. All because you picked a damn side. *Damn you Shang Tsung.. Damn you.. you ripped my family apart. These brothers — they were my family. Kuai.. my love, Bihan.. my teacher My protector, Tomas.. My good friend… they were everything to me. Everything I had, and you poisoned Bihan’s mind, shattered the bonds we shared. You took them from me, turned them against each other. I’ve lost everything and… you *gained* from it.. Damn you*

———————————————————————————————

It’s one of those nights again. The nightmares come for you the moment you fall asleep, playing out the same twisted scene on repeat. Bi-Han and Kuai fighting—again. You see it all happen just like before: the ice blade slicing across your lover’s face, the blood, the pain. But this time, it’s worse. This time, Bi-Han doesn’t stop. He goes to finish it, to end Kuai right in front of you... and you’re frozen, helpless, unable to move. Just as the nightmare is about to unravel into something even darker, you’re jolted awake by a knock at the door.

You wake up, disoriented, your mind still tangled in the nightmare. Who could it be? You drag yourself to the door, every step weighed down by exhaustion, your body a mess—hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, eyes heavy with the remnants of sleep.

You open the door and you see him

Kuai? Your eyes widen instantly with still hints of sleep behind your eyes. He looks rather frantic as well..

What are you doing here? It’s late. More importantly.. Why are you here?

Kuai exhibits a rather shocked expression seeing you in your disheveled state. He didnt think you would answer the door, or quite frankly, even be home. But he quickly composes himself.

“Im sorry for waking you. I didn't realize it was this late. I couldn’t sleep myself. I just… need to speak with you.. May I come in?”

You stare at him with such a soft expression after hearing his words. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, so you allow him in without a second thought.

“I’m going back to my room to fix myself, I’m a mess right now… evidently… If you wish to follow, please don’t hesitate”

Kuai nods appreciatively and follows you into your home. As you two both enter, you can sense that something is troubling him, however youre conflicted in whether or not it’s your place to ask. But you cave in anyway.

“What’s troubling you Kuai Liang”. The thought of not being as affectionate with him anymore since the incident is killing you, but you know its not right to feel as if your entitled to it.

“It’s… a lot of things, really. But the main thing that has been on m mind these past few weeks is us. Our situation really, or better yet, our separation you can say. I know you chose Bihan’s side, but part of me feels like whats left of us is still there..”

You look back to him confused after fixing yourself up 

“I didnt think there was still an "us" Kuai Liang.. I kept telling myself that since that day. I kept telling myself that you hated me so I wouldn’t continue dwelling but- it wasn’t working”

Kuai’s heart aches as he hears your words and his gaze towards you softens as well. 

“Till this day I still don't understand why you chose his side. But I know you, and you probably have a better judgment than him. I've just been struggling with my feelings for a whole. I cant shake the memory of what we once had before the feud. I cant shake- "

Kuai hesitates for a moment before he finishes his sentence 

“I can’t shake the love that I still hold for you”

A surge of surprise and relief washes over you at his words. You decide to take a seat because its all too much to handle. Deep down, you always hoped he’d come back, but there’s a part of you that knows you don’t deserve his love—not after everything you’ve done. You can’t let yourself make any assumptions, so instead, you blurt out the question.

“What are you saying Kuai Liang…”

Kuai takes a seat next to you, there is still some tension present, your bodies aren’t facing each other but his eyes are locked onto yours as he considers what he wishes to say next.

“I’m saying I want you.. my sweet girl.. if you-  still wish to be called that. I want us together again… I miss loving you, being with you. I know with circumstances now it won’t be easy but my love for you has never died.”

You try with everything in you to look away from him, but it’s impossible. A flood of emotions crashes over you—longing, guilt, desperation. You’ve been waiting for this moment, losing sleep over it night after night. And now, here he is. Yet, the shame is overwhelming, weighing down every part of you, twisting your desire into something you can barely face.

“Sweetheart.. please.. look at me” He gently turns your face toward him, his touch soft but his gaze intense, more so than ever before. Your faces are so close now, and you can’t help but let your eyes flicker between his and his lips. Desire floods through you, but you’re torn. You *want* this—crave it, even—but deep down, you know you don’t deserve it. Not after everything.

“I’ve missed you so much. Being apart from you has been hell.”

Your gaze softens at his words yet your inner turmoil has become your worst enemy. “I’ve missed you too.. but I’ve betrayed you Kuai.. and I don’t deserve forgiveness..”

“Be that as it may..." *Kuai’s voice is firm but still carrying that softness you’ve always known.* "I believe in forgiveness, especially when it’s you. What matters now is what we choose to do from here. Are you ready to accept us, to try again? To build something stronger... together?” 

You stay silent after he speaks, the conflict inside you twisting tighter. You avoid his eyes, looking anywhere but at him, but it’s useless. His hand gently caresses your cheek, drawing you in. Slowly, the space between you fades, the tension thickening as you both move closer, your noses almost brushing. Your gazes lock, and in that moment, it’s impossible to ignore the mix of desire and love simmering between you.

“Kuai..” Is the only word that slips from your lips. You feel your heart beat increase and you hope and pray he doesn’t hear it..

“Please…” is all he says in return. And you can’t help but wonder what he’s pleading.

“Please let me kiss you..”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, but you know the consequences of this endeavor if Bihan were to find out. “We cant..” You say in a slight whisper, trying to mask the desire in your voice.

“I know… but I’m finding it hard to resist. My heart yearns for you my love. I’ve missed you”

You let out a sigh with a mixture of frustration and lust. You know you want him. You’ve craved this moment for so long, you have the love of your life back. But you cant help but feel like this is a dream.

“I’m willing to live with the consequences sweetheart, let my brother find out. As long as I have you, my will to fight will always be great. Sweetheart.. I need you..”

You can't help but sigh once again, feeling his breath fan over your face. You are struggling to give in, and you find your hand placed on his leg as you give it an involuntary squeeze.

Kuai hisses at your action, pressing his forehead against yours; he closes his eyes in frustration. “You're making it very hard for me to hold back.. please.. please.. let me taste you”

His pleading whispers to you send a shiver down your spine. You are still feeling conflicted. It’s very clear what you want and deep down you dont know what’s stopping you from getting it. You rise from your bed in frustration immediately puling yourself out of this situation and start to pace. Kuai is caught off guard by your sudden movement, he gaze towards you as your standing is still a mixture of lust and frustration with now a hint of confusion. “Wait! Where are you going?” his voice now filled with concern as if he’s done something wrong.

“Fuck it” is all you can say before you turn around and pull him in. Your lips pressed against his, the kiss filled with hunger and need.

He pulls you in closer, is muscular arms wrapping tightly around your body, holding you possessively against him as your mouths mold together in such a passionate kiss. You cup his face, internally you wish for him to not pull away. Your steps make your way back to the foot of the bed. Your hands on Kuai’s face feel like a lifeline for him, anchoring him to this moment. The love you two have once shared evidently present in this moment, you two have missed this, you’ve yearned for it for so long and the moment is finally here. As your steps take you back to the bed, he pushes you gently against the footboard, pressing his body against yours, needing to feel every inch of you. The kiss deepens and his hands slowly begin to wander over your body.

Your back slowly falls onto the bed and your legs voluntarily wrap around his waist. Kuai Liang’s body begins to hover over you, body pressed against you, intertwined in a perfect and desperate embrace. His lips move from yours and make their way to your jawline, then down to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses where he can feel your pulse throbbing wildly. He pulls away for a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact, he presses his forehead against yours and looks you deep into your eyes, his voice rough and ragged, being consumed by the intensity of this moment. 

“Fuck I’ve missed you sweet girl”

His words send a jolt through your body as you involuntarily grind upwards into him.. Your voice soft and whiny, “I’ve missed you most”

You pull at the hem of his Shirai Ryu uniform wishing for more contact than you two currently have. Knowing your desires, Kuai leans back, giving you space to lift the top of his uniform over his head and toss it aside, his bare chest now exposed to your gaze. In doing so, you reciprocate the action and take off the top of your clothing. You feel his eyes roam over your bare skin, taking in every inch of you, scanning over your collarbone, your chest, your stomach, he’s taking in everything.. like an animal eyeing his prey. He reaches out, his fingertips caressing your curves ever so slightly. His voice low, filled with tenderness and adoration… “You’re so beautiful… every part of you… may I?”

You feel your breath quicken as he touches you and it makes you yearn for him so much more. “Yes.. im yours..” You pull him in for another needy kiss. Your breathless words and the way you pulled him in ignites a primal hunger within him. His hands roam over your bare skin as he presses himself against you. It has been so long since you two have had a moment like this that he is at a loss for words.. “I- I need you..”

“You have me”

Hearing those words unleashed the last bit of restraint he had, claiming your mouth once more in a demanding kiss. His rough calloused hands grab a hold of your hips and presses you into the mattress. He leaves tender kisses over your bare skin, slowly making his way down, you feel your breath quicken once more until he reaches to the waist band of your pants. He looks up at you with desire and you give him a nod. With full permission, he undresses the lower half of your body and he can’t help but let out a low grown at the sight. He stares at your pussy in awe and see how its glistening in your arousal already.. he hasn’t even touched you yet..

“Gods..” He leans his head down on the mattress, trying to keep his composure but you feel yourself writhing from underneath him. “Kuai… please..” You reach towards his head as you wish to push him closer to your heat. 

“Patience sweet girl… needy are we?”

“I need you please.. I need your tongue..”

“Oh darling.. I’m going to take my time with you..”

Kuai presses a tantalizing lick against your folds as you let out a low moan. Your legs could help but close but Kuais hands pry you open once more and keep you pinned.. “no hiding now sweetheart.. just sit back and enjoy..”

Your finger run through his dark hair and you give a tug as he pressed another lick against you and makes his way down to your hole. The tug sends a chill down his spine as he moans at the pain of your pull, radiating in between your legs. The sounds you make are music to his ears and he wishes to pulll every ounce of sound out of you. He presses kisses to your inner thighs and nibbles at each side before diving right back into you. He slowly licks up to your clit and takes it in his mouth gently as twirls his tongue around you. Your back arches at the action and your grip on his hair tightens and Kuai groans once more. 

“Fuck..” Is all you can say. The pleasure is too great and you feel it building up. Your core begins to tighten at his continuous actions. He recognizes your bodily reactions all too well, he knows youre close, however he doesn’t wish for this moment to be over yet.

“Baby.. please” you plead. Your voice filled with desperation. “I’m gonna-“

He stops

The loss of the build up has you in shambles. You plead and look down as to why he stopped, and you see a slight smirk on his face, as his chin is glistening in your juices. he rises back up to your face, “Did you really think it was going to be that easy sweetheart? I told you, I’m taking my sweet time with you” he presses a kiss against your open lips tongue swirling around yours as your taste yourself on his tongue. He makes his way back down in between your legs and stares at you. “Be a good girl for me yeah?” Not knowing what he has planned, you nod regardless, biting your lip to suppress a moan.

He repeats his actions once more, lapping at your juices, his nose rubs against your clit in the right spot and it causes a high pitched moan to escape your lips. Kuai smiles at what he hears as he continues licking at your folds. He takes two fingers and inserts them inside of you. Surprised by the sudden insertion, you pull at Kuai’s hair in pleasure with one hand and you are grasping your bed sheets with another. “Fuck!” You feel his fingers pumping in and out of you as he continues abusing your clit. His pace quickens and he feels the same buildup in your body once more, you tightening around his fingers, almost consuming them involuntarily, the pleasure is too much for you to handle. “I’m gonna-“

“Do it sweetheart, let me taste you fully, you can let go”

You feel yourself reach your climax and you let goes completely, your body almost trembles and shakes as he makes you cum hard into his mouth. Taking in everything that you leave behind. He rises from in between your legs as he stares at your disheveled state and gently caresses your face. “You're not done yet love.. brace yourself” Kuai presses a tender kiss to your lips and your forehead. You smile at his action as you watch him undo his pants, letting his dick free, already dripping with precum. It really was a sight for you. Oh how you missed him…

He slowly aligned himself to your entrance, pushes in achingly slow earning moans escaping from both of your lips. “Fuck..” Kuai groans underneath his breath. You hiss as he stretches you in such a familiar way. He places one of his hands on your cheek as his arm keeps him afloat as he hovers over you. His movements are slow, wanting to drag this out as long as possible as he takes your lips in for another passionate kiss. “I love you..” He whispers between each slow thrust. you moan at his movements and you reciprocate his loving words, “I love you too Kuai..” 

His smallest movements cause your walls to tense around him. With each rock, his breathing deepens and his pants become more desperate but he holds out a little bit longer. You bring your hands to his back as you bring his upper half closer to you, you dig his nails in his back “faster please..”

His self composure slowly crumbling, his pace starts to pick up his eyes locked onto yours, he removes his hand from your face and presses it down on your lower stomach, knowing it feels good for you.

“Talk to me baby.. how does it feel..?” he knows the answer to that, he knows your body like the back of his hand already. He just wishes to hear your voice.

“Perfect..” Your words make his pace alot faster than before. Needy pants escape both of your lips, noises of arousal fill your bedroom. He starts pounding into you, the pace becoming unmatched. Kuai feels his own climax unravelling and his voice starts to become filled with need. “Im so close…”

As Kuai keeps his fast pace, he starts to increase the power behind each thrust literally fucking you senseless. No words escape your lips, just your jaw slacked open, the pleasure becoming too much to handle. It’s becoming too much to handle for him too, Kuai begins to whimper in his own pleasure as you both finally reach your climax. Kuai cums hard into you as you cum as well, your juices all over his dick as his seed spews in your insides. The pressure in both of your nerves finally releases. He pulls out of you and falls next to you. You both lay there for a while, completely fucked out of your minds. As youre catching your breaths, you look down suddenly and see Kuai’s cum leaking out of you and onto your bedsheets. You look back up and stare at him next to you, and you laugh in contentment as you wrap your arms around him. Kuai slightly moans at your sudden touch before he turns to face you and wrap his arms around you. Pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You both hum in relief and contentment as you both fall asleep, completely enveloped in each other’s presence, as if the rest of the world has faded away. You prayed for his return every night, despite the nagging doubt of whether you truly deserved his affection. You missed him so deeply, longing for the days when you were together, wishing for nothing more than to have him back in your life. And now he’s here, in your room and completely engulfed by his presence. And you wish for nothing more.

The morning hits, sunlight filtering through your window, gently stirring Kuai awake from his sleep. He wakes up slowly, arms still wrapped around you. He takes in the sight of you sleeping and a wave of contentment washes over him. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a soft smile paying at the corners of his mouth. He notices the peaceful expression on your face as you begin to stir in your sleep. For the first time since the incident, you have slept with no nightmares; he notices a sense of serenity as you sleep and it fills him with so much relief. He continues to watch you before gently rubbing his fingers against your arm in a soothing affectionate gesture.

You sleepily moan at his touch and push yourself further into his embrace. Your sounds make Kuai’s heart skip a beat as he continues to rub your arm. As you stir awake, your back facing his chest, you let out a sleepy satisfied hum as he presses his lips towards the back of your neck and nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing n your scent and savoring the feeling of your body pressed against his. You feel his fingers tracing soothing patterns against your skin; you sleepily take his hand and place it to your lips as you press kisses from his palm to his fingertips. You actions make his heart swell with love, admiring the affectionate gesture. He lets out a soft sigh, hand gently cupping your face and whispering in your ear..

“Gods you're incredible”

You let out a sleepy giggle at his words, wishing you could stay in this moment forever. It feels like a dream come true, a piece of fate finally falling into place. The love you both share has never faded, and it’s as if none of the betrayal, none of the pain ever happened. In this moment, there is only the two of you—untouched by the past, as if you’d never chosen Bi-Han’s side, as if the love in your hearts had never left.

[lady-of-blossoms]

WHEN LOVE FADES

Pairings: Toji x Y/N

From this poll

synopsis: Toji’s relationship with Y/N was always a little tricky but Y/N still stayed even though her friends told Y/N how he wasn’t a good partner until he forgets their anniversary and leaves Y/N waiting for him at the restaurant for 6 hours, then when Y/N finally realizes Their love faded.

WC: 1k

CONTENT WARNING: Toji is an asshole, he forgets about your anniversary, alcohol abuse, A HELLA LOT OF ANGST, Fighting, Blaming.

A/N: Sorry this was so unintimate, i didnt have much motivation. Class has been really hard on me rn:(

I sat at a small table, a single white candle flickering in the center, illuminating the carefully crafted menu that lay untouched before me. The whispers of other couples floated around, filled with laughter and sweet nothings. I glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was 9:30 PM, and the reservation had been at 3:00 PM. I could almost hear my friends’ voices in my head, their warnings echoing like a distant memory.

“Y/N, you deserve better than Toji. He’s not good for you.”

But yet, here I was, waiting. Toji and I had always walked a tightrope of chaos and comfort, his flaws often eclipsed by a flicker of charm. He’d sweep me off my feet one moment and leave me questioning my worth the next.

I poured the last drops of water from the pitcher into my glass, staring through the translucent surface. The ashy blue of his eyes would twinkle with mischief, the kind that made my heart race in ways I didn’t even want to admit. But today, they felt as distant as he was.

By the time the waitress cleared my empty table—half-heartedly touching her arm as if to say “maybe you should go”—I felt the weight of hopelessness pressing down on me. Had I been foolish to wait? To believe that today would be different?

Suddenly, the bell above the restaurant door chimed, breaking through my encasing silence. I straightened, my heart stammering as I turned to see Toji step in. He looked disheveled and slightly out of breath, his typical swagger dampened by the despair that surrounded him.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed when his eyes found me—first a flash of relief and then, confusion.

“Where have you been, Toji?” I hardly recognized the coolness in my own voice.

“I… I lost track of time. Things got a bit out of hand.” He ran a hand through his messy black hair, something he did when he was trying to gather his thoughts.

My heart ached as the memories swirled around us—the fond moments we’d shared, entwined with uncertainty and unfulfilled promises. “You forgot our anniversary,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tremor in my words betrayed me.

“I’m here now, right?” he said, and there was a hint of desperation in the smile he tried to muster. “Let’s make the best of it.”

“Six hours of waiting is a long ‘now,’ Toji.”

The flickering candlelight danced between us, casting shadows around the worn features of his face. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just… I lost track. It won’t happen again.”

But something shifted in my heart. Each year, we’d been caught in this carousel of doubt and affection, wit and sorrow. I could internalize this moment, mark it and brush it aside, but tonight, something felt irrevocable.

“The bill…” I started, but Toji cut me off with a wave of his hand, a look of guilt etching across his face.

“We can talk about that later.”

“Can we?” I challenged quietly, rage bubbling beneath the surface. “How many ‘laters’ do we have to go through before we face what’s real?”

His eyes flickered, and for a moment, I saw the man I fell in love with, his heart laid bare in the dim light, vulnerable and exposed. But just as quickly, he masked it with nonchalance.

“It was just a bad day, Y/N. We’ve all had them.”

This was our never-ending dialogue—Toji, the eternal optimist, hiding behind reasons and excuses, often leaping from the serious to the unserious, brushing aside feelings as if they were dust. And I, the craftsperson of resilience, sweeping them under the proverbial rug of sanity.

“Six hours, Toji.” I breathed, the hurt echoing in the quiet as I struggled to find reasons to hold on. “What if today wasn’t just a bad day? What if this is just how things are now?”

Toji remained silent, swirling the ice in his glass. It was haunting, the way he could make the space between us feel like a chasm filled with regrets. We used to dance around this exhaustion, always painfully avoiding the heart of the matter.

Realization hit me like a sudden rush of cold. Our love was unfurling like an old leaf disintegrating into dust. The passion, the thrill—it was fading.

“I don’t want to keep waiting, Toji. Not for you or anyone.” I could feel the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes, a testament to the years gone by.

“What are you saying?” His voice slipped, and I could see a hint of panic in his eyes.

“I think I’m saying goodbye.”

“I won’t let you go ma…” he stated fiercely, but even that sounded hollow amidst all the despair coursing between us.

“It’s not about wanting or not wanting. This isn’t working anymore. I’ve tried to hold our little family together long enough…” A silent pause filled the air, thick with words left unspoken. What once felt sacred was now fractured, barely held together by strands of laughter obscured by shadow.

Toji reached for my hand, squeezing it tight as if it would anchor him to the present moment. “Please, don’t walk away,” he begged, his voice raw and pleading.

But I needed to walk. I needed to step into the light of clarity, however painful. I wished I could splinter away his demons, sprinkle his life with joy and love, but you cannot save someone who doesn’t wish to be saved.

“I need to know I’m enough for myself first, Toji,” I whispered, wiping away the tears that had betrayed me. “Maybe one day, you’ll understand.”

With one last lingering look, I stood and slipped out of the restaurant, leaving echoes of what once was behind me, wrestling with the shadows of heartache, yet free from the chains of those delicious, yet debilitating memories.

I guess this really was WHEN LOVE FADES…

🏷️:

@bananaminn @morikosa @morikosahh @labelt-san

[eskymoos]

Keegan P Russ As a Romantic Partner

Headcannons by Eskimos

I.  A Methodical Maestro with a Playful Twist

It's been confirmed that his personality type is ISTP, which means that his brain is his strongest weapon. He is methodical and very tactful with his language and would always offer a hand to you. Feeling lost? He's always there with a good solution. Feeling sad? He's the guy to ask for advice.

Even if he lacks experience in some fields he's very quick to learn and perfect them so I suppose he'd also be a bit competitive. Keegan doesn't miss an opportunity to beat you to everything you like. All while playing dumb in order to cherish the amazement on your end.

***

''How'd you do that?! Wow!''

''Just luck, I guess,'' he'd say with an indifferent shrug while a childish grin creeps onto his face.

***

II. The Jester of your Heart

Keegan is very reserved but he's a skilled people reader. He would quickly get used to your moods and soon you wouldn't even have to tell him when you're feeling sad. He just steals a glimpse and he already knows what to do.

However, sometimes the cocky side of him comes out in the most inconvenient time and things tend to get more spicy. Whenever you give him the silent treatment for no reason, he begins threading on thin ice with you.

***

''Whatcha want for dinner, sweet pea?''

*Silence.*

''What's wrong, my beautiful?'' He asks, coming closer to you. When you turn the other way to further provoke him, he guides his hands to your hips and presses the weight of his chest to your back.

''Funny little thing. Have you given a vow of silence? I like when we play this game, y'know.''

His hands drop lower and lower and his mouth comes to caress the back of your neck. His hot breath makes your hairs stand.

''Your heart's beating fast.''

III. Under the Hard Scales of His Heart

Independence is Keegan's last name. He never learned how to embrace the art of teamwork, though his job required it. At times he was too disconnected to properly do the job.

In a relatioship he might have some trouble turning to you for assistance. Whenever something is on his mind, he blocks out the world and faces it on his own. He's likely to turn down tips from other people.

Not from you though.

The first time you lent your hand for help, he was quite surprised and even a bit suspicious. It unlocked a part of him he never knew he had. He felt cared for and seen.

In time Keegan learned to trust your word and be less stubborn when you tried to aid him.

IV. Tsunami of Love

That's what he is. A natural disaster. A tornado of energy and a tsunami. Behind closed doors he is much less calm. His love language is mostly acts of service and physical touch but sometimes the two mix together into something even more grand.

If you happen to be struggling under a pile of undone work, he would find the perfect moment to distract you. Before you can even get a word out, he has already picked you up from the chair and carrying you to your room bridal style.

***

''What are you doing, Keegan?!''

He continues to march through the house and whistle proudly. Keegan tosses you onto the bed like you don't weight anything at all.

''Stay here.'' He commands, exiting and closing the door behind him.

In a few minutes time he comes back with your favorite chocolates and a beer for himself.

''I will be your only occupation today.''

***

V. The Kids' Favorite

The way I see it, Keegan would have very specific sense of humor. His jokes can be very sharp and borderline offensive but the moment a kid comes in sight he turns into a soft cinnamon roll.

He has this energy that kids absolutely adore because he's a great listener and adapts to the circumstances easily. There's something about the purity of the young generation that makes him feel protective.

***

One time you saw him play with a small group of children after a difficult operation. He was kneeling down in front of a little girl and his eyes glimmered as she tried to pronounce his name. The child obviously had rhotacism (cannot pronounce the letter r) and he found it quite adorable.

''Keegan Russ. Russ. Can you say it?'' Keegan bit his lip, holding back a chuckle.

''Keegan Hhhus.'' The girl tried to repeat it but failed terribly. Keegan burst out laughing.

''Rrrrrrrr,'' he growled playfully and she giggled at it.

''Grhhhrr!''

''Oh, you're growling at me now? Come here you.'' Keegan extended his arms to trap her in a harmless embrace.

There was something about his love for children that won your heart every time.

***

[audhd-author]

I definitely have an idea! Lab colleagues obviously in love with each finally confessing their love and making love for the first time

Hey Anon!

Thanks so much for your request, I hope you like it. It was my first time writing for Brucey so I really hope I did him justice.

- Audhd Author

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Lab Partner

You can't deny, you've had an attraction to Dr Bruce Banner since the day you first met. What you didn't expect was for him to feel the same way.

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2,767 words

NSFW (18+)

Soft sex, marking kink, nail scratching, hickeys, fluffy smut, mentions of disordered eating, creampies, nipple play

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Pen in your hand, you look blankly down at the hastily jotted notes from the meeting this morning with Tony, Fury, Agent Coulson, and Bruce. No matter how hard you try, you just can't find the motivation to keep your head focused. Your mind couldn’t be further from work at the moment as you glance up at Bruce, who’s resting his chin in his hand as he scrolls through blueprints on the latest tech Tony’s introduced to the lab. Letting out a groan, he removes his glasses, rubbing his face in his hands as he stares mindlessly at the screen, your breathing deepening at the sight. Quickly averting your gaze back to the notes, you sigh, randomly colouring in the corner of the paper as you let your thoughts take you anywhere else.

Unfortunately, that anywhere else happened to be on a random beach at sunset with none other than Bruce. His hand reaches up to cup your face as he leans closer to you, lightly brushing his lips against yours. His other hand wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer to him as your hand entangles itself in the back of his hair. Gently pulling your lower lip between his teeth, he extracts a breathless moan from you. “Y/N.” He breathes, breaking the kiss as you gasp for air.

“Y/N.” He repeats, the sunset quickly returning to the lab as you struggle to figure out where reality is. Looking up, a crimson heat spreads across your cheeks as you see Bruce, standing in front of your desk. “Ah, shit sorry, what?” You apologise, struggling to look at him without your heart beating through your chest. “Are you ok? I said your name like 3 times before you even noticed.” Your eyes widen as you try to avoid his gaze, the blush appearing more prominently over your features. “Yeah, sorry. I was lost in thought. What’s up?” You reply as he grins.

“Don’t blame you, these new designs of Tony’s are a lot. Are you hungry? I was thinking of heading out to get something to eat if you wanted to come- my shout.” He asks, as you gratefully nod, realising you actually can’t remember when you last ate. “Yeah, sounds good.” You respond, grabbing your phone from the desk as you stand up for the first time in hours. The moment your weight transfers onto your legs, you have to grasp at the desk for stability as your body sways dangerously, dizziness crowding your head as a hot flush runs through your veins. Bruce’s hand reaches for the small of your back, keeping you stable as his features convey his concern. “Jesus christ, Y/N. When was the last time you ate?” He asks, worry evident in his eyes as he looks at you. You shake your head as you take a deep breath before standing up straighter. “I honestly don’t remember. I can’t eat too early in the morning and I forgot to eat last night.”

“Fucking hell.” He curses under his breath, his hand not leaving your back as he guides you through the lab. The mere touch of his fingers has your body melting as you walk beside him. “As a scientist, you of all people should know the importance of regular nutrition.” He says as the two of you walk down to the underground carpark. "I do. I just don't realise how long it's been since I've eaten sometimes." You admit, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck as Bruce unlocks his 2012 Acura. Opening the door for you, his hand doesn't leave your back until the last second before he shuts the door, walking around to the driver's side of the car.

"Do you feel like anything or did we just want to drive until we see something?" He asks, turning the key in the ignition as he does. "I honestly don't mind." You hurriedly say, if there was one thing you hated it was making decisions like where to go and what to eat. Simple questions like that when another person is involved, absolutely not. You'd much rather have them choose than choose the outcome yourself. "Alright, well, what do you feel like?"

Damn it, Banner- you. "I'm happy with whatever." You can feel the red hot flush of embarrassment appear over your cheeks as you say this. "Y/N." Bruce says, letting off a singular chuckle. "Bruce." You respond, a slight grin pulling at your lips as you look over at him. "Do we need to add decisions to the list of things you avoid?" He asks and you can't help the chuckle escaping you as he responds. "Only when it involves another person. I'm happy to go along with whatever."

Exhaling deeply, Banner grins as he shakes his head in defeat. "You are a piece of work, Y/N." You find yourself laughing at his words. "Oh always, but you love me for it anyways." You respond, only realising what you said after you said it, a familiar hot blush spreading on your face. "Oh definitely." He grins before dropping his tone out of earshot from you. "How can I not?"

Turning into a small parking lot, a lonesome diner stands at the end. "I come here a lot on my breaks. It's small but the food is delicious." Bruce says, pulling into a parking space near the door. Putting the car in park, he pulls the handbrake as he turns to you. "Right so are you able to get out of the car or do you need help with that?" He laughs, a grin on his face as you send him a feigned look of offence before laughing. "I think I can figure it out." You chuckle, opening the door and stepping out, ready for the light-headed feeling overcoming your head as you shut the door behind you.

Walking inside the quaint little diner, Bruce follows you to a corner booth, sitting opposite you as he passes you the menu from the centrepiece. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the Chicken Bacon burger combo, your stomach rumbling at the sight as your hunger finally begins to catch up to you. A young waiter comes to the table, a friendly smile on his face as he does. "Hey Bruce, what can I get for you today?" Bruce gives him a small smile before responding. "Just the usual thanks Alex." He says before looking over at you. "And a Chicken Bacon Burger combo with coke, thanks." You say, hoping the order isn't too expensive. "Sweet, two chicken bacon burger combos. It'll be ready shortly." Alex says before disappearing into the kitchen.

A silent sigh of relief escapes you upon hearing Bruce got the same as he chuckles at the coincidence. "So what inspired you to get into the sciences?" He asks, trying to spark up conversation. A reminiscent smile pulls at your lips as you respond. "My father. He was an esteemed scientist, like you, he got exposed to gamma radiation, except he didn't survive it. He had pre-existing health issues and the direct contact with the radiation killed him. I was always with him in the lab working with him and the one time I wasn't, he died. I just always sort of blamed myself for it and decided to keep his legacy going." Bruce's face falls further with each sentence, unsure as to how to respond.

"Y/N… I'm so sorry." He says, gently reaching over to squeeze your hand comfortingly. Shaking your head, you give a reassuring smile. "Don't be, he died doing what he loved. Besides, if that accident didn't happen, I probably wouldn't be working as an Avenger, which honestly? The thought of not, is terrifying." Bruce laughs after hearing your response. "Understandable, you're around something so often that it's terrible to imagine not having them- it in your life." He says, a blush appearing over both of your cheeks as the both of you catch his slip-up. "Couldn't have said it better myself." You respond as a chuckle escapes the both of you.

_______

The rest of the day absolutely flew by. Both you and Bruce were in high-spirits for the rest of the day, engaging in playful banter as you worked on the logistics of Tony's new blueprints. Turning the shower off, you pull on a loose V neck T-shirt and a comfy pair of jeans before walking into the lounge, slumping onto the couch in the living room of your quarters in the Avengers facility. Flicking the TV on, you aimlessly scroll through the shared Netflix account, finally deciding on The Hitman's Bodyguard. A knock on the door stops you from relaxing, a soft groan escaping you as you slowly stand up from the couch. Unlocking the door, Bruce stands outside, a sheepish smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind but I brought you some dinner, just to make sure you have something to eat. I can't have my favourite lab partner losing out on nutrition."

A grin pulls at your face, as you pull the door open more, letting Bruce walk in. "You didn't have to." He chuckles at your response. "I know, I wanted to." He replies, as you walk into the kitchen, grabbing a set of utensils each as he pulls out two ramen bowls. "Make yourself at home, did you want a drink or anything?" You call from the other room, as Bruce takes a seat on the couch. "No, I'm ok thanks." He replies as you walk back into the room, taking a seat next to him, folding your knees up as you hand him a fork.

"Thank you. I hadn't even thought about dinner, to be honest I was planning on just watching movies until I pass out from exhaustion like usual." You sheepishly admit as Bruce sends you a look of disapproval. "And a messed up sleep schedule, it's a wonder you even manage to function." He says as you chuckle. "Hey, I can guarantee Tony isn't much better." You grin, pointlessly defending yourself.

"Tony has Pepper. I care about you, I want to make sure that you're ok." Bruce states before taking a bite of his ramen. A familiar heat spreads over your cheeks as you hear his words, choosing to have a mouthful of food before responding. "Is this from a lab partner point of view?" You boldly ask as Bruce pauses, avoiding your gaze. "Decidedly not." He starts, taking a moment before exhaling a shaky breath. "I genuinely care about you, but lately, it seems to be more than just being your lab partner. I like you, in a more than friends way. I understand if you don't and I hope it doesn't ruin our relationship but I can't lie to-." You lean forward, brushing your lips tenderly against his, stopping his panicked rant. Startled, he pauses before leaning towards you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek before breaking the kiss.

A smile pulls at both of your faces as you breathe for air. "I like you too, Bruce." You confirm before he leans forward, pressing his lips more confidently against yours. Tender and sweet, it was everything you imagined it to be. Your heart beats intensely in your chest as his hand comes up to lightly trail over your hip, fingers dancing over your clothed skin. A breathy moan escapes you as he gently nibbles at your lower lip, a groan falling off his lips as he hears you. Ramen abandoned on the coffee table, he pushes you gently backwards, hovering over your body. His hands get more explorational. His fingers lightly dance over the curves of your side, his mouth trailing from your earlobe, down to your collarbone, peppering gentle kisses as he does. Your breathing intensifies, a hot desire burning in your core as he gently bites down on the skin on your shoulder, running his tongue over the teeth indents. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this." He groans, licking up the sensitive skin of your neck as you shiver in pleasure.

"Shall we take this to the bedroom?" He suggests as you nod. Letting you get up, Bruce takes your hand as you lead him into the next room. Turning back to him, you wrap your arms around his neck as his hands grab your hips, pulling your body tight to his as your lips reconnect. Bruce guides you backwards as you feel the edge of the bed behind your legs. He gently pushes you back, crawling over you as you hit the bed. His lips find solace on the skin of your neck, sucking it between his teeth as hues of purple and red blossom behind. His fingers grasp at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head as a groan emits from his throat upon seeing your lack of bra.

His mouth attaches to your nipple, gently sucking it as your back arches towards him. The flattened tip of his tongue gently flicks over the now hardened bud, extracting soft moans from your lips. His knee moves between your legs, pressing against your core. Your heat throbs with desire as he turns his attention to your other nipple, continuing with the same ministrations. His name escapes you in a breathless moan, pleasure throbbing in your core. Hearing his name on your lips extracts a low growl from him as his knee begins grinding over your heat. "Absolutely gorgeous." He murmurs against your skin, the vibrations travelling straight to your core as you feel arousal begin to drip down your thighs.

"Bruce, please I need you." You breathe as he pauses, looking up your body before lunging forward to press his lips firmly against yours. Your hands reach up to undo the white button down he's wearing as he runs his tongue over your lower lip, asking for access which you gladly give him. Shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, his hand reaches down to undo your jeans. Your tongues fight for dominance, working together to extract breathy moans from the both of you. Pulling both your jeans and panties down in one precise movement, a soft groan escapes him upon seeing your body fully exposed to him. Quickly undoing his pants, he positions himself in between your legs as his arms slide under your shoulders. Peppering kisses over your skin, his tip presses at your soaking entrance as your body shivers in pleasure.

Bliss fills your veins as he pushes inside you, a groan falling off his lips as your walls stretch around him. His thrusts are not fast nor slow, his hips setting a perfect pace that sends stars floating through your vision. You can't help the curses falling off your lips in a breathless moan, each buck of his hips makes him rub precisely over your sweet spot, ecstasy flooding your body. Your arms wrap around his back, nails digging into his shoulder as a soft whimper escapes you. "So fucking perfect." He groans against your skin, sucking it between his teeth as his tongue runs over the indents.

You can feel the coil in your stomach tighten with each movement of his hips, Bruce reading your body like his favourite book. Every ministration of his mouth, hands, and hips pushes you closer to the edge, pure bliss filling your veins as your body begins to shake beneath him. His hand reaches down to where your two bodies meet, his fingers expertly dancing over your clit as you fall over the edge. His name escapes you in a pleasured gasp, your back arching closer to him as ecstasy crashes over your body. Stars flood your vision as breathless moans fall off your lips, a hot flush burning through your veins. Bruce shudders above you, his hips stalling before you feel hot ropes of his secretion coating your walls, a low groan escaping him as the two of you gasp for air. He continues to thrust into you, slowly drawing out your highs as your body begins to regain its senses.

Gently brushing his lips over yours, he pulls his softening member from you, his hand coming up to brush strands of fallen hair away from your eyes. "You are better than I ever could've imagined." He murmurs, as the kiss breaks, his forehead resting against yours before you pull him down next to you. His arms instinctively wrap around you as you place another tender kiss to his lips, basking in the warmth of his bare skin against yours.

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

A/N:

Definitely not sitting in my car at uni posting this 🤭

Will add Brucey to my masterlist on my break because I don't have time right now 🤣😅

[why-are-you-still-awake]

A partner with depression

A/n: I’ve been depressed as of late so I decided to channel it into something good.

Warning/content: this is based off my personal experience and not applicable to every experience, talk of self harm (Gaara) it’s very brief, allusions to poor hygiene. Did I miss anything?

Characters: Sasuke, Gaara, Naruto

Sasuke

♥At first Sasuke was unsure how to react, given he’s never seen you like this♥

♥Once he figured it out, he became very concerned because seeing you like that was horrifying to him♥

♥He’d make a effort to make sure you felt loved, even if it meant pushing his own comfort zone♥

♥Naturally he wanted to get to the root of what was causing such distress but you wouldn’t budge. It was like you shut him out completely ♥

♥He knew he had to be patient but it was hard. Watching you loathe yourself was hard. He knew you’d come around that didn’t make anything any easier.♥

♥Even though this was the first time he’d seen you like this, you’d told him of your depression previously and he thought he’d be ready for it.♥

♥He wasn’t ready.♥

♥Emotions make him uncomfortable but like i mentioned, he’d push his comfort zone for you.♥

♥Once you started to be a little more receptive to his comfort, it felt like a weight had been lifted but it wasn’t truly gone; just lighter.♥

♥Sasuke wanted to help you work through this slump and he’d do anything to see you happy.♥

Gaara 

♥Because of his job as the Kazekage, he originally did not notice your withdraw but when he did he felt like a terrible partner♥

♥He thought your state was caused by neglect from him, he wanted to help you feel better but was unsure how.♥

♥Seeing you so upset while being not able to do anything made him feel like his heart was breaking.♥

♥So he tried to talk to you about it only to be met with silence or one worded answers. He wasn’t sure how to react to that but didn’t let it discourage him.♥

♥If you’d struggled with self harm in the past, he’d make sure to keep anything that could be potentially used and left out things that could be used to cope while he wasn’t around.♥

♥Like one of those bottle with colored water, beads and glitter that you could shake up♥

♥gaara would never force you to open up, knowing it’d only make the situation worse. However he’d always try his hardest to make you feel comfortable coming to him.♥

♥If it got worse, he’d clear his schedule as much as possible to be able to be with you. He could never live with himself if something happened to you.♥

♥If you started to open up, he’d take it slow and let you give the information at your pace.♥

♥Much like Sasuke he may not be the best with emotions but he just wants you to be happy.♥

Naruto

♥He noticed almost immediately when something was off with you. His concern for you was evident and when he couldn’t make you laugh by being goofy he knew something serious was wrong ♥

♥He didn’t know what caused it, his usual demeanor was replaced by a subtle frown. He didn’t know if kt was his fault or not.♥

♥Seeing you so upset completely destroyed him, seeing you neglect yourself destroyed him. It was all around pretty rough.♥

♥Any attempt to communicate with you was shut down. If he spoke, you’d just look the other way.♥

♥His worst fear was losing you, given how he lost his family. Losing you figuratively or literally would be devastating for him.♥

♥When you started to neglect yourself, he’d do everything for you. Whether it be making you food or helping you shower, he’d always be there.♥

♥He just wanted to see you happy and this was not it. He knew your snippy attitude was caused by your depression, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt♥

♥He wanted to help you open up but he knew it’d take time and he was okay with that. Anything for you.♥

♥He’d get excited when you started to open up but tried to keep calm because you could easily just go back into your shell♥

♥In the end he just wants you to be happy, he’ll do whatever it takes to help you get there.♥

I wrote most of that last night, I hope you like it! It made me feel better. Have a good night, love u

@ssailormoonn @your-sexual-curiosities

[elizaleclerc]

How I love your writing so much! 😭 I saw that you are taking requests / ideas so maybe something of Charles x famous singer reader where they break up and everyone kinda thinks he broke up with reader or it was just a mutual breakup but then reader comes out with a song similar to midnight rain by Taylor swift and ppl piece the pieces together + the lyrics and kinda realize that Charles proposed and reader said no. Just something angsty and with Charles and reader they tried remaining friends but obvi are still in love with reader just isn’t ready for such a commitment. Thank you and love u 😭

tysm for this amazing request xoxo

float in your orbit 🪐

charles leclerc x reader

summary: famous fem singer!reader releases music about her surprising breakup with long term partner charles leclerc

songs: i can do it with a broken heart by t.swift , this is me trying by t.swift , wildflower by b.eilish , champagne problems by t.swift , chloe or sam or sophia or marcus by t.swift :)

author's note: ahhhh my first request!!!! the topic is right up my alley i love love love it. hope u love it too <3 plenty of angst ahead for u x

word count: 2k

With a heavy heart, your fingers traced the same piano note over and over again. The sound was monotonous, a stark contrast to the busy and lively world of your recent world tour. Now, back in your New York City apartment, life seemed dull and uneventful. It was even more glum now that you were alone, with no one to share your thoughts and experiences with.

You sat hunched over the piano, staring at the black and white keys in front of you. Your eyes had a distant glare, as if lost in a deep and melancholic reverie. The city sounds outside seemed muted and far away, as your mind was stuck on pause. Every memory felt like it was on repeat, playing over and over again.

In this moment of isolation, all you could do was sit and reflect on the ups and downs of your career, the highs and lows of fame. The emptiness inside seemed to grow with each passing moment, until it consumed your whole being. You were trapped in a bubble of loneliness, yearning for human connection but unable to break free from the walls surrounding you.

Charles had been your partner for five years. When you were first rising to stardom in the music world, you received an invitation to perform the national anthem at a prestigious Formula One race. As you stood on the track, your heart pounding with nerves and excitement, you caught sight of Charles, one of the esteemed drivers. The connection between you was immediate, a spark of recognition and attraction that lit up the air around you like fireworks. In that moment, you knew that love at first sight wasn't just an empty phrase, but a tangible reality. You could feel it deep within your bones, a warmth spreading through your body that told you this was meant to be.

A deep ache, like a heavy weight, settled in your chest as silent tears fell down your cheek. The emotions swirled and collided inside of you - sadness, hurt, anger, and betrayal all jostling for dominance. Despite both of your chaotic schedules, especially with your tour this year, you had always made sure to prioritize spending time together whenever possible. But during the last month of your tour is when things fell apart.

It was like a sudden storm had swept in, tearing down everything you thought was stable and secure. At first, it was hard to even process what was happening. The shock and confusion were overwhelming, making it difficult to make sense of the situation. But as time passed, the anger and betrayal only grew stronger, raging like a wildfire inside of you. You released a new song two weeks after the split, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart. 

The media went into a frenzy. Fans from both you and Charles speculated on the recent events, but the lyrics in the song were simple and undeniable - Charles had ended things with you. You couldn't help but worry about the hate he must've been receiving, especially since the two of you hadn't spoken since the night everything fell apart. And to add onto the chaos, you still had a tour to finish, forcing a smile and putting on a brave face for the fans that had no idea of the turmoil within.

Being on tour was a necessary distraction, a way to keep your mind off of things. Yet as you lay in yet another unfamiliar hotel room, the same thoughts still haunted you. The rooms all looked different, but they were all characterized by the same sterile and impersonal feeling. The only thing that used to make them feel like home was the sound of Charles' voice on the phone. You would talk for hours, often until you drifted off to sleep, so even though you were physically alone, you never felt truly lonely.

Despite releasing a new single, the public still didn't have the full story of what happened between the two of you, and why you had broken up. With Charles choosing to remain silent in the media, you were left to navigate through it all on your own. It was a daunting task, trying to piece together your relationship and figure out where it went wrong without any input from him. But you refused to let his silence define your story.

Throughout your life, anxiety had been a constant shadow, lurking around every corner and following you wherever you went. It wasn't until a year ago that you finally sought help and medication for it. During this time of struggle, Charles was your unwavering rock, always there to hold you up and support you. Relationships in general were uncharted territory for you when you first met Charles, and the unknown of it all scared you most.

But as the months went by, he became your confidant, someone with whom you could share your deepest worries and fears during those late night conversations. He would listen with patience and understanding, easing your anxieties with his calm presence.

Yet when fate intervened and pushed him away from you, he was not as accommodating as you had hoped. You couldn't blame him entirely, but the void left by his absence consumed you more with each passing day. In an attempt to express all that you felt and lost, you turned to your songs as a means of communication – letting the lyrics speak for your heartache and longing.

In your next release, an EP of four songs would be put out into the world, the lyrics explaining everything. In the week after the release, fans had put all of the pieces of the puzzle together. You spent the hours scouring social media reading the analysis of your relationship, all of it correct but nevertheless heartbreaking. 

~

One particular post analyzed the meaning of the four songs perfectly:

this is me trying: This song is the beginning of the end. Y/N is clearly struggling mentally and is pleading to be understood that they are simply doing the best that they can do. It is a desperate call for affection and is riddled with self doubt. After such a long relationship, Charles could have begun to crack, and Y/N is trying to keep it all together. 

wildflower: This is clearly about Charles’s past girlfriend. He dated her for many years, and was speculated to be one of Y/N’s friends. The lyrics depict her struggling to get past the thought that Charles is actually over his old girlfriend, and she feels terrible about “betraying” her to date Charles. Further in the song the lyrics showcase that Charles clearly loves Y/N, but again her internal battle prohibits her from seeing the truth in their relationship as things seem to break further. 

champagne problems: This is the breaking point. Shocking to fans everywhere, this song reveals that Charles proposed to Y/N, but due to her already detailed mental struggles and anxieties, the commitment was too much for her to bear. The melody and lyrics are filled with regret and a tinge of shame for not being able to commit to Charles, no matter how much she loved him and vice versa. 

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: The aftermath of it all, she details that even though she cannot commit to marriage with Charles she still loves him deeply and wishes that they could still be together. This caused fans to piece together that after she said no to the proposal, Charles ultimately cut things off.

~

With misty eyes, you read the post that brought back a flood of memories. The night he proposed in Monaco, the city where your love had blossomed and thrived, was etched in your mind with crystal clarity. In your shared apartment, tucked away from the bustling streets, the two of you had a private and intimate dinner that would change your lives forever. Warm flickering candles cast a soft glow over the dining room, while rose petals adorned the table and floor.

Despite being in the comfort of your own home, you both dressed to impress, savoring this rare moment when it was just the two of you. "You look absolutely stunning, mon chéri," he whispered as he gazed at you with adoration, making you feel like the most special woman on Earth. Every detail of that night was ingrained in your heart and soul, a cherished memory that would never fade.

Your hand rested on the white tablecloth, and he gently placed his on top. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through your body. "Thank you, love," you murmured before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand. As the night went on, you caught up on each other's lives - him excitedly sharing about his latest Formula One race while you reminisced about your past tour experiences. But as the dinner neared its end, you noticed his fidgeting and asked him if he was okay. Suddenly, he stood up from his chair and sunk down on one knee next to you. Your heart skipped a beat, and everything seemed to slow down as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“Mon amour, I don’t want to spend another day without calling you my wife. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I want to spend the rest of it loving you and giving you the world. Will you marry me?” 

Your throat constricted as sweat formed on your palms. The words caught in your throat, refusing to come out. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen - not here, not now. Marriage was never a topic of conversation between you and Charles, but suddenly it felt like an inevitable future staring you in the face at this dinner table. You weren't ready for this.

“I don’t- I can’t-” 

~

Your fingers moved deftly across the ivory keys of your piano, playing the familiar beginning chords of "Champagne Problems." Tears continued to fall down your cheeks, leaving glistening trails in their wake. Memories flooded your mind as you played, memories of a love once strong and unbreakable.

But now, as you sat alone in the dimly lit room, you couldn't help but feel the weight of that love slipping away. You missed him with every fiber of your being. You yearned for his cheeky smile and the way his crystal eyes sparkled when he looked at you. The memory of his messy bed head first thing in the morning made you ache with longing.

The thought of living without him was unbearable. You longed for his laughter, how he would throw his head back and let out a hearty sound that always filled you with joy. You could almost see his nose crinkle in amusement at a bad joke, just as it always did.

And oh, how you missed those moments when he would wear his glasses, simply because he knew how much you loved the way he looked in them. You could picture him now, standing before you with that charming grin and those frames perched on his nose.

But now they were only memories, and you were left to play out this heartache through the melody of your piano.

The realization hit like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you. You couldn't fathom the idea of moving on from this moment, it was too pivotal, too raw. With a sudden surge of energy, you leapt up from your seat at the piano and frantically searched for your phone among the scattered sheet music and empty coffee cups. Your fingers flew over the keys as you dialed the number you knew by heart, each digit a familiar melody in your mind.

One ring, and he picked up.

[dearanakin]

trust you | anakin skywalker: episode VII

Summary: After Anakin's breakdown, you're face to face again. This time, you both talk about his relationship with his former Jedi Master — something he doesn't like to reminisce.

Warnings: None, just vulgar words as always

Word count: 3.9k

Previous chapter | Read on Wattpad

----

(Y/N):

I haven't really talked or seen Anakin much after what happened at the event last week. I mean, sure he was always walking down the Temple, probably doing his job and taking care of Luke, but somehow he managed to retreat himself from interacting with other people, even the men he goes on missions with. I watched as he would always show up on the hallways, not looking at anyone either, as his face was holding a different look this time. It seemed... darker, if that's even possible.

I was having lunch with Cal and Adeline - another engineer - in the coffee room. We were trying not to gossip about things that happen around the Temple, but we would always end up going down that path. The redhead was leaning on his chair with his legs sprawled out over the table, his dirty boots almost touching the surface of it. I hate when people don't have good manners, but it's not like he has many flaws like that.

He told me Anakin dismissed him from the next two assignments without giving him a reason, which made him pretty angry at this point. Kestis already had an issue with his partner, and it seemed like the issue was getting over the limits - as he told me. I'm not sure as to why, even though I can think of one motive he would do it. And I know I said we gossip all the time, but that doesn't give me the right to say what happened to him that day.

It literally haunted me. I remember clearly how I ran after him, expecting to question him about the way he ran off like that. Only to find the Jedi Master having a really huge mental breakdown as well as a panic attack. I watched as his eyes turned to yellow in a slight second, throwing me off and catching me off guard. 

I was feeling nauseous watching Anakin almost whimper from the pain he must have been going through. When he sat down and leaned against the wall, saying he's not good for anyone around him. His eyes were carrying so much weight from the panic he just had, I don't think he even has the energy to go out there again and face everyone. His son had no idea his father was on the brink of becoming dark. 

I stood there facing the Jedi, without moving an inch of my body and I had a feeling I needed to do something but I didn't know exactly what it was. Anakin was pressing his face against both of his trembling hands, resting his elbows against his knees. His feet were tapping the floor incessantly, running his fingers through his hair every now and then. 

When I crouched down to his level and tried to gently touch his flesh hand, he flinched and pulled it to himself. He didn't look at me though. I could hear how shallow his breathing still was, how his chest was heaving fast and the way his body struggled to stay steady. This time I sat down next to him and Anakin shuffled, moving a few inches away from me. And that's when I knew I should keep my boundaries and not stay too close. 

"You're gonna be okay" My voice was barely coming out as I was feeling on edge after what I just saw "You need to fight it, Anakin"

"I'm not the Jedi I should be" He shook his head, still hanging it low on his hands. His tremulant voice made my heart flinch a little "I never will be" 

I forced myself to give him some kind of support, enough that he wouldn't feel pressed or annoyed about it. But it didn't work as it should, because he lifted up and in five seconds he was already rushing out the door, leaving me behind.

I've only heard of something like that years ago, something that Palpatine himself mentioned when he was trying to take down the Jedi Order. And then, after that, we got to know about Anakin's history behind his relationship with the Sith. He lost his wife, he lost Obi-Wan, who left him after disagreements. It only left him with his son, and I understand why he keeps his distance, why he doesn't want to let his guard down and won't let Luke make acquaintances.

"Dude just showed up to the office, told me I was dismissed and left the room" Cal explained, shrugging his shoulders. Me and Adeline nodded, exchanging glances knowing Anakin was always this obvious when it comes to his temper.

"Probably for the best, one of these days he's going to cut off your head during missions" She quipped, pulling a laugh out of us.

"I'm usually his wingman, we never really disagreed this much until that day" He didn't have to go into much detail as we recall when I was pushed against a corner and was threatened.

This is what really makes me wonder his limits, because when I saw how fragile he was, I could barely remember he was the same douchebag who cornered me. I wonder if he can actually hold himself up from doing something bad, and how much he can suppress the urge of killing someone. Although, for a few seconds I saw a glimpse of what he could've turned into. And I'm sure it wasn't going to end up well.

I've seen some pretty fucked up things before while being around duels enough to realize that was beyond anything I've come to face in this life.

"Maybe he needs to get laid" Kestis goes on, while using his force to play with a dart before shooting it at the dartboard. "Bullseye!"

He looks at us fascinated with the achievement, both me and Adeline gasping in shock as it was the first time he hit the middle of it.

"You're such a nerd" I roll my eyes in amusement, crossing my arms as we watch him stand up from his seat walking towards the board.

Cal feigns an offended look and slams his palm to his chest. "Coming from the nerd who fixes fucking computers and shit like that, you sure have the audacity!"

We all laugh about it, using the rest of our time to pester each other before going back to work.

I was leaving the room right after the two of them had already left, fishing for the keys in my bag as I closed the door behind me. I'm not usually one person that gets terrified or scared of things with ease, but I wasn't expecting to stumble across a wall of bricks without noticing. The keys drop from my hands, the sound of it echoing through the empty hallway. I grimace before even meeting eyes with the person that stands right in front of me.

And when I do, I watch as his bloodshot eyes and furrowed eyebrows inconspicuously roam across my face before I spill a rushed "I'm so sorry". Two seconds later, he was out of sight just like he pulled a lightspeed of how fast he walked out. Jesus Christ, this man sure is a fucking incognito.

-

It was late in the night when I was still working on Obi's lightsaber grip. For some reason, I thought it would be entertaining if I took some time to at least fix it and maybe give it some meaning back again. My focus was on figuring out how to attach each missing piece together without ruining the entire blade. It was very hard to find all of the components, considering it's a very one of a kind sword. It might seem useless and insignificant to other people, but I've always had feelings for this.

It's the only thing left that makes me feel somewhat closer to him. I might've not been around him much, but whenever we met it was always heartwarming. As someone who admires every Master and every fighter, I've always looked up at him as a role model.

The dim warm light from the corner of the room was bright enough for me to handle the small pieces, while the coffee machine hummed a low sound as it was still on. I didn't notice the presence shuffling through the room, walking toward the cupboard to grab a mug from the cabinet. I lifted my head up, surprised to see Anakin standing there as he was making himself a cup of tea.

He slowly pulls himself the liquid, leaning against the wooden counter fixing his gaze at some blank point, not saying anything. From his demeanor, I can tell he hasn't had a good night of sleep considering his eyes were bloodshot - as always - and his eyes had dark circles around them. I try to ignore his presence and focus on my task, carefully using the tools for each part of the lightsaber. 

I remember when Skywalker seemed stunned when he saw I was holding the grip a while ago, his face held an unreadable expression, but I know he didn't expect to see something that reminds him of his past.

Now that he is here with me, Anakin will probably face it again at some point. Unless he just decides to completely ignore me and walk back to his room without even looking at me. So I just keep myself in my little bubble and ignore him as well.

"Are- Are you okay?" I hear myself ask and roll my eyes to the back of my head. I hate myself.

He clearly doesn't answer or doesn't even mention listening to me, still sipping his tea and staring blankly ahead of him. I huff and shrug, of course he wouldn't say anything to me and it's not like we're friends anyway. He doesn't need to tell me anything either way, I'm just trying to make a small conversation, probably for no reason whatsoever.

It's been a couple of minutes since the man was standing there against the counter, slowly drinking his liquid and minding his own business. Then, I notice the sparkly jewelry around his finger and my eyes go wide. Did he ever take that ring off? Does he walk around with it even after all those years? There are so many things I can't stop wondering and I'm sure it probably doesn't help him get over his past.

This is probably why he's always acting defensive and angry. I have no idea what it's like to lose someone like he lost Padmé, and maybe I would've been in the same situation as he is now. Only I'm not a Jedi, and I'm not holding myself off to avoid getting taken by the dark side.

I hesitated for a few seconds before asking anything that would make me regret living, but I don't think there's anything better than to help the others. And I know he needs it more than anyone I've met until today.

"Can't sleep either?" I try again, not daring to look at him as I handle the tool for the blade emitter of the lightsaber.

He still doesn't answer, I can barely even hear Anakin sipping his tea at this point. I shake my head in disappointment at my decision, like he would give me answers and talk to me as if we were close enough for that.

He doesn't move his lips when he mutters a "uh-uh", his eyes still fixed to the wall across the room. This is better than no answer at all, but Skywalker doesn't feel like he wants to do anything other than just drink the tea. So, I nod and hold the saber grip up to my eye level, scanning the missing pieces.

I unintentionally look from the corner of my eye when I realize he snapped his head to where I was sitting. Anakin squints his blue eyes to adjust his sight from the lack of enough brightness in the room, his right hand almost dropping the mug on the floor when he takes in what I'm holding against the light. 

I literally have to hold my breath for a few seconds in order to disguise the shakiness that was taking over my body from his sudden action. I know this is a big deal to him, but I'm not sure how he's going to react towards it.

"What are you doing?" His raspy tone echoed through the room, his voice was deep and it had a tinge of nostalgia.

I didn't want to look back at him because I know how intimidating his eyes are. And I'm not talking about the color itself, it's more likely the way they bore into your soul and it feeds itself off your fear. I keep my gaze focused on the piece in front of me, my palms getting sweaty.

"Trying to fix the lightsaber. Maybe give it some meaning" I can't speak like I usually do when I'm around other people. This time, it seems like my vocal cords weren't even being used.

His footsteps finally approach the table I'm working on, his body language reluctantly wondering if he should come closer or just stand a few feet away from me. I look up and see how his eyes carry sorrow and pain, while he still stares at the piece being held in my hand. Anakin struggles to let the words come off of his mouth, which he keeps it shut in a thin line, repressing his feelings. I don't push him, and I don't offer any other word because it's not right to.

He slowly pushes a chair back and sits on it, his slumped shoulders seem to be rigid for whatever reason. It's like he's fighting back his own body to stand this close to me, he shifts in his seat and places his mug on the table. Both of his legs are stretched as he rests one foot above the other, crossing his arms like it's shielding him from any harm.

"How do you know how to manage it?" I hear him ask, voice low but still carrying a bit of roughness, like he doesn't want to give in to talking.

.... It's my job? I try not to answer the question with sarcasm, because I don't think he knows everything I work with. But I ignore that thought and give him a polite explanation. I don't want him going full dark side mode on me again.

"Well, there's a lot of things I do that people don't know about" I give him a light chuckle to lighten the mood. "I've learned that with a former Master from the Temple. She thought it would be a nicety to have a different skill"

He nodded, hanging his head low as his chin touched his chest.

"I think he would've loved to see this was fixed. He would never let go of it" I hold the grip tightly, spinning it around my fingers.

There wasn't a straight response to that and I feel like he would agree with my statement. Kenobi never really had an intention of leaving his weapon behind him.

"Yeah, of course" Anakin spat sternly and bitterly. "If he wasn't such a fucking stupid son of a bitch"

I recognize the hurt in his voice. He feels like he was left behind when he decided that he wanted to kill Palpatine. We all heard about it back then, but no one would ever bring it up in a conversation with him. I keep my hands busy, but my body is rigid from his comment.

"The amazing Obi-Wan Kenobi would just love to have his piece of shit of lightsaber after being gone for six fucking years" I watch him as he huffed a sarcastic laugh. "God, you have no idea who he is, do you?"

Anakin shot a hard glance at me, his brows were knitted together and his lips were pouty with anger. He literally could've been compared to a child with the pissed look. I immediately tense and avert my eyes back to the grip, now it seemed pointless talking about the piece with him.

"He fucking left me. After all I've been through all those years, after I've lost everything he decided that the best option was to give up on me and turn his back on me. He didn't want me to be his friend anymore" Anakin started to raise his voice, his body was still in a defensive position while his hands gripped his arms with violence.

"I'm sorry, Anakin. But I think he just didn't want to see you get hurt" Saying it out loud makes me feel like my throat is getting dry and at this point I'm just fiddling with the lightsaber piece.

"No. No, he just thought that leaving me behind would get the weight off his shoulders. He is literally the most selfish asshole I've ever met" I can hear him breathing through his nose, his fingers digging deep into his tunic.

With a sudden motion, I feel his robotic hand reach out to mine and quickly remove the lightsaber handle from me. I gasp at the reaction, watching as Skywalker holds it to his eye level and spins it around.

"You know..." He speaks up again, eyes roaming through the piece. "This used to be something I would kill to have. A lightsaber owned by the one and only would've made me feel like I was worth it"

There's something about the deepness of his voice and the way his eyes wouldn't tear away from the grip that made my stomach drop. I could hear my heart beating too fast in my ears and my hands were shaking so bad that I didn't know how to stop it.

"Anakin, he-"

He let out a breathy laugh, his chest was vibrating and his shoulders were shaking from the laughter. The kind of laugh only an unhinged person would have when they were in their worst state of mine.

"He will never fucking come back, (Y/L/N). And you know why?" He stood from his chair, facing me with his pupils now too dilated for a normal person. This is the first time he mentions my last name when talking to me. "Because he doesn't give a fuck about anyone anymore. He is the one who gave up on us! And what the fuck is this?"

Anakin extended his hand still gripping the weapon, forcing me to look at the piece. I shifted my eyes back to him and watched as he was still frowning. God, don't let this be another breakdown please.

"This is what he fucking left! It wasn't a fucking letter, no. He didn't leave anything remotely close enough made by him. This piece of shit doesn't mean anything!"

He brings the robotic arm back to him again, looking down at it for a few seconds. I can see him panting heavily as his chest raises rapidly from the moment of anger. And then again, he laughs audibly. Anakin starts pacing back and forth, still a few feet away from me. The amount of cursing made my head hurt because it wasn't something I was used to hearing coming from him.

"He made it clear what he wanted when he left me. He said I was his brother, that he loved me. He said it in the past because he'd made up his mind pretty quickly. I was nothing to him anymore!"

I didn't know if I should offer a hug or even sit down with him and just talk him out of his nervousness. But I know better than to actually get in the way of that, when he clearly seems too deep into his thoughts.

"And now what? While you fix this-" He holds the grip up at me "Which isn't even your fucking issue, he is out there doing God-knows-what. Because let me tell you, he doesn't give a shit about you- about us"

"I'm sure he would come back if he could, Anakin. He was too careful enough to look out for all of us, there must be something else-" He didn't let me finish as he took a few steps closer to me.

"Mhmm, yeah. Sure. God, of course!" He says sternly, faking another laugh "Almighty Obi-Wan is so sweet he would never do shit like that, right?"

He was still looking down at me like he needed an answer, his metal hand was gripping the lightsaber grip so tight that it could easily break into pieces. "I asked you a question", Anakin raised his voice.

"I- I don't thin-"

Next thing I knew, he threw the object over the wall with no remorse. It broke into pieces I might never be able to fix, and I gasped from the sudden reaction. I should've seen it coming. Anakin didn't move his body when he did that, only then slightly turning his head to look at me again. On instinct, I stepped backwards from him trying to avoid another fight.

"You should've known by now that he won't ever come back. Stop playing nice to someone who doesn't give a fuck about you. And if you ever even try to get that shit fixed, you'll regret it" He whispered, leaving me dumbfounded from what just happened.

"What the hell was that for?" I throw my arms up and raise my voice at him. That was completely and utterly unnecessary.

"That thing-" He pointed at the broken lightsaber grip before continuing "Isn't your concern anymore!"

I furrow my brows in annoyance and roll my eyes. "And who are you to say what is and isn't my concern? You don't dictate rules here, and especially not at me!"

Anakin straightened his back and balled his hands into fists, inching closer to me, almost bumping his nose into mine. "You are gonna regret touching that thing"

I know I shouldn't gaslight him, but he always strikes a nerve when he starts to act all cocky. "Maybe that's why Obi-Wan left you behind after all"

His expression hardened in a matter of seconds and his eyes darkened, his pupils hiding his blue eyes. "What the fuck did you just say?"

He was fuming with anger, and I'm sure his eyes would become yellow again. I decided to shrug and not give him the answer he expected. Anakin was still panting, still facing me as I tried to avoid eye contact for too long. For a moment, I thought he was going to choke me like he did the last time he was this angry, but he motioned his hands and just stepped away from me.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with, I hope you know that" Anakin muttered before turning on his back and leaving the coffee room, vanishing through the door.

Why do I always open my damn mouth?

I drop to my knees, picking up the broken pieces of the sword with my hands still trembling. Most of it was too shattered to even get fixed, and even if I really wanted to try again, it would take me too long. Long enough for me to give up on the idea, and I was trying to avoid getting killed by Anakin either way.

Taking a sharp breath, I gather the objects in my hands and bring them to the box. "I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan" My voice wavered as I put it in the box.

I don't know what it was, but I suddenly felt an odd sensation close to my body. But when I snapped my head back and looked around myself, I saw nothing.

@jackie-on-the-loose @adorbzliz @himesuedi @kingdomhate @himesuedi @cl0esblogg @littlecoffeeadict @readingthingsonhere

[zebulontheplanet]

Let’s talk about my masking, since it’s been a topic I’ve been avoiding talking about.

I’m medium masking. I can mask SOME. I used to be low masking due to my autism catatonia, but thanks to the medication I’m on, I was SLOWLY gaining masking skills back. But now starting to lose it again. It’s one of the few things I was getting back. And this is also your reminder. IF YOU BELIEVE YOU HAVE AUTISM CATATONIA, REACH OUT TO A DOCTOR. Plain text: if you believe you have autism catatonia, reach out to a doctor.

Why? Because Autism Catatonia IS treatable.

I used to be VERY visibly autistic. Stimming constantly, running around, just having that *look* to me. It caused harassment ALL the time. Like literally all the time.

Now, I can mask some. Stimming being the biggest thing that I could mask. However, it did, and still caused me to be constantly overwhelmed, and constantly on the brink of a meltdown. The constant suppression of stims is and was harmful to me, and I am slowly letting go of my masking ability that I have gained back because it’s harmful to me, and I’m just causing myself more harm by doing so. And I’m losing it already and just causing myself more harm by pretending I’m not and trying to hold onto it. I don’t think people realize just how heartbreaking it was to not be able to mask much at all, to being able to mask some, and then realizing that even the small amount of masking you are doing is being extremely harmful to yourself. I’ve also noticed that it’s been detrimental on my mental health, and even physical health as it is causing me to have more catatonic episodes. Why? I don’t know. But I cannot deny that my catatonic episodes, constantly being on the brink of a meltdown or having multiple meltdowns a week, and being constantly overwhelmed, didn’t happen until I started suppressing some of my stims and autistic behaviors.

I am EXTREMELY privileged to even be able to suppress some of my stims. Does this mean I’m not perceived as autistic? Absolutely not. I’m still autistic, and very much perceived as being autistic because of the fact that I’m nonverbal, constantly not alone and with people assumed to be my caregivers, constantly chewing on things, wearing ear defenders, in a wheelchair, and so on.

However, I’ve noticed a drastic change between me as someone who once stimmed very outwardly, then someone who did stim more passively. I haven’t talked about my masking in a HOT minute, because I was like “great! Finally getting some masking abilities back, let’s see where this goes” and then the second I started gaining it back, it started going down the drain again.

Today, I’m laying in my bed. Under a weighted blanket, feeling my skin crawl and having to kick my partner out because I felt like I was going to have a meltdown because I didn’t wear my ear defenders all week even though I needed them. And knew I needed them.

I’ve been so focused on how others perceive me, how they look at me, how they treat me, that I’ve completely forgot about what is best for ME. What is best for MY health. Yes, for awhile I was gaining some masking skills back, and even now, I’m more masked than I was, but I’m losing that again, and it is the most terrifying feeling. The feeling of losing your masking skills AGAIN is terrifying. Because the last time I did, I was struck with so much catatonia that I couldn’t get out of bed and needed help with almost every bADL and lost my speech completely. Now, I know that this hopefully won’t be the case, and the more I accept that I’m losing my masking skills and try not to force it, I will be ok hopefully and not fall back into that.

Autism Catatonia has taken everything from me before, and it’s continuing to take so much from me again. However, I cannot justify continuing to put myself through the literal torture of masking, putting my health at risk with more catatonic episodes, and the like. I know, it’s an extreme privilege to even start unmasking, yet I don’t feel like I have a choice, or even a say in the matter. The more days that go by, I’m losing the ability whether I like it or not. I’m not going through my “silly little unmasking journey”, I’m losing a vital skill that is made to protect autistic people against my will. And the more I fight against it, the more I’ll just cause myself harm. I cannot risk falling back into more catatonic episodes. I’m in college. I cannot risk that.

For all my autism catatonia baddies out there losing their ability to mask and in a complicated relationship with it, I see you, and you aren’t alone in this.

Autism Catatonia is so complicated, and I feel like the more I try and fit myself into the box that I used to be, the more harm I’m causing myself. So, here’s to a new chapter. A new chapter of accepting that I shouldn’t mask so I don’t have catatonia. A new chapter of accepting that I’m losing my masking skills again. A new chapter of being my autistic self again, and not worrying what other people think of me.

[muiitoloko]

Hello! I love your Karl’s fic, I never knew I needed one! They did my man so wrong anyways, while reading it I got an idea I don’t know if you could work with it?

Karl’s wife left him, the second biggest love lost of his life. The first one was the girl (reader) he met when he was younger (mid 30s) and before meeting his now ex-wife, a young medicine student could be the daughter of one of his business partner or personal doctor, she was 20 and he was almost 40 so he thought better of it, he let her go, pursue her dreams and married a man her age. One day he gets really bad and she’s send to his house to help him, I don’t know I want something fluffy and happy ending for him🥹

Title: The Promise of Tomorrow

Summary: You reappear in his life in a way he didn't expect.

Pairing: Karl Hoffmeister × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst and Fluffy.

Author's Notes: Hey, hello! Thank you very much for your request. I hope it is to your liking. I agree with you; our man deserves a happy ending.

Also read on Ao3

First and Second part here.

As you stand before Karl Hoffmeister, his new personal doctor, you can't help but feel a surge of nostalgia mingled with apprehension. The years have been kind to him, his rugged features weathered by time but still exuding an air of quiet strength and authority. It's been a long time since you last saw him, back when you were just a young medical student caught in the whirlwind of ambition and desire.

But now, as you meet his gaze, you see something flicker behind his steely exterior, a hint of vulnerability that wasn't there before. It's strange to think that this man, once so powerful and unattainable, now relies on you for his care and well-being.

Karl's eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary, and you can't help but wonder if he remembers the intensity of the feelings you once shared. But then his gaze shifts away, and you're left to grapple with the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the present.

As you begin your examination, Karl's stoic facade crumbles ever so slightly, revealing the depth of his pain and loneliness. His health may be failing, but it's clear that his wounds run much deeper than the physical. And as you listen to his heart, you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man who once held your heart in his hands.

But then, just as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability vanishes, replaced once again by Karl's trademark reserve. He thanks you curtly as you finish your examination, his voice gruff but tinged with a hint of something else, something you can't quite place.

As you finished writing the prescription, you sensed Karl's gaze lingering on you. His eyes studied you with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something you couldn't quite decipher. Ignoring the intensity of his stare, you handed him the paper, explaining the dosage and precautions he would need to take.

Karl took the prescription from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. But before you could dwell on the sensation, he spoke, his voice gruff but tinged with a hint of warmth.

"You haven't changed a bit," he remarked, his gaze meeting yours as he spoke. "Still as confident and composed as ever."

You paused, surprised by his observation, before offering a playful smile. "And you still have that ridiculous mustache," you quipped, unable to resist teasing him.

Instead of taking offense, Karl chuckled softly, the sound filling the room with warmth. "Some things never change," he admitted, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at you. "But I suppose that's what keeps life interesting."

You smiled back at him, grateful for the ease with which you could banter with him, even after all these years. But then, a somber thought crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

"My father told me what happened," you said softly, your voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry, Karl. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for you and little boy."

Karl sighed, his expression softening as he nodded in understanding. "Your father was always a gossip," he replied with a wry smile. "But thank you. It's been a challenging time, but we're managing."

As you looked at Karl, his rugged features softened by the flickering light of the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man he had become. Despite the hardships he had faced, he still exuded a quiet strength and resilience that was undeniably compelling.

As Karl settled himself more comfortably on the bed, his gaze softened, and he looked at you with a mix of curiosity and something deeper, something that hinted at the years of longing and missed opportunities. His back rested against the headboard, his posture relaxed yet still exuding an air of authority.

"So, what about you?" Karl's voice broke the silence, his German accent adding a touch of familiarity to the question. "What have you been up to all these years?"

You met his gaze, feeling a rush of emotions flood back as memories of your time together as young, ambitious individuals surfaced. "Well, after medical school, I dove headfirst into my career," you began, your voice steady despite the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm you. "Marriage and children just didn't fit into the equation. I was too focused on my work, too driven to make a difference in the world."

Karl listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours as you spoke. There was a hint of surprise in his expression, as if he hadn't expected you to have remained single all these years. But beneath the surprise, there was something else, something that spoke of unspoken desires and long-buried emotions.

"I never imagined you'd end up as my personal doctor," Karl admitted, his voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and something else, something you couldn't quite place. "But I suppose life has a way of surprising us."

You nodded in agreement, unable to shake the feeling of deja vu that hung in the air between you. "Life certainly has a way of throwing unexpected curveballs," you agreed, a wistful smile playing at the corners of your lips.

As you sat there, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, a comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath Karl's weight. And in that moment, surrounded by memories of the past and uncertainty of the future, you couldn't help but wonder what might have been if circumstances had been different, if fate had led you down a different path.

But then Karl spoke again, his voice trembling slightly with vulnerability, as if he were baring his soul for the first time in years. "I have to confess something," he began, his gaze searching yours for any sign of understanding or forgiveness. "You were the first love of my life."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and you felt a surge of emotion rise within you, a mixture of surprise, regret, and something else, something that you couldn't quite name. Karl's confession caught you off guard, stirring memories long buried beneath the surface of your consciousness.

"I wished for you with an intensity that frightened me," Karl continued, his voice barely above a whisper as he laid bare his innermost thoughts and feelings. "Ever since your father introduced us, I couldn't shake the feeling that you were meant to be a part of my life."

The revelation stunned you, and for a moment, all you could do was sit there in silence, grappling with the enormity of what Karl had just revealed. The gap in age between you suddenly felt insignificant in the face of the raw emotion that radiated from him.

"But I knew that I had no right to hold onto you," Karl confessed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You were a young woman with the world at your feet, and I was... an old man with too much baggage to burden you with."

His words pierced your heart, and you felt a pang of sympathy for the man who had once been so unattainable, yet now sat before you, stripped of his defenses and laid bare by illness and regret. The realization that Karl had let you go, believing it was for your own good, filled you with a sense of bittersweet longing.

"And then I met Charlotte," Karl continued, his voice tinged with sadness as he spoke of his ex-wife. "She was younger than me, full of life and laughter. I thought I had found happiness with her, but now... now I realize that I let go of the one person who truly mattered to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Karl's confession, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy burden. The depth of his regret was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for not realizing sooner the true extent of his feelings for you.

"I'm so sorry, Karl," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you reached out to grasp his hand in yours. "I had no idea..."

Karl's hand trembled beneath yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he squeezed your hand gently. "It's not your fault," he replied hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have been honest with you from the beginning. I should have fought for us."

As you sat there, hand in hand with Karl, the weight of his confession hanging heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but wonder what might have been if circumstances had been different, if fate had given you both a second chance at love.

You squeezed his hand tighter, the warmth of his touch reassuring you that perhaps it wasn't too late for the two of you. "If you had asked, Karl," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion, "I would have said yes in a heartbeat."

Karl's eyes widened in surprise at your confession, his lips parting slightly as if he were at a loss for words. But before he could respond, you pressed on, needing to express the depth of your feelings for him that had remained buried for far too long.

"I loved how good and generous you were with everyone," you confessed, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "And I admired how you never scolded me for my boldness, how you always met my challenges with patience and understanding."

As you spoke, memories of your spirited debates with Karl flooded back, the thrill of matching wits with him still fresh in your mind after all these years. "I loved it when we argued," you admitted with a soft laugh, "because you were the only one who could keep up with me. I never felt more alive than when I was with you."

Karl's expression softened further at your words, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his eyes as he remembered the fiery exchanges the two of you had shared. "I often wondered what it would be like to be with you all the time," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you laid bare your innermost thoughts and desires. "To wake up next to you every morning, to share our lives together..."

But then, as if sensing the weight of your words, Karl pulled away slightly, his expression clouded with a mixture of regret and sadness. "I'm so sorry, my dear," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I never meant to hurt you."

You reached out to cup his cheek, the rough stubble beneath your fingertips a tangible reminder of the man you had once loved with all your heart. "It's not your fault, Karl," you assured him, your voice filled with warmth and understanding. "We were both young, and life had other plans for us."

For a moment, the two of you sat there in silence, the weight of your unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between you. But then, with a hopeful look, you told Karl that you still want, even after all these years, he is the only man you ever wanted to marry. The admission hung in the air, heavy with the weight of years of unspoken feelings and missed opportunities.

Karl hesitated, his brow furrowing with indecision. "No," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do that to you. I'm sick, and I have a young son. I can't throw those responsibilities on you."

You reached out to him, your hand finding his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with determination. "Karl," you insisted, your voice unwavering. "I know what I want, and it's you. I don't care about your illness or your son. I want to be with you, no matter what."

Karl stopped himself, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. "I... I don't know what to say," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I never expected..."

But before he could finish his sentence, you leaned forward, your lips meeting his in a chaste yet passionate kiss. "Shut up," you whispered against his lips, your breath mingling with his. "If you don't want me, just say so. But don't make excuses. I can handle the truth."

For a moment, Karl was silent, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. And then, with a trembling sigh, he leaned in closer, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that spoke of years of longing and regret.

As you kissed him, you felt the warmth of his embrace envelop you, the intensity of his desire matching your own. In that moment, you knew that you had rekindled the flame that had once burned so strong between you, a flame that had never truly died despite the passage of time.

As you pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, you saw in Karl's eyes the reflection of your own desires, the silent acknowledgment of a love that had endured against all odds. "I want you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with longing. "Oh, how I want you... But my son..."

You interrupted him, gently placing a finger on his lips to silence his protest. "Karl," you said softly, your voice filled with determination, "Otto is a part of you, and I love every part of you."

You reached out to take Karl's hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his as you met his gaze with unwavering sincerity. "I promise you, I will love Otto as if he were my own son," you vowed, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling within you. "I will take care of him, protect him, and cherish him just like I will cherish you."

Karl's eyes softened at your words, a mixture of gratitude and disbelief flickering in their depths. "But I can't ask that of you," he protested weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's too much to ask..."

You shook your head, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. "It's not too much to ask," you insisted firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument. "I love you, Karl, and that means loving everything that comes with you. Including Otto."

A tear slipped down Karl's cheek, his defenses crumbling under the weight of your unwavering love and support. "You're too good to me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled gently, brushing away his tear with the pad of your thumb. "We're in this together, Karl," you reassured him, your voice filled with conviction. "No matter what happens, we'll face it together. I promise."

As you sat there, hand in hand with Karl, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace, you knew that no matter what the future held, you were ready to face it head-on. With Karl by your side, and now with Otto too, you felt as if nothing could stand in the way of your love.

[shawtythatluvsurgut]

What made you go from feeder/ffa to feedee?!

Also, what is your biggest feedism kink that really gets you going?

(before you read this, please know that nothing i said in response should be taken as me being upset with OP because i am not at all upset with this ask)

i’ll answer the bottom part in my video, but i want to address the top question because i received it more than once.

I am still a feeder. I am still a FFA. I’m a part-time feedee and FULL-TIME feeder.

I am not saying that i’m not a feedee because, I mean, cmon look at my page lol. but i am still a feeder first and foremost. that will never change. i decided to get into testing out the feedee role because i didn’t have anyone irl who i knew that was into feedism or even willing to try it. my last partner made me think he was into it for a bit, but then did a huge 180. it wasn’t until one of my close ‘friends’ (😏) and i started flirting a bit that i realized he was actually into the idea and it brought me back into feeder mode. just because i am dipping my toe into the feedee realm does not mean that i am not a feeder first, so please stop taking that title from me.

i know i have a lot to prove. between my dad’s health rapidly declining which led to my disney arc being cancelled and also my constant switch between feedee and feeder content, i know i’ve disappointed quite a few people recently. for that, i am sorry, but i also don’t regret spending that time with my ill father instead of making feedism content at disneyland ngl. i know a lot of people were pissed (i can tell by how many subs i lost) and i do feel bad and sincerely apologize, but life gets in the way of work at times and i needed to prioritize life in that moment. as for my indecision between being a feedee and a feeder, ive realized that im much more into the feeder role. i love eating and doing it for you all to enjoy which is why im not rejecting the feedee position and am still leaning into it, but i get much more pleasure from being a feeder. i’m much more into the dominance and control that i get as a feeder. however, i do like the plushness on my body that i obtained from being a feedee. i say this all to make the point that i still play both roles, but Feeder will always be my main role. it comes to me naturally and sometimes i have to force myself to be a feedee which can kinda ruin it over time.

also please keep in mind that i’m 21, so i’m still at an age where i flip flop between my sexual identity so so so frequently. I like being a feedee at times, but i always have and always will LOVE being a feeder. now that i have the december trip planned and have someone willing to let me feed them that i also happen to know really really well, im excited to get back into my feeder mode. i will probably switch between the two for a while, and i’m sorry if that annoys any of you.

also, just because i mainly feel like a feeder does not mean i am planning to get ripped or skinny again or any of that. i’m just not focused on gaining right now and haven’t had the appetite or $$ to do stuffings. i am not trying to lose weight; it is just happening naturally due to life circumstances. please stop messaging me accusing me of being a fake feedist or saying that im ‘intentionally getting skinny again’ because that is not true. i don’t care what my size is tbh, im comfortable in my body, i just have other priorities right now and a lack of appetite.

just please stop trying to imply that i’m no longer a feeder because that couldn’t be farther from the truth. it sucks having other people tell you who you are, especially when you’re still figuring that out for yourself. please keep that in mind.

thank you and ily guys. and NO I AM NOT MAD lol. i am not mad at this ask at all; just wanted to clarify what my role in this community is and that is full-time feeder/part-time feedee.

Thank you.

Nico

[sicknessbysalem]

Day One: “I’m not hungover, I’m just sick” | Sicktember 2024

i am so excited to be doing sicktember! This is my first time doing this event and i cannot wait to write more this month. i hope you guys enjoy my fics!

@sicktember (i don’t know if we are supposed to tag you… also i couldn’t find a tagging post so if i’m missing a tag please let me know!)

disclaimer: characters originally belonged to @simplysickness but were passed on to me to continue their stories

if you have any requests, questions, comments, concerns, etc., send them my way!

tw for implications of past alcohol abuse, overworking, nausea, fevers, vomiting, slightly overprotective partner behavior as a side effect of second hand trauma

Lex pushed open the door to their apartment, the cool night air clinging to his clothes as he stepped inside. The hallway was dimly lit, the soft glow from the living room spilling over the floor, casting long shadows.

He was exhausted, every muscle in his body aching from the relentless pace of the day. Back-to-back calls had kept him out far longer than he’d expected, and it was only now, as he was finally home, that he realized he hadn’t called or texted Soren to let him know he’d be late.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, his stomach twisting with guilt. Soren would be worried—no, more than worried. He knew how much his silence would unsettle Soren, especially given their history. The memory of those dark days, when Lex had turned to alcohol as an escape, still hung between them, a silent shadow that neither of them liked to acknowledge but both were always aware of.

Lex dropped his bag by the door, his movements slow and heavy as he peeled off his jacket, hanging it on the hook with a sigh. He was mentally preparing himself for the conversation that was about to unfold when he heard the soft padding of footsteps coming from the living room.

Soren appeared in the doorway, his expression a mix of relief and something else—something tighter, edged with worry and a hint of anger. His arms were crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed, and the tension in his stance was unmistakable.

“You’re late,” Soren said, his voice steady, but there was an underlying edge to it that Lex couldn’t ignore.

Lex winced, running a hand through his hair, which was still slightly damp from the sweat of the day’s work. “I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up at work—calls just kept coming in, and I lost track of time.”

Soren didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning Lex’s face, searching for something. “You didn’t call,” he finally said, the hurt in his voice more evident now.

Lex sighed, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him even more heavily. “I know. I should have. I just… I was so caught up in everything, and by the time I thought about it, I was already on my way home.”

Soren’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his gaze settling on a spot on the floor. “Do you know how worried I was? Not a single word from you, not even a text. I didn’t know if you were okay, if something had happened, or if…” His voice faltered, but he pushed through. “Or if you were out doing something else.”

Lex’s heart sank at the implication, knowing exactly what Soren was referring to. He stepped closer, trying to close the distance between them, but Soren held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’m sorry, Soren,” Lex said quietly, his voice filled with regret. “I should have called. Or texted. Honestly, doing either of those things were the last thing on my mind. I usually do text you because they don't let me drive the ambulance. I didn’t mean to make you worry, especially not like that.”

Soren’s eyes finally met Lex’s, and Lex could see the worry there, mingling with the anger. “You can’t just disappear on me like that, Lex. Not after everything we’ve been through. I need to know that you’re okay, that you’re safe. When you don’t call, my mind goes to the worst places.”

Lex swallowed hard, the guilt gnawing at him. He hated that he had caused Soren to doubt him, to fear that he might have slipped back into old habits. Lex also worried that someday he might slip up and go back, but he loved his job now and knew that if he did that, alcohol or otherwise, he'd lose it. And unlike before, this was a job Lex didn't want to lose.

“I know,” he whispered, taking another step forward, this time reaching out to place a hand on Soren’s arm. “I promise, it wasn’t like that. I’ve been clean, you know that. I would never do that to you, to us. Not again.”

Soren’s expression softened slightly, but the tension didn’t fully leave his body. “I want to believe that, Lex. I do. But you need to meet me halfway. You need to tell me when things like this happen so I’m not left here, wondering if… if you’re going to walk through that door or not.”

Lex nodded, his thumb rubbing small circles on Soren’s arm, trying to offer some comfort. “You’re right. I’ll do better. I don’t want you to ever feel like that again. I’m sorry, Soren. I really am.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of the day and the conversation hanging between them. Then, Soren let out a long breath, his posture relaxing just a bit as he uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to Lex, letting their foreheads rest against each other.

“I just need you to be honest with me,” Soren murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even when things get crazy, just let me know you’re okay.”

“I will,” Lex promised, closing his eyes and savoring the closeness, the reassurance of Soren’s presence. “I will.”

Soren nodded slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he leaned into Lex’s touch. “Good. Now, let’s get you out of those work clothes and into something comfortable. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

Lex managed a small, tired smile. “You’re not wrong.”

As they moved together towards the bedroom, Lex felt a flicker of relief. The conversation had been hard, but necessary, and he knew that they were stronger for it. And as he changed into something more comfortable, Soren by his side, he was reminded that no matter how tough things got, they had each other to lean on.

The hours passed in a heavy, dreamless sleep, the kind that comes only after sheer exhaustion has wrung every ounce of energy from the body. Lex had fallen asleep almost immediately after his head hit the pillow, Soren’s steady breathing beside him a comforting reminder that he wasn’t alone. But as the night wore on, the deep sleep that had initially claimed him began to fragment, broken by the creeping discomfort that slowly gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

Lex stirred, his body feeling unusually warm, a heat that seemed to radiate from his very core. His head throbbed dully, the remnants of a headache that had never fully left him, and as he shifted under the covers, a wave of dizziness rolled over him, making the room spin in the darkness. He swallowed, his throat dry, and noticed the unsettling heaviness in his stomach, a nausea that was steadily building, threatening to push him over the edge.

For a moment, he tried to ignore it, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself back to sleep. But the discomfort only grew, the heat pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, the dizziness making it hard to find a position that didn’t make his head swim. Lex groaned softly, trying to adjust the covers, hoping that loosening them would cool him down, but the movement only made the nausea surge, a sickening lurch that sent his stomach twisting.

He felt the bed shift slightly, and in the quiet of the room, Soren’s voice came, soft and laced with concern. “Lex? You okay?”

Lex froze, his breath catching as he realized he must have woken Soren with his restless movements. He hadn’t meant to, but the heat and dizziness were overwhelming, and he couldn’t quite mask the discomfort in his voice as he responded. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, though it was far from convincing.

Soren was already sitting up, the soft rustle of sheets filling the silence as he leaned closer to Lex. “You don’t sound fine. What’s wrong?”

Lex hesitated, his exhaustion making it hard to keep up the usual pretense. The truth was, he felt awful—hot, nauseous, and dizzy, with a headache that was starting to pulse more insistently behind his eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way after being overworked, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. He ran a hand over his face.

“I just… I don’t feel well,” Lex finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the words slipping out before he could think of a better response.

Soren’s concern deepened, and Lex could feel the shift in his boyfriend’s demeanor, a tenseness that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“What do you mean, ‘not well’? Are you dizzy? Do you have a headache? Nausea?” Soren’s questions came quickly, each one probing for a clearer picture of what was going on, but Lex could hear the underlying worry in his tone, the fear that something more was at play.

Lex sighed, his hand coming up to rub at his temple, the dull ache there flaring under his touch. “All of it,” he confessed, his voice thick with exhaustion. “I’m dizzy, and my head’s killing me, and I feel like I’m gonna be sick. How... wait, what day is it? Or, was it?”

There was a moment of silence, and Lex didn’t have to look to know that Soren was processing what he’d just said, likely running through all the possible reasons for Lex to be feeling this way. But Lex’s heart sank when he felt Soren’s hand tighten slightly on his arm, his next words tinged with suspicion.

“It's Thursday," Soren said, his voice holding a tone that made Lex anxious. He feared he knew where this was going. "Lex… you didn’t drink tonight, did you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded, and Lex felt a cold stab of dread in his chest. He knew where Soren’s mind had gone, knew that the symptoms he was describing could easily be mistaken for the aftermath of a night of drinking. But he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol—he hadn’t in a long time, not since he’d fought his way out of that dark place. Not since he barely saved any fragments of their relationship three years ago. Yet, here was Soren, his concern now tinged with doubt, and it hurt more than Lex wanted to admit.

“Soren, I didn’t—” Lex started, his voice strained, but he couldn’t get the words out before his stomach twisted violently, the nausea that had been simmering finally boiling over. He felt his mouth water, his body giving him no choice but to move, and he scrambled out of bed, the room spinning around him as he staggered towards the bathroom.

The world tilted as he stumbled down the hallway, his vision blurring at the edges as the dizziness hit him full force. Each step felt like wading through thick, unsteady water, his legs shaky beneath him. His skin was clammy, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead as the nausea surged, threatening to overwhelm him completely.

Lex barely made it to the bathroom before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet, the motion too much for his already overwhelmed senses. He gagged, his body convulsing as he tried to hold back, but it was no use. His stomach heaved, and he vomited, the force of it sending pain shooting through his head and leaving him trembling and breathless.

The retching seemed to go on forever, each wave of nausea more intense than the last, his body rebelling against the exhaustion and stress he’d been pushing through. By the time the worst of it passed, Lex was left slumped against the cold porcelain, his body spent and shaking, his head still pounding with every beat of his heart.

He heard the soft padding of feet behind him and felt Soren’s presence as he knelt beside him, the suspicion in his earlier question replaced with concern. Soren’s hand was gentle as it came to rest on the back of Lex’s neck, fingers brushing through the loose strands of his hair, holding it back and away from his face.

“Lex…” Soren’s voice was quiet, filled with worry and regret, and Lex could feel the tension between them shifting again, the doubt melting away as Soren took in the state Lex was in.

“I didn’t drink,” Lex whispered hoarsely, his voice rough from the effort of being sick. “I swear, Soren… I didn’t. I swear I'm not hungover or drunk, I'm just... sick?”

He retched again, his body convulsing with the effort, each wave of sickness leaving him more drained and disoriented. The pounding in his head was relentless, a brutal rhythm that matched the churning of his stomach. He clutched the edge of the toilet, knuckles white, as he struggled to catch his breath between bouts of vomiting.

Soren was there in an instant, kneeling beside him, his hand moving to Lex’s hair, pulling the loose braid away from his face with practiced ease. “Easy, Lex,” Soren murmured, his voice a quiet comfort in the chaos. “I’ve got you.”

As Soren held Lex’s hair back, his fingers brushed against the nape of Lex’s neck, and he stilled, noticing the heat radiating from his boyfriend’s skin. Soren’s brow furrowed in concern, and he pressed the back of his hand gently to Lex’s forehead, feeling the fever that had clearly set in. The warmth wasn’t just from the exertion of being sick—Lex was running a fever, and it was high.

Lex slumped against the toilet, panting for breath, his skin slick with sweat. The fever had sapped what little strength he had left, leaving him dazed and disoriented. Soren could see it in the way Lex’s eyes struggled to focus, the way his head lolled slightly as if he couldn’t quite keep it up.

“Lex,” Soren said gently, still holding his hair back, “you’re burning up. How long have you been feeling like this?”

Lex blinked slowly, his thoughts sluggish and muddled, as if they were trying to swim through a thick fog. “I… I don’t know,” he mumbled, his voice faint and shaky.

Soren’s concern deepened at Lex’s confusion. “Do you remember how many hours you worked?”

Lex frowned, his brow furrowing in concentration as he tried to piece together the last few days. “I… I lost track,” he admitted, sounding more bewildered than anything else. “I just kept going… Didn’t want to leave anyone hanging.”

Soren’s heart ached at Lex’s words, the exhaustion and confusion in his voice making it clear that this wasn’t just a typical case of overwork. Lex was genuinely sick, and it was more than just the stress of his job catching up to him. The fever, the dizziness, the fact that Lex couldn’t even remember how long he’d been working—it all pointed to something more serious.

Soren gently released Lex’s hair, letting it fall back as he placed a cool hand on Lex’s flushed cheek. "You really have to stop doing this to yourself."

Lex’s eyes flickered with a mix of relief and confusion, his body trembling from the fever and the effort of being sick. “I’m sorry, Soren… I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh,” Soren soothed, his thumb brushing gently across Lex’s cheek. “You don’t need to apologize. I do, actually. And I'm sorry."

Lex shook his head, "No, I know. You have every right to-"

"But I didn't," Soren said, pushing some hair behind Lex's ear again after the strand fell forward. "Let’s just get you back to bed, okay?”

Lex nodded weakly, too worn out to protest, and Soren helped him to his feet, guiding him back towards their bedroom. Each step was slow, deliberate, Soren’s arm wrapped securely around Lex’s waist to keep him steady. Lex leaned heavily on him, his body drained of energy, his mind still struggling to make sense of everything.

When they reached the bed, Soren helped Lex lie down, adjusting the pillows and blankets to make him as comfortable as possible. Lex’s skin was still feverishly warm, and his eyes had a glazed, unfocused look that worried Soren even more. But despite it all, Soren could see the trust in Lex’s eyes, the way he relaxed just a fraction now that he knew Soren believed him.

“Just rest, Lex,” Soren murmured, sitting beside him. Lex felt the way Soren’s hands started gently detangling the knots that formed in his hair, something Soren always did to keep his hands busy when this happened. It was calming. “I’m right here.”

Lex’s eyelids fluttered, and he nodded faintly, the tension in his body easing slightly as he allowed himself to relax into the bed. He was exhausted, his body and mind worn thin, but with Soren by his side, he knew he could finally let go, let the sleep take him, knowing he wasn’t alone in this.

As Lex drifted off, Soren remained by his side, watching over him with a mix of worry and determination. He’d make sure Lex got through this, no matter what. And as the night wore on, Soren’s steady presence became the anchor that kept Lex grounded, the one constant in the storm of sickness that had overtaken him.

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

Hi hi!

I loved your rants on the Traveler and read your pinned post and was just curious to hear about your destiny OCs (or anything else you want to talk about honestly)! Please ramble as it's always a good time to read to have someone go on in detail about their interests.

Light be with you!

Greetings!!!

This was such a sweet message and I’m delighted that you found an interest in the things I discuss on this blog!!! Thank you so much for the kind words and for wanting to hear about my ocs!!

Okay so we have- *I fall down a comically long flight of stairs with my box of ocs as they go everywhere* Sorry, sorry!

Truth be told, I have a LOT of ocs from all the different species and societies of Destiny as I have been into the game for practically two-thirds of my life, more than I can possibly disclose in just one post (especially because I can talk forever about these things!!)

So, I thought it would be fun if I described my many characters and their stories as silly blog/news titles and opening statements! This is only a small handful of my ocs, but if you guys want more or see one idea you’d like to hear more of, I’ll consider posting additional content of them!

Here we go:

Infamous deathsinger-school drop out meets agoraphobic Eliksni captain at Eliksni-Hive bar, requires his and his sardonic, elder dreg‘s protection against her vengeful knight sister.

Small Uluran girl tends to her family farm with her Psion in-house caretaker, finds out the only thing more troubling than a poor harvest is Torobatl politics as her caretaker brings his fragile partner into the household.

Local Last City ghost sees success at the opening of her new therapy café despite not having hands and only employing other guardian-less ghosts.

Top ten activities to do with the goat your Witness does not approve of, but your acolytes adore! (Number 4 will certainly unleash its rage!)

BREAKING: Awoken guardian and her exo best friend are kicked out of Spider‘s Palace after starting a drunken fight over a gambling dispute for the 20th time. “I remember being young, desired, out until dawn, and unbothered by responsibilities” says their middle-aged Psion fiduciary.

This Vex harpy enjoys listening to a vagrant exo hunter play his flute and doesn’t enjoy Minotaurs at all according to the vagrant hunter that menacingly approached us.

EXCLUSIVE: We interviewed the Young Wolf on why they continue to slay gods and they said “There really isn’t much else to do and my only friends are Ghost and Crow”.

Hundreds dead and thousands more injured after a fairy betrayal in the Court of Understanding left the Great Navigator paranoid that necromancy was spreading amongst his closest circle (A fairy is a Hive class I invented that is akin to court jesters for the upper class, especially the Osmium siblings. They are light-weight and agile, possessing the ability to float, while also wielding long-range weaponry. I definitely plan to explain this concept in the future and perhaps provide artwork for them!)

Long lost sibling of the architect of The Witness found in reclusive cabin with non-verbal child, told us to “Fuck off” and “Tell that disturbed prophet I want nothing to do with them”.

How to answer your young child when they start asking questions like “Why do our neighbors have four arms?” and “If the Final Shape happens, do I still have to go to school?”: A guide written by an average Last City dad with a curious daughter.

Whats better than the daughter of a baron and a cynical knight running away to live a life of piracy and blasphemy together? Studies show it’s the daughter of a baron and a cynical knight doing all of that AND being lesbians.

Renowned Hive romantic novelist takes acolyte playwright under his wing after their work reaches acclaim in the Court of War for its depiction of the Eater of Hope’s trials with redemption and love. “This will definitely win back the hat loving wizard that I had spawn with” the novelist claimed as he flipped his decadent cape.

Old Psion yells “All paracasual beings need to die in their rotting entitlement, especially that red bloated bastard and that big eyed freak he calls ‘My Mistress’!”and immediately dies after telling his aids about his time spent directly under Nezarec.

HEARTWARMING: This Lubraen stalker welcomes newcomers by giving them a tour around the city and making their bigotry apparent.

Is this the style of the summer? Qugu person sports new curled tendril mane as they embrace the end of everything.

She’s a beefy wizard, he’s a scrawny knight, they are irritating rivals: The couple that fell in love again after becoming lucent thanks to their devoted spawn.

Potential assassin of the Witness found and held under that black liquid it comes out of until their will falters. “I had to do something to protect them. No one protected my planet. I didn’t care how much I’d pay for it” stated the now-disciple fish creature.

I have tons of concepts remaining and I thoroughly love all these characters, but I don’t want this post to be too long!! I adore expanding on unexplored areas of Destiny lore and I wish I had the time to make content for my ideas!!

Thank you again for the question and I hope I adequately answered it!! Light be with you too!!