#move to the north they said!!! it will be worth it they said!!!

[nectaric]

i love writing... it would be nice to do it someday

[sonarspace]

⋆⁺₊ HOLLY, JOLLY, SINFUL

꒰ synopsis. where the krampus you feared is far from the monster in the stories, and santa isn’t the saint you thought he was.

content. santa/krampus au. sukuna x fem!reader. nsfw. rough sēx, orāl (f! receiving), hair pulling, multiple orgāsms, size kink, and possessive sukuna.

wc. 6k

an. a little spin on a christmas tale, i hope you guys like it. happy early christmas to those who celebrate <3

the north pole buzzed with a frenzy unlike any december before. the workshop, usually a well-oiled machine of holiday cheer, was on the brink of chaos. elves darted across the floor, their faces pale, their hands trembling as they struggled to stay productive amidst the rising tension.

toys had disappeared. not just a few, but sleighs worth of carefully crafted gifts, all set to be delivered to children across the world.

“gone,” whispered a senior elf, his voice trembling as he held up an empty inventory list. “every last one.”

“how could this happen?” another elf demanded, their voice sharp with fear. “no one gets past santa’s wards. no one.”

you worked silently, sorting a batch of unfinished trains, though your hands trembled as much as theirs. the tension in the room was suffocating, each whispered fear clawing at the edges of your composure.

you weren’t the most experienced elf—far from it—but even you could sense the weight of what had happened. christmas wasn’t just a season; it was magic, a promise of joy to the world. and without the toys, that magic would crumble.

“it’s him,” someone whispered behind you, their voice low and ominous. “krampus.”

the name hung in the air like a curse.

you’d heard the stories growing up, tales of a monstrous being who lived in the frozen expanse of the south pole. krampus, they said, was the shadow of christmas, a creature who thrived on misery and chaos. his four arms were said to be lined with claws, his horns sharp enough to pierce steel.

but no one believed the stories. not really.

until now.

the grand hall was quieter than you’d ever heard it.

rows of elves stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of the towering christmas tree. despite the festive decorations, the atmosphere was heavy, the usual cheer replaced by unease.

santa stood at the head of the room, his crimson coat gleaming in the firelight. his sharp crimson eyes swept over the crowd, and the tension in the room seemed to deepen.

“this was no accident,” santa said, his voice cutting through the silence. “the toys have been stolen. and the wards around the north pole have been breached.”

a ripple of shock ran through the crowd.

“krampus has made his move,” santa continued. “and if we don’t act quickly, christmas will be ruined.”

the whispers began again, this time louder, more frantic.

“he’s real?” someone asked, their voice tinged with disbelief.

“of course he’s real,” another snapped. “who else could have done this?”

you stayed silent, your heart pounding as santa’s words sank in.

“we must retrieve the gifts,” santa said. “but the south pole is treacherous, and krampus is no ordinary foe. this will require courage—and skill.”

his gaze swept over the crowd again, lingering on the senior elves who avoided his eyes.

“who will go?”

the room fell silent.

your hands clenched into fists.

you could feel the weight of your fellow elves’ fear, their unwillingness to step forward. the journey would be dangerous, and the thought of facing krampus—the supposed monster of legend—was enough to send even the bravest elves into hiding.

but as the silence stretched on, something inside you stirred.

if no one else would act, then who would?

before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward.

“i’ll do it.”

the words rang out in the hall, louder than you’d expected.

all eyes turned to you, a mix of admiration, surprise, and doubt flickering in their gazes.

santa’s sharp gaze settled on you, his expression unreadable.

“you’re brave,” he said after a moment, his tone even. “but this will not be easy.”

“i can handle it,” you said, forcing your voice to remain steady.

before santa could respond, the air changed.

a sudden chill swept through the hall, snuffing out the candles in an instant. the elves gasped, their breath visible in the freezing air.

the temperature plummeted, and an unnatural wind began to swirl, carrying with it a deep, mocking laugh.

“so this is the great north pole,” a voice boomed, the sound reverberating through the hall like thunder. it was smooth and resonant, laced with cruel amusement.

“weak, fragile, desperate,” the voice continued. “you send a mere elf to face me? is that the best you can do, kenjaku?”

the air seemed to pulse with the weight of the voice, a presence you could feel but not see.

you glanced at santa, your confusion growing. kenjaku? who was that?

“show yourself, krampus,” santa growled, his jaw tightening.

the voice laughed again, colder this time.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you? but no, not yet,” krampus said, his tone dripping with mockery. “come to me, kenjaku. or are you too much of a coward to face what you stole?”

the words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

santa’s expression darkened, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“i’ll come,” he said finally, his voice tight with restrained anger.

the meeting ended in a flurry of nervous energy. elves whispered among themselves, their voices rising and falling like waves as they tried to make sense of what they’d just heard.

you stayed behind, packing supplies for the journey. the staff santa had given you—infused with ancient christmas magic—felt warm in your hands, a faint glow emanating from its carved surface.

“are you sure about this?” one of the senior elves asked, their voice hesitant as they approached you.

“i don’t have a choice,” you replied, your voice firm. “someone has to do it.”

they nodded, though their expression remained troubled. “be careful,” they said before turning to leave.

you glanced at santa, who stood by the fire, his gaze distant. his usual commanding presence felt… strained, as though the weight of krampus’s words had unsettled him.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story—something he wasn’t telling you.

but there was no time to dwell on it. the journey to the south pole awaited, and whatever lay ahead, you would face it head-on.

the journey to the south pole was grueling.

the snow felt sharper here, more like shards of glass than soft flakes. the bitter cold seemed to seep through every layer of clothing, chilling you to your bones. this wasn’t like the north pole—the light, the cheer, the magic. this place felt… wrong.

santa led the way, his crimson coat stark against the endless expanse of gray and white. the silence between you was heavy, broken only by the crunch of snow underfoot and the howling wind.

“are we close?” you asked, gripping your staff tightly as its faint glow pulsed in your hand.

“closer than i’d like,” santa replied, his tone clipped.

you frowned. his usual steady demeanor felt off. there was none of the quiet confidence you’d grown used to—just tension, coiled and sharp.

“what is this place?” you pressed, glancing at the jagged ice formations jutting out of the ground like broken glass.

“krampus’s domain,” santa said. “his influence twists the land. the closer we get, the more dangerous it becomes.”

a shiver ran down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

the attack came without warning.

the ground trembled beneath your feet, the snow cracking and shifting as shadowy figures emerged from the storm.

“what’s that?” you asked, panic rising in your chest.

“bandits,” santa said sharply, his hand tightening around his staff.

before you could respond, they were upon you. their movements were quick and unnatural, their jagged weapons carved from ice glinting in the dim light.

“stay close,” santa ordered.

you raised your staff, its glow flaring as the first bandit lunged toward you. the magic coursed through you, sending a pulse of energy that knocked them back.

but there were too many.

you swung the staff again, the force of the blow sending another bandit sprawling into the snow. but for every one you struck down, two more seemed to take their place.

a sharp blow to your side sent you stumbling, the staff slipping from your grasp. you fell to your knees, gasping for breath as pain radiated through your ribs.

“help me!” you shouted, turning to santa.

but he wasn’t there.

your heart sank as you scanned the storm, the wind tearing at your cloak. “santa!” you called again, desperation rising in your voice.

there was no answer.

the bandits closed in, their twisted faces leering down at you.

“still breathing, are you?”

the voice was deep, smooth, and laced with a hint of amusement.

you blinked, your vision blurry as the storm raged around you. a figure crouched beside you, his sharp features coming into focus as the wind whipped through his wild, pink hair.

“who…” you croaked, your voice barely audible.

“relax,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

he leaned closer, his crimson eyes scanning your face with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

“bandits,” he muttered, glancing at the torn fabric of your cloak. “you’re lucky they didn’t finish the job.”

before you could respond, he slipped a thick cloak around your trembling form, his four arms moving with surprising gentleness.

“can you stand?” he asked.

you shook your head weakly, your body refusing to cooperate.

“figured as much,” he said with a faint smirk.

before you could protest, he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you against his chest. the warmth of his skin seeped through the layers of fabric, and you found yourself leaning into him, unable to resist.

“who are you?” you asked weakly.

“someone who doesn’t leave people to die in the snow,” he replied dryly.

the warmth of his shelter was a shock after the brutal cold outside.

he set you down on a plush couch near the fire, his movements careful as he adjusted the blanket around your shoulders.

“drink this,” he said, handing you a steaming mug.

the spiced cider was rich and warm, flooding your senses with comfort. you sipped it cautiously, watching as he crouched beside you.

“what were you doing out there?” he asked, his crimson eyes sharp and searching.

you hesitated, glancing down at the mug in your hands. “you wouldn’t believe me if i told you.”

his lips curved into a faint smirk. “try me.”

you swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “i came here with santa claus,” you began hesitantly, watching his reaction.

his eyes widened slightly, but not with disbelief. there was something else in his gaze—an intensity you couldn’t quite place, as if he were seeing you for the first time.

you felt the need to explain, to justify yourself. “i know it sounds ridiculous,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out. “but… santa claus is real. he exists for those who choose to believe in him.”

to your surprise, his expression softened. the smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, almost contemplative.

“and you believe,” he said, his tone calm.

“i do,” you admitted. “it’s not just about the toys or the magic. it’s about hope. about believing that even in the darkest times, there’s something good in the world.”

he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “a rare thing, these days,” he said quietly.

his reaction surprised you. instead of mockery, there was understanding in his gaze, a warmth that made your chest tighten.

“so, you’re here with him,” he said after a moment.

“yes,” you replied. “santa sent me to find krampus and retrieve the stolen gifts.”

his eyes darkened slightly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than felt natural. it wasn’t skepticism or anger—it was something deeper, more intense.

how could kenjaku have someone like you by his side? your quiet strength, your rare beauty, your unwavering belief in something so pure. the thought ignited something sharp and bitter in his chest.

you shifted under his gaze, mistaking his silence for doubt. “i know it sounds ridiculous,” you said quickly, your voice trembling slightly. “but i promise, it’s real. everything—santa, the north pole, the magic—it’s all real.”

“i don’t think it’s ridiculous,” he said, interrupting you gently.

you blinked, caught off guard. “you don’t?”

his lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. “not at all,” he said, his voice low. “some things are worth believing in, even if the rest of the world doesn’t understand.”

his words lingered in the air between you, and for a moment, the storm outside seemed to fade into the background.

“you’re not what i expected,” he said finally, his voice softer now.

neither was he.

the storm outside had grown fiercer, the wind howling against the walls of the shelter as if the very land were angry. inside, the fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the room.

you watched your rescuer as he paced near the hearth, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. the tension in his movements was palpable, his four arms crossing and uncrossing as if he were fighting an internal battle.

“so,” he said, breaking the silence. “you came here with kenjaku.”

you frowned. “who?”

his gaze snapped to yours, sharp and incredulous. “kenjaku,” he repeated, his tone laced with disdain. “the man you call santa claus.”

your stomach twisted at his words, the weight of the name unfamiliar and wrong. “that’s not his name,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“it is,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “you’ve been lied to.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the intensity in his gaze silenced you. there was no mockery, no smugness—only a simmering anger that made your breath catch.

“you don’t know, do you?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, softer. “what he’s done.”

“what are you talking about?” you said, your chest tightening as the weight of his words pressed down on you.

he sighed, running a hand through his pink hair, his tattoos glowing faintly as his anger simmered just beneath the surface.

“centuries ago,” he began, his voice steady but edged with bitterness, “i was chosen to bear the mantle of santa claus. the magic of christmas—the ancient power that keeps this world in balance—was mine by right. but kenjaku didn’t think i was fit for the role. he wanted it for himself.”

you stared at him, your mind reeling as his words sank in.

“he used forbidden magic,” sukuna continued, his voice darkening, “to seal me here, in the south pole. he took everything from me—my title, my power, my purpose—and left me to rot in this frozen wasteland.”

the crackle of the fire was the only sound as his words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

“and now he sends you,” he said, his gaze narrowing. “to clean up his mess.”

“that’s not true,” you said, though your voice wavered. “he wouldn’t…”

“wouldn’t he?” sukuna interrupted, stepping closer. “then tell me, where is he now? why did he leave you to die?”

the question hit like a blow, the memory of the bandits and kenjaku’s disappearance flashing in your mind.

“maybe he had no choice,” you said weakly, though even you didn’t believe the words.

sukuna snorted, his expression twisting into a bitter smile. “you’re too kind for your own good.”

you looked away, the weight of his gaze too much to bear.

“you still don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “he’s been using you. just like he uses everyone else.”

the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the silence.

sukuna stiffened, his tattoos glowing brighter as he turned toward the door. his crimson eyes burned with anger, his four arms flexing as he prepared for what was coming.

“stay here,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

before you could respond, the door burst open, a gust of icy wind swirling into the room.

and there, standing in the doorway, was kenjaku—santa claus.

“so this is where you’ve been hiding,” kenjaku said, his voice smooth, almost amused.

sukuna’s growl rumbled through the room like distant thunder. “you’ve got some nerve showing your face here.”

kenjaku stepped inside, his crimson coat gleaming in the firelight. his gaze swept over the room, lingering on you for a moment before returning to sukuna.

“you always were dramatic,” kenjaku said, his tone sharp.

“and you always were a liar,” sukuna shot back, his voice venomous.

you stood frozen, your heart pounding as the tension between them crackled like static electricity.

“why did you leave me?” you demanded, your voice cutting through the standoff.

kenjaku’s gaze softened, though there was something calculating in his expression. “i had no choice,” he said smoothly. “the bandits were too many. if i’d stayed, we both would have died.”

“that’s bullshit,” sukuna spat, stepping forward. “you left her because she wasn’t worth the effort to you.”

“don’t listen to him,” kenjaku said, his voice soothing as he turned to you. “he’s krampus. he’s the reason we’re in this mess.”

“and you’re the reason she almost died,” sukuna growled, his voice low and dangerous.

kenjaku ignored him, his focus entirely on you. “he’s manipulating you,” he said, his tone firm but calm. “he wants you to trust him so he can use you against me.”

you hesitated, your gaze flickering between them.

“don’t listen to him,” sukuna said, his eyes burning as he looked at you. “you know the truth.”

you took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“you left me to die,” you said to kenjaku, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest. “he didn’t.”

kenjaku’s expression faltered, the first crack in his calm facade.

“you don’t understand,” he began, but you didn’t let him finish.

raising your staff, you stepped closer to sukuna, the magic within it surging as you made your choice.

“she’s not yours to manipulate,” sukuna snarled, stepping in front of you as kenjaku’s face twisted in rage.

the fight was chaos.

magic crackled through the air, the room trembling as sukuna and kenjaku clashed. sukuna moved with raw power, his four arms striking with precision as his tattoos glowed with unrestrained energy. kenjaku countered with sharp, calculated attacks, his crimson coat billowing around him as he fought with a ruthless efficiency.

you held your ground, the staff in your hands glowing as you channeled your own magic. when kenjaku’s attacks threatened to overwhelm sukuna, you stepped in, the power of the north pole surging through you as you deflected the blows.

“stay out of this!” kenjaku snapped, his voice rising in frustration.

“no,” you said firmly, your gaze steady. “i’m done following your orders.”

sukuna smirked, his gaze flickering to you briefly before returning to kenjaku. “looks like you’ve lost your grip,” he taunted.

kenjaku roared, his attacks growing wilder, more desperate. but together, you and sukuna were unstoppable—a force that even the self-proclaimed santa couldn’t overcome.

the clash reached its peak with a deafening explosion of magic. sparks of crimson and gold danced through the air as sukuna’s raw power collided with kenjaku’s calculated strikes. the very walls of the shelter trembled under the weight of their battle, cracks snaking along the icy structure.

you gripped the staff tightly, its glow steady in your hands as you prepared to deflect another attack aimed at sukuna.

“is that all you’ve got?” sukuna snarled, his four arms moving with devastating precision as he sent a powerful strike toward kenjaku.

kenjaku staggered, his crimson coat scorched and torn, his sharp features twisted in frustration. his usual smug confidence had begun to falter, his attacks growing more desperate.

“this isn’t over,” kenjaku hissed, his voice laced with venom as he stepped back, his hands crackling with dark magic.

“oh, it is,” sukuna growled, his tattoos glowing brighter as he advanced. “you’re done hiding behind lies, kenjaku.”

you stepped forward, raising your staff. the magic within it surged, intertwining with sukuna’s energy as you sent a pulse of light toward kenjaku.

he barely had time to deflect it before sukuna was upon him, his fists slamming into kenjaku’s barrier with enough force to shatter it. the power of the strike sent kenjaku flying backward, crashing into the icy wall with a thunderous crack.

kenjaku struggled to rise, his movements slow and unsteady. his crimson eyes burned with rage as he glared at you and sukuna.

“you think this changes anything?” he spat, his voice trembling with anger. “you think you can take my place?”

“it was never your place to begin with,” sukuna said coldly, stepping forward.

you watched as sukuna loomed over kenjaku, his presence dominating the room. for a moment, you thought he might strike the final blow, but instead, he stepped back, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“you’re not worth it,” sukuna said, his voice low and sharp. “but you’re finished. you’ll never hold the mantle again.”

with a flick of his hand, sukuna unleashed a burst of energy that sent kenjaku hurtling out of the shelter and into the storm. the force of it was so immense that the very air seemed to ripple, the storm outside swallowing kenjaku whole.

silence followed, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

you lowered the staff, your hands trembling as the adrenaline began to fade.

“is it over?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

sukuna turned to you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. “it’s over,” he said, his voice steady.

the tension in your chest eased, and you sank onto the couch, exhaustion washing over you.

sukuna moved to the hearth, his four arms lowering as the glow of his tattoos dimmed. he leaned against the wall, his crimson eyes watching you closely.

“you fought well,” he said after a moment, his tone quiet.

“so did you,” you replied, offering him a small, tired smile.

his lips twitched into a faint smirk, though there was a warmth in his gaze that made your cheeks flush.

the journey back to the north pole was a blur of ice and wind, but this time, you weren’t alone.

sukuna walked beside you, his presence steady and protective. he carried the stolen gifts in a large sack slung over his shoulder, his four arms making the burden look effortless.

when you finally crossed the threshold of the north pole, the light and magic of the workshop washed over you like a wave. elves gathered in the grand hall, their faces alight with relief and joy as they saw the gifts restored.

but their excitement faltered when they saw sukuna. whispers rippled through the crowd, their eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

“it’s okay,” you said, stepping forward. “he’s not our enemy.”

santa’s empty throne loomed at the head of the room, and sukuna’s gaze lingered on it, his expression unreadable.

“it’s yours now,” you said softly, your voice carrying only to him.

he glanced at you, his crimson eyes narrowing. “you think they’ll accept me?”

“they will,” you said, your voice firm. “because they’ll see what i see.”

his lips curved into a faint smile, and he stepped forward, his presence commanding as he approached the throne.

when he sat, the air seemed to shift, the ancient magic of christmas surging through the hall. the elves stared in awe as the throne’s glow brightened, its magic recognizing sukuna as the rightful santa.

the days that followed were a whirlwind of activity as christmas was saved and the gifts delivered. but when it was all over, and the workshop quieted for the long rest of the year, sukuna sought you out.

he found you in the quiet of your room, the glow of the north pole’s lights filtering through the window.

“come with me,” he said, his voice low and inviting.

you followed him without hesitation, his presence drawing you in like a magnet. he led you to his chambers—his now, as the new santa. the room was warm and inviting, the fire crackling softly in the hearth.

“you saved me,” he said, turning to face you. his crimson eyes softened, his tattoos glowing faintly in the dim light. “you trusted me when no one else would.”

“you deserved it,” you said quietly.

he stepped closer, his four arms wrapping around you as his lips curved into a smirk. “and now, i intend to thank you properly.”

the air between you seemed to hum with energy, his gaze locking onto yours as the distance between you disappeared.

his chambers were steeped in a heavy, intoxicating warmth, the flickering firelight reflecting off the deep crimson furnishings and casting shadows that seemed to breathe with the rhythm of the room. the air itself felt alive, humming with a raw energy that matched the man standing before you.

sukuna leaned casually against the ornate four-poster bed, his broad shoulders and muscular arms giving the impression of effortless power. his crimson eyes burned with an intensity that pinned you in place, their sharpness softened only slightly by the faint curl of his lips.

“you don’t need to stand there like a nervous little rabbit,” he said, his voice low and teasing, a delicious rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “come here.”

the way he said it—smooth and commanding, with a promise of something that made your stomach flutter—left you no choice but to obey.

you stepped closer, your heart pounding with each step, until you were standing in front of him.

“you saved christmas,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours as his four arms moved to surround you. the first hand slid to your waist, his grip firm but not overbearing, while another rested gently on the small of your back, pulling you closer. “and more than that… you saved me.”

“i didn’t do it alone,” you replied, your voice a whisper under the weight of his attention.

he tilted his head, strands of soft pink hair falling into his face as his smirk widened. his thumb traced lazily over your cheek, the pad of it brushing just beneath your lips, lingering like he was daring you to take a bite. “always so modest,” he murmured, voice like velvet dragged over steel. “but tonight isn’t about me. it’s about you.”

his words settled low in your stomach, molten and heavy, and before you could think to reply, his lips were on yours.

the kiss wasn’t gentle. sukuna didn’t ask—he took. his mouth moved over yours with a slow, deliberate hunger that left no room for hesitation. his tongue brushed against your bottom lip before sliding inside, tasting you, claiming you with a heat that left you lightheaded.

his hands—strong, calloused, and just the right amount of rough—moved without direction, as if instinct alone drove them. one slid up the bare skin of your back, tugging you against him until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you. another drifted lower, fingers curving to squeeze your thigh, pulling it higher against his hip.

the third tangled into your hair, twisting at the roots with just enough pressure to make you whimper against his mouth. the way he touched you—too many hands, too much strength—left you dizzy and burning.

“fuck,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to catch your lower lip between his teeth, giving it a playful tug before releasing you. his voice was husky, breath ragged, but his smirk never faded. “already trembling?”

“maybe you should do something about it,” you shot back, though your voice barely rose above a whisper.

his gaze flicked over you, crimson eyes glinting with something darker.

“oh, i intend to.”

before you could react, sukuna swept you up—two hands beneath your thighs, one cradling your back, the last trailing teasingly down your spine. he carried you toward the bed like you weighed nothing, the heat of his body seeping through every layer between you.

when he dropped you onto the plush sheets, he hovered at the edge of the bed, gaze raking over you with the kind of attention that left your skin flushed.

“strip.”

the single word hung heavy in the air, rasping low and deep, more command than request.

your fingers trembled as you pulled at the fabric, peeling away each layer under his watchful eyes.

by the time the last piece fell to the floor, sukuna knelt between your legs, hands spreading your thighs apart with an ease that made your breath catch.

“look at you,” he murmured, his pink hair falling over his forehead as his gaze darkened. thick fingers traced a slow path along the soft skin of your inner thigh, rough fingertips catching on each sensitive dip. “all spread out for me.”

his breath was hot as he lowered his head, lips brushing feather-light kisses over the inside of your legs, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

when he finally reached your center, he paused—close enough for you to feel the soft puff of his exhale, but not enough to satisfy the ache blooming between your thighs.

“mine,” he growled, voice vibrating against your skin.

and then his mouth was on you.

his tongue traced a slow, deliberate line from your entrance to your clit, flicking over the sensitive nub with a precision that left your head spinning.

you gasped, fingers flying to his hair, tugging hard at the strands of pink that curled between your knuckles.

he groaned into you, the vibration of his voice sending another jolt straight through your core.

“so fucking sweet,” he muttered against you, the words muffled by the slick heat of his mouth.

his tongue lapped at you in slow, torturous circles, switching between soft flicks and hard strokes that left your thighs trembling.

when his finger pressed into you—thick and unrelenting—you couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out.

his crimson eyes flicked up, locking onto yours. “louder,” he commanded, curling his finger inside you until he found that spot that made your hips jerk.

“sukuna,” you gasped, nails digging into his scalp.

his smirk widened against you, but he didn’t relent. another finger joined the first, stretching you just enough to make your toes curl.

“that’s it,” he purred, dragging his tongue over your clit with every pulse of his fingers. “say my name again.”

your breath hitched as heat coiled low in your belly, winding tighter with each stroke.

“sukuna,” you whimpered, body arching into his touch as the pressure inside you built to the edge.

“good girl.”

his tongue moved faster, fingers thrusting deeper until the coil snapped, pleasure flooding your senses so sharply that you swore you saw white.

you writhed beneath him, body trembling with each wave of release, but sukuna didn’t stop. his mouth and hands dragged you through the aftershocks, prolonging the heat until your legs shook violently around his head.

when he finally pulled away, his lips and chin glistened, and the sight of him licking your slick from his fingers sent another rush of heat flooding your core.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” he rasped, his voice rough and low as he hovered over you, his cock pressing against your entrance.

you could feel him—hot, thick, and far too big.

“you’re gonna take every inch,” he growled, tilting your hips higher as he teased your entrance with the tip.

his cock dragged through your slick folds, each shallow thrust making you ache with want.

“look at me.”

your eyes snapped to his, and the sight of him left you breathless. his crimson gaze burned with possession, pink strands of hair falling into his face as he slowly sank inside, stretching you inch by inch.

your nails dug into his shoulders as your head fell back against the pillow.

“sukuna,” you gasped, breath breaking as he filled you completely.

his name spilled from your lips in a breathy moan as he bottomed out, the thick press of his cock stretching you to your limit. sukuna stilled, letting you adjust, his four hands roaming your body in slow, reverent strokes—calloused palms smoothing over your hips, thighs, and breasts as if to memorize every inch.

“fuck,” he rasped, one of his thumbs dragging lazily over your swollen clit. “you’re takin’ me so well. look how deep i am.”

your eyes fluttered open just in time to catch the glint in his gaze, his crimson irises smoldering as he pressed down on the slight bulge in your abdomen.

“you feel that?” he smirked, applying just enough pressure to make you keen. “so full of me already.”

your head fell back, a soft whimper tumbling from your throat as he rolled his hips, the slow drag of him pulling out leaving you trembling.

“stay with me, baby,” he growled, catching your chin between his fingers and tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “i wanna see that pretty face while i fuck you.”

he snapped his hips forward again, the sudden force driving a gasp from your lips. sukuna’s smirk widened as he found his rhythm, each thrust harder, deeper—grinding against that sensitive spot inside that left your thighs trembling around his waist.

“goddamn,” he hissed, leaning down to bite at the curve of your shoulder, his teeth dragging against your flushed skin. “tight little thing. you were made for me.”

your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as he drove you closer to the edge with every snap of his hips.

“sukuna—please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for.

“please what?” he teased, dipping his head to suck a bruise just above your collarbone, his tongue flicking over the mark. “you gotta use your words, sweetheart.”

“i—” your voice broke as he angled his thrusts, the head of his cock brushing against that spot so perfectly you thought you might unravel on the spot.

sukuna grinned, reading the desperation in your eyes as if it fueled him. “ah, there it is,” he murmured, lips brushing against your jaw. “that sweet little spot that makes you fall apart.”

his pace quickened, hips pistoning into you with a brutal precision that sent molten pleasure ripping through your veins.

“you close, baby?” he growled, his voice gravelly as his four hands anchored you to the bed—one pressing down against your lower stomach, two gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, and the last tangling in your hair, tugging gently as he sucked at the curve of your throat.

you could only nod, your breath catching as the tension in your core coiled tighter, dangerously close to snapping.

“then cum for me,” he ordered, dragging his thumb over your clit in tight, merciless circles. “let me feel you.”

his words were all it took—your body arched off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and all-consuming.

sukuna groaned low in his chest, his thrusts growing rougher, sloppier as your walls pulsed around him, milking him for all he was worth.

“fuck, baby,” he snarled, burying himself to the hilt one last time as he came, the heat of his release flooding you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

for a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound between you the ragged cadence of your breathing and the faint crackle of the fire.

for a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound between you the ragged cadence of your breathing and the faint crackle of the fire.

sukuna leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips—a stark contrast to the bruising way he’d just taken you. his hands, once gripping you with unrelenting force, now traced gentle patterns along your waist, grounding you in the quiet intimacy that followed.

“an elf always belongs with santa,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough yet tender, as if the words carried a weight neither of you fully understood until now.

your heart skipped at the quiet conviction in his tone, warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the fire crackling in the hearth.

you brushed a hand through his pink hair, letting the strands curl around your fingers as you smiled softly. “guess that makes me yours then.”

[vivalarevolution]

𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓞𝓴𝓪𝔂 𝓣𝓸 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓱

Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen Reader x Cregan Stark

Summary: War emerged from the shadows like an old friend, but apart from the war, there were also matters from the past that created new, unknown and dangerous affairs for her, so sinful and so forbidden. And this time she couldn't escape, getting trapped in between seahorse and a wolf.

A/N: A refreshed version of the story , that I really think is one of the better ones I've ever written. I hope you will like it , enjoy it and find it worth reading.

Please remember that english is not my native language, I do not use it on a daily basis, so mistakes can or will happen.

The work contains smut, so minors do not interact with it.

The north was cold, full of ice and snow, and the northern people were even colder. Their eyes gave the shivers, and the low and rough tone of voice made silence the only thing that escaped from the lips of strangers.

But he, Lord of Winterfell, though he seemed to be the same, was the opposite of it all.

Cregan Stark was a wolf in human skin. A man who could bend thousands with just a single glance of his gray irises. He was like fire itself, dangerous and burning under her fingers. He was vicious and wild, devouring her flesh every night, never being satisfied, always wanting more and more until there was nothing left to give.

-Cregan - she moaned into his neck, her nails creating patterns on his back that covered the old ones, not yet healed.

-Feels good, princess? - he purred into her ear, sucking on its lobe, only to kiss it after , feeling her soft skin become covered with goosebumps.

-Oh Cregan - she whimpered, unable to say anything else, repeating his name like a prayer.

The man grabbed her thighs in response, lifting her legs up, letting her ankles rest on his shoulders, gliding his lips over the flesh of her calves, moving his loins deeply and slowly, taking her breath away as she felt the head of his member kissing her cervix again and again ,mixing pain and pleasure together.

-It's so sweet...addictive when you say my name like a prayer - he murmured, lowering his face over hers, rubbing his lips against her full , soft and red, almost swollen ones - It only makes me want to devour you like a hungry wolf and make you mine forever.

-Yes, yes ... only yours - she whispered ,tangling her fingers in the man's brown hair, pulling them again and again, trying to touch his lips, even for a moment - Oh Cregan, please, please! - she moaned directly into his mouth, her lavender irises covered with a robe of crystal tears, threatening to flow out.

-How can I say no to you ,my little dragon? - Cregan asked, moving his hips so brutally and animalistic, contrasting with the controlled movements of his hands that pinned her to the bed, commanding her to take everything, not letting her escape - Take everything I give you, that's right, good girl - he growled like a hungry enraged wolf, making her fall apart before his eyes.

Woman felt as if something had crept into her veins and made her body a shell filled with lust and desire, nothing more. Her muscles went limp, almost non-existent, and her eyes closed embraced in a soothing darkness.

The man's hands were still moving, marking her skin with an electrifying sensation that made her open her eyes, to open her mouth and let his tongue out, to let the wolf prey.

-Cregan - she said quietly so that the only one who could've heard her was the man she mentioned - Kiss me, kiss me again.

Brunet bowed his head, brushing her soft, delicate lips with his, fulfilling her wish.

-You make me a hungry man. Never wanting to stop, never going to stop - he murmured, tasting her again and again, mixing their breaths together.

-No... don't say that - she moaned, feeling his hands on her sensitive breasts, trying to recapture the bit of consciousness that began to ebb away with each movement of his fingers and each kiss of his hot lips.

-That's the truth. I could never lie to you, I can only tell you the truth when I look at you - he panted, attacking her once flawless neck, which was now full of red marks and bites - You have bewitched me, my body and mind and I can't lie. No matter how much you want to hear a lie from my lips.

You have bewitched me. My body and mind.

Those words, she's heard those words before. They echoed in her head, only to sink to the bottom of her stomach, creating a knot so unbearable and painful that she wanted to scream and cry in pain.

-We are enemies...out there, we are enemies to each other - she remarked listlessly, focusing her violet eyes on the snowy window.

-Yet here we're lovers. In my arms you are my beloved, not my enemy - he replied directly to her ear, tenderly kissing the left side of her face.

-When I return to King's Landing and announce the decision of Lord of Winterfell...you will become ... only an enemy - she confessed, after a moment leveling her eyes with him.

Cregan stared intently into her pupils, black as the abyss, drawing him in.

-You are the bane of my existence. And the object of all my desires. Night and day, I dream of you - the man announced and the woman knew every word was sincere, every blink of his grey eyes ,every breath taken during his confession - So when you come back I'll be on the other side fighting to tear you away from the clutches you were born into but didn't want to live. You will be my lover my princess, never my enemy.

Days later, their conversation seemed non-existent. However, in truth, she was forgotten and hidden deep in the darkness by a woman who did not want to remember it, preferring to live in the bliss of unconsciousness. But life was cruel and was not about to let Y/n Targaryen rest, stabbing the princess's heart with long thorns of memories that flooded her like a flood as her eyes saw a familiar figure and heard a voice she once adored.

-I came here as a messenger, not a warrior - he announced and the woman didn't even know who these words were addressed to, for what purpose they were uttered but she didn't care, all she wanted to know was whether it was an illusion.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

It seemed to her that he was standing so close to her, even though in truth he was so far away, but his brown eyes still spotted her in the darkness that surrounded her, no matter how much she tried to hide in it , no matter how she was trying to escape him. He caught her anyway ,right under the noses of the old gods.

-Let go of me - she said as his arms wrapped around her, trapping her inside of them.

-What are you doing here Y/n? Why are you here? - he asked, looking at her, his hands tightening on her body as soon as she moved harder than before.

-I'm delivering a message from my brother. Just as you doing with the message from your mother, my sister - she confessed, looking at him.

Jacaerys released her as if her words were burning, but he didn't let her go. Caging her in the form of his eyesight and body that blocked out everything but him, forcing her to focus only on the young man before her.

-Why? - he asked calmly, sounding almost hurt.

-Why? - she repeated his question, not understanding the meaning of his words, not when they were both now standing on opposite sides of the barricade as enemies - We are at war Jacaerys. There is too late to ask questions , too late to think what if.

They both fell quiet abruptly, letting the silence creep in between them, devouring them from the inside out , and none of them said anything, only staring into the eyes of the other.

-I know this war is real but I don't want to believe that in this war you chose your brother... instead of me - he confessed surprisingly quietly, surprisingly coldly.

-What was between us... it was just an illusion we lived in - Y/n replied, feeling the lump in her throat grow as her heart throbs with pain and her veins flood with anger.

-We decided to love each other - said the brunette, getting closer to the girl, more and more - It was a choice, our choice - he whispered, running his fingers along her cheekbone.

-But it was your choice to make me a woman you could love in the dark but never in the light of day. You've made promises to me before, and like a fool, I believed them. I won't be your fool again - she said firmly, pushing his hand away from her face.

-It was never my intention - he confessed quietly, trying to match her gaze, but she ran away every time - I wanted you, only you.

The white-haired woman shook her head, not believing any of his words and not wanting to listen further.

-Yet you swore to marry Baela. In front of my eyes you chose her over me - Y/n gritted her teeth, voice as cold as ice - Where was your love then, where is it now? There's a woman waiting for you, a woman who have feelings for you, and you're chasing the one you can't have.

Instead of answering, Jacaerys unexpectedly pinned her to a tree behind them, his body clinging to her like a puzzle piece, and his own hands wrapped around the hers.

-I'll always choose you - he announced, inches from her face, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

-Don't say that - she whispered, finally leveling her gaze with him - Don't say that. Don't say that, becasue I didn't ask for it. I didn't ask to be plagued by these feelings.

Y/n felt her heart being torn in half, allowing the memories to creep in. But then she remembered the gray irises that soothed her soul, gave her the longed-for oblivion, the hands that protected her and the voice that put her to sleep in the middle of the night.

And yet, she was no longer able to keep everything Jacaerys had once been to her, who he still was - a lover, a rock, a soulmate.

So she let it all in, let the pain tear her from inside, making her throat burn from how much she was forcing herself not to cry, and her eyes glazed almost like glass.

Brunet wanted to touch her, comfort her, but he let her escape from his embrace, letting her disappear into the depths of Godswood. Unaware that Lord Winterfell had been watching their close interaction, revealing a secret he was never meant to discover.

The night came quickly, and in the night came coldness that attacked every bone in her body. But the truth was that it wasn't the cold that was causing it but the feelings that hadn't left her for hours, taunting her.

Her lavender-colored eyes stared at the wildly dancing flames that warmed her face, giving it an orange glow, while one hand lazily glided between the fires until the door to her chamber swung open, causing her to be plucked from the ocean of thoughts, returning to the surface ,to the reality.

Cregan watched her like a wild wolf, wild as well as great, towering over the passage, blocking her only escape route.

With a look that said he knew. He knew something.

-The past can be painful - she said, her face was emotionless, but her eyes hid all the secrets that were in her - Love comes and goes like a gust of wind or a wave on the sea. I believe you know it, you loved and you lost... - she noticed reminding him of the woman who once held his heart, now she was its owner.

-We both loved and lost - he said, approaching her agonizingly slowly - And we both found love where we didn't want to look, in the arms of another - he added, kneeling in front of her, cupping her chin with his hand, stroking the smooth skin of her face with his thumb - But you my dragon , you have the opportunity to regain something that was once taken from you. I will never have that opportunity.

She wished meaning behind his words was unknown to her, but when her eyes saw Jacaerys standing by the door, hidden in the shadows just like she had been so long ago, looking at her as intensely, as passionately as he had during their affair, she knew her secret ceased to be a secret and became the truth that came to light.

-What if I don't want to? - she asked, looking straight at her nephew, wanting to see how he would react to her words - What if choosing the past makes me lose you? - she remarked more quietly, shifting her violet eyes to Lord of Winterfell.

Cregan looked at the younger brunet but it was only a moment, as if there was no need to talk between them, as if everything that was happening was planned.

-I saw your pain. I don't want to see it ever again - he announced, stroking the skin on her cheek, but her eyes still expressed uncertainty, hesitation - It's okay to love something you can't explain, it's okay to love us both princess.

-Just say the word - Jacaerys whispered right into her ear, and she turned her face towards him to almost meet his full lips in a kiss, surprised that he was right behind her ,without her knowing.

Y/n felt like she couldn't breathe, like something had crushed her lungs, preventing her from taking a breath, but as soon as she let out the first words, everything let go, the ropes were cut and the walls fell down.

-Never leave me again - she said to the boy before connecting their lips in a deep, longing kiss, tangling her slender fingers in his thick, dark curls.

She could feel the closeness of Cregan on her spine as he slid the white fabric of her nightgown off her shoulders, brushing her hair from her neck to kiss the skin in the hollow of it. His mouth was hot and possessive, completely different from Jacaerys's soft ones.

The northerner's hand slid down her body, engulfing her womanhood hidden behind the thin material of her underwear, making her whimper into her second lover's mouth as Cregan's rough fingers slid between her legs.

Y/n tried to focus on her breathing as two pairs of hands freed her from her clothes, soon to be kneeling naked between them, feeling vulnerable as their gaze devoured her.

-So wet - Lord of Winterfell muttered, playing with her puffy folds, coating his fingers in the juices that spilled from inside of her.

-So sweet , just for us - Jace said, sliding his hand down her neck, resting his lips on her jaw, planting sensual kisses there.

-Just for you ,both of you - she whispered, feeling herself falling into a state of blissful erotic drunkenness.

-You'll gonna feel us for weeks in your little pussy - Cregan added, slipping his finger into her center , rubbing against her bum.

The younger man kissed her again, his hand still on her neck, squeezing it every time she took a breath into her lungs, while the northerner continued to assault flower of her womanhood, making her leak on her inner thighs. Her abdomen burned with lust.

-You'll be good to us, won't you? - Jacaerys panted heavily into her mouth.

Girl nodded, no longer able to find her voice. Her toes curled from how close she was , how close she was to be pushed over the edge, but just as she was about to fall, all movements stopped.

-You won't cum until we say - Cregan said with a trace of malice in his voice, licking her juices from his fingers - You've been hiding your affairs form both of us. You deserve a punishment.

Both men stood up as she sat on her knees, naked before their eyes, letting them savor the sight of her fair skin.

Her attention was focused on Cregan while Rhaenyra's son was busy with his pants.

Her hand slid up and down his erection, squeezing him here and there , while her thumb stroked the vein on the side of his thick member and  the head, smearing his precum to use as lubricant.

-Aren't you forgetting something little dragon? - Lord of Winterfell asked with a low growl, forcing her to turn to Jacaerys. His manhood, erected, pointed directly at her red lips, waiting. Its top shone with a transparent substance and Y/n leaned closer to lick it while her small hand continued to run along Cregan's shaft.

Taking Jace into her mouth, she pressed her tongue against his member as he slid down her throat. His long fingers tangled between her white curls, pulling at the roots just enough to make her whimper softly, and the vibrations traveled through his shaft to his spine, causing his head to drop with a groan.

-Just like that, good girl - Cregan murmured, her stomach jumping at his words and her chest spread with warmth.

Her thumb traced slow, enticing circles around the northern man's head before she slipped the other lover's member out of her mouth, focusing now on the wolf, kissing the tip of his manhood and licking it from the base. She felt his body twitch under her fingers as she swallowed him, running her hand over the part she couldn't reach.

-You're doing so well my love - Jacaerys praised her, pressing her head into Cregan's member until she choked.

When the young woman felt she was no longer controlled by the hand on her head, she pulled away from both men, taking in air into her lungs, panting breathlessly.

-Come on princess, let the wolf get a taste - the older brunette said, reaching out to pull her up and then kiss her as she stood in front of them.

The kiss was messy, wild, making her cheeks covered in saliva and precum.

-On the bed - Jace broke the kiss abruptly, grabbing the nape of her neck to make her look at him, slapping her left asscheek and striking it again as he felt her soft body tremble at his touch.

-Spread your legs, little dragon - Cregan said, standing beside the prince while she lay down on the furs in front of them - Show us what is ours.

Y/n propped her legs up on the bed, opening herself up.

-Play with yourself - sounded the next command and the girl didn't even know who said it, being clouded with desire.

A finger glided up and down her wet and swollen folds with ease, and her body quickly began to tremble as she ran it over her clit, circling the sensitive nub.

-Put those pretty fingers inside your pussy - came the next words, in a low and menacing tone that sounded almost animal-like.

Moving her hand down to her center, she did as she was told. Her hips met the movements of her hand as she moved, trying to find her sweet spot, meowing miserably every time when she failed.

-Faster - Cregan said - Come on, show us how pretty you look when you cum.

Playing with her like this, telling her what to do with her burning womanhood made her cum with tears in her eyes, and a feeling of her legs shake intensely. And before her senses could have return to her, Jacaerys laid down next to her, pulling Y/n against his warm, muscular body for her to wrap her legs around his waist in response, pressing her breasts against his chest as his big member rubbed against her puffy clitoris.

-I need to feel you around me - he murmured, grabbing her hips, rubbing her against his manhood, watching her release drip onto his shaft.

At the thought, the young woman could feel her walls tightening and her heart involuntarily jumping into her throat. And when he entered her, stretching her walls that he almost tearing her apart, it made her moan loudly, burying her face in his neck.

Cregan, however, gave her no time to adjust to her other lover, unable to help himself as her femininity struggled to take the prince all inside her, leaving a ring of white ,creamy substance behind.

Y/n felt the bed sink behind her, and soon the northernman's member entered her wet ,tight canal, leaving her breathless. Mixing pleasure with pain.

-You're doing so well , my good girl - said Lord of Winterfell, kissing her bare shoulder blades, covering them with bites and red marks - You taking us both so good ,aren't you? Your sweet pussy was made for us - his voice, though low and dangerous, trembled here and there as her walls tightened around the two members.

Her face was wet with tears and saliva as they mercilessly pounded her cervix. Their hands were all over her body, holding her in place as they feasted on her body, and all she could do was moan and mewl, taking everything they were giving her.

-She's so drunk on the feeling - Jacaerys said, watching her expression , when his lips weren't attacking her skin.

-It's so easy to break our little dragon - the older brunette added, pushing his hips out, grabbing her bum - But she looks so beautiful when she's broken, making me never want to stop.

Woman felt her body flooded with a wave of hot flames, which made her walls tighten, stopping their movements almost completely, making both of them, unable to stop themselves, and cumming deep inside her, filling her to the full, while a pleasant familiar warmth flooded her lower body, flowing from her after a while, which made her tremble, falling helplessly onto Jacaerys' torso.

The smell of sex filled the air like an intoxicant that possessed their minds that were already clouded with lust.

And so the seahorse and the wolf feasted on the white-haired dragon. Over and over and again , never wanting to stop.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 20 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets the update he's been waiting for. You get something you weren't expecting. Neither of you can tell the other how you're feeling.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You drove Bradley's Bronco back to his house, dragged yourself back inside, and climbed back in bed. You cried so hard when you watched him carry his duffle bag into the airport, you had painful hiccups for twenty minutes afterwards. Now you were emotionally drained and on the cusp of a headache, and this was only the first day.

With your cheek on Bradley's pillow, you pulled the covers over your head and took a few deep breaths. He didn't know much about his deployment, but the communication blackout was designed to keep you from learning anything. If something happened to him, it might be weeks before you heard about it. Your heart ached as you thought about how lonely he was going to feel after he made it a point to tell you how much he loved getting mail from your class last time.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you scrambled to get it out.

About to take off. I love you, Gorgeous. I'll let you know when I land.

Well, you had about six hours to kill until you would hear from him again, which felt bad enough. Then seven full weeks after that. You typed back to him with fresh tears in your eyes, and then you tried to sleep, but the hiccups came back. When you moved to the couch, it felt too cold. You were tempted to call Natasha, but if you couldn't even make it a handful of hours without Bradley, you didn't think she would be able to help you.

It would start to get better. It would have to. When your winter break ended, you'd be back in your classroom with your students. You could dive into your lesson plans for the new year. You could focus on teaching. You could do this. Because if you found out the hard way that you couldn't, then you had no business being with Bradley.

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

Bradley was given a tiny room in the barracks on base in Norfolk, and he spent the entire night talking to you on the phone. Literally six hours straight before he passed out, sound asleep, hanging halfway off the bed with his phone connected to the charger. One of the last things he remembered you saying was, "As soon as you know if it's San Diego or Norfolk, let me know. I love you."

The following morning, he was so exhausted, he was practically dizzy as he met with his commanding officer, Admiral Walker, for this new special deployment. Even his arm felt heavy as he saluted Walker in his office. It was barely seven o'clock which equated to four in the morning in San Diego, and he knew it would take him a few days to get caught back up on sleep at this point. But every second of talking to you was worth it.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. Welcome back to the Atlantic Fleet," Walker told him, gesturing to the empty chair in the office. 

"Thank you, Sir," he replied, even though he was far less than thrilled to be back in Virginia at all. The prospect of a change of station could not have come at a worse time when he spent the flight from California looking at engagement rings on his phone.

As Bradley sat down, the older man said, "We never wanted to lose you to the Pacific in the first place, so I'm sure you can understand why you'll be staying on the east coast after your seven weeks on the Gerald R. Ford is complete."

His heart sank to his feet, and he felt like he was going to throw up. "Sir?" Bradley asked. "That's it? There's no chance of me returning to North Island?"

When the response he got was a raised eyebrow, Bradley pressed his lips into a line. This man wasn't going to give a shit that he owned a house in Coronado or that he was in love with the most beautiful woman in the world who happened to work in Mira Mesa. Something told him that keeping his mouth shut was the better option right now, even though he felt like punching a hole in the wall and flipping the desk.

Walker shuffled some papers on his desk. "Plans still need to be finalized, but it is our goal, and the goal of the US Navy, to change your station to Norfolk."

The words echoed in Bradley's mind. He couldn't decide if he should tell you about this yet. It wasn't like he had signed paperwork in his hand. Until he did, as far as he was concerned, he was going back to Top Gun and the love of his life. He knew you were stressed and concerned enough as it was, and he didn't want you to have to dwell on this unless it was finalized. 

"Once aboard the carrier, mission details will become available to you and the other aviators," Walker informed him. "I have a folder with your bunk assignment and some more information that you can take with you right now. You'll have access to your phone for about another hour, but as soon as you report to the carrier, it will need to be shut down and locked up. Are we clear, Lieutenant?"

Before Bradley could even respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. Walker heaved a weary sigh as his gaze left Bradley's face, and he barked, "Come in."

Of all the faces he knew from North Island, Bradley wasn't exactly sure if it was a friendly one, but when the door opened, Admiral Simpson came strolling inside in his service khakis. He couldn't fathom why his meeting was being interrupted by Cyclone, but he sat quietly with the folder in his hands. 

"Admiral Walker," Beau Cyclone greeted, voice as stern as ever. "You never returned my calls, and red eye flights the week of Christmas are not something I find endearing."

Walker stood behind his desk with all of his accolades hanging on the wall behind him, and Bradley jumped to his feet as well. "Admiral Simpson," Walker replied, voice dripping with disdain. "There was no need for you to fly out in person to release your pilot to my fleet."

Bradley could hear Cyclone's knuckles crack as he watched his eye twitch. He was somehow caught in the middle of this, but it looked like the Top Gun admiral was in no mood to be outmaneuvered and lose a member of his team. Bradley silently goaded him on while he stood there completely still.

"I'm not releasing anyone to you. That's not how this works," Cyclone barked. "If you can't manage your fleet, you don't get to poach from mine."

The admirals seemed to be in a competition to see whose face could get redder. "Admiral Simpson, I'm sure you'll find my rank alone is reason enough for-"

"You do not outrank me," Cyclone interrupted, voice loud but calm. Then he turned toward Bradley with his jaw clenched and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw. You are dismissed. Please board the USS Gerald R. Ford on time for your deployment."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, saluting both men before walking back out into the hallway on slightly unsteady legs. He paused, hoping to hear some more of their conversation or an outright blow up that would give him a clue as to what the fuck was going on, but instead he walked the rest of the way to the barracks to collect his duffle and head to the docks. 

With his phone in his hand once again and his bag slung over his shoulder, Bradley called you. He knew it was early and he'd be waking you up, but time was tight now. And your voice was the only thing that would keep him sane at the moment. 

"Bradley," you sighed a second later, and he pressed his phone tighter to his ear. 

"Baby, I miss you so much," he promised, heart aching. He swallowed hard and decided not to bring up anything that was going on since he didn't have a completely clear understanding of it himself. "I'm about to board the carrier."

He could hear you crying, and he wanted to kick himself. "Just come back safely. That's all I want. As long as you're safe, that's all that matters to me, okay?"

He was having a hard time keeping his own tears at bay. "Me, too. We'll figure out the rest of it later, Gorgeous. Take care of yourself. Write in the journal. And don't forget to check the mail."

"I love you, Bradley!"

"I love you so much."

As soon as he ended the call and turned off his phone, he had to walk through a small building for security screening. It was there that his bag and phone were taken from him. When he exited the other side, his duffle was handed back to him, but his phone was not.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," the petty officer told him with a shrug when he glared. "I'll tag it for you and return it when you get back to Norfolk. At least it's not a long deployment."

Bradley couldn't even argue with that. It wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things. He'd been overseas for a full twelve months at a time when he was younger. This should have felt like nothing, but he knew it would feel like the worst one. He hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and started to head for the bunk that would be his for the duration. There was no sense in standing on deck when there was nobody who would be looking for him to see him off.

He made it down two hallways before a loud voice echoed off the walls around him. "Lieutenant Bradshaw." When he turned, Admiral Simpson was heading his way, face so red it was almost purple. Bradley's heart sank.

"Yes, sir?"

The other man pulled his composure together, sighing like an angry bull. "While you will be under the command of Admiral Walker for this deployment, you will fly directly back to San Diego when you return to port in Norfolk. You'll be presented with the paperwork today."

Bradley's jaw dropped open. "I'm returning to the Pacific Fleet, Sir?"

He got one firm nod in response. "I told you last week that I would do what I could to retain you."

This was honestly the best case scenario, and Bradley could feel some of his tension melt away. "You weren't kidding," he mumbled before clearing his throat. "Thank you, Sir. Being in San Diego is important to me."

"Fly safely, Lieutenant. See you in seven weeks," Cyclone barked before turning on his heel and walking toward the ramp back down to the dock.

Bradley pumped his fist in the air. "Fuck, yeah," he whispered, spinning on the spot. He would get to go back to the station he preferred in North Island as well as his friends, but most importantly, he would get to return to you. There would be no stress of packing and moving and hoping you were still willing to come with him. He could stay in Coronado.

When he slid his hand into his pocket to get his phone out to call you back, he froze. "God damn it."

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

If waiting for emails and letters was bad before, this was torture. The early days of getting to know Bradley through written notes left you with constant butterflies in your tummy, but now it felt like you were walking around with a lead weight instead. You constantly caught yourself reaching for your phone to text him before setting it back down in frustration. 

You hadn't heard from him since before he stepped onto the aircraft carrier, and that was four days ago. Today was New Year's Eve, and at least you had the wine bar with Natasha to look forward to. While you got dressed and ready to go, you couldn't help but put in just the bare minimum amount of effort. What was the point when your boyfriend wasn't even here to give you kisses along your neck and call you Gorgeous? You pouted at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and put the cap on your lip gloss before even using it.

"You look nice," Nat said as you climbed in the front seat of her car. You turned to look at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm wearing Bradley's old sweatshirt with a pair of leggings that are starting to get a hole in the crotch."

She started cackling as she pulled away from the curb. "Well, you still look nice."

"Thanks," you said softly, watching the houses go by. 

As Nat turned toward the highway to head up to Oceanside, she asked, "How are you making out?"

You pressed your lips together for a few seconds, trying to make sure you weren't going to cry. "I'm just having a hard time being off from work while he's gone. It's... harder than I thought it would be. I can't wait to return to my classroom in a few days."

"I'm sure that will make it easier," she agreed. "You'll be so busy, time will start to fly by. Oh, I forgot to ask if you got any interesting mail at Bradley's house since he left?"

You shook your head. "I barely remember to check the mailbox most days. Why?"

"Don't worry about it," she replied smoothly. "You'll be back to work in a few days, but in the meantime, we've got merlot and chardonnay to keep your mind occupied."

"Sounds like you're talking about two hot French men," you said with a laugh.

"I could be! You don't even know!"

Now both of you were laughing. And you were still laughing when you actually did order a glass of merlot and a glass of chardonnay. You and Nat enjoyed some wine flights and cheese platters, and she regaled you with stories about Bradley from flight school.

"When he was twenty-two, he probably weighed a hundred and twenty pounds," she said with a smirk. "He was such a nerd, too. God, it was so bad." You were trying to stifle your laughter as she added, "Once he really started working out and grew the mustache, he thought he was hot shit. He's still a fucking nerd."

"He kind of is," you agreed through your giggles.

"But he's a good one," she promised. "Wears his heart on his sleeve too often, but I don't think he has to worry about you breaking it."

You ran your hand along the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Never."

Once the two of you were filled with cheese and sober enough to get back in the car, you paid for your adventure with the gift card Bradley gave you, only to find out it had five hundred dollars on it.

"Natasha! We need to come back like four more times," you said as you signed the slip.

"I don't see any issue with that," she muttered, leaving cash for a tip. "I think I'll write Bradley an email and thank him for funding girls' day so he can read it when he gets back to Norfolk."

"I think he'd like that."

You started thinking about the journal sitting on the nightstand in his bedroom. Every night before you fell asleep, you'd been pouring your heart and thoughts out into the thing, but even the mention of the word Norfolk had you fretting again. You managed to keep up the conversation with Bradley's best friend as she drove you back to Coronado, but perhaps you should keep most of your things packed after you moved your stuff to his house. What if you had to move to Virginia when the school year ended?

"Thanks for driving," you told her when she pulled up to Bradley's driveway to let you out.

"Anytime," she said, waving you off. "We'll go back up again soon." When you leaned in to give her a hug, she told you, "Don't forget to check the mail."

"Okay."

You weren't sure exactly what her deal was since Bradley couldn't send you anything, but if she wanted you to, then you would. You already promised your boyfriend you'd keep an eye on anything unusual that arrived, so as you walked up to the front door, you took a peek inside the mailbox. Empty. Just like the house. You curled up on the couch with the journal and started to write your daily entry.

I heard from a very reliable source (Natasha) that you were and still are a nerd. I'm going to need to see some pre-stache photos of you when you get home. Your best friend is a wealth of information when you get some wine in her, and I had a great time with her today. 

But I miss you. So much. Sometimes it knocks the breath out of my lungs. Your house is too cold and quiet without you here, hogging the couch and eating snacks. I'm looking forward to school starting up in a few days. It'll be a little less lonely when I have eighteen kids telling me what they got for holiday gifts. Of course I'll have to tell them they won't get a visit from their favorite aviator for a while. We'll just be nineteen sad pen pals.

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

On January second, you were working on your lesson plans while wearing Bradley's gym shorts and eating potato chips. Tomorrow you'd get back into a routine with work, but first you were going to allow yourself one last day of being kind of pitiful. You bit off more than you could chew with Bradley, and now you were paying the price. 

You sporadically started crying at random times throughout the day, and it was only made worse by the overwhelming feeling of being alone. If you could barely make it a week without hearing from him, how were you going to make random deployments with no communication your lifestyle? Why did you even think you could?

While you were crunching your way through some potato chips, you heard something thump on the front porch. The sound made you jump on the couch, and you set your snack down on the table and crept to the front door. When you peeked outside, there was nobody there, but when you cracked the door open, you saw a box. A fairly large box. Addressed to you.

"Oh my god," you gasped. It was from Bradley. According to the date stamped next to your name, he somehow sent a box from the post office in San Diego last week. "Oh my god!"

You grabbed it and kicked the door shut, almost tripping on your way back to the coffee table. When you tried to claw at the tape, you almost broke your nails. "Scissors," you shouted, running for the kitchen drawer by the sink where your boyfriend kept a random assortment of junk. Then you walked quickly back to the couch and started to cut into the box.

Natasha had to be behind the arrival of the box, but you couldn't fathom what could possibly be inside. If Bradley wanted you to have something, he could have simply given it to you before he left. Your heart was pounding as you set the scissors down and looked inside.

"Bradley," you gasped, tears filling your eyes as those familiar butterflies zoomed and swooped around in your belly. You'd been so upset about missing out on his letters, he sent you a whole box of them. There were dozens of envelopes and little treats filling the box nearly to the top, but a neon orange envelope with OPEN ME FIRST written on it caught your eye. You pulled it out of the box and tore into it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm thinking about you right now. Guaranteed. It doesn't matter when you get this box or when you read this note, I'm thinking about how much I love you. And if I'm asleep, I'm dreaming about us eating Thai food on the beach in front of a sunset that is nowhere near as beautiful as you.

I hope you realize there was no way you weren't going to get some letters from me while I'm deployed. I would never let that happen. Somehow, you fell in love with me this way in the first place, and more than anything, I want you to feel as loved as I do. So I filled this box with little notes and long, rambling love letters and things I thought you might like. When you read the individual envelopes, you'll know what to do.

Please fill that journal up for me. I can't wait to read it in seven weeks. I'm missing you like crazy, and I selfishly hope you're missing me just as much. I love you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

With shaking hands, you set the note down on the orange envelope and swiped at your tears. You never dreamed you would meet a man this romantic, but somehow you did, and he became your boyfriend. "Oh, Bradley," you whispered, picking up a stack of envelopes and reading what was written on each one.

Open me when you've had a bad day

Open me when you really want some coffee

Open me when you need a laugh

Open me when you're in bed

Open me when you need a girls' night

Open me with your class

You flopped down onto the couch and kicked your feet in the air. "Bradley!" you shrieked, voice breaking as you started to cry. You hugged the letters to your chest and let the warm feeling of being loved wash over you and fill your heart. He was unbelievable. He was perfect. He was everything you wanted. And somehow you loved him a little more and missed him a little less with this box on the coffee table.

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

He's so romantic. He's taking care of Gorgeous from afar! He's coming home to San Diego, but she doesn't even know it! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @daggerspare-standingby

PART 21

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

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[reasonsforhope]

"More than three-quarters of UK universities have pledged to exclude fossil fuel companies from their investment portfolios, according to campaigners.

The move, which is part of a wider drive to limit investment in fossil fuels, follows years of campaigning by staff and students across the higher education sector.

The student campaign group People & Planet announced on Friday that 115 out of 149 UK universities had publicly committed to divest from fossil fuels – meaning £17.7bn-worth of endowments are now out of reach of the fossil fuel industry.

Laura Clayson, from People & Planet, said it would have been unthinkable a decade ago that so many institutions had formally refused to invest in fossil fuels.

“That we can celebrate this today is down to the generations of students and staff that have fought for justice in solidarity with impacted communities. The days of UK universities profiteering from investments in this neo-colonial industry are over.”

People & Planet set up the Fossil Free universities campaign in 2013. As part of its efforts the group has highlighted the “struggles and voices” of communities on the frontline of the climate crisis in an attempt to bring home the real-world impact of investment decisions made by UK universities.

Clayson said: “The demand for fossil-free came from frontline communities themselves and it is an act of solidarity from global north organisers campaigning on this … We have a responsibility to speak the lived experiences of the communities resisting these inequalities into megaphones at protests and in negotiations within university boardrooms, to highlight their stories of struggle in spaces so often detached from the reality of everyday life on the frontlines.”

One of the projects highlighted by the campaign is the proposed East African Crude Oil Pipeline (EACOP) – a mega project that would stretch almost 900 miles from the Lake Albert region of Uganda to the coast in Tanzania, and release vast amounts of planet-heating carbon.

The pipeline is being built in spite of local opposition, and there are reports that protesters and critics have been met with state violence. Hundreds of student organisers have been involved in the struggle.

Ntambazi Imuran Java, the lead coordinator at the Stop EACOP Uganda campaign, said its members appreciated the efforts of UK students to bring an end to universities’ fossil fuel investments.

“[This] supports those who have worked tirelessly to stop deadly extraction projects like EACOP … Regardless of the arrests and violations on the activists, students’ activists and communities, we continue to demand for the Uganda authorities to stop the project and instead invest in renewables.”

People & Planet said four UK institutions – Birmingham City University, Glasgow School of Art, Royal Northern College of Music and the University of Bradford – had recently incorporated fossil fuel exclusions into their ethical investment policies, meaning 115 out of 149 UK universities have publicly committed to divest from fossil fuels.

Later this month, the group will group will unveil its latest university league table that ranks institutions by their ethical and environmental performance. Campaigners say they will then increase pressure on the remaining 34 UK universities yet to go fossil-free."

-via The Guardian, December 2, 2024

[black-lake]

The path of warriors 

⚡︎ Aries, leo, capricorn, scorpio and aquarius north node.

🏇🏇🏇

The north node is your karmic path in this lifetime, and as many charts I study and analyze, people with these signs always fascinate me the most with their life stories. These people tend to have the most dramatic journeys I noticed. They all share things in common, persevering alone, beating all odds, relying on themselves, and setting a good example for others. On that note, how have YOU been?? I hope life hasn't been testing you too badly? The day you'll be crowned will come, so hold on love  👑✨👸 I won’t be hyping you up in a sweet way I’ll be shouting at you so don’t mind my aries mercury.

People with these north node signs have to embody the spirit of the warrior, the fighter, the advocate, the trail blazer, the protector, they have no other choice. They persevere through unfathomable hardships. Many of them break generational patterns, needing to forge new ways rather than repeating the old. They remind me of the dragon, the lion, the tiger, the serpent, the owl, the eagle, all the spirit animals that are strong and powerful. This is a check in with you, an acknowledgment for your spirit, and a loving pat in the back from your leo north node friend. 🌞💛

Aries north node.

Rulers - south node: venus, north node: mars

How does it feel like having to fight and defend yourself since you were a child? Being attacked, played with, tested and teased by those around you, even adults coming at you? Being underestimated for your fighting ability and being put in the middle of a battle, unwillingly, even though all you really want is peace and harmony. You found it hard to stand on your own two feet, asserting dominance means conflict. You think you'll find peace but you're put in another battle. I’d be surprised if you haven’t had to fight physically at least once in your life. GET your ass up and STAND up for yourself, loudly, yes make a fuss. Let your voice be heard even if it disrupts the energy in the room. The universe claps for you when you beat their ass and hide the bible if god watching 💥🐯 (kendrick got an aries north node). Never let a bunch of cowards disrespect you, you're up to the challenge. The ways you move in life don’t have to be understood, you're forging new paths. Those who follow crowds lack your strong mindset, lack your vision and bravery. Move with integrity, and remember the truth always prevails at the end. 

With each battle you win, you're cultivating independence, a strong identity, self respect, autonomy over your life and a sense of direction. You are your greatest project and your most significant accomplishment. You've learned to rely on yourself, becoming an initiator, an entrepreneur, an advocate for justice, and a truth teller. Don't wait for people to join you to start, or compromise your needs and goals for others, you can do it solo. Free yourself from your libra ways of people pleasing and seeking social validation. Pick your battles, understand the difference between aggressiveness and assertiveness, and discern what is truly worth fighting for. You're the one who stands up against bullies and liars. You're one of the warriors that the universe uses for justice.

Trust your ideas and instincts, you got all the answers. The universe fights with you and protects you, you're never totally alone. Mistakes teach us lessons, don’t fear them. You're a natural leader, your passion for life is unmatched. You're distinctive, what represents you can’t be duplicated. When life throws obstacles your way, it's to strengthen your fierce confidence, self assurance and independent spirit. 🐅 When you bravely told the truth, when you went your own way, when you created your own thing, when you walked alone, when you took those risks and said fuck what they say, you inspired many people, you awakened many, you left many in awe of your fiery spirit. 

Leo north node.

Rulers - south node: saturn and uranus, north node: sun

How does it feel like to be robbed of your childhood? Being left alone and abandoned as a child? Not receive validation or love? Having your confidence and light targeted and attacked from a young age? Your most beautiful qualities discarded and taken for granted. Your innocence betrayed, your trust and integrity repeatedly broken. Being envied and hated for simply being yourself, for your aura, for shining brightly without lifting a finger. Being alienated, having groups attack you for your unique qualities. Standing confidently alone and walking it all alone. You LEAD, you don't follow, and that can just mean leading your own life. Do you still want to give to others instead of yourself? You can appreciate humanity and inclusivity but release the excessive concern over it. You expose fake groups and encourage authenticity. Princess Diana did everything she wasn’t supposed to do and shined bright doing it, her kindness was golden and her strength was a threat, so they could only attack her (she was a leo north node). Honor yourself, you were blessed by the sun. ☀️💫

You lead from the heart and you're guided by your inner child. Loving yourself and embracing every part of you is for the brave. Leave that group mindset behind, those that just want to fit in are cowards, fuck what the group thinks. Your love, loyalty, strength and generosity are gifts to the world. Don't try to hide your heart, or fall into your aquarius south node ways of turning into an ice queen, isolating yourself and building this artificial heart on top of your real heart, for the greater good or for a bigger cause, or for protecting yourself. Just don’t give to people and places that don't value you. You're learning to bravely STAND up for yourself even if many are against you. You're naturally protected when you are accepting of yourself, and building your self esteem in a genuine way that is based on deep values and not societal expectations.

Heal and free your inner child, don't let the outside noise steal your joy, let yourself play and explore. You'll meet the sun at the end no matter how dark it gets. All those obstacles were meant to make you stronger, develop this inner strength of a lion, this fiery confidence and assurance that isn’t shaken by the outside world. ☄️🦁 That’s who you’re meant to be my love. You're meant to put yourself first at all times, to love, validate and compliment yourself. You’re here to shine in your authenticity. You inspire more people than you know, your spirit won’t go unnoticed, your purity of heart always leaves a mark in this world. Your light is infectious.

Capricorn north node.

Rulers - south node: moon, north node: saturn

How does it feel like being introduced to the harsh realities of the world since a young age? Having to parent yourself without enough support? Being underestimated as a child, restricted, and made to feel inadequate? Being shamed for your sensitivity and emotions. Being placed in the most troubled family with difficult circumstances and told to create a legacy? like hello? universe?? am I a joke to you? Being expected to take responsibility for something or someone. Having pressure constantly put onto you. You become the hardest worker, and then still being messed with? Like oops there’s no reward, do it again. Why are you surprised, you’re saturn’s puppet. The truth is the universe got your back. Reminds of me of Eminem (he’s a cap north node), see how he beat all odds and became one of the greatest? a role model both in his field and as a father. You show people that nothing is impossible. Those lessons become your greatest gifts that guide you to build a stronger and unshakable foundation. Break free from that shell you're used to, you EXPAND beyond that. You're here to be self made, rags to riches. 🎖️✨

Recognize the invaluable qualities you got, the talents, the unmatched energy, the patience, ambition, determination, the caring heart and courageous spirit. Give that respect to yourself FIRST, respect your core values and be proud of what made you. Saturn wants nothing but mastery, it’s your soul that craves mastery this lifetime. 🪐💫 You're learning to build your own safety, at home and in the world, and create your own rules. Let go of your cancer south node tendencies of clinging to the past, repeating mistakes because of childish insecurities or your need to be needed and respected by others. Nurture and provide for yourself by stepping into the world as a self sufficient, disciplined, and goal oriented adult.

Realize that all those difficult experiences happen to help you let go of the past, to build a stable and balanced emotional world. One thing for sure, nothing can stop you, setbacks and failure only fuel your motivation and life force. Rest assured you are promised the respect you yearn for, the success, stability and comfort you dreamed of. You’re one of the most resilient people, unforgettable. Your life story sparks a drive in others to chase their dreams, it inspires more people than you know. The generation will never be the same after you. When you get tired, you can slow down, but remember that everything you need is within you, never doubt that.

Scorpio north node.

Rulers - south node: venus, north node: mars and pluto

How does it feel like having to endure major losses? Having things constantly crashing down before you? Having to fight addictions, destructions and oppositions from everywhere? Not getting a hold of any sense of stability. Feeling like what you chase is escaping you. Experiencing betrayals and having people bring you down, waiting to see you fall. Being the one to blame and villinize when their shadows are triggered. Having no choice but to fight back and learn to survive. Your truth seeking and curious nature triggers many. You go to extreme lengths to find out the truth and seek justice. Your path being ruled by pluto, it removes that which is obsolete, unneeded, no matter how hard you hold into it. You have to be comfortable with the uncomfortable. Your path involves confronting your own shadow self. Survival and regeneration allow you to discover and become fully aware of your true power, limitless potential, and divine nature. “Unstoppable” by sia (she's a scorpio north node) narrates well this story of resilience. You're an alchemist of self, a transmuter of energy, a fighter in all realms. 🐉🔥

This restless mind of yours and psychic abilities you develop aren’t for nothing, they're gifts to help you surrender and trust the universe, the one thing you can't seem to do. You are the butterfly, always cocooning, always emerging. Your life path is a series of metamorphosis. Like a butterfly you're turned into liquid, dissolved, before you choose to spread your wings and fly. 🦋✨ The universe is teaching you that nothing is constant, everything changes, and our innate value as a soul doesn’t. Let go of the illusion of stability. You can choose to flow with the transformative waves instead of fighting them. It's okay to trust and rely on others too, accept it as a gift from the universe. Break free from your taurus south node ways of being too attached to material possessions. Putting too much value on material and physical pleasures won't help you evolve.

Embrace the spiritual side of our human experience, that’s what generates and creates the physical. The painful challenges you faced were meant to shift your values, for you to see and use your power for good. You have the potential to break generational curses and the responsibility to choose wisely between doing better or worse. You can become a great source of inspiration and comfort for others. Whenever I feel like giving up I literally look up a scorpio north node person. Just know that you can save lives. People confide in you, they share their deepest secrets and traumas and you inspire them to keep going because you understand that even the most terrible events will pass and bring about growth and beautiful rewards.

Aquarius north node.

Rulers - south node: sun, north node: saturn and uranus

How does it feel like being the different and outcast child? Growing up in a chaotic and unpredictable environment? Experiencing discrimination or being looked down at. Having situations and people try to humble you. Having your ideas, beliefs and findings rejected and misinterpreted. You're literally vibrating on a different frequency. You might be surrounded by a community or be totally alone, regardless, having a different mission can leave you feeling alienated. You've got an independent mind, you're an innovator, bringing all that's new and futuristic to the world. 🛸✨ You show people different ways of thinking and doing things, breaking and setting trends. Your desire to be a social activist, a scientist and a humanitarian helps us progress. Being ruled by uranus, expect the unexpected, all sorts of twists and turns, don’t be too attached or take things personally and react from your ego. When you embrace your uniqueness, not try to fit in, and do things for the greater good not for validation, you align with your mission. You're a voice for others and that's a responsibility not to take lightly. 

While staying true to yourself, broaden your vision beyond what only affects you, recognize that we're all interconnected. You must learn to share the spotlight and celebrate all others. Let go of your old leo tendencies of extravagance, self importance and self serving behavior, they’ll only pull you backwards. We progress together and you are a catalyst for evolution. You have a deep connection to the earth and the universe, honoring your place within it. You're perplexed by those bums that lack decency and humanity and carelessly harm this earth. Sza, one of my fav artists today got an aquarius north node, and she embodies it well. If you're familiar with her story, you'll know she comes from a different and diverse background, her music style is distinctive, her interests are weird or unexpected, and her humanity and empathy make her relatable and admirable.

Your mission is so important my love, no one can do it but you. Your ability to see solutions beyond conventional teachings are gifts to the world. You recognize that everyone is unique, you celebrate their differences, and encourage individuality in others. People like you are the ones that awaken this world from outdated ideologies and conditionings. It's why this is one of my fav north nodes, it drives us forward by seeking freedom and authenticity, rather than conforming. You are a radiant shining star that holds much needed hope for everyone. 🌬️⭐️

[harrysfolklore]

Tom Blyth and YN Take a Couples Quiz | GQ - actress!yn

gif by @obriy <333

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

read my actress!yn x tom insta blurb here <3

//

"Hi I'm YN" 

"And I'm Tom"

"And today we're doing..." you looked at Tom so you could say the following part of your introduction together, "The GQ Couple Quiz!"

"Are you nervous?" you said as you looked at him, noticing his hands fidgeting on his lap.

"I'm alright, I'm pretty confident I'm a great boyfriend and I'll know all the answers." he gave the camera his million dollar smile and you couldn't help but show a smile of your own.

"Okay, first question," you looked at the card in your hands, "What is the name of my first movie?

"That one's pretty easy," he shrugged before continuing, "Spider-man Homecoming."

"That's correct," you flipped the card to read the next question, "What city did I grow up in?

Tom stayed quiet for few seconds, looking nervously at the camera and making you laugh. 

"Already? Really?" you looked at him in disbelief, "I thought you were a great boyfriend!"

"I am! This is a tricky one!" Tom moved his hands around and you covered your mouth with the card to hide your laugh "Okay, you were born in California, but you actually grew up in Phoenix."

"Correct! See! You knew it," you grabbed the card with the next question, "What would my job be if I weren't an actress?"

"Detective," Tom quickly said, "100% detective."

"Oh! That was fast," Tom shrugged before you continued, "Okay bonus, what kind of detective?" you looked at him with a raise eyebrow.

"Homicide," he replied quickly again, "All of those true crime podcasts prove it."

"Well yeah, that's true," you smiled as you read out the following question,  "Where was our first date?"

"It was at your house," Tom smiled as he remembered the moment, "And it was playing Clue, and I had to pretend to enjoy that game for you, and it was totally worth it."

"How sweet of you," you smiled at him before continuing, "Oh boy, you have to be specific for this one," Tom raised his eyebrows and waited for you to give him the question, "What is my night routine?"

"So, she puts on this little pink robe," he explained directly to the camera, "And then she puts her hair on one of these stretchy bandanna things so her hair is out of her face," you smiled at him, indicating that he was answering correctly, "Then she washes her face with this like foamy cleanse thing, then she puts on all her creams, and then when she's walking to the bed she turns on the heat, which is probably the only thing that we fight about," you both let out a laugh as he continued, "And then she gets in, she goes by her cupboard and she puts on these really fluffy and ridiculously warm socks and also my really baggy tracksuit bottoms but she rolls 'em and she puts one of my t-shirts 'cause she likes the smell of my aftershave," he smirked and you blushed for a second, "Then she gets in bed and she asks me to put one of these big fluffy, white blankets in the dryer so It's warm, then I tuck her in and put the other blanket on her  and that's it."

"Okay wow, you killed that one," you smiled at him, "You did really well."

The next questions were pretty easy for Tom's liking, getting right your astrological sing, celebrity crush, favorite ice cream flavor and the year you won your first Emmy. He ended up getting 23 points.

Now, it was your turn to answer questions about him.

"You feel ready, love?" he said giving you a smirk and you only nodded motioning him to read the first question, "Okay good luck, how old was I when I got my first role?"

"You were fifteen and already getting cast by Ridley Scott ." you answered confidently and sent a wink his way.

"Neat. What was the name of the high school I graduated from?"

"Was it North Hilld?" at this, Tom raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "Shit! It was Hills something, right?"

"You really don't know the name, love? This is making you look bad!" you covered your face in embarrassment, even tho you knew he was joking, "The correct answer is Arnold Hills."

"Ohhh that's right, give me the next one I'll do better."

"Okay, okay," he looked down at the card with the next question,  "Who's my celebrity crush?"

"Also easy, Jennifer Aniston," you smiled looking at the camera, “You had a poster of her hidden in your closet and all.”

"Nope, you're wrong," you raised your eyebrow at him, pretty sure you were right about your answer, "You're my celebrity crush, love."

"Tom! That was so bad!" you both laughed and he winked to the camera, "This is a serious game."

"Okay, okay, you got that one right," you rolled your eyes with affection as he read your next question, "The next questions are going to be a single sentence answer so I need you to do it as fast as you can, okay?"

"I'm ready, let's do it" 

"My go-to Karaoke song?

"Senorita by Justin Timberlake."

"What is my coffee order?"

"Oat milk latte."

"What is my biggest pet peeve?"

"Loud chewers."

"What's my hidden talent?"

"Whistling, like, melodically whistling if that makes sense."

"Okayy, those are all correct," he put the cards on the small coffee table between you, "We make a pretty good team, don´t you think?"

"We do, but I'm pretty sure I won." you shrugged and Tom laughed as you both turned to the camera to say your goodbyes.

"Thank you so much for watching. I personally think I won but we'll see."

"Thank you GQ!" you waved you hand and the camera stopped rolling shortly after.

The video ended up being one of the most watched on GQ's YouTube channel.

[tamayakii]

a son for a son.

notes: I changed a thing or two of what happened in the show, basically putting Maelor in cause i still cant believe they didnt put him in it (same thing with Daeron) this can be read as a stand-alone fic or paired with the Their Angel series. pairings: Otto x reader (romantic), Helaena x reader (can be viewed as one sided or platonic) warnings: Otto & reader have a son, SPOILERS FOR HOTD S2;E1!!!

The candle light illuminates the room, flickering against the stone walls of your and Helaena’s chambers. You had moved into her living spaces the night that Aemond had come back from the Stormlands, a sick smirk upon his face as he waltz into the small council room.  

And when your husband had shown no remorse for your brother's actions, no sympathy for your dead nephew? You couldn’t stand to look at him, matter of fact, you couldn’t bear to look at anyone. The grief toppled upon the hatred you had towards everyone who had played a part in usurping your sister’s throne. 

The twins and Maelor were already asleep within their beds, and your own son blinks his big owl-ish eyes at you. He looked so much like his father, even at two years old, a little wisp of white tangled within his brown locks- almost emulating Otto’s salt and pepper hair.

“Why can’t I..?” Alerion fumbled over his words, tiny hands curling over the cotton blanket, trying to fight his heavy eyelids as they dropped low. Chuckling lightly as you brushed his hair aside, he was quite stubborn. Especially as bedtime neared and sleep hovered over him. “Because I said so, besides; don’t you want to play with your cousins on the morrow?” Your reasoning seemed to reach him, Alerion’s brown eyes slowly shutting as he murmured. Sighing, reaching around your back to unclasp your heavy necklaces, you couldn’t help but smile as your son unconsciously pulled the blanket closer. 

The recent days weighed heavily on you; the war was impending. With no word from Rhaenrya, Rhaenys and Meleys helping guard the gullet with the hundreds of Velaryon ships, war was going to burst like a bloated goat. 

Perhaps if you were more active in the small council, you would’ve stopped the rats that sat in those seats. Staring at the necklace as you set it down, dark jade glimmering in the light. Helaena’s soft reflection reflected in the deep sea of green. It hits the table with a soft thud.

As you hear steps incoming, you simply assumed it was Helaena. She always had a sense for when you were upset, coming to you like a doe, with her big purple eyes and soft face filled with worry. 

Or perhaps she came to take you to bed. Since your move, Helaena was delighted to have you close, and near-ordered that you sleep in the same bed, just as you did when she was a little girl. “Quiet! Quiet!” The voice made you turn around, and your gasp died in your throat. Fear laced through your veins like a snake coils around its prey, freezing your body like the north. 

A strange man holds a dagger to Helaena’s throat, her blood dripping over the steel. Her eyes were wide with fear. The man's eyes flicker over to you. “Move and I'll cut her throat.” He spits, slowly dragging the blade, causing more blood to leak. Nodding as the tears well in your eyes, heart beating against your rib cage. The blood roars in your ears like a thousand horses stampeding. 

Another man comes in, a bigger and scarier man, and your heart stops. 

“A son for a son.” His words were all muddled until he said those five words, a son for a son. Helaena offered her necklace to the men, trying to convince them to run off with its worth, but the bigger man snatched it from her. “It’s not a son.” He turns around and looks at the twins in their beds, sleeping ever so peacefully. Gently, you reached back for Alerion’s crib. Shaking hands gripping the wood with a grip tighter than death and yet you were too weak to fight these men off, in the past week and a half, you’ve neglected your meals within your grief and even if you didn’t, you’d sooner be dead on the stone floors of the Red Keep with your sons fate unknown. 

The men came to the realization that they did not know which twin was the boy, and for a brief moment you felt elated that perhaps they would give up their mission, but all hope vanished when Helaena pointed at Jaehaerys.

“Helaena..” You whisper, lips trembling and you can't help but feel bile come up your throat as the men storm to Jaehaerys, the bigger one covering his mouth, covering his scream. Helaena shakes as she makes a move to her daughter and youngest son, and you do the same.

As you hear the splatter of blood, a sob escapes your throat, your hands trembling as you hurriedly and carefully retrieve Alerion from his crib. Helaena runs out first, holding her children close to her and you’re not too long after her. 

Whilst Helaena makes a mad dash down the stairs, you run onward. Climbing up the other pair of stairs, Alerion stirs in your jumbling hold. Whining at the rude awakening and you try to shush him over your crying, 

“Shh.. shh.. Alerion,” The halls rushed past you as you ran, the skirt of your night-dress threatening to trip you. Only thoughts of protecting your own son ran through your frightened mind, fearing that perhaps he would be targeted too. 

The doors to Otto’s chambers slam open and a flurry of fabric and hair falls to the floor in sobs. The man looks at the sight bewildered, but soon he realizes it is you, his wife, that refused to look him in the eye. Surely, you had come to beg for forgiveness, having come to your senses. 

But as you look up at him, your son in your arms, cradling him like he was about to shatter- he knew something was wrong.

“They killed him.. They kill the boy!” 

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james x reader

cw: reader is HORNY sorry guys (i'm on my period I can't be held accountable), swearing, excessive sexual innuendos, implied fem!reader but no pronouns I think

part 2

wc: 1055

you'd always been a strong swimmer, but merlin maybe you'd be ok with water in your lungs if the new lifeguard would put his mouth on yours to get it out. lily snorted when you voiced that thought, but you weren't going to apologise.

the new lifeguard was hot, and you were pretty sure it wasn't part-of-the-job-description-hot (though the swim shorts and seat up in the lifeguard's tower was certainly helping), he literally looked like a greek god, brown skin and dark inky curls that you wanted desperately to tug on. suddenly it wasn't just the pool that was wet...

the public pool was your staple with the girls, it had been since you were kids. it was pretty much the only way to stay cool in your shitty town, and the summers only seemed to get hotter as you got older. you'd never seen this boy before though, and you probably wouldn't be surprised if he'd literally descended down from heaven.

you tried to tune into their gossip, reaching for another ice lolly from the ice box, grinning when you got your favourite flavour. you nodded at whatever mary was saying about the party sirius was throwing in a few weeks; she had a new slinky dress she was dying to wear but was weighing up whether there were going to be enough fit boys there for it to be worth wearing. gazing across the pool distractedly, you happened to catch the lifeguard's eye, rolling your eyes when he sent you a cheeky wink. so he knows he's hot you thought, shifting your weight in the beach chair.

you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of openly ogling him, sliding the oversized sunglasses down your face until he couldn't see your eyes, contributing your thoughts on mary's plight.

when you caught the lifeguard stealing glances at you you couldn't help your delight, satisfied it wasn't a one-way attraction. plus, it was summer, you could afford to have some fun. you sucked on your ice lolly, loving the way his eyes kept darting back between you and the swimmers he was supposed to be watching. when you were sure you had his attention you let the treat sit on your lips, accidentally letting a few droplets of syrup roll down your chin, continuing their journey down your chest and beneath your bikini top.

at the boy's bright red flush you couldn't contain a smirk, loving the way it contrasted with his deep tan. by now your friends had caught on to your little show, all giggling as they watched teenage sexual frustration in action.

"you are such a slag," marlene scoffed, but you could see her amused smile behind it. you just shrugged, continuing to command the boy's attention with the popsicle. none of the boys you knew were half decent compared to the mysterious new lifeguard, why shouldn't you give him a proper welcome to town?

the fuss had died down after a while, all four of you quietening down as you tanned. you were almost drifting off into a sun-induced sleep when an unfamiliar voice spoke from near the pool.

"are all the girls around here this fit, or did I just get lucky?" you cracked one eye open to see the lifeguard standing between your four deck chairs, but his eyes were locked on yours. a glance to your right showed the rest of your friends sitting up to greet him, giggling in the way you all knew was because he was totally fit.

"does that usually work?" lily asked and you snorted a laugh, lying back down to continue your tan (and maybe so he got a good view of your underboob).

"it's never hurt," the boy said, surprisingly good-natured.

"where did you come from?" mary redirected, and you listened with interest despite your appearance.

"i'm from up north. my family just moved here and I already had the qualification, so I figured it wouldn't be a bad way to spend the summer while I had no friends." your friends made a noise at that, asking more questions about him. you were surprised at his seemingly honest friendliness, most of the guys you knew would rather die than come off dorky and friendless, but when it was this boy it seemed endearing.

"i'm james, by the way," he said, and the girls all introduced themselves as you remained silent, content to listen and lay in the sun.

as late afternoon sun began to run low you started to pack your things, dazed and content from your sunbathing. you made quiet conversation with lily about dinner plans, pulling up your denim cutoffs around your hips.

james caught up to your group as you were leaving the public pool.

"it was nice meeting you girls today, will I see you around more often this summer?" mary answered for the lot of you, confirming you visited more often than not on hot days.

"shit else to do," you added with a small laugh.

"i didn't catch your name?" james replied, leaning against the wire fence, giving you ample opportunity to admire the way his bicep flexed under his weight. were your knees weak or did you have sunstroke?

"i didn't throw it." a smile played on your lips, and your periphery caught lily turning to leave, knowing your game too well. james looked genuinely shocked for a fleeting moment, then covered it with a playful groan, miming a knife twisting in his stomach.

"you wound me!" he cried, "i burn, i pine, i perish!"

"alright there, shakespeare," you laughed, somewhat put off by the reference, but not deterred -- you could do brains, "you heard mary, you'll see me around. guess you'll just have to earn it." james brightened at that, the thought of a challenge evidently exciting him.

"oh sweetheart, just wait till you're riding my surfboard."

"that was horrendous," you said, fighting embarrassingly hard to keep from smiling.

"oh come on," he grinned, running a hand through his mop of curls, "not worthy of your name?"

"not a chance in hell." you gave him one last look over -- something he was positively delighted about -- before turning on your heel to catch up with your friends, brushing off their teasing as you thought of the hot new lifeguard you'd be visiting the pool for.

ok im lowkey obsessed with lifeguard!james rn so if u have any requests please send them over bc I would love to write more for him

[marscardigan]

tough love

ellie williams x reader

summary: ellie hates dogs. so it's a surprise for her when you find a stray puppy and bring him to her home.

warnings: tlou canon typical violence

Ellie Williams loathed dogs. She always thought she was more of the cat type, even if she never had a pet. That was until Bowie came along. You had been dating the redhead for almost eleven months when on a patrol, Dina and you found a stray puppy, almost dead from hunger and winter. You came back to Ellie's room with cries from the puppy. And even if Ellie begged you to take that nasty wild animal from her room, you stayed anyway, with the puppy lied on your chest. "I can't believe I'm already jealous of that bastard" You laughed softly. "Why would you be?"

"He is in my spot" Your girlfriend complained. "Oh my god I can't believe you just said that"

With time, Ellie started to tolerate Bowie, once you named him after your father's favorite singer, and knowing that if you did name him, he would stick for good now. Why fight the enemy when you can join him?

It was pretty hard for her at first. Bowie started to like sleeping with you two on your bed, and he loved chewing Ellie's comics and eating her drawings. But all of that was worth it when she saw the tenderness and devotion your eyes screamed when you looked at the dog.

After three months, Bowie was a trained dog who detected any kind of weapon the enemy had hidden only with his nose, and thanks to his advanced hearing, he could alert of infected before anyone else could hear it. Ellie had to admit that Bowie was much more of a help than she thought to start with. But when the pup wasn't being a detective, he was the most loyal and caring dog she ever met.

He adored Ellie, and followed her everywhere. She acted annoyed initially, but she secretly loved it. Knowing your fondness for him, she felt special to know the dog trusted her enough to follow her and protect her. She knew you were his favorite person. And even if sometimes they fought for your attention like toddlers, they had a lot in common, apart from being both obsessed with you in the most sanely way possible.

There wasn't any other thing you loved more than coming home to find your girlfriend asleep on the bed, with Bowie's figure between her arms. You smiled and changed yourself to be more comfortable, getting inside the bed and hugging Ellie's hips, kissing softly her neck.

You were lying down your girlfriend's thighs as she was playing some song Joel showed her that same week.

"There's a Starman... waiting in the sky..." Ellie's soft voice made your whole body shiver, like it was the first time you heard her sing over and over again. "He'd like to come and meet us... but he thinks he'd blow our minds..."

The teen's song was interrupted with Bowie's howls. "Looks like he wants a duet" You giggled, standing up to caress tenderly the dog's chest.

"Funnily enough, that is his song" Ellie looked down at you two, with a smile. "I think he is demanding some copyright"

It wasn't the first mission Ellie, Joel and Bowie shared. In fact, the german shepherd and the grown man were a pretty good team.

The scenario where the three of them were at the moment wasn't atypical either. There were some men from the north, who were part of a cult similar to what David once had. They were searching for some supplies, when a firing sound broke the silence. The companion of the now dead corpse grabbed shakily his gun. Before he could shoot Joel's body, Bowie jumped and with a swift move, he disarmed the guy, grabbing the gun and delivering it to Ellie. He didn't notice the loud smack of his head cracking the wall.

The next thing the male saw when he woke up was Joel petting Bowie's head. He was chained up on a chair. "You have something we want, you know that?"

"I ain't giving you shit" He said, spitting at the bearded man. "The first thing I'm going to do when I get free is break that stupid dog's sku-" He didn't have the chance of ending his sentence, because Ellie hit him with a metal stick in his knee. "You better give him some fucking respect"

The kidnapped male didn't stick for long. He ran out Joel's lacking patience, and even if they didn't get the answers they wanted, it did feel good to end that fucker.

When they got back to the horses, Joel let out a soft laugh. "Can't believe you defended Bowie's honor like that"

"Of course" Ellie scoffed, looking fondly at the dog, who was following the two of them, moving his tail happily. "No one is insulting my child"

[damn-stark]

Chapter 10 Heart of Ice

Chapter 10 of Moonlight

A/N- I was giggling and kicking my feet tehehe ;)

Warning- some swearing, talks of miscarriage and death, ANGST!, FLUFF, mild NFSW, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x01

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

There it is, standing so tall that it looks like it’s touching the sky. It’s mesmerizing no matter how many times you’ve seen it, and it never fails to steal your breath.

Yet the wall is at its prettiest when it weeps when the sun hits it just as it rises from the ground. Right now all it does is bring forth an icier chill as the wind blows, making you hold onto your cloak for warmth.

You can only imagine how Jacaerys is fairing, this is his first time at Castle Black.

“How are you holding up?” You make sure to ask your brother as his eyes stay stuck on the towering wall.

“My balls are about to freeze off,” he makes no effort to talk properly in front of you, nor do you remind him to.

You smile at him and look at him with a soft endearment only reserved for those you deeply cherish. “It will be worth it, I promise. I cannot wait for you to see it,” you muse and cup his shoulder.

Jacaerys finally takes his eyes off the wall and meets your gaze with such a warm smile that it’s capable of melting the thickest sheets of ice.

“It better live up to everything you have said,” he remarks lightheartedly, making you drop your head to laugh softly at the ground.

“It will pass your expectations,” Cregan interjects as he finally rejoins you and leads the way to the lift that looks a bit unreliable, but all the people at Castle Black use it, and you have survived after using it so, you walk in. Slowly of course, and you don’t dare pay too much attention to the sounds it makes as it starts moving Jacaerys, Cregan, and you to the top.

“You know,” you take the attention of the rackety noise. “Perhaps one day I will send one of my children over here to take up a role as guardian of the wall.”

“Is that so?” Cregan probes.

“One of your seven?” Jacaerys jokes and you laugh softly but don’t take back what you said, catching him by some surprise.

“It’s a rare thing for a Targaryen or Velaryon to come be a brother of the Night's Watch,” you explain your thought process to the curious men. “But we are the families the people look up to. I mean I understand the sacrifice, but I believe that for us to have a good relation with the North, and for us to protect our realm against what may be out there, we too should be here with a dragon or two.”

Cregan briefly meets your gaze and hides well those emotions you stir up inside since your brother is standing at his other side, but he doesn’t stay quiet, he takes a deep breath before he parts his lips.

“You are right, the sacrifice one must commit is great, but duty is sacrifice,” Cregan begins to say. “It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honor must pay its price. The North owes a great duty to the Seven Kingdoms, one older than any oath. Since the day of the first men, we have stood as guardians against the cold and the dark. Through its long tradition, the Night's Watch cultivated its strength from doomed men who had their life as their only possession. But my ancestor, Torrhen Stark began a tradition by making an offering at the onset of winter; one in 10 men from our household was to be chosen to fortify the Watch. This is not a sentence but an honor. A duty embraced by all who serve the North. Even by mine own kin. Thus I respect your decision, My Princess.”

He talks so well that even these long comments captivate you, and that’s hard to do because you get so easily bored.

“The North must stand ready,” Cregan adds without losing a breath. “Winter is coming.”

“Coming?” Jacaerys interjects. “What is this, then, that falls from the skies and shivers my bones?”

You roll your eyes away and scoff softly.

He thinks he’s so funny.

“This is only a late summer snow, my prince,” Cregan says something he’s already mentioned once before. “In winter, it will cover all you see and all memories of warmth will be forgotten.”

You look through the gaps on the wooden walls but the lift then shakes so you step back and stand closer to Cregan.

“It pleases me to think that over a century ago our ancestors treated in this very place,” Jacaerys mentions with a lighthearted look on his face. “The Conqueror and the King in the North.”

You can’t help but smile at the thought and the history the Starks share with your ancestors. It’s so bittersweet. But it’s all so corny of Jacaerys to say, he sounds just as infatuated as you.

You would tease him, but now doesn’t seem like the time so you just smile wider to yourself.

Cregan’s gaze wanders to you after your brother's words, and you share some of that sweetness with him because regardless of it all, you are happy Jacaerys expressed his fondness for Cregan.

And when Cregan does see your smile some of that hardened demeanor melts.

“You, at least had the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon,” Cregan quips at your brother jokingly, leaving him silent until he queries.

“Did my sister threaten you with her dragon?”

Does he think of you as some wild beast or something?

Regardless, Cregan's eyes soften before he shakes his head and tells him what you did do. “No, but she did threaten to go over the wall and escape when she first got to Winterfell six years ago.” He says and tilts his head over to you, but you look out the window and shake your head.

“I was having a hard time adjusting,” you remind him. “And I did not end up going over the wall.”

“No,” he mutters softer as if speaking with admiration. “You did not.”

You lift your eyes off the icy wall and let yourself meet and hold his gaze with a soft look just until the lift finally lands on the top because when it comes to a sudden halt the wooden lift shakes, and you’re reminded why you hate coming to the top this way—You almost reach out to Cregan to keep yourself balanced and safe, but you stop yourself and just stand stiffly until finally he opens the door for you and your brother, letting you feel like you can breathe again when you’re on stable ground.

“My Prince, My Princess,” one of the brothers greets you while you slip your arm around your brothers to hold onto more warmth as the coldness nips at your skin.

“My Lord.”

“My Lord,” other brothers greet Cregan while he walks after you until finally he catches up and leads you to one side.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would’ve sooner died than bent the knee,” you chose to return to the previous topic as you watch Jacaerys’ eyes fall on every single detail you pass by. “Unless he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms.”

Cregan nods. “You are right in that,” he agrees.

“That unity is now threatened,” Jacaerys goes on for you with another clever workaround to the subject at hand. “The realm will soon tear itself apart if men do not remember the oaths sworn to King Viserys and to his rightful heir.”

Again you can’t help but be proud of the way he speaks. But you also know this second attempt won’t mend Cregan Stark’s choice.

“Stark’s do not forget their oaths, my Prince,” Cregan reminds him proudly. “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between North and South.”

Jacaerys glances over at you with discreet disappointment, and you press him an, ‘I told you so’ look right back.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing,” Cregan strengthens his argument. “I need my men here.”

You swallow thickly as you come to a halt just under a post, and Jacaerys turns you around with him to pass Cregan a hard look that furrows his eyebrows. “Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne,” he remarks.

You grip onto him as a warning for him to calm down, but he doesn’t understand.

“If my mother is to defend her claim,” Jacaerys presses while Cregan guides all of you up the stairs. “To hold the realm united she needs an army. War is coming to the whole of the realm, my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North…” Jacaerys trails off when he reaches the top and finally sees with his own eyes the never-ending land beyond the wall, the beauty that you promised, and what you could never fully describe in words.

He moves toward the end of the post and you let your arm slip off his to let him admire for himself the beauty and the mystery that is the North, and the freedom it holds in its cold wilderness.

You can now honestly say you know the pride Cregan felt when he first brought you up here because you feel it. You are not from here, but seeing your brother be so captivated by what’s beyond the wall makes you fill with excitement that you can’t put into words, you can just express it with admiration and awe in your eyes.

Cregan notices and admires you while your brother's attention is far away, and to his surprise, you feel his stare and return his soft gaze while you also let your gloved knuckles brush against each other as you let yourself be swooped up once again by the comfort you have been fighting to feel.

Yet you don’t let yourself get completely carried away, nor do you cross the line by letting your fingers touch, you keep your smile and join your brother's side.

“Was it everything you expected?” You ask before you’re brought back to the cruel reality.

Jacaerys laughs softly and nods. “It was everything you said and more…it feels like I could stay here and admire this forever.”

“It would get cold,” you joke, making him chuckle.

“It would be pleasant,” he murmurs.

You nod in agreement and dread returning to the sore subject, but you will lose yourself.

“I brought your sister, and my father brought King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to see the Wall,” Cregan finally rejoins your company. “His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons the greatest power in the world, refused to cross it.”

Jacaerys snaps his head to you and probes for more. “Even adventurous Astraea?”

You look out and nod. “Yes. She perches herself on the wall but never once does she fly over, nor does she dare fly over just to turn. I tried to command her to cross but she disobeyed me,” you back up Cregan's argument and feel a chill crawl down your spine at the reminder.

“Do you think my ancestors built a 700-hundred-foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?” Cregan presses your brother in a colder tone that almost works to frighten you.

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan leans in closer to your brother and speaks one word. “Death.”

You swallow back nervously and share your uneasiness with your brother with a simple look that actually helps him let go of some of that tension and ignorance he held.

“I have thousands of graybeards,” Cregan finally offers and breaks the speechless moment between Jacaerys and you. “Who've already seen too many winters. They are well-honed.”

You loll your head to the side and snicker, while Jacaerys says what you were thinking. “So they’re old?”

“I can ready them to march at once,” Cregan assures him and you.

Jacaerys breathes out and accepts the offer. “If your graybeards can fight, the Queen will have them.”

“They will fight hard,” Cregan states with a hint of pride and some faint smugness. “Like Northerners.”

You glance over at him and catch that smugness on his usually serious face and you can’t help your heart from skipping a beat when he glances at you with the same look.

“My Lord,” a man calls for Cregan’s attention, making his face fall hard once again. “A ravens arrived.”

The man approaches the post breathing hard as if in a hurry and hands Cregan a scroll. “Urgent news from Dragonstone,” he announces, making you understand his urgency, and causing you to fall serious and nervous yourself.

But if it is bad news wouldn't it be sent directly to Jacaerys and you?

Maybe?

Unless—

You can’t let yourself think the worst, but you still share your worry with your brother before you watch Cregan unravel the scroll to read what the news is.

He doesn’t take long to read, but it feels like he is reading for eternity in the waiting silence until finally he puts the scroll down and meets your gaze. This time when you lock eyes your heart skips a beat out of worry instead of awe, this time a smugness doesn’t play in his eyes or tug the corner of his lips up, his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched like when he makes his face hard, but you can read him clear as day as you simply hold his gaze.

You can see the pity pulling his lips down, and a soft apologetic look in his grey eyes that makes them appear darker. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that what he read wasn’t a simple warning or a call home, they’re dark words that he almost but says.

You want to ask, he knows that, he sees your worry heighten in your furrowed brows and parted lips, so with a simple blink his face softens as he gives you sorrow, making your eyes immediately cloud with tears. While in the back, Jacaerys sees it, your shared past. He figures it out in the exchange that is far more complex than one friends should share, but it all makes sense now.

Your friendship always slightly caught his attention, it bugged him in some way. Not because he felt bad for Aemond that you were so sweet on another man, but all your interactions were always weird he just didn’t figure out why until this very moment as Cregan fails to look over at him after what he read, as he watches this speechless interaction and sees the deep aching softness on the Lord's face and a deep set heartache in your eyes.

He had only seen such a speechless complexity in his mother and Ser Harwin. He was too young to realize it then but as he got older he understood what happened around him, and doesn’t fail to understand now.

Yet as much as he wants to give into this anger he feels boil within him at the thought of Lord Stark taking advantage of you in your five years in Winterfell, the news that awaits him helps him stay collected. Thus he steps forward without causing a scene and finally, Lord Stark drives all the attention to him, letting him finally receive the scroll, and leave you waiting longer without focusing on Cregan any longer. Now you turn to face your brother as he reads what was sent.

Once again it feels like what was written is getting read at an infuriatingly slow pace, but now you’re not impatient to know. You’re scared to know or read Jacaerys' face now. But you keep your eyes on your brother and watch his jaw unclench and his lips part to let out a soft gasp, while his once steady hands begin to tremble, and his eyes…water.

“Jacaerys,” you almost plead his name out.

That anger he had at the waiting completely disappears and he slowly looks up at you with a loud and heartbreaking sorrow.

“Jace,” you mewl.

Said man licks his lips and sniffles before he grabs your arm and gently pulls you aside.

“Listen to me,” his voice quivers and only makes your heart race faster than it’s already beating.

“Is it…” you trail off to catch your breath. “A-Aerion?”

Jacaerys shakes his head and keeps in those tears that fill his eyes. “No, Aerion is fine,” he assures you but you don’t feel relieved.

“What?” You beg for an answer and reach for his hands, but he lifts them and tucks loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“When,” he says shakily. “Lucerys was in StormsEnd, Aemond…”

You start to shake your head and his bottom lip trembles.

“Aemond killed Lucerys,” Jacaerys finally reveals quietly.

A cold breeze hits you and all that you had been feeling gets lost in the wind, leaving you numb.

Jacaerys calls your name but you stare ahead blankly. Theres nothing that crosses your mind, there’s nothing you feel that makes you react. You know it’s heavy and painful news, you knew they were dark words when Cregan told you speechlessly, but you can’t accept the truth that’s given. You don’t want to, you can’t because if you do then it means you will accept that your husband, the man you love…did what was written, and you don’t want to accept that.

However, Jacaerys calls out for you again and this time he grabs your arms and steals your attention, forcing you to once again connect to what you refused to feel.

“No,” you blurt and push him back. “You’re lying. You’re a liar.”

Jacaerys shows you the scroll as he gets close again. “You can read it yourself. It’s the truth, Lucerys…he’s,” he strains to say. “He’s…dead.”

Your heart drops and a flood of emotions rams through you, knocking the air out of your lungs, and making your legs weak.

Jacaerys grabs your arms and holds you up before you can fall and pulls you to him, letting you see how red his eyes are, and how drowned they are with tears he’s holding back.

“Jace,” you mewl and cover your mouth to sob.

Your brother nods in understanding without you having to express the rest of your sorrow. “I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

“Oh gods,” you gasp and drop your head while grabbing at your chest as you can’t seem to catch a breath. You can’t breathe. There’s so much air where you are, it’s so crisp but you can’t manage to take in any which in return only lets you feel the pounding of your heart, the rushing of your blood, and a rush of memories of your little brother Lucerys.

All you can think about is Lucerys, you imagine his last moments, and with every memory and every fake scenario the more you fail to grasp for air.

In the distance, Cregan watches how you’re breaking down, but no matter how much he wants to, he has to stay put even if it hurts not being able to help you when you need him the most. He does get close to trying something small since you are in so much pain trying to breathe, and your brother seems a bit lost on how to help you, but Jacaesys then does the first thing he thinks of and pulls you into an embrace.

Thankfully right away, at the feeling of your brother's weight, and at the feeling of his warmth, all those rushing memories slowly disappear, letting you draw in a deep breath. You pull him closer and bury your head in the crook of his neck whilst you wrap your hand around the back of his neck, and push his head down to let him bury his face on your shoulder so he can express everything he refuses to show to the public.

When he clutches onto the back of your cloak your heart comes to a slow pace, but it doesn’t stop weeping. With every ba-dum, you feel an aching pain in your chest that doesn’t go away.

Eventually, after a short time, Jacaerys pulls back and gives his back to Cregan to wipe away his tears before facing him with a sorrow that isn’t able to wipe off. “We need to go, my Lord. You’ll have to forgive us for not accompanying you back to Winterfell, but with our dragons here we need to make haste to return to Dragonstone.”

You grab at your chest and gently caress it as if that would cure you’re heartache while Jacaerys shares something you agree to without the need for a discussion.

Albeit Cregan is the one who protests. “It will get dark soon, why do you not wait until first light to take flight? Wait until you both have collected yourselves so you don't do anything rash in the heat of the moment.”

You shake your head and interject in a broken voice. “The storm won’t pass, Lord Stark. We’ll just face it head-on and leave, our mother needs us.”

Cregan steps forward, gaining a brief glance from you. “Just eat, and rest…I know the pain of losing a brother, I understand your grief, my heart is with you,” he tries to relate so you would listen. “I have lost many others too, I know the anger, please just let yourselves calm down before you return home. I will stay with you here.”

You know your brother too, you know how angry he can get. You know that once your grief really settles you’ll also start thinking of what happened and you’ll get upset too. Thus you don’t hurry to answer, you look at your brother and he looks at you. And without a word, you come to the same conclusion.

“All right,” Jacaerys says for the both of you. “We will stay, but leave at first light. Thank you, my Lord.”

——

*LATER*

Nothing makes sense.

Why? How?

Those questions are what runs around and around in your head accompanied by different terrifying scenarios that could’ve led to the act. A lot of it points to an accident, you want to believe in your heart of hearts that what…Aemond did was an accident. You don’t want to believe that this remorse got the best of him, he’s supposed to be better, he’s supposed to keep it in for your sake.

He knows how much you love your brothers, he knows he can hate them all he wants, but he can’t hurt them. And yes! You know that war was going to happen no matter what, and violence was going to be dragged in between your families, but Aemond went out of his way to…kill Lucerys when all he was was an envoy.

He killed your brother. Your husband killed your brother, and in turn, betrayed you in the worst way possible. He tore your heart out, and what hurts more is that he hasn’t said what he did in the multiple ravens he’s sent! Just like always, he never tells you a thing!

What are you supposed to believe, but the worst? You want to believe he’s good behind all that hard demeanor, you defend him against your family when they say something bad because you want to believe he has a good heart, but what does killing Lucerys prove? That you’ve been wrong all along?

Gods!

Damn it! Why did he have to do it? Why did he take Lucerys?

A knock raps on your door, but you’re so drowned in your heartache that you don’t hear the sound. It’s not until you hear your name being called out softly behind that door that you almost wake up from your stupor.

“It is I, Cregan,” he announces without the need to, you knew who he was the moment he uttered the first word. “Can I talk to you? You didn’t come for supper.”

You blink repeatedly to relieve the dry spell in your eyes after not blinking for a few seconds and clutch onto the ring you were fiddling with before you get up and unlock the door. You don’t proceed to say anything, you walk away from the door and stand against the fireplace, but Cregan takes the unlocked door as an invitation and walks in, finding your food untouched, you in your nightgown, and your head down.

“I came to check on you,” he says softly as if careful not to hurt you even more with his voice. When he gets no response or even a small breath, he walks in further and notices now how unkempt you are; you’re usually so precise with the way you keep yourself, you always look so clean and tidy, it was only in the morning when you first woke up that he would catch you off guard, but now it’s like you don’t care how you look.

“I hope you are not going to bed with your hair down like that,” he tries to be lighthearted. “You hate having your hair tangled in the morning.”

He waits for a reaction, a soft ‘oh’, but you stay quiet and it just deepens his concern.

“Darling,” he uses your pet name and you finally break from your stupor and turn partially to face him.

He expected a sweet look just out of instinct, but those usually wonder-filled eyes are clouded by agony and tears that can’t even fall down your cheeks anymore; while the fires fierce light brings clarity to your deep set frown, knitted brows, and puffy face worn out from crying.

“Here,” he breathes out and catches a gleam coming from in between your fingers. When he fills his curiosity he notices that the firelight is dancing on a sapphire ring you cannot stop fiddling with in between your fingers; a ring he had not seen you take off once since he saw you. Which must mean your husband gave it to you.

He doesn’t want to ask for many reasons, so he approaches you from behind and gently starts braiding your hair in silence you cannot seem to fill. It’s almost like there was no one inside your body, you were a hollow body left soulless.

“I understand why you locked your door,” he mentions in hopes that would get him a simple reaction. “However, it does not seem necessary, your dragons are restless and it stirs up fear in the brothers. And I am here as well.”

Your back raises as you draw in a deep breath, but rather than filling the silence with a dry response, or some remark, you just breathe out, making him steal a glance at the side of your face that he can see from behind you, before he pulls out the leather strip that keeps half of his hair out of his face to keep your own braid in place instead. He then proceeds to shuffle to your side to grab your arm.

“Sit down, Princess.” He commands softly.

You don’t fight him, you let him guide you down to your seat, and once he’s feeding the fire more wood your hoarse voice finally fills the room.

“I should have gone back to King's Landing…A—He sent me a raven the day after when my grandsire the King died. He didn’t tell me of course, but he told me to go back…I should have listened, I…” you pause to catch your breath. “Maybe then Lucerys…” you trail off and whimper whilst you drop your head in your hands.

Cregan leaves the last piece of wood in the fire and then wipes his hands on his shirt while he stands up to close the gap between you.

“Don't,” he says firmly and crouches down in front of you to grab your hands and pull them down so you can meet his gaze. “Do not blame yourself for your brother's death. What happened is not your fault to carry. What happened is dealt with, don’t dwell on things that can no longer happen.”

You hold his gaze while you process his words for a second and then look down at the ring you still hold.

“I’m sorry,” he says sorrowful words that bring your heart some comfort, but also make your body tremble while those tears that you once couldn’t muster, come rushing down your already stained cheeks.

Nothing else is spoken, and nothing is asked of either of you, but out of instinct your arms slip around his neck, and he returns the embrace and follows you to your feet where he keeps holding you and lets you cry on his shoulder; for hours? For a few seconds? You don’t know, you dwell in his comfort that you missed and relish in it until you stop crying.

He probably should have been the one to pull away, but he doesn’t complain, not once. He lets you pull back on your own time, and even then he grabs your arms to keep you close so he can cup your cheeks and caress them for a final piece of comfort to your aching heart.

Yet that proves to be a mistake because as you linger in his proximity, your eyes fall on his lips and you’re overwhelmed with a passion-filled heat that pushes your lips against his.

At first, Cregan is so stunned by the warmth of your lips on his, and then he’s taken by the excitement of feeling your lips reconnecting that he closes his eyes and kisses you back, but when his lust begins to rush through his blood he pulls back and groans.

“No,” he shakes his head and slides his hands down your face to grab your shoulders, leaving a burning trail down your skin. “You are married. No matter what happened you are still married, and you’re grieving.”

You want to forget your pain for a moment and be consumed by the comfort, bliss, and excitement he provides, but he’s also right. And how can you do that to Aemond…

But…

Maybe you don’t care if it hurts him because he hurt you. He won’t know either way—But you will know, you will know that it’s something that can hurt him, and you…don’t care. But Cregan…is right.

“I’m sorry,” you throw out and step away from him, feeling a chill hit those parts of you that he kept warm with his touch—“you are right. I’m sorry.”

Cregan turns away and swallows back thickly, feeling somewhat disappointed that he has to turn down this heat of the moment. “Perhaps I shall bid you a goodnight now.”

You swallow back to hide your disappointed sigh and nod. “Yes, goodnight Cregan.”

Said man avoids looking at you when he turns. It makes it easier to walk away from you. But when his hand touches the door handle he doesn’t turn it to open it, he stands there frozen with his back turned to you as he feels his honor start to slip.

He turns his head but doesn’t peek over right away, he fights himself but quickly falters when he feels the ghost of your wet lips haunting his. And when he fully looks back and sees the shadow of your sculpted figure in your white nightgown his inner battle is lost. He only proves his loss by locking the door and turning completely to face you, turning around as well.

“Cregan?” You query, puzzled by his presence.

Said man draws out a deep breath before he strides back to you with determination in his step and surprises you by grabbing your face the moment he can. You want to utter his name, but a small gasp is all that goes past your lips whilst you drop the ring that Aemond had gifted you.

“I pride myself in my honor,” he says while his eyes flicker between your parted lips and your shocked gaze. “But when it comes to you it’s turned to ash, nothing stops me from wanting you, from…” he trails off and leans forward, but you don’t allow your lips to touch. You shift your head away, but he follows you to keep your breaths unfurling over each other's lips.

“…desiring you in every way a gentleman shouldn’t. I burn for you when you’re far, and even when I dream of you. It is wrong.” He nods, and you nod too without much effort. “But you are my weakness, you have always been my weakness. You’re my joy, the reason I laugh, and also the reason I don’t march to King's Landing and bring you to Winterfell to make you mine,” he whispers against your lips, making a smile make an appearance on your saddened face.

“Tell me this is wrong, tell me to leave now,” he tells you and drags his eyes up to meet yours so you can know he’s being serious. “And I will. I will leave your chambers and when morning comes I’ll bid you farewell with no remorse and as nothing more than friends.”

As if being hypnotized to his lips you lean forward, but only let your lips brush, leaving your heart pounding as it screams for you to connect.

“I still have to leave,” you make it known while you gently cup his jaw to touch some part of him. “I have to return to Dragonstone no matter what.”

Cregan’s eyebrows pinch together and he hesitates before he nods. “I understand,” he mutters and glances at your lips again. “But that doesn’t change a thing if you tell me to leave.”

You should. You're still married even if Aemond betrayed you by killing your brother. And deep deep down a lot of your conflict comes because you don’t know if you did stop loving the man who killed your brother, but that reason is also why you want to give in to your deepest burning desire.

That reason is why you’re selfish and don’t resist Cregan or stop your heart from swooning at his confession.

“Don’t leave,” is all he needs to hear to smile widely before he finally feeds your desire by kissing you slowly, fueling that passionate heat that completely takes over your body, and leaving you still and breathless for a moment as you relish in the sweet taste of his soft lips melting with yours, guiding your every movement, and driving you mad with lust.

You had forgotten this dream-like feeling, you had forgotten how fast he makes your heart race when he’s kissing you, and you forgot how hot you burn when his fingers explore the perimeters of your body. Furthermore, you forgot how eager he can get until you feel his grip on the back of your gown.

You pull away quickly and protest. “No, no, wait, do not rip it.”

Cregan fingers loosen and you start to giggle. “Why do you always want to rip my gowns?” You bring up, making his lips lift to a smirk.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between heavy breaths.

You press a kiss on his lips and then tell him, “gently.”

He breathes out deeply and nods once before he slides his fingers back to the ribbon tying your gown together, and slowly begins to untie it while you drift your lips to kiss the corner of his mouth, and then kiss his jaw before you graze your lips up and kiss the corner of his jaw.

Cregan lets out a groan from the back of his throat, making you feel chills grow on your skin.

“I hate all these layers,” he musters while you continue to leave a trail of kisses down to his neck. “They are so infuriating.”

You smile against his neck, causing you to feel his nails dig in your skin.

“It keeps me warm,” you tell him and lick a stripe up to his lips. “Your North is cold, my Lord.”

Cregan clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “A little less with your presence,” he completely wins you over, making you grin and look at him in awe.

“I missed you,” he finally lets himself confess to you. “My darling love.”

You sigh and whisper back. “I missed you too.”

His eyes gleam brighter and that short absence is filled once again with your lips while he finally slips off your gown, leaving you under a simple sheer gown that he slips off with ease.

“You’re beautiful,” he says with awe, and his eyes dark with lust.

“It’s no fair,” you argue between kisses and slowly drag your hands down to help him pull off his layers. “And you say I wear a lot of layers,” you comment, making him scoff.

You finally end up pulling the last one off and throw it to the side mindlessly as you’re captivated by his toned torso and those thick arms that he unfairly hides under all those garments.

“Kiss me,” you command in a voice oozing with honey.

“Gladly,” is all he says before capturing your face to smash his lips on yours and this time make out more roughly as he’s filled with a much more hungry need.

Your own need lets you multitask by unbuckling his pants and tugging on them so he can pull them off in the brief pause you have between devouring each other. Yet when his member is out for you to see, you take a moment to admire how girthy and hard it is, and how perfect every vein is on his length.

You can’t help but start to go on your knees, but he grabs your bicep and pulls you back up to drift you away from that need.

“No,” he says out of breath and instead wraps his arms around you, and presses his lips on your neck to start leaving wet kisses on your flesh while he also slides his hands down your body, making you shiver at the feeling of his warm hands caressing you gently.

Without lifting his mouth off your neck he drifts his hand behind your knee, and with no explanation, he pulls your leg up to help you climb up and wrap your legs around his waist so he can walk you back to the edge of the bed, and gently put you down.

Once you’re lying on your back he pulls back but leans down to press his hands beside your head, and simply hold your gaze with this endearing look that makes his eyes smile.

“I'm going inside you,” he warns you, making you shiver and swallow thickly as you already imagine the stretch. “You need to be quiet.”

You part your lips but utter nothing, instead, you lift your head and he responds by giving you what you wanted, a deep kiss, while he grabs his length and aligns himself with your hole. When his tip touches you you gasp and he grins before taking your lips again to distract you while he slowly penetrates you.

Albeit the stretch is so wonderful and filling that you claw your nails on his back and scratch his back as he keeps going in deeper. Once all the way inside he finally pulls his face back to whisper. “You were made for me. You belong with me.”

You don’t respond with words, you cup his cheeks and brush strands of his hair behind his ears before you slide your hand to the back of his neck to gently pull him down. “Cregan make me yours,” you finally fill the silence, feeling as if his cock hardens even more before he finally starts moving his hips, filling you with a blinding ecstasy that heightens this passionate moment, and makes you only think about him and the pleasure he feels and gives you. You forget your sorrows and the grudge. You forget the war and the responsibilities you have.

You’re selfish in the lust-filled night and remain ignorant even before it's time to get out of bed. You just relish in Cregan's presence for a bit longer.

“Cregan…” you whisper, and the man hums in response letting you sigh before you share what’s been bothering you. “I do not like that I am the reason you disregard your honor. I do not like putting you through that.”

The hand on your back stops moving and a small huff rolls out of his nose. “I think it’s late to start thinking about that.”

You blink repeatedly with discontent and abruptly sit up to face him. “I am not jesting,” you press sharply. “I’m being serious. You hold your honor in high regard, I hate to be the one who makes it falter.”

A faint smile tugs on his lips without regard to your comment before he leans forward and assures you. “I have my honor, I never forget it, but I love you more. I’m being selfish without disregarding everything to be it. I know how to hold myself back,” he says firmly and cups your cheek to bring you closer to him. “I know where I stand, I am just choosing to have a taste of happiness. You, my darling, are my happiness.”

Your eyes water and your heart swoons, there’s nothing you can say that would measure up to the kind things he just said, all you can do is press a lingering kiss on his warm lips before you lay your head down on his chest, and hold onto him like he’s your security blanket.

“I…could offer you and your Aerion refuge here,” he offers and makes your pounding heart hurt.”

“Here? In Castle Black?” You tease without sounding too amused.

Cregan scoffs and starts to caress your arm. “Not here. In Winterfell,” he clarifies without a hint of falter at the mention of your son who is fathered by someone else who does bring him pangs of jealousy every time he remembers you’re married, and when he hears his name. “I would make sure no one could touch you and your boy there. He wouldn’t have to grow up around so much violence and you would not have to worry.”

You tilt your head down to kiss his shoulder before you give his offer an answer. “It's a nice offer, but my place is not hiding in a cage like some frightened bird. My place is out there, with my mother, with my brother, and the rest of my family fighting with the dragon I have. My mother needs me and I don’t want to leave her alone.”

Cregan doesn’t interject with anything, his chest rises and slowly falls back down, letting you know your response slightly wounded him.

“Instead of having her husband with her when she lost my sister,” you begin to say quieter but filled with frustration. “Daemon was out leading her council. I was the one who held her when she cradled my sister's lifeless body. I…have to be there for her now.”

“I understand,” he doesn’t falter to assure you. “But you must know if you ever find yourself needing somewhere to go, Winterfell is yours. You and your son are welcome.”

You lift your head off him to face him in the little space left between you. “I will always remember that. Thank you,” you say from the bottom of your heart.

A smile twitches on his serious face, and he proceeds to press a feathered kiss on your lips before he grins and says. “Sing for me? Just for me.”

You giggle and gently smack his shoulder. “No,” you answer bluntly and lay back down basically on him.

“Why not?” He chuckles. “It's not like you have to fear enchanting me with your song, you already have.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. Anyway!” You change the subject. “I was supposed to stop writing to you. I had already planned it.”

Cregan sighs and his chin rests on the top of your head. “I know,” he mutters. “You stopped writing as much as you would recently.”

Your smile falls but you grow desperate and hopeful. “But…you will answer me when I write to you in the weeks to come, right?”

He shrugs and interjects. “If that’s what you want, I will.”

You nod softly. “I do.”

You lift yourself up again to face him so he knows you’re being sincere. “I do.”

He grabs your cheek and his eyes soften. “Are you frightened?” He makes sure to ask.

You swallow thickly and shake your head. “No. Nervous, but not scared.”

He smirks and slides his hand down to caress your chin. “That’s my girl. You know how to fight, use that.” He tells you.

You laugh nervously. “I’ve never had to actually use my skill for violence.”

Your swordsmanship and your skills with archery were never for the intent of being some warrior, you like the idea of being like Queen Visenya Targaryen, and Princess Alyssa, but mostly your need to be trained with a sword and with archery was because you took it as a challenge. They said you couldn’t have it and you challenged them. Thus now that you’re having to face this war and the potential of having to use your skill, you’re honestly quite nervous.

You’ve never admitted that. You don’t want to admit it to anyone but him so they don't feel like you aren’t reliable.

“It won’t be easy,” Cregan says the truth. “But when you face your enemy, do not hesitate. Think quickly but be smart and do not let them gain the upper hand. You have a dragon, use her, and you have skill, good skill. Use it.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod in comprehension. He offers you a gentle smile and pulls you down to press his forehead against yours.

“You must know I will wait for you. Just a while longer.”

Asking what will happen after a while passes scares you, so you leave it be and just give him an honest response. “If fate ends up letting me choose, I will finally come home to you.”

He flashes you a charming smile that eases that worry in your heart and only works to sink you further down into this little escape.

“Now,” he coos against your lips. “Will you sing for me?”

You roll your eyes with a flattered smile featured on your face before you pull away to lay back on his chest and finally do as he asks of you as a parting gift where there aren't multiple people watching you, and pushing you down to hide or pretend that you’re nothing more than friends. You sing him a song for only him to hear before you take your leave and face reality once again.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. DRAGONSTONE*

What good is actually facing reality? Facing a dead beloved brother, and the fact that it was someone who you loved that killed him?

Dragonstone is a painful reminder of what happened while you were away. Only now that pain in your heart is tenfold and you don’t think anyone can actually know the pain that plagues you. Who can truly understand what it is you carry? No one is married to the man who killed Lucerys. They can hate him with ease, but you?

You want to despise him, you fought yourself the entire flight back to Dragonstone to hate him and view him as another enemy, to view him like you view Aegon, but as much as you think you hate him, your heart fights hard to try and tell a different tale. And that’s what makes it worse.

Thus it's easier, it was almost healing, having an escape with Cregan, but now there’s no one who will silence your cries. And what makes matters worse is facing your heartbroken mother. You don’t like seeing her cry or be hurt, when she lost Visenya your pain could never equate to what she was feeling, but you hurt too with every groan, with all the blood that she spilled, and every sob. Now you’re moments away from her and your heart and soul are already shattering.

However, after you watch your dragon disappear into the caves with Vermax, and take a step inside the castle, a hand wraps around your forearm and you’re pulled into a dark dead end where there aren't prying eyes or nearby ears.

“<Tell me the truth,” Jacaerys spats in a whisper so no one would hear the sound of his words also protected by High Valyrian. “About you and Lord Stark.>”

You can’t help yourself, you blink repeatedly in disbelief and gape like a fish out of water.

“< There's no point in lying,” he only further surprises you. “I figured it out when he got the letter from Dragonstone. I would see it every time you would talk but I never pieced it together until yesterday. It all made sense then, the glances, what you would tell each other, and every story you told about him.>”

Tears fill your eyes and your heart echos in your ears as you’re struck with shame. Not for loving another man, but that Jacaerys found out.

“<He touched you?>” He proceeds to ask in your shocked silence.

And it’s in that silence where he figures out your unspoken response and finally lets go of your arm to turn away with a scoff.

“<He never forced himself on me,” you defend Cregan. “Everything we did was because we wanted it to happen. We love each other.>”

Jacaerys turns on his heels with frustration and clutches onto your arms to sneer. “<You saw how much mother suffered because she was with Ser Harwin. Did you not learn anything?>”

You know he’s remarking all that stuff to your face because he cares. He’s being thoughtful in his way but it doesn’t stop you from crying, and when you shed tears you hit a cord in your brother's heart and he lets go of you with a sigh.

“<If you weren’t already married I would turn back and force him, but alas,>,” he mutters and sighs again before turning and dropping his head in his hands.

“<He would’ve too,” you defend his honor. “But I did not want Aemond to hurt him with Vhagar. I choose not to marry him, please don’t blame him. He’s a good man.>”

Jacaerys shakes his head in disappointment and turns to face you with his eyes narrowed into a fierce glare and his lips curled in a snarl. “How am I not supposed to blame him?” He remarks in the common tongue. “He had his way with you and did not do what he was supposed to do! What an honorable man would do!”

“I told you already, I told him not to because of Aemond.”

Jacaerys grabs his face and rubs the bridge of his nose, so you continue to try and calm him down.

“He was always respectful and kind. And…” you pause and lick your lips before you utter the reality. “There’s nothing you can do about it now. There's no use in being upset, I am married and that won’t change even if I love him unless Aemond dies. So please,” you plead softer and step towards him to grab his arm so he can face you. “Please Jace, keep it a secret. No one must know. It’s in the past. Please don’t tell a soul.”

Jacaerys eyes snap to you and he clenches his jaw as he looks at you thoughtfully for a few agonizing moments before he sighs and whispers. “Fine. I will not tell anyone only because there’s nothing I can do now.”

You sigh with relief and wipe away your tears before you offer him a thankful smile and a sweeter comment. “Thank you so much. Thank you, Jace, really. I love you.”

Jacaerys lets out a deep breath and his face slowly lets that frustration go, and instead slowly falls to express a soft sorrow. You slide your hand down his arm to cup his hand and slowly mirror that grief as you remember what you lost and that pain you both now harbor.

No matter how hard you wish, there’s nothing in this world that can change what happened, no one can bring back your fallen brother. And what’s even crueler is that no matter how hopeful you were for the news to be a lie, you’re home now and that hope lies with Lucerys.

You both come to the same realization and speechlessly exchange it, bringing you both into each other's embrace to cry now without care.

And deep down you both want to stay close in just the way you are so neither of you run the risk of losing each other the way you lost Lucerys. It’s a foolish thought, but it’s one brought by grief, and a new fear set in both of your hearts because no matter how much you love your little brothers, nothing can compare to the bond the three of you had. A bond that now consists of Jacaerys and you. Just him and you.

“Jacaerys,” your moment is interrupted by a feminine voice that also speaks your name but does not belong to your mother. And when you both break away and look over you see Baela stand at the end of the hall with her hands clasped together and a pitiful look in her eyes.

“Baela,” you greet and wipe your tears away while Jacaerys turns to wipe his own tears away.

“Welcome back home,” she speaks sweetly.

You offer her a thankful nod before you walk over to her and meet her halfway with an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

You nod and then interject. “Thank you.” You pull back and glance around in search of her twin. “Where’s Rhaena?”

Baela sighs. “In her chambers.”

You wished to greet her just as you returned home, but now you’ll have to speak to her after you speak with your mother.

“And what about…” you trail off and hesitate. “What about my mother?”

Baela glances behind you as Jacaerys approaches you and then gives you the answer you wanted. “I’ll take you to her.”

You offer her a thankful smile and watch her walk to Jacaerys to wrap her arms around him and offer him sweeter condolences. When the moment passes she guides you to your mother and your heart begins to pound, while your stomach twists and makes you feel almost nauseous at the anticipation. You already know you’re going to break even more, but there’s something about thinking about your mother being heartbroken that already tears you apart.

And maybe a part of it is because…it feels like you had a hand in her heartbreak because it was your husband who killed Lucerys.

It was not really you, you know that. You were oblivious to your husband's affairs, but no matter what anyone says, yes, that’s what is dwelling within, your guilt. It rattles you to the point you can’t be comfortable in your own skin.

As you get closer to your mother's quarters breathing gets hard once again, and your surroundings begin to dim, leaving only the narrow path ahead visible. You want to run away and not face the pain you’ll see. But when the doors to your mother's quarters open and you see her sitting across the fireplace, alone and in the dark, that panic settles as if she was the fresh air you needed to calm down, leaving you with the need to be embraced by her warmth and comfort, while also giving the same in return.

“Your Grace,” you greet her softly once Baela clears the room and leaves only you and your brother with your mother.

Your pounding heart starts racing once again, but it’s not out of fear, it’s racing out of a need to ease your pain, and the pain you clearly see on her delicate face. Yet you hold strong with tears stinging in your eyes already.

“Lady Jayne Arryn has pledged her support,” Jacaerys breaks the emotional silence to share the support you both gained when you were away on a mission. “…In exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale,” you hear the tear in your brother's voice, and when you glance over at him you see him fiddling with his hands while his eyes grow more and more teary, making your already weak hold, falter.

You still want to continue for him, but when you part your lips you can’t utter a word, it’s all lost in your grief that heightens the longer you watch your mother.

“And,” Jacaerys continues sounding even more brokenhearted by the second. “Lord Cregan Stark,” he pauses and takes a deep breath, but doesn’t seem to find the will to finish. He falls breathless and that wall he usually has up to be perceived as strong, and a protector crumbles, leaving him shaky.

You reach over to grab his hand while tears start to roll out of your eyes as you trail on for him. “…Lord Stark…promised 2000 men,” you manage to share with all the might you can muster.

Your mother doesn’t respond, she instead stands from her seat with her face contorting with grief and approaches the both of you, making you completely lose the faltering hold you had on your emotions.

However, when she’s close, Jacaerys reaches out first and she welcomes him in her arms. You want to do the same, you’ve been aching for it, but your guilt hits you and you stand there frozen with your head down.

“Mother,” you mewl with streams of tears. “I’m…sorry.”

Your mother pulls away from Jacaerys just slightly, leaving her arm around his neck to approach you and caress your cheek with no disdain in her eyes; nor does she look at you like you were the one at fault, her eyes are sad, but she expresses her reassurance before she slides her arm around your neck and pulls you in her gentle embrace and confirms that she doesn’t hate or blame you.

It’s such a relieving comfort that it works to lift some weight off your chest. Weight Cregan couldn’t ease when he talked to you.

Now you can ease in your mother's embrace without feeling like she hates you. Now you can caress her back without the fear of getting rejected.

Soon thereafter, neither Jacaerys nor you attempt to leave your mother's comfort. Nor does it feel like your mother wants either of you to pull away from her embrace that protects her two eldest from the cruel reality that took her third child.

You stay interlinked and weep on each other's shoulders until she pulls away to face you both.

“I have been waiting for your return to light…Lucerys pyre,” she shares. “Is it fine if we light it tonight? The sun is setting and the winds are calm.”

You and Jacaerys don’t find a reason to push the funeral back. You also know there are other matters to attend to that don't give you the luxury of sitting in your grief.

But, oh wouldn’t that be nice?

You don’t want to ignore what happened, no, that’s not what you want. You just want to take a moment to process what happened, and who did it, and tell yourself that you will no longer see your little brother Lucerys.

But no, war forces you to face reality and deal with your grief harshly on the same night you arrived from Winterfell, and at the same spot where your baby sister's funeral pyre was lit.

This time the crowd is smaller though, more intimate. Daemon isn’t even here, which isn’t surprising, but it is also disappointing that he can’t be at his wife’s side as she deals with the death of her son, and lights yet another funeral pyre. And what grows your hatred for him even more is that he can’t seem to be bothered to be a father to his daughter who just lost her betrothed. It’s a good thing Baela is at her side.

It’s also good that you can be with your family this time, dealing with your father's grief alone was devastating. There was no one besides your handmaiden Vanessa to hold your hand and embrace you when you wept. Comforting letters could never measure up to the comfort of your mother's arms or that of your siblings and your grandparents.

Now though, you stand amongst them around the fire that will burn away the only pieces you have of Lucerys, which are his things. There's not even bones to turn to ash, nothing was found of him but his cloak, and a part of his dragon's wing.

Thus Jacaerys steps up first and throws in a soft red blanket along with a piece of his clothes. Besides a few tears rolling down his face, he holds strong now, unlike before when he was in the privacy of just you and your mother, which is assuring. He definitely seems to comfort Joffrey, who throws a wooden horse in the fire, leaving you to step up next.

Yet when you step up and lift a small wooden ship you sob for the brother you’ll never be able to see grow into a man. You’ll never be able to see him marry, or see him command his fleets. You’ll never be able to watch him build a family of his own, nor will you be able to dance another song with him, he’ll be gone forever.

You throw away all those possibilities you’ll never get to see in the fire, and watch the flames eat away at the small wooden ship, and turn to ash everything you couldn’t watch your brother do.

Thick smoke rises, it infiltrates through your nose and stings your throat and eyes while also helping you realize something through the stinging pain, that being your hate for Aemond, your husband, and best friend. You were clouded with confusion before, you couldn’t let go, but you see it clearly now in the thick smoke, you hate him.

And it’s because of your realization that you don’t realize your mother is next to you until you catch her throwing in a piece of Lucery’s clothes with agony contorting her face and clouding her eyes. She lingers by the fire for a moment and you watch her shoulders shake before she steps back. You fall by her side and glance down at her empty hand before you reach over to grab it and once again be the comfort she needs in her moment of pain.

A need to go to Rhaena’s side does grow. You feel called to her side to comfort her, but once the fire starts to lose its power, and all the wooden logs turn black, you step away from your brother and mother's side, but come to a stop right away as you feel guilt again. Your mother might’ve speechlessly assured you, but Rhaena’s anger and grief is different, what if she does blame you for what Aemond did?

If you weren’t away you probably could’ve stopped Aemond, but you weren’t with him. What if she blames you for Aemond taking her betrothed?

You don’t want to be the source of more pain for your cousin, so out of fear and guilt, you don’t approach her. You avoid her and instead, let your grandfather give his condolences before embracing your grandmother.

“I heard the Queen made you her hand,” you interject and pull back to face her with a proud smile. “Congratulations, grandmother, I could think of no one more capable than you.”

Your grandmother caresses your face and offers you a sweet and thankful smile. “Thank you, my Sweet. How are you doing?” She asks with a concerned gaze.

You sigh. “I’m dealing with all my emotions, but I’m relieved that I at least don’t have to go through my grief alone this time,” you share, earning a faint smile.

“I was wondering…” you roll out hesitantly whilst you hook your arm around his to head back inside together. “…does anyone accompany you on your patrols?”

Without needing to hear the rest of what you wanted to ask, she figures out the direction you're taking this conversation.

“No,” your grandmother assures you.

“Oh, well I was wondering,” you finally get to your question. “If I could accompany you? The sea is large, together we could cover more ground. Besides,” you sweet talk her to persuade her. “Astraea is fast, and she’s grown large from her time at Winterfell. She’s good at sea. She likes to dive with me on her. And I am a good archer on Dragonback. We could help you.”

Your grandmother scoffs and flashes you a smile. “Well as much as I would like your help, we would have to ask the Queen first. Bring it up with her and if she accepts I would love to share patrol with you, it would relieve me of some work.”

You smile excitedly and nod eagerly. “Good, I’m glad. I’ll ask her at the next council meeting.”

Your grandmother offers you an encouraging smile and helps you feel some joy in the dark storm that casts over you.

Of course, no one or nothing brings you more joy than your little one, your beloved Aerion. When you see him fast asleep in his cradle your dim world lights up and you muster a happy grin.

As much as you want him to wake so he knows you’ve returned to him, you let him be and just crouch by the cradle to admire him as he sleeps.

You admire his cute round cheeks, his tiny little hands balled up to fists over his head, his thin eyelashes he got from his father, and those pink thin lips he also got from

Aemond. But most importantly you watch his chest carefully to make sure he’s breathing.

You could watch him sleep for hours on end and never tire. Especially because sometimes, just like now, you catch him smiling in his sleep and you just can’t help but swoon.

You always wondered what it is they dream about, fairytales mayhaps? Food? Their parents?

Does he dream about his father now that they’re apart? A father who loves him, and takes pride in his son? A father that you hate and…cheated on…

He killed your little brother, and you lay with Cregan because you wanted to, because you missed him, and you were upset and selfish, but now that you’re looking at your son sleeping away a different pang of guilt punctures your heart.

A guilt you shouldn’t feel, Aerion is young, he won't remember this conflict, but he will feel shame if he ever finds out you cheated on his father.

Yes, his father hurt you first, Aemond betrayed you first. He hurt you in one the worst ways possible! But…now…

Now you’re looking at Aerion and you think of how this could also hurt him. He’s young, a baby turning five months old soon, he won’t remember his life as an infant, but your secret won’t be forgotten, especially if in the future Cregan and you aren’t together.

It would hurt him so much if he ever found out. That’s what makes you cry with guilt. Not regret, you don’t regret your night with Cregan, he made you happy, but you do feel guilt and shame.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

Does Aemond’s crime justify what you did?

You can’t help but think of that, you can’t help but think of the hate you harbor, but you also can’t stop thinking about him. About the way his family doesn’t show him the affection you do. He protects them and takes care of them, but they will never return it in the same amount.

He’s probably lonely, and brooding. He’s probably silently just lurking in his brother's council, and breaking his fasts alone.

You always tried breaking fast and eating dinners together. He always smiled when he saw the way you were dressed, especially when you wore purple. He always gave you a kiss before you drifted apart for the day, and when you saw each other he kissed you with need as if you had gone years without seeing each other.

When night came, or when you found yourselves just in a calm moment, he let his guard down and let himself be vulnerable. You loved those moments the most because it felt as if only he and you existed in this world.

Actually, he treated you like you were the only person he has ever loved. You came first all the time, even before your son. Which is selfish, but you never minded because who could treat you the same?

Cregan’s people come first, the North comes first no matter what he says. That’s why he’s not marching over here to fight himself because other priorities come first, but with Aemond, he may have his goals and his pride, but you were never held lesser than something. His anger got in the way. It’s blinding but you understand why.

You understood at least…because the truth is you can’t defend him now…

He deserves his solitude. You hate him for taking Lucerys away. That much is true and you put that over everything.

“Princess,” Vanessa’s sweet voice cuts through the blowing breeze of the sea, making you pick your eyes off your son to look into the distance.

“Vanessa,” you entertain your handmaiden with what you know she’s leading up to.

“I was wondering,” she parts her lips, but before she can finish her thought the sound of your name coming from someone else’s lips interrupts the conversation. You look back and smile faintly when you see your grandfather Corlys.

“Grandfather,” you greet sweetly as you stand up to watch him approach you at shore.

“I’m surprised to see you out here so early,” he mentions, making you scoff softly and look down at Aerion watching your grandfather carefully.

“When I saw Aerion he was sleeping, so I wanted to make up for it and spend as much time as I can before I’m called away,” you tell him and study him, noticing he’s standing up a lot straighter than before, and still using a very nice wooden cane. “I wanted to apologize for not going to visit you when you were abed. I’m more than glad to see you up now and attending to your fleet.” You smile brightly and watch him get close to watch Aerion in your arms.

“It's quite all right,” he assures you and meets your gaze. “You are a dragon rider, and the Queen's daughter, there’s a lot to do. I'm happy to see you safely returned, I know Aerion has missed you.”

You glance at your son, and as if he knew you were admiring him he glances at you and smiles before laying his head on your shoulder.

“Rhaenys and I would take him on strolls when the day gave us time,” your grandfather catches you by surprise. “The poor lad would be cooped all day with your mother gone.”

Considering Aerion the son of Aemond, you didn’t think your grandparents, especially your grandfather would much care for your son, but hearing his report really brings a warmth to your heart.

“I noticed that young Aerion quite enjoys being by the water,” your grandfather adds, making you grin and nod.

“Yes, he loves it when the waves roll over his feet,” you share giddily and caress your son's head as you return your gaze to your grandfather. “And he gets lulled to sleep by the sound of crashing waves.”

“He’ll be a fine sailor in no time.”

You hum happily at your grandfather's comment and then watch him glance out at the never-ending sea before he sighs softly, and then looks back at you with a faint smile that lets you catch a look in his eye that makes you think he’s up to something.

“Why don’t you and Aerion accompany me to Driftmark? It’s still early, and you can come back by dragonback before you’re needed,” he suggests.

You have been meaning to keep your mind off all the racing thoughts that kept you up at night, and well, you are extremely curious. It’s not common for him to invite you to accompany him anywhere. That’s what your grandmother does.

“Vanessa,” you address your handmaiden, and give your grandfather an answer. “Return inside, if anyone asks for me tell them where I am and that I will return soon.”

Your handmaiden offers you a comprehensive nod and goes off to do as you asked, letting you walk with your grandfather toward his boat under the morning sky pampered with fluffy white clouds that make you feel a smidge of joy as certain memories infiltrate your mind.

“On nice days like these my father would take me sailing,” you muse with your grandfather. “I’m pretty sure the septa giving me lessons would despise when he would pull me from my lessons since I was a princess and had no business doing boy stuff, but,” you grin softly. “He was the prince consort, he did as he pleased and my mother never minded. Besides, I encouraged him,” you pause and feel your eyes begin to sting without much warning.

“He taught me a lot of ships…I miss him,” you finish in a whisper.

Your grandfather lets out a deep sigh and you see him nod along with you from the corner of your eye.

“Did he teach you how to read maps?” Your grandfather wonders.

You nod. “Yes, and star charts. I could learn more about those, but I could follow the stars North and to King’s Landing with no map. He…never tried to leave anything out, he was always so excited.”

Your grandfather hums and you glance over at him to address something else on your chest. “I’m glad you decided to side your fleet and Driftmark with my mother.”

His dark eyes meet yours and he quirks a brow. “Why would I side with Aegon?”

Well besides him being a man, there’s also the fact that it’s highly theorized Daemon killed his son. You believe and hate him for it, but no matter how much you want to share that belief, you bite your tongue and shrug as if it was just a concerned-filled thought.

Your grandfather understands your speechless response and holds your gaze as he gives his vague response. “I had many reasons to side with your mother.”

You offer him a simple proud smile and reach his boat in a peaceful silence only filled by the crashing waves and the cawing of seabirds. You had hoped to feel a hint of those exciting and tender feelings you oftentimes felt with your father when you were out at sea, but even if you walk with his father, those feelings you ache to reconnect to aren’t anywhere close, reminding you that you’ll never be with your father ever again, or have a bond with any father-figure.

Albeit your grandfather does let you sail the boat to Driftmark, but as excited you do feel to show off your skills and once again maneuver a boat, you still feel empty within.

“My dragon loves the sea,” you begin to say with the intention of persuading him to use your aid at sea whilst you keep an eye on the distant waters. “And I have learned how to use a bow and arrow on dragonback, perhaps I could be the dragon rider to protect your fleet when battle hits our shores, or we attack theirs,” you finish and peer back at him with a sly grin, unknowingly reminding him of his son when he was your age and eager to prove his worth. You even wore the same sly smile Laenor wore when he was proving himself a fine sailor and dragonrider.

“That…” he starts off quietly but then clears his throat and sounds as mighty as ever. “That would honor me.”

You offer him a happy smile over your shoulder and then let your gaze fall on Aerion strapped on your chest, noticing him watching the waves with his eyes wide and full of wonder.

However, the wonder slowly gets lost as he starts to get lulled to sleep. He tries to fight the sleep to keep watching the moving waves, but he’s outmatched and loses himself to sleep not long before you arrive at Driftmark’s shore.

Unlike Dragonstone, Driftmark is more lively with people; both townspeople and soldiers from the fleets as well as those who work on your grandfather's massive ship. Some seem worried that something could happen at any given moment, while others seem to be happy just mindlessly living.

You begin to wonder about that happiness, you don’t envy their joy, a part of you resents all these people being so happy and living their lives unaffected by the death of Driftmark’s Heir. You wonder why it is they don’t feel what you’re plagued with, you want them to feel your sorrow.

But then you do realize that you’re just letting your pain cloud your judgment.

“Besides having you accompany me,” your grandfather interjects, pulling your attention away from the large ship. “I wanted to share something I have been thinking of as of late.”

You clasp your hands together and out of instinct reach out to fiddle with the ring Aemond gave you, but you’re then surprised when you feel that your ringer finger is bare.

You spare a glance at your finger and drift your gaze to the ground, but you’re then reminded of the fact that you left your ring behind in your borrowed quarters at Castle Black.

You probably won’t ever see it again…

“…I was hoping that when Aerion is older he could be my ward,” your grandfather catches your attention and makes you furrow your eyebrows and look at him with disbelief, and slightly bothered.

“Of course,” he continues, “he won’t have to join me until he’s much older, but he is Laenor’s grandson, I want him to know the sea, and I want to teach him about ships and how to command fleets like I taught your father.”

You glance at your sleeping son and cradle the back of his head as if protecting him from being parted from you.

“He’s the son of a second son, he won’t inherit a crown or a castle from his father, but he could inherit…my title.”

You snap your eyes over to him and come to a slow stop as you’re overcome with surprise. You want to be filled with pride and joy, but there’s an obstacle that stops you. “But,” you mutter your thought out loud. “He is Aemond’s son. A man who opposes us. A man who killed your heir.”

Your grandfather turns away from his ship and faces you, and doesn’t fail to nod in agreement. “Aye, he is the son of Prince Aemond, but Aerion has salt-littered blood. He is the grandson of Laenor Velaryon, my son.”

Aerion is also your son, and you are also your father's firstborn, and only biological child, but he doesn’t seem to ever mention that! What are you, a painted portrait?

You would’ve loved to inherit Driftmark and his title of Lord of the Tides, but no!

You would ask about Rhaena getting that chance before Aerion since she is the daughter of his only daughter, but you don’t see that having a good answer, so you don’t even waste your breath.

“What of Joffrey?” You bring up. “He should be your heir.”

Your grandfather sighs and nods stiffly but quickly counters you. “Perhaps, but I want it to be Aerion. The grandson of my son.”

It’s not hard to realize the actual truth behind his response; Joffrey is the bastard son of your father. With Lucerys gone, he can actually name an actual Velaryon his heir. It doesn’t seem fair, your father loved your brothers whether they were his or not, but who are you to deny Aerion of a fruitful future?

He comes first now, and it doesn’t seem like your grandfather is actually asking your permission or for your actual thoughts, his mind seems mind up, so with a deep breath and a hesitant smile you accept what he brings up. “That…would make me happy. And I’m sure it would’ve made my father happy.”

Your grandfather offers you a smile and surprises you by patting your shoulder as an endearing gesture that brings a…silence where you smile faintly out of pride, but you can’t help but think what next. You’ve never actually spent so much time with your grandfather, and if you do your grandmother has always been with you.

“Why don’t you show your knowledge on the ship,” your grandfather luckily drifts the attention over.

However, just as you approach the plank resting on the dock, he stops you by grabbing your shoulder and interjecting loudly. “Alyn!”

You follow his gaze and blink repeatedly in surprise when you see the same Addam of Hull who fought in your engagement tourney.

When the man’s eyes fall on you beside your grandfather his lips part in surprise, but when he reaches you he closes his mouth and bows his head. “Princess,” he greets you properly right away.

“Ser,” you greet him quite excitedly.

“Good,” your grandfather cuts in and steps back. “You remember each other.”

You drift your gaze to your grandfather and express your confusion with knitted eyebrows that he helps ease with a quick response. “I sent him to check on you for me when I was fighting in the Step Stones.”

Instead of going to you himself?

Whatever.

“Really?” You ask with more surprise. “Well thank you, he was a very excellent jouster who brought Driftmark and me great pride.”

Alyn offers you a stiff smile and bows his head as a thank you.

“Good, I’m glad to hear he can’t show his skill,” your grandfather fills the man’s silence. “Why don’t I let you get reacquainted.”

Without room to argue he walks away and leaves you alone with Ser Alyn—or is it just Alyn since it was your grandfather who sent him?

“Seeing you again makes this world feel small. I never thought our paths would cross again,” you fill the silence to avoid awkward silences.

“In truth neither did I,” he admits. “But it is an honor.”

You offer him a smile and notice how much more muscular he is now compared to before. He’s also a lot more serious too.

“Who—”

“Alyn!”

You both turn your attention to the caller, and you see a tall and thin man with long dreadlocks approaching with a bright and charming grin that immediately works to intrigue you.

Albeit when he notices your unique white hair, your long and elegant red gown finer than any material he’s touched; accompanied with shiny gold jewelry on your hands and neck, he realizes that you are no ordinary woman. The man’s grin slowly disappears at the realization and he slows down towards Alyn. Once he’s finally nearby he straightens up and doesn’t fail to bow when he joins you and Alyn.

“My Princess,” the mystery man greets you with a nervous but charming smile that actually serves to completely get rid of any tension or awkward atmosphere he could’ve brought.

“Princess,” Alyn interjects and looks at the man in blue beside him. “This is my brother Addam. Addam, this is the Princess, granddaughter of Lord Corlys Velaryon.”

You and Addam meet each other's gaze and that snobby princess Addam already imagined you’d be upon laying eyes on you completely falls apart when you offer him a bright smile in return. You perhaps are one of the most majestic beauties he’s ever laid his eyes on, he can’t help but think. Even from afar you were luminous and almost like an illusion, but from up close he could see your beauty was no illusion, he could see a sadness in your eyes, but so much more that intrigued him.

You give him your name and Addam’s eyes proceed to fall on the sleeping infant strapped on your chest. “Who is this?”

You cradle your baby's head and introduce him to Addam and Alyn. “This is my son, Aerion Targaryen.”

“Hm, not one to care about first impressions I see,” Addam throws out boldly, making his brother shoot him a warning glare. You, however, laugh genuinely in return, which is something that surprises even you. You didn’t think you could ever laugh the way you just did again.

“He takes after his father,” you mirror his humor.

“Well, we’ll let this lad get away with it this time.”

You scoff and nod. “I’ll make sure he’s more prepared next time,” you remark lightheartedly.

He hums and glances over at his brother. “Could I ask how you met?”

“At a tourney,” you answer for Alyn. “Last year. Apparently, he was sent by my grandfather.”

“Tourney?” Addam asks as if it’s the first time hearing of it. “Aren’t you supposed to be a knight?”

“Actually I was trying to get to that too,” you share and both wait for a response from the serious man.

“Well I was surprised to see what money could buy,” he remarks. “I was deceitful when I entered. I am no knight.”

You hum and ease his growing worry right away by assuring him. “Well, I would say you were actually quite entertaining and impressive. You fought well and won.”

Addam pats his brother's back and whispers, “I’m proud of you.”

You watch Addam offer his brother a very faint smile and you can’t help but remember the grief you had pushed aside as you remember the brother you lost.

“I was hoping to have some early brunch with my brother,” Addam now directs at you. “But it seems insignificant now that you have graced us with your presence.”

You can't help but smile with amusement and feel slightly flattered. Addam is surely more outgoing than his brother in a way that doesn’t fail to catch your interest and actually helps bring attention to his fierce spirit that you can’t help but feel the need to get to know.

Actually meeting him makes you feel like you found something you had been in search of your whole life.

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A/N- romantic or platonic? (For those who have read moonlight before already know but please don’t spoil it for the rest heheh :)

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638

[sl-ut]

all is fair

pairing: pope heyward x fem!reader, unrequited!jj maybank x fem!reader, slightly homoerotic bff!sarah cameron x reader LOLLLL

description: jj is not jealous of pope. definitely not. okay, maybe just a little.

warnings: swearing, underage drinking/drug usage, jealousy, slight angst, jj being a little butthurt, pope and jj are beefing, weird au where the plot of the show never happens lol but sarah and jb are still dating, reader has a shitty past and a bit of lore but we’ll get into it but don’t worry it doesnt rlly affect what the reader looks like or ethnic/cultural background (but i wrote it with arabic-canadian!reader in mind but thats just self indulgent lol), once again was high when starting this and writing this rn so sorry if it makes like no sense whatsoever but i think the story will be good), the grandparents are the sweetest human beings ever sorry

words: 2.7K

date posted: 08/11/25

JJ swore he wasn’t jealous. No way.

JJ, despite his unfortunate past, he had grown to be pretty damn confident in himself over the years; He was one of the best surfers in Kildare, he had a great group of friends, and he was fairly popular among the ladies in the Outer Banks. Sure, there were parts of him that he wasn’t so proud of or tried to keep hidden as much as possible, but at a time like this, he shouldn’t be feeling anything but on top of the world, but he couldn’t quite fight off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach as his eyes followed the movements of the two girls on the opposite side of the bonfire.

Sarah threw her head back, laughing joyfully as she and Y/n took turns twirling each other around to some song that was far too fast for their dancing, but neither seemed to care. They’d been at it for a few songs now, Sarah always waiting in the wings to snatch the newest member of the Pogues away to have all to herself, knowing fully well that there were at least two other members of the group who were eager to do the same. John B didn’t seem alarmed at his girlfriend’s obsession with their new friend, though it was probably too demanding to ask a teenage boy to be upset about his girlfriend rubbing up on another girl. 

To be totally fair, Sarah did technically have first dibs, having been the first to meet the girl after she’d moved in with her grandparents in Figure Eight while volunteering at the local animal shelter. Her grandparents were pretty well known in Kildare, two former snowbirds who finally decided to settle in North Carolina, both having recently retired, though her grandfather did own and partially run the shelter. They were a sweet old couple, the type that you might see on a Christmas card or a cookie box, and lived quite modestly despite the fact that they were living amongst the wealthier community on the island. With their granddaughter in town and staying with them indefinitely, they were eager to introduce her to Sarah in hopes of easily transitioning her into the social scene. It was Sarah who had invited her to the kegger the following weekend, so it made sense that they had quickly become two peas in a pod, so long as JJ was next in the pecking order.

Except, he couldn’t technically claim that spot on his own. He had actually met Y/n prior to the bonfire while delivering groceries with Pope, both of them spotting her at the exact same time as she answered the door, charming each of them with a sweet smile and a generous tip, completely unaware of the lingering gaze of each boy as she bid them each a polite goodbye before closing the door. Neither of them said anything the entire walk back to the truck, both sitting quietly in the front seat for a moment before JJ finally let his thoughts take over.

“She was like, crazy hot, right?”

Pope was silent for another beat before he sighed out his response, “Yeah she was.”

Neither of them brought her up again, figuring it wasn’t really worth their time to pursue anything with a girl who would only be there for a week. However, when she showed up with Sarah to the kegger that Friday, all bets were off.

JJ was the first to actually get to talk to her, stepping in with a greeting while Sarah became occupied with her boyfriend, nearly wasting away after being apart for two hours. He offered her a drink, chuckling to himself at the cringing expression on her face at the taste of the warm beer. She shook her head, handing the red cup back to him with a slightly embarrassed look on her face. This caught Sarah’s attention, winking at JJ as she encouraged him to show Y/n the cooler of quote-on-quote “girly drinks” in the back of the twinkie. 

He could read that she was nervous, especially now that she was alone with him. Normally, he would do his best to calm her nerves just enough that he could persuade her to climb into the back of the van with him, but something about this girl made him feel different, almost obliged to treat her with more respect than he did most girls. She wasn’t just another girl, he could tell simply by the way she carried herself, almost like she understood him on a deeper level before she even knew anything about him. He was drawn to her, and an unfamiliar feeling of nerves ate away at his tummy as he showed her the selection of Sarah’s cans and gave her a lopsided grin as she took the can from him. 

He lost sight of her for a while, returning to manning the keg while John B and Sarah rushed down the beach hand in hand, but his eyes were in a constant motion of scanning the crowd, eagerly searching for even a glimpse of the girl who’d had his head spinning for the last hour. 

Unbeknownst to him, she had found herself sitting next to Kie at the bonfire, falling easily into the conversation with her and the few others. She took note of the boy sitting across from her, making an effort to ask him questions or include him in the conversations. He seemed to be a bit socially awkward, but there was something about him that had caught her eye straight away, even from the first moment they locked eyes while he was delivering her grandparents’ groceries.  

He was dorky and awkward in the most endearing way possible, unlike guys she had historically been attracted to, but she was certain that that was exactly why she liked him so much; she was in the market for a fresh start, and that couldn’t happen if she put herself in the position to treated like shit all over again. 

Six weeks later and Y/n found herself becoming a regular at the Chateau, constantly being dragged there on her days off from the shelter by Sarah or being picked up by one of the others on their way home from whatever odd job they’d picked up on Figure Eight for the day. Every day out on the boat, every kegger, every bonfire on the beach, she was there. 

They had all even begun hanging out at her place, all quickly becoming acquainted with her grandparents, both of whom were more than happy to host the teens, keeping them comfortable and fed all day as they used their in-ground pool or lounged in the A/C. Her grandmother thought they were all the sweetest kids who’d ever lived, having a special place in her heart for the boys, while her grandfather was just glad to have a group to cook for, gladly donning his fancy apron and manning his grill for them all and enjoyed having extra help around the house. Her grandma especially loves when Sarah comes for sleepovers because she loves joining in on your gossip sessions and joining you both to go get mani-pedis in the morning. 

Their closeness to her family also meant that they were quickly discovering very personal things about Y/n’s life prior to moving to the Outer Banks. Y/n was very hyper aware of this for the first few weeks, almost vulnerable now that her past was now out in the open, but she quickly came to realise that her secrets were safe with the pogues, and that they only made them love her even more.

Initially, it hadn’t been the intent of either Y/n or Pope to begin hanging out on their own in secret. Well, they had both wanted to hang out on their own, but the secrecy stemmed from the fact that JJ had made his intentions and feelings for Y/n very clear, and that he was very hard-pressed about the “no pogue-on-pogue macking,” rule for everyone except for himself for some reason. They also liked the quietness of secrecy, neither of them worried about their friends trying to butt in on their movie nights or walks on the beach, even though they were most definitely not trying to get each other alone on purpose… Until after she kissed him for the first time, that is.

Pope had been shocked when it happened, his brain barely even registering the second-long peck after he’d walked her home from the Chateau one evening, but he was sure to put his all into the second and third ones that quickly followed. He had expected some time to figure things out before anything was made official, but he of course had chosen a girl who was prepared to take what she wanted without fear of repercussions, and so, shortly after she had been picked up at the end of her grandparent’s dock, she curled into his side and announced that they were now together. Pope was taken aback, but was somewhat relieved that he no longer had to go through with his long-winded but very sweet gesture that he had planned in order to make things official. That relief, however, disappeared very quickly as he met JJ’s heated gaze.

“What ever happened to bro code?” He’d whined once they had gotten back to the chateau after dropping her back off that evening. “I mean, seriously man, I called dibs and you just swoop in before I even get to make a move.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Kie raised a hand to cut him off before he could spout any more nonsense, “You called dibs? Are you aware that we are talking about a real human girl here?”

“Not the point,” JJ ignored her, “You knew I liked her!”

“And you knew I did too!” Pope countered, “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this beforehand but I never expected her to drop that on you guys like that.”

JJ shook his head, finishing the last of his beer and tossing the can to the side as he stormed towards the front door of the Chateau, “You just couldn’t let me have one thing now, could you Pope?”

Pope jumped to his own feet, brows furrowing as a look of disbelief crossed his face, “One thing? Do you even hear yourself? JJ, you can and have screwed around with every girl on this island; you always get first pick, and even the ones you leave for me are usually waiting for their chance to talk to you! God forbid the one girl I really like actually likes me back and isn’t just using me to get to you, but I guess that would be too hard for you to believe, huh?”

JJ frowned, opening his mouth to counter that argument when Sarah finally stepped in.

“Why are you even fighting over this?” She scoffed, “JJ, you have been here the entire time. If you were going to make a move you could have, but I really don’t think it would have made much of a difference. Like I said, you were here, you were an option, and she still chose Pope. Don’t throw your friendship with both of them away over her feelings, which none of you could have controlled even if you tried.”

JJ felt his breathing grow heavier, his emotions mixing with Sarah’s words of reason and sending him into a frenzy. He needed to be alone before he had the chance to blow up again, he needed time to think, so he stormed out of the Chateau without another word.

Two more weeks had passed, and all of them had gone back to normal. JJ was still a bit butthurt over it all, but made an effort to be his usual self. There was still a bit of tension between him and Pope, and the Heyward boy had even made an effort to plan more time away from the group with his new girlfriend, both out of respect for JJ’s feelings and out of a slight tinge of greed knowing that other eyes were looking at her in the same way he did. He had made an effort to not divulge any of what had happened to her, but he was sure that Sarah would have let at least some of it slip at some point.

The bonfire had been planned in honour of Kie’s birthday, though she had fled the party rather early, hand-in-hand with some dark-haired touron while her friends whooped and cheered. Most of the others had left by that point, leaving JJ, John B, Sarah, Pope, and Y/n alone to enjoy the slowly dying fire, the quickly dwindling alcohol supply, and the free-flowing music that played through John B’s beat up bluetooth speaker.

JJ sat on his folding chair, nursing his fourth beer of the night as he watched the girl twirl around and around with Sarah until they both stopped, alcohol-inspired giggles leaving their lips as they leaned against each other to regain their balance. They grinned at each other for a moment before Sarah leaned forward, pressing a gleeful kiss to her friend’s lips before pulling herself away.

“Heyward,” She called in a demanding voice, catching the attention of Pope, who’d already been watching his girlfriend with a lovesick stare, “Come get your lady, I need a break.”

Y/n grinned at him, eyes filling with love hearts at the sight of her boyfriend as she held out her grabby hands to him, beckoning him to join her, “Dance with me, Popey.”

Pope visibly cringed at the nickname, something she had never even once called him while sober, but still pushed himself off of his log and moved to meet her on the other side of the fire. 

JJ reached a hand out, stopping him from moving any further as Pope stared down at him with a challenging look. They stared for a quick beat before JJ moved his hand up into an all-too-familiar position. A small smile appeared on Pope’s lips as he clapped his own hand into his best friend’s, dapping him up for the first time in weeks.

“I love you, man,” JJ slurred.

“Love you too, JJ.”

“Pope!” Y/n placed her hands on her hips, impatiently waiting for him as Sarah collapsed into John B’s lap.

“Go get her, tiger,” JJ let go of his hand, making sure to pat his ass sharply as he walked past with a laugh, watching as he took the girl into his arms and began to slowly sway her back and forth to the beat of the song. 

Y/n leaned her head against his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck as the drinks she’d had began to transcend from energetic to sleepy in just moments. JJ watched on, a small frown appearing on his lips before it quickly switched to a soft smile.

Alright, maybe he was jealous, but he’d never seen Pope look so happy, so maybe it was all worth it. 

okay why did i actually eat this up

fr tho i love this pairing and little plot i have going so im def down to make this a mini series or do like hcs for this if ppl are interested if not just go ahead and tell me to stfu already

[blueycarpenter]

little star

Ever since Cairo submitted her midterm assignment, things haven't been the same between you two.

fandom: MILLER'S GIRL (2024) content: x reader a/n: i had posted this on a previous account, in case it looks familiar

Cairo hadn’t been herself lately. You two had talked for hours for the past couple of weeks. You had grown closer and more intimate with each other. Then, all of the sudden, everything changed.

Cairo wasn’t around anymore. She never called or wrote. It was ever since she turned in her midterm assignment for Mr. Miller that ties had been cut. Due to her tight deadlines, you two had agreed not to see each other until after she had finished the midterm, but it had been 3 days since the due date… She had been a ghost.

You called Winnie that morning—the dawn of the 4th day after. She explained the discord that had accumulated and how Cairo had taken the beating to heart. But she was the strongest person you had ever met. She couldn’t be broken.

Could she?

Winnie had said a lot of things. 

Cairo was emotional. Cairo was resentful. Cairo was heartbroken. Cairo was alive, at least.

No more alive than the works she’d create from a blinking cursor, the lead of a pencil, or the ink of a pen, though. She’d masterminded such beauty that reflected nothing but the world around her. Though when she had unlatched the door to let the monsters in, the rain poured and the lightning struck. 

You weren’t as talented a writer as she was, but who could be? Between those paragraphs of literacy and media was blood. It was a rich kind of blood that lured you to Cairo Sweet in the first place. It was reckless and mysterious, but you’d never felt more grounded before you laid eyes on her. Heard her speak… Learned her heart… And you missed that more than everything.

Was there Sweet to her name anymore? Or was there just Cairo? 

Winnie said Cairo had been alone. She said she had wanted to be alone.

But alone meant misery and displacement. Defeat and loneliness. Longing and torture. And Cairo didn’t deserve that. You didn’t care what she’d done or what she didn’t do. She was your north star. She shone brighter than anything you’d ever known, and therefore, nothing could ever change that.

So, you showed up to her house after that 6 AM phone call with Winnie Black. You needed to see her. Not just because you missed her more than anything, but because you couldn’t bear the thought of her discouraging her potential and honesty. Not in her wondrous existence.

Cairo didn’t fear anything, you’d learned, so you let yourself in and found her sitting in the darkness of her room, three cigarette butts on the floor and her journal open on the bed. Through the shadows, you found the top of her head over the other side of the bed. “Cairo?”

She didn’t move a muscle, but she did answer. “If you’ve come to talk, don’t bother. I’ve heard enough, and the sincerity I’ve expressed has been more than society is willing to tolerate. Honesty is feared by many. It’s tragic and hateful, yet it’s a quality that etiquette claims to be most valuable.” Then, she managed a wry scoff. “Hypocrites.” 

“Cairo, I don’t care what happened,” you replied. “I haven’t heard from you in days. I just missed you, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She actually gave a laugh this time. “Aren’t I?”

As convincing as she may seem to other people, you had learned her better than most, because you had to figure her out the hard way, through phone calls and communication of words, not expressions. You didn’t have to see her face to determine how she truly felt. You could hear it. Dare you say, you could feel it. 

There was a tear in her voice as she spoke. And it led you rounding the bed to find her knees up, while she stared at the wall ahead. Those beautiful eyes were slow, like shards of obsidian as they raised to meet yours without a blink.

“Y/N…”

You dropped to your knees and pulled her into a hug. She didn’t reciprocate, but you held her for everything you were worth. You rested your cheek against her head, your fingers gently pulling the small tangles from her hair and your other hand corralling her back, clutching her shirt like she was going to disappear into the darkness. “Cairo, listen to me…” you whispered. Her warm breath filtered through your shirt. “I don’t care what anyone says. About you… About me… About anything… You are the greatest soul anyone could ever dream of having in their school, in their class, in their life, in anything.”

A warm, damp feeling found its way to your collarbone, and you knew it was tears. And all of the sudden, her weight was recognizable against your embrace. She felt so small in your arms that didn’t even hold all of her. It was the first time you realized just how petite she was for an 18 year-old girl with an extraordinary personality. “You know, to me… you’re above everything in this world. I’ve only seen people wander the earth, dreaming of what it’d be like to fly, but you… you fly, Cairo. You’re that star in the sky everyone dreams of being.” Your chest ached from how serious those words coming from your heart were. You then lifted your head to place a loving kiss to hers, because just holding her wasn’t enough anymore. 

Cairo sniffled, but didn’t say anything. However, she had managed to unbend her legs to hold you against her. And when you gently pulled away to have her look up at you and you, down at her, the wet streaks against her cheeks shimmered in the halflight.

You wiped them away and gave her a small smile. “Beautiful…” You kissed her forehead. “Magical…” You kissed her cheek. “Wonderful, you are.” The next place you were dying to heal with your lips caught your eyes, though it was merely small motions of your irises. Instead, you brushed her hair aside and pressed your foreheads together. Her eyes shut and for a moment, she looked peaceful as you finished with, “Yes, you are…”

She opened her eyes, now only tainted with a thin gloss. But then she managed the smallest, sweetest smile you’d ever seen. Her Cairo Sweet smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice only a little above a whisper, mostly steady but with the slightest crack.

“It’s true,” you whispered back. Seeing her small smile was enough for you to give her your own, though yours was out of admiration, pride, and love. She truly was a star. 

She was your little star.

Then, her smile faded and she glanced away. It was almost shy, which surprised you. “Y/N?” Her voice grew a little stronger.

“Mm-hmm?” Whatever she wanted was hers.

“Kiss me.”

There was no hesitation as you granted her wish. Little did she know though, it was your wish too. You had wished upon a star, because that was the old saying. Wishing on a star was a chance that didn’t come often, especially when that one star was a shooting star. Yet, it hadn’t passed you up, and there was no way in hell you were going to pass it up.

Cairo’s lips were soft, but you could tell there were stories imprinted on them. They weren’t ex-stories, per se, but they were mysteries that you wondered how hard they would be to solve. How many pages would you have to read to uncover them? How much would she have to write to reveal them?

Only time would tell. But every journey starts somewhere.

And the best had a star to guide them.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

this blog has helped me so so much !! if u haven't answered something like this already, could i ask for some help/tips w southern vocabulary and how to go about writing it ?

Some Southern Vocabulary

A Month Of Sundays - This expression is another way of saying something has taken a long time or that something is unlikely to happen.

Bless Your Heart - It can be deployed sincerely, but if you're hearing "bless your heart" in the South, it probably has an edge to it. It's almost always accompanied by a good-natured, perhaps slightly exasperated, shake of the head. It can express empathy or judgment, or it can be said in place of a person's true feelings.

Icebox Pie - Any dessert prepared in a pie crust that has to be kept refrigerated.

Kinfolk - People to whom one is related.

Knee High - Small child (I’ve known her since she was knee high.)

Meat and Three - A main dish meat served with three sides of your choice.

Mess - The word mess generally has a negative connotation, but in the South, it takes on a whole new meaning—one with a positive spin. The context around mess matters. The entire phrase is usually something along the lines of you a mess or you’re a mess, with the discussion before it centering on something you’re doing. Think of it as a compliment, a way of saying you’re adorable or possibly clever or witty.

‘Nanner Pudding - Banana pudding made with sliced bananas, vanilla wafers and vanilla pudding; usually topped with whipped cream.

Over Yonder - When you're in the South, "over yonder" is a distant direction—any direction. The phrase may be accompanied by a gesture indicating north, south, east, or west. Over yonder down the road. Over yonder past the field. Over yonder toward the water tower. This phrase can be intensified by the addition of the word "way," as in "way over yonder."

Piddlin' - A piddlin’ is a small amount that’s not worth bothering with. Someone who is piddlin’ in the yard is wasting time and not doing a whole lot.

Preachin’ To The Choir - When you are preachin’ to the choir, you are trying to convince someone who already agrees with you. Save your breath. You’re all in solidarity.

Pretty As A Peach - This is a high compliment in the South since Southern states are known for their peaches. In fact, Georgia and South Carolina produce more peaches than any other states in the South.

Slower than Molasses in the Winter - If someone is moving very slow pace, you could say that they’re “slower than molasses in the winter.” The origin of this one is pretty straightforward: if you’ve ever tried to pour molasses out of a bottle in the cold, you’ll know that the thick liquid takes a long time to make its way out. Since molasses is a staple of Southern cooking, it makes sense that this phrase caught on and stuck around.

That Dog Won't Hunt - An idea, plan of action, or suggestion that simply isn't going anywhere. It's maybe a slightly nicer way of outright rejecting or disparaging an idea.

We’uns - Us; multiple people, including the speaker (We’uns love to get together for Sunday dinner.)

And here's a post that includes tips on writing accents and dialects (scroll to the end).

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks so much for your lovely words, hope this helps with your writing! You could also look through the links above for more references that I wasn't able to include here.

[trulyhblue]

Armband

Niamh Charles x Chelsea! Canadian! Reader

Warnings: fluff, cocky! Niamhy, suggestive.

Masterlist

__________________

You were quite new to the team, only joining the Blue’s side in July, but it felt like you had known Niamh for a lifetime.

You were Canadian, but you grew up in Manchester with your parents, playing in the City Academy before playing professionally for them until your move to London. Because of this, you knew Jessie and Ashleigh well. You grew up playing alongside Jessie at the National Camps, debuting for the Senior team in the same year. Winning the Olympics was a dream come true, especially with girls you have known since you were little.

Manchester City was a dream worth chasing. You were friends with Lauren Hemp, Ella Toone — before and during her move to United — and all the rest. When you found Chelsea interested in you, it was undeniably difficult to say no. While you had grown up in the North, the move down was something that ignited a certain thrill within you.

You met Niamh at your first training session. Jessie had been partnered with you for drills, and you were in the middle of introducing yourself to Guro when the brunette came barrelling in. Her flyaways were barren across her face, cheeks nipped red from the cold weather. Her hands stuffed in her pockets, she nearly tripped you to the ground at the speed at which she ran towards you. You had known her from previous matches against her, both for Canada and City, but something about being on the same team with her felt distinct. Sure, you had admired her beforehand, but it was different now.

“Jeez, Charles, give her some room, will you?” Guro scoffed, playfully pushing the girl back a bit. You watched as she nipped the inside of her cheek, looking at you so intently that you struggled to keep eye contact.

Niamh held out her hand, grabbing yours and shaking it. You could hear Jessie giggling from behind you. “My name’s Niamh.” She announced, continuing to shake your hand. “I’m Niamh.”

Her nervous state was apparent, and Guro was in a fit of laughter at the interaction she was watching.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You replied, hoping your dismissal of her apprehension would cool the flames in both your cheeks. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.” She gulped, obviously baffled at what to say.

You couldn't help but smile, nodding. “Erm, yes, you too.”

“Fuck, let go of her hand, Charles, you're ‘gonna tear it off.” A voice called from behind. You turned to find the Australian Captain trampling over, slinging a welcoming arm over your shoulder. Her laid-back persona made it easier for introductions. Unlike Niamh, who was a worrying mess in front of you.

“Right, sorry.” The English woman muttered, tearing her hand away and shoving right back in her pocket. Her cheeks seared with an even deeper embarrassment, and you shook off the motion with a tight-lipped smile.

“You’re alright, really.” You smiled, hoping the reassurance consolidated the girl.

It must've, since Niamh gave you a wide smile back, shuffling by your side ever since.

All of the Chelsea girls were lovely. You had no problem fitting into the Grove there. After a few weeks of making scare appearances as a super sub, you became a regular starter for the Blues. Your presence on the field was noticeable, and fans reeled at how you brought more opportunities down the field and into the back of the net.

“Would you be able to give this to Niamh for me, please?” One fan said after a game, handing two matching friendship bracelets with your names on one of them each. Erin was beside you, signing off the posters, when she caught a glimpse of them. Without a second thought, she waved over Niamh, who wasted no time in sprinting towards you.

“Hello.” She spoke, trying hard to discreetly slip her arm around your waist. You leaned into her side, showing her the two bracelets.

“Look how cute.” You smiled, ignoring the way some fans had started recording. You slipped a hand into Niamh’s jacket pocket, holding out the present with your other hand.

Niamh picked up the one with your name on it, slipping it on her wrist and displaying it to the little girl who had made it. “Very cute. I wish we could wear them during games.”

Subconsciously, you put yours (Niamh’s) one on too. The two of you were pretty much hugging at this point. The wind had sent chills through you, your kit doing little to warm you up.

The two of you took a photo with the fan before calling it a day and trudging off back to the changing rooms. You shivered as the wind picked up, holding your arms over your chest tightly as you tried to fight the cold.

Without much thought, Niamh shrugged off her jacket, hauling it around your figure and zipping it up for you.

When you got back to your apartment, engulfing the comfort of your bed after a hard-fought game, you opened up your phone to find hundreds of people tagging your account. You managed to click on the video, smiling to yourself at the sight of you and Niamh huddled together, talking to the little girl with bracelets adorned on your wrists. You clicked on another image, this time a photo, of you blanketed in Niamh’s jumper, your arm wrapped around her waist with one of her’s around your shoulder. The photo was everywhere on social media, including the Chelsea Account. 

After a couple more months, you ended up extending your contract until the end of 2027 by Christmas. You loved it there. Your friendship with the team had grown all the more closer. You felt a sense of home and solidarity that you had never felt before.

Your relationship with the team was selfless. Jessie and you had never been closer. Sam and Millie had taken you under their wing, calling you the baby of the group, since you were the shortest between you, them, Guro, Niamh, Erin, and Jessie. Fans had taken a ripe liking to you all over social media. But not just you by yourself, but with a certain brunette in your wake.

You and Niamh had grown very close over the time you spent in London. She wasn't as shy as she made herself out to be when you first met. She was cunning, confident, funny, and easy to be around in any environment. All of your teammates teased the living daylights out of the two of you, especially Niamh, who didn't waste a second in making sure you were always okay.

She would check on you when you went quiet. She always ran to you for partner work during drills, after goals, and when the full-time whistle would blow. The two of you had a habit of huddling together in any setting, holding each other’s hands or waist, cuddling their side or touching you in some way.

Everything you did with each other was full of love and adoration. It was only you two that didn't see your friendship blossom into a relationship. You weren't daft, you knew the speculations surrounding what the two of you were. There was no denying the physical acclimation you had around each other. Hell, Sam sent at least two memes a day about how whenever you were seen together, you were always touching each other.

Over Christmas, Niamh asked you out. She was a nervous wreck, which reminded you all too well of when you first met her. It was after a game, in the changing rooms. She had been given a bouquet of flowers by a group of fans, who told her to ask you out with them. She was reluctant, not only because she didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or pressured by the media to say yes, but the mere fact of ruining the relationship you already had with each other made her hesitant enough.

Of course, you said yes. It was a no-brainer, and after a few more dates you were officially together. It wasn't any more public than before. Only your close friends knew, but the public was already quite content with the PDA you already showed each other before you were dating. The only thing they needed was confirmation, but Niamh and you were happy to keep in vague.

After you said yes, the two of you became inseparable, both on and off the pitch. Niamh ended up extending her contract as well, and the chemistry you built made for an unstoppable case on the field. By the time the season came back after the break, you had moved in together. The happiness both of you felt was indescribable.

Today, Chelsea was up against Manchester United, your old rival team. Ella Toone was one of your childhood friends and was who you were marking. Not only was ManU a competitive, difficult team, but it was a team you were familiar with. They were always pushing in the midfield and up against the forwards. Their chances during set pieces were worrying to any defensive back line. With the combination of Mary Earps and a sophisticated midfield variation, you knew that you were in for a ride.

When Sam did her ACL, people started to underestimate Chelsea’s shot at winning the league. Everyone was starting to wonder whether the Blues were even contestable for the semis. After a poor attempt last week against West Ham for the FA Cup, you were adamant about proving yourself to the people who were doubting your ability to win. You were a midfielder, and while you had masterclasses in the centre field, your stats didn't excel in goals. You had many assists, but never many goals.

You were tying your laces when you felt your girlfriend's arms curl around your waist. You were leaning against your cubby, back facing Niamh. You were slightly bent as your finished the knot in your shoe, feeling the women behind you grasp your hips with a slight squeeze.

“You ready to smash it today, baby?” She muttered, her lips shadowing your ear, sending shivers down your body. You held composure well enough, straightening up and letting her wrap her arms over your abdomen.

“Mh, bit nervous, but yeah.” You replied, relishing Niamh’s pattern of breath. “How ‘bout you?”

Niamh pulled your body to face in front of her, your back now flushed against the wall. You managed to make eye contact with her dilated pupils, feeling one of her hands make their to the back of your neck.

Before she spoke, your eyes filtered down to the fabric that wrapped around her arm, the word ‘Captain’ sprawled across the armband. Niamh watched the way your eyes widened, and how you bit your bottom lip at the sight. Niamh smirked in response, pressing her front into yours so that most of your body was hidden to the rest of the room.

“What's the matter, baby?” She gloated, rubbing a hand up your side. Your cheeks flushed when she refused to break eye contact, holding tranquillity at the sight of your girlfriend as captain. It was a sight you weren't used to, but it was something you couldn't get enough of.

“Nothing. I'm— we should go line up in the tunnel.” Your breath hitched. Niamh was staring down at you while groping your waist.

Neither of you said anything until you were out on the field. You could hear the crowd cheering in anticipation. You shook your opponents’ hands aimlessly, your mind sauntering on the previous sight of your girlfriend.

“Earth to Y/N, hello?” Jessie’s voice snapped you out of your trance. She must've watched you wander to your position in a haze, since she was smirking knowingly at your flushed cheeks. Erin came up behind the two of you, laughing when she caught a glimpse of your state.

“She looks like she's already played the ninety minutes.” The Scottish woman quipped, bringing her hands up to play with your cheeks. You pushed her off playfully, gushing at the ground. “Shut up, you two.”

“God, if this is your reaction to Niamh in an armband, I wonder what Niamh would do if she saw you.”

“Go away, you pricks.” You snapped, flanking them away with your hands, trying to cool your cheeks before the game.

After the team photo, you ran back to your position, jumping up and down as the whistle blew.

The game was inevitably tough, but something had ignited inside of you at the sight of your girlfriend. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you were running up and down the pitch with the one endeavour to make your girlfriend watch you.

Chelsea was controlling the game for the most part, and it didn't take long for Guro to find you inside the box.

The crowd erupted in cheers, your teammates sprinting over to where you stood starstruck. This was one of the scarce amount of goals you had scored that season.

As you were making your way back to the middle, you felt a familiar figure creep up behind you with her hands soothing the tension in your shoulders.

“Making me so proud today, aren't you, baby?” Niamh whispered, running back to her spot in defence before you could reply.

The first half ended as quickly as it started. United had sent a flyer into the back of the net just before the whistle blew. You avoided Niamh like the plague in the changing rooms, knowing you would cave to her touch as soon as she laid hands on you. In any other circumstance, it was you who would tease, but it always ended with Niamh taking over. The two of you were strict in keeping your private life and career separate, but no one seemed to mind your change of game when Niamh was Captain.

You were having an absolute masterclass of a game by the sixtieth minute, scoring your second goal on seven minutes in. Chelsea was now up two-one, and Man U were starting to bring on subs after a close set piece that almost led to a goal.

You made a break down the wing after Lauren sent a cross-over to the field. You sprinted down the line, trying to find a way into the middle. United were tight in keeping you out, and by the time you had made it down the line, attempting to pass it to one of your teammates, you felt a pair of boots collide with your own, sending you face-first fo the floor.

The ball was long forgotten by the ref, who blew the whistle immediately, medics were sent over. While your muscles started to strain at the energy of the game, you didn't feel instantaneous pain from the fall.

You were rolling onto your back, wincing as you got up, when you first heard your girlfriend’s voice boom over the hustle of the crowd.

“Are you alright there, Zelem?!” She scoffed. You watched a smug Katie Zelem trampling off from where you sat. She didn't look like she meant the tackle, but the heat of the game left her feeling less apologetic than usual.

“Oh, let it go, Charles.” Zelem clapped back, walking towards Ella and Millie, who were tense at the sight of Niamh’s uncommon anger. “She's fine.”

“I don't think you understand.” Niamh marched towards her, grabbing the girl’s jersey, and forcing Katie to face her. “You get the fuck off her and the rest of my players. Don't be salty cause we’re winning.”

Katie rolled her eyes at that. “Don't be salty cause your girlfriend can't handle a tackle.”

Erin and Jessie were surrounding Niamh moments later, dragging her away from the United mob and towards you.

The medics have already cleared you to keep playing, and you were already up and ready to go by the time your girlfriends grabbed your hand.

“Are you sure you're okay?” She asked, taking in your flustered appearance. What she didn't know was that you were overwhelmed at the way Niamh looked just then, not by the absolute mouthful of grass you just inhaled.

You could only muster a nod, squeezing your girlfriend’s hand once before slipping away from her touch. You were now hungry for not only Niamh but that third goal. You wanted to prove yourself to everyone that you could do it.

And so you did.

It was a Chelsea corner, and you made the run from outside the box near the open post, where no one had thought to mark. You jumped as high as you could, feeling the ball hit your head in the right direction. You fell to the ground before you knew where the ball was going, letting the movement and relief of the crowd pull you to your feet. You ran to the corner of the field, taking in the shouts and cheers of the crowd and letting your teammates engulf you from behind. The weight of everyone sent you down as more and more girls piled on top of you.

This was your first hat trick ever at Chelsea, and you were relishing the feeling of the euphoria for the rest of the game.

When the final whistle blew, you nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Everything you wanted to go right in the game went right. You were reeling at the win, looking across the field for a particular someone.

“Guess I know what to do to make you score some goals.” Niamh chuckled, grabbing your waist and lifting you into a spinning hug. You gripped onto her and giggled, letting her twirl you around.

“Thanks, Niamhy.” You smiled, gazing up at your girlfriend’s proud eyes. “You looked so good today, baby.”

“You think so?” She asked, though both of you knew she was just egging you on.

“Mhm. Looked so good.”

“You always look good, my stargirl.” The taller girl grinned, looking down at you slyly. Her lips met your ear, her voice sending chills down your spine. “But I guess I’ll need to reward you for doing so well. Show you how good you were for me.”

You didn't get to respond, feeling Jessie pull you away with the Player of the Match trophy shoved into your chest.

You knew you’d see her soon… you were looking forward to it.

niamhcharles

niamhcharles — she scores more when I am Captain.

Tagged: Yourusername

Comments:

samanthakerr — yeah the girls 🙌🏼

*liked by yourusername, niamhcharles

User8 — they will never beat the dating allegations

^ user10 — at this point they are embracing it

guroreiten — she always score goals, Charles 🙄

^ niamhcharles — READ THE CAPTION

^ guroreiten — I DID

^ niamhcharles — i said she scores “more” goals

^ guroreiten — oh, okay.

^ user1 — LMAO

yourusername — always complimenting me 😍

^ erincuthburt — too much apparently… as if she didn't do it enough in the Change Rooms

^ niamhcharles — i did it more when we got home

^ erincuthburt — youre blocked.

User22 — they are so pookie together

^ user76 — omg yes

jflem_ — that armband ignited something within her

^ yourusername — EXCUSE ME?????

^ user2 — LMAO JESSIE

^ user3 — don't expose her like that 💀

^ yourusername — Ikr 😖

erincuthburt — Niamh needs to be in that armband more often 😂

^ yourusername — maybe I just had a good game?!?!

^ erincuthburt — we all have our superstitions

^ user6 — LMAO ERIN IM CRYING

User78 — If you look closely I’m jumping off the bridge

^ user90 — mood.

User67 — okay but when Niamh protected Y/N at the Man U game!? 😋😋😋 wishing I was Y/N right now.

laurenhemp — where were those hat tricks at City, Y/N???

^ yourusername — you stole them all

yourusername — can a girl just score a hat-trick because shes good? 😖😖😖

^ niamhcharles — you did it all by yourself 🫶🏼

^ yoursusername — thx niamhy 🥰

^ guroreiten — suck up

^ samanthakerr — suck up

^ milliebright — suck up

^ niamhcharles — a proud suck up x

^ jflem_ — 🤢

^ niamhcharles — ok bye.

user7 — THIS IS SO CUTE BYE

_________________________

[moonbaby26]

Title: Before the Storm

(Chapter 17 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, binge drinking, vaginal sex, toxic relationship, dubious consent, depression

Chapter Synopsis: The very night of your official engagement to Doflamingo, you are also made to sign your life away to Dressrosa’s king.

You spiral, punishing yourself as he plans to change your past even further. While others still move as distant pieces in the even larger game. 

Author’s Notes: For those that do follow this story and read as soon as it updates, I’m so sorry you had to wait 5,000 years this time! I wish there was more here as a reward for that patience. I’m sure there are still typos too. Please proceed with caution! It just needed to be out of my drafts. I’ll proofread after I sleep again. Maybe. 😅

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5, 6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

——————————

—————————— 

Something was going wrong with the submarine again. Nothing catastrophic, but it could always progress to that if they didn’t take the time to investigate and repair as they went. Pieces became worn and overtaxed easily. Noises that weren’t even there yesterday would suddenly manifest, anxiety inducing, so many fathoms deep in the darkness.

Law was sure there was a metaphor for their lives in there somewhere too. Just like he and his crew. How much this craft could really endure, until one day it just wouldn’t anymore.

He’d still felt that mental weight on himself as well. Fresh and nagging ever since Doflamingo’s name had been put back to the forefront of his mind with those first reports from Scylla just days ago.

Ghosts of his past had churned up enough that Law was almost glad when that bearing in the engine room had started making a newer, awful whining sound.

It was excuse enough to breach the surface and focus on anything else as they’d headed for another island to both look for parts and avoid the heavier than normal marine patrols in this region of the North Blue.

There’d been a pirate attack on a nearby island called Orlinde. At least that’s what Law had heard. Some shithole port town there, with no real wealth or industry of its own had been burned to the ground. And it hadn’t made much sense as to why. Seemingly foolish to risk the ire of the navy when there’d be no treasure or significant beri to even be had in a place like that.

But whatever the reasoning for those other pirates, their actions there had the marines now swarming. To the point that it funneled anyone actively trying to avoid arrest or other harassment further east.

To an unaffiliated island chain that Law had ordered his crew to then disembark at. All save for Bepo anyway, as strolling through the center of town with an overly nervous ball of white fluff wouldn’t have helped much in their bid to keep a low profile.

They had intended to be here just long enough to find what they needed and to make repairs. But every other outlaw in the area had much the same idea. Crew after crew camping out here as an easy stopover while waiting for the larger marine presence to die down nearby.

And this many egos all right on top of each other became a perfect powder keg for disaster really.

Shachi and Penguin were now on either side of their captain, trying to look as unbothered as he seemed while all three boys stuck tightly together.

They walked past the crowded stores and food stalls. With drunken cursing, and all other sounds of debauchery already going on this soon after sunset.

An old man at the harbor had said there was a store in this direction that sold supplies for ship building. It was worth a try to start there first.

But that unsettled feeling was still in Law’s mind. He was too inexperienced to fully understand it yet. The unnamed intuition which had more to do with what would be happening rather than just what could.

“Hey, Spots!”

And there, a male voice had called out loudly. The first inkling of trouble just this soon.

Law’s eyes had flitted up to an open doorway of one of the bars farther up the street. But the teen kept walking, silent to show his crew he expected much the same from them.

Yet the stranger’s second try to get their attention was even louder than the first, as the owner of that voice stepped into the muddy street in front of them. “Hey, I’m talking to you, you prick!”

And Law did stop reluctantly then, not in fear, but in annoyance. He knew an immediate waste of his time when he saw one.

The man that’d been yelling was about his own age though. Young and snide with a grinning girl under one arm. The man’s other hand held a large blade that now pointed towards Law and his crew.

“Are you hard of hearing? I mean that’s what’s on your hat, right? Black spots? You all look damn stupid I think. But my girl likes your hat. So how much do you want for it, kid?”

The stranger sounded a bit drunk actually. And the girl ribbed him in her reaction. “Fur is in fashion, Sarquiss! So don’t be so stingy. Make them an offer! You know Joker’s gonna pay us good this time regardless.“

Sarquiss? Joker? Those were just two more names that Law had never heard before. They meant nothing to him as the idiots continued to talk.

“This kid’s pretty skinny though. What if he freezes, baby? It’s awful cold out here.” The man smirked down at her, flirting abruptly in return as if he hadn’t just been the one that’d started this whole confrontation.

What kind of fool ever looked away while in the middle of threatening someone though? 

These dolts would have been eaten alive in the ways Law had originally been taught. Because seeing the first opening only meant that the first move was his.

It would have been the first kill too if Law had still been that literal to those old teachings. But he left his own sword sheathed against his shoulder.

As it was now, he had no interest in making a scene. Law had planned to initiate a room and simply swap the blade that man held for some of the fresh horse shit he’d already noticed piled up along the street’s edge.

The resulting shock and disgust would have caused plenty of distraction for him, Shachi, and Penguin to quickly be on their way.

But that heavy feeling within Law had somehow remained, even as his hand and lips had begun to move with that whisper of a room.

A dread in him that was not explained until the moment that stranger’s coat had opened further with his playful movements against the girl.

And Law’s eyes had widened as he finally saw the distinct tattoo across that man’s chest. That feeling clicking in him as he knew the absolute mistake he was about to make even before it happened.

No.

He could not stop himself.

He didn’t want to.

“Takt.”

Shachi and Penguin’s surprised gasps were drowned out as the girl’s resulting scream met Law’s ears. 

Her boyfriend’s body had been ripped away from her without warning. And flung like a ragdoll, straight through the bar’s long window and all those wooden slats which supported it. 

It was a terribly loud crash, so many eyes then looking to Law and his friends from both sides of the street.

The Heart Pirates didn’t hesitate either.

“Go!” Law yelled. 

And all three of them had doubled back, beginning to sprint for the harbor.

——————————

Sarquiss had landed hard, stunned and sprawled on that barroom floor to the brief silence of so many other pirates inside. His own crew was chief among them.

The circular tattoo on his chest now smiled to the ceiling. Its left eye struck through, and its wide grin becoming accented with fresh red as blood began to seep from so many cuts dealt from that broken window.

“I don’t…I don’t know what happened.” Sarquiss stammered, bewildered and in pain as another pirate’s boots came to stand near his head. 

“Somebody got a cheap shot in while you were buzzed on this shit liquor. That’s all.” The owner of those boots scoffed indignantly. “They’re trying to ruin our party.” But Bellamy still grinned in a practiced copy of that now scratched up jolly roger on his first mate’s chest.

He motioned for his other crew to help Sarquiss up off of the floor while he strode for the door. “It’s fine. I was getting bored of this place anyway. Gladius said we only had to lay low for a day or so after Orlinde before we could put our flags back up.”

Bellamy stood in the doorway then, just seeing the backs of those other young pirates disappearing behind a building further down the street as they ran.

“So meet me back at the ship.” His legs were already coiling as he readied to jump and start clearing right over those buildings to catch up with them. “I’ll get us some fresh meat, and we’ll have a little fun while we wait on Joker’s next instructions.”

——————————

The return to the palace had come soon enough. And you were drinking whiskey straight by that point, no ice, no mixer. Right out of a fancy cabinet of top shelf bottles that likely weren’t meant for anyone but the king himself. 

You were still in uniform, but long off duty in your own mind. With one of your legs crossed over the other, and an arm over the back of Doflamingo’s couch in his office. 

Whatever anger remained in you for your lack of choice in all of this, was enough to keep even the three executives away. That danger must have been exuding in your body language still. Though you felt their eyes on you intermittently regardless.

They were here to witness your defeat, and to congratulate their master on his success in spinning this into exactly what he wanted it to be. 

But you were staring at nothing while they talked. Your gaze on an empty corner currently, and miles from this well appointed room as you drank yourself away just as you’d wanted to do on that dark beach earlier this evening.

You were quietly furious for this treatment. But you also believed you were every bit as responsible for how quickly this relationship had escalated.

No one had picked up or dialed your phone for you the night you’d first called Doflamingo and asked him to meet you in Scylla.

No one had actually put a gun to your head and drug you into that beautiful church to wait for him alone.

No one had told you to fall for him.

Regardless of any blackmail he’d used to this point, you could have been less willing to let it work. You could have told the truth from the beginning and hid behind your betters. Tsuru, Aokiji, or likely even so many others who would have at least tried to help you.

The truth would set you free.

Wasn’t that the old saying? What an optimistic mismatch of words.

More like the truth would cut your heart out and feed it to you with a smile.

“(Y/N).” And his voice did easily rise through that other chatter.

He was the only one here that still would make you pay attention as you looked back to Doflamingo’s desk. Where he now sat, binding you to him for life with each additional swipe of his pen.

“Answer the magistrate’s final questions. It’s required.” The warlord ordered you then, yet with a veil of patience not yet fully undone.

Besides yourself and Doflamingo, the only others in this room were the executives and the government official that had arrived with all those stacks of paperwork and questions.

Questions for you too that you’d mostly ignored, especially once you’d been several glasses into the whiskey.

While peasants may just do a quick hop over to the local justice of the peace and call it a night, anyone becoming property and consort to a world government endorsed king seemingly had far more to worry about.

And when your gaze did go back to that thin little government busybody, he reminded you only of a small rat. Fussing with his hands in such a nervous way as the papers shuffled through them. Like wringing little paws, frightened and stuck between all the monsters now in this room.

“Why can’t you answer everything for me?” You exhaled back to Doflamingo though, the accumulating burn of the whiskey making your body feel so warm at least as you finally responded to the pirate.

“Because that’s not how this works.” Doflamingo replied, still tolerating you even then somehow. 

Your eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Since when? Because that’s all I’ve ever seen here.” You answered. He always spoke for you. He chose for you. He was the perfectionist. He was the control freak.

And you were the idiot.

A depressed woman who’d attempted to bury all her problems with a devil, just to be as surprised as anyone when she’d inevitably woken up in hell for her efforts.

“What’s the next question?” Doflamingo just asked the official directly then, all while looking back down to the papers he was still signing.

That warlord didn’t explode, he didn’t even raise his voice that time.

And you didn’t dwell on it as you went back to drinking, having gotten what you wanted if even for a moment in being left alone.

It was only the executives that seemed to take notice, subtly surprised as Doflamingo allowed that little pushback.

“Ah, well…” The official still stammered. “Sire, the next section was about the verification of her birth status. She was born on the island of Orlinde, correct? Within the North Blue?”

“Yes. That’s already in her marine record.” Doflamingo’s tone was notably shorter with the official too, further confirming the clear difference in treatment you had just received.

“Well, there’s a slight discrepancy…a clerical error I’m sure.” That small man produced the weakest chuckle you’d ever heard. “I just needed her to say it was indeed an error.”

And Doflamingo did look back up at that, those facial muscles of his tightening in a way which never meant anything good. “What error?”

“The more discerning background check required for unions of this, um, level. It…it noted her name on the registry for Orlinde as being born to a…well, to a slave woman, sire.”

You felt the room change.

The official became even shakier too, horrified really as an inhuman growl came from that desk before the magistrate could say anything more.

“She was never born of a slave. So your first assumption of that being bad data was the correct one. Is that understood?”

And you were just watching. Observing these further lies as Doflamingo told them.

His lips were pulled back from his teeth in an expression you fully recognized too.

Note anything different and I’ll gut you where you goddamn stand. 

That’s what that energy so clearly said. 

“Of course, your highness! I’m fixing it now! I’ll correct it all immediately!”

You knew how fucked up it was for you just to be an observer to such bullying of the weak. You were supposed to protect others, even when they sniveled and whined like this man now was.

But you didn’t feel that guilty either as you uncrossed your legs and shifted on the couch.

And Doflamingo’s head turned the moment you had moved even that much again. 

You knew he had to do that, to properly see you at this angle. But something about that instant attention made you look at him even longer in return.

Because what did he think you were going to do?

What did he want you to do?

“King Doflamingo and Ms. (Y/N), that only leaves the oath itself…” The official’s fully uneasy voice interrupted those additional odd thoughts.

“Then go ahead.” The warlord commanded him just as quickly. “Read it to her.”

The official nodded, with a pen clutched in one of his sweating hands. And the final pages of all of that paperwork in the other as he looked down to read it.

“Ms. (Y/N)…do you hereby agree to loyalty until your death to King Donquixote Doflamingo of Dressrosa? Do you also understand the legal bindings of this union? And the consequences of non compliance, up to and including charges of treason against this aforementioned monarch and our World Government via his status as a sanctioned vessel beholden to our Holy Land of Mariejois?”

You really were too far gone for this shit.

So what? If you got into another fight and decked him when he deserved it, that’d now be the same as rebellion against the Red Line itself? Just because he was a government backed dictator?

Was arguing with him treason too? What about ever leaving this island? Was that desertion and dereliction of your soon to be wifely duties? 

Even signing your marine recruitment papers hadn’t felt this restrictive. And that’d been you literally agreeing to march to your own death if your commanding officers simply said to.

“Yeah…what else am I supposed to say?” You knew you weren’t going to be let out of this room otherwise. And you did want out as you stretched your legs away from you, still seated on that couch. 

Things were starting to feel too much for you again, like everything was closing in once more. “Fuck it…yes. I guess I do.” You forced another couple of breaths as you brought the whiskey glass to your lips again.

Or at least you’d tried to.

The strings that then looped around your wrist had jerked your hand hard enough to splash that liquid down the front of your shirt instead. Right before you were being pulled up and onto your feet.

“I already said yes, you-” You started to bitch at him immediately. It was hard enough to catch your balance when this inebriated without Doflamingo also pulling you so roughly to his desk.

“And I accept your agreement.” He laughed abruptly, cutting both you and the official off before any other response could be given.

It hurt you as your hips hit his desk. And with him already seated, he didn’t have to lean as far down to reach your mouth across that desk either.

Doflamingo got to taste the full brunt of that alcohol you were now hiding behind as he kissed you.

While you got to taste his still enduring desperation for any piece of you that was left for the taking.

It was going to be a very long night.

——————————

The paperwork was done and sent. Clothes were scattered across the floor, and Doflamingo was already back over the top of you in his massive bed.

A large glass of his best cava was in his hand as his hips pumped against you slowly while he drank. He was savoring the drawn out pressure of you around him, mixed into that chilled feeling of the sparkling wine now flooding down his throat.

He swallowed again, then moaning as his mouth came back off of the glass.

“You fucking lush…you’re such a bad influence.” He laughed a little after, running his thumb firmly over your parted mouth while his cock continued to move in and out between your legs at that languid pace.

He could nearly get off on just the sound of his own voice by now though. He was so stimulated. Everything felt good. Everything felt right.

Because he’d done it.

You were his in every legal way that mattered. 

And you were still somewhat conscious this time. The alcohol metabolizing enough by now to mostly take your voice. But you were watching him as he fucked you. His every action slow and deliberate as he fully enjoyed himself and this renewed lack of your resistance.

You even gave a few little moans and gasps as he rewarded you again by angling himself just right.

“Good girl…such a good girl for me. It feels amazing, doesn’t it?” He panted a bit anyway, his lust driving up his body temperature regardless of the careful pace. He reached briefly to set his now empty glass back onto the nightstand.

“I want this all the time…all the damn time. You know that right? I can’t stop…not when it’s you.” He just kept on, using that steady, long lasting rhythm.

He did try to keep his full weight off of your wounded thigh at least. Mindful of where he moved your leg as he took you. But this was still a celebration after all. He also wanted to feel you under him in all the right ways.

“Doffy…” You did grimace a little as the tip of him kissed against your cervix again.

He smiled at the plea of his name from your lips though. You were so pretty like this. And all of it was for him.

Maybe tomorrow your brain would be back to functioning well enough for him to explain your other wedding gifts as well.

Ever since the two of you had first sailed from Scylla together, he’d gotten busy with moving his chess pieces all over the board for you.

The nearest loyal mongrels Gladius could assign for him to your home island of Orlinde, had already razed that brothel you’d been born in to ash in a much needed cleansing of your pedigree.

While another official on Doflamingo’s payroll had just as recently planted forged documents of your revised parentage for Big News Morgans to find instead. 

Doflamingo had already teased you with the idea of gifting that Scyllian villa to you. The villa that became the first nest the two of you had ever slept side by side in, would of course now be important to him as well. It was not leaving your and his new family no matter what now.

But that was still not enough.

With the machinations he had going, your bloodline was going to be from Scylla.

Any children you could give him would then have both Dressrosa and Scylla to their credit.

Which, that was now another thing he needed to follow up on starting tomorrow. Caesar had had well enough time to deliver.

Doflamingo smiled again though as you shuddered quietly beneath him. 

“Still with me?” He hummed, seeing your eyes close then as he rubbed his hand down your side and you stilled again. “Or have you forgotten your own name, dear, while that poor liver of yours cries out from abuse?”

The moonlight highlighted his entertained expression as his lips pulled back from his teeth again. His hand had moved up to your throat as he gripped it in his continued pleasure.

He watched as your breasts rose and fell a little harder with those deeper breaths your body was then forced to take as he gradually restricted your airway.

It made his cock twitch so well inside of you.

“Forget your name anyway.” Doflamingo growled as he felt himself nearing that edge of climax when you finally coughed beneath his ever tightening hand. He was beginning to choke you, and it only made him want more of that feeling. “Because you’re a Donquixote now.”

Or at least the property of one as he felt your own hand then move to close on his larger wrist weakly.

Your body was too drunk to stop him, but that reflex of self preservation still flickered up in you all the same.

Doflamingo moaned loudly too as he saw your eyes reopen, half lidded to look at him in that new, pitiful way.

That helpless look is what did send him over the edge. As you tried and failed to breathe in his grip, he only bucked his hips that much harder as he spilled himself out into you yet again.

This is what it meant to truly own you.

——————————— 

“She hasn’t called?” Aokiji asked as he’d entered the other admiral’s office without warning.

But Kizaru looked unbothered as usual even at the surprise visit, just glancing up from a report that Sentomaru had sent in.

“Well…hello to you too. You’ve been off base quite a while.” He did comment though, watching Aokiji through those amber tinted glasses. “We were starting to think you may have gone rogue actually.”

It was said so calmly, but with just that hint of a smirk. “Sengoku wouldn’t have liked that.”

“I went patrolling on my own for a few days. That’s nothing new.” Aokiji frowned, and not taking a seat as he continued to stand. “But did Captain (Y/N) call today? Akainu’s got the Fleet Admiral in a meeting, and no one else seems to know.”

Kizaru shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her.” He looked back to his paperwork, but with noticeable disinterest in it now. “Why don’t you just call her yourself if it’s really become that distracting to you?”

But the resulting silence did make Kizaru finally look up again. That slight amusement was clearer on his face now. “Oh? Are you afraid to call her?”

Aokiji’s arms were crossed, his whole demeanor looking incredibly stern. “This isn’t about me. So get that stupid look off of your face.”

Wasn’t this his normal face? Kizaru thought to himself. Regardless, he didn’t seem insulted. “Hmm. Think you might say something unprofessional if you did call?” He mused to only add to this instead. “I guess that could be embarrassing for someone of our rank.”

And a cold palm did slam down onto the desk then. Aokiji could hold back much longer usually. But that cool composure was seemingly less and less lately. Especially when it came to the subject of you.

“Enough. I’ve told you so many times…” The ice admiral still warned.

Yet Kizaru barely reacted to that flare of temper, just glancing to the now frost covered hand and then back up into the frustrated eyes of its owner.

“Yeah? …You think you’ll just endanger her if you make any obvious fuss, don’t you? Doflamingo is quite an unstable man. But how many years have we known each other now? I’d say you’ve already made your move if I was to bet.” Kizaru nearly smirked again. “Where have you really been these past few days?”

“You’re no help at all. As usual.” Aokiji grumbled, just stepping back from the desk at the accusation.

He didn’t deny this either.

But Kizaru simply watched him, rather expressionless once more. “Did you ask for my help? I don’t recall that happening.”

Aokiji’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at him. “You’d be in Akainu’s ear in a heartbeat if I did.”

“And so what? We’re all comrades in arms…aren’t we?” Finally there was that minuscule trace of a frown on Kizaru’s lips. 

They were supposed to work together.

But that look of disappointment was just for a moment before he set his pen down and grabbed the receiver from off of the large transponder snail on his desk.

Aokiji’s eyes widened slightly at this movement, surprised and untrusting as Kizaru leaned back in his chair while the operator connected.

“Yes, admiral?” HQ’s switchboard girl answered kindly.

“Hello, Miss,” He said with a new, slight smile. “I need you to ring someone for me.”

“Of course, admiral. Who do you want me to connect you to?”

“Pull the warlord numbers if you please. I want Donquixote Doflamingo’s most direct line.”

There was just the briefest pause there too. Her voice changing a little. “The Fleet Admiral has put a restriction on that line, sir. No non-emergency calls. Is this considered an emergency?”

“Sure.” Kizaru was patient as anything, almost relaxing in his chair. “Let’s say it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, sir. Then I’m connecting you now.” Her nervousness gave way to dutiful obedience quickly enough as there was a click followed by momentary silence.

“The hell are you doing!?” Aokiji snapped at him in that brief delay before the line began to trill in new ringing. 

Kizaru looked back up at him, unfazed.

The phone continued to ring.

“It’d be pretty late in Dressrosa right now wouldn’t it?” Kizaru just thought out loud instead of giving a proper answer, glancing at the multiple clocks across his wall which denoted the different times across  the seas.

But Aokiji was not amused at all, starting to reach to hang up that transponder snail himself before a loud click had both admirals pause.

“This better be good.” Came the noticeably sleep hazed voice. A sharpness to it already though, with that transponder snail scowling up at them now.

“Oh…did I interrupt your beauty rest, pirate?” Kizaru responded, watching that snail as Aokiji went fully silent. “This is Kizaru.” He then identified himself simply.

There was a moment of hesitation and maybe even a bit of surprise on the other end of the line as the snail paused. But the warlord’s acceptance didn’t take long. Because there weren’t many men that would have been so casual as this with him. And those that would, didn’t sound like that.

“Heh. To what do I owe this pleasure then?” Doflamingo did recover quickly, dark voice sounding more interested now.

“I’m calling from HQ.” Kizaru drawled. “Seems our captain that you appointed to your island recently hasn’t reported in to us today. And you wouldn’t have had anything to do with that little lapse in her communication, now would you?”

The implied threat didn’t even have to be overt. It was well enough for any of the three navy admirals to take a personal interest in anything like this of course.

And this would now be the second admiral to do so in your name if the rumors of Aokiji’s previous visit to Doflamingo’s house in Sabaody were to be believed.

And Kizaru did believe it.

What he was surprised by was that it hadn’t been enough. 

A pirate that didn’t have the sense to back down for even an admiral.

It was a problem.

And the snail had quieted for another moment, its serious expression seeming to consider the weight of this new questioning from the admiral.

But Kizaru was exactly correct. Doflamingo understood the threat.

Doflamingo chose not to heed it.

Because the snail smiled then, wide and cruel as the warlord’s decision was made.

“Well…it is late. But if you insist, then why don’t you ask her yourself, admiral? It really has nothing to do with me.” Doflamingo replied with an all new goading.

And there was a sound of a bed creaking. 

The warlord’s voice became slightly quieter as he’d moved away from the receiver.

“Captain…hey.” It almost sounded gentle. But that snail was still grinning, Doflamingo’s dark voice still close enough for his real expression to be picked up. That smug pride radiating even as the intentional softness continued. “No…you need to wake up. You’ve got a colleague on the line…come here.”

The two admirals stared at that snail.

“…what?” A confused female voice finally protested.

“The phone, darling. It’s your work. Already not respecting your off duty hours at all it seems…”

The temperature now plummeted in Kizaru’s office at that vulnerable sound of you, as well as the full implications of what this truly meant.

But Kizaru cut in before Aokiji could. Even as both admirals’ breaths were then coming in trails of vapor within the room.

“Captain.” Kizaru said louder and firmer than he ever normally would to you.

And you heard it. Also recognizing his voice that you’d heard far more times than any warlord ever would.

There was more noise of the snail moving then. Like you were now picking it up from off of the bed. “…Admiral?” You asked in delayed surprise.

But there was more to it than that. You didn’t sound right, even in just these couple of words.

“Yes. Checking in, Captain. You didn’t give your status to anyone today.” Kizaru answered.

“I…” You tried. “There was…” Yes, they could fully tell now. You were trying so hard, but slurring every brief word none the less.

You were fully drunk. 

And you finally gave up, starting to actually plead in that humiliation of being ambushed in this way. “I…I’m fine. But I can’t…debrief right now. Sir…I’m…I’m sorry…”

The snail trembled, its eyes heartbreakingly defeated.

It was worse than any of them had ever thought then.

This was not the woman they knew.

Aokiji was about to snap. And Kizaru considered transmitting himself towards Sengoku’s office here and now.

But their shared enemy still most running this show wasn’t ceding his spotlight yet either.

“Admiral.” Doflamingo’s voice came back, shamelessly calm in contrast to your now evident emotions. “The Captain can speak with you later. I’m sure you’d agree that there’s nothing wrong with a little over indulgence when off the clock…we’ve all been there.” 

And he even made a noise as if he was comforting you beside him. Hushing you with a mimicry of affection before he spoke again. “…I’ll try to have her touch base with you tomorrow if we have time. Once she’s sobered up of course.”

Yet that snail also showed its teeth again before it was done. The harsher expression forming which didn’t match that measured tone at all.

“But tomorrow we’ll be very busy as well. Some news will be coming out, and her work for Dressrosa will be taking priority. The mission always comes first, correct? And she is one of your most dedicated.”

The snail’s tongue moved across those teeth. One final jab then added like a garnish on the heap of bullshit already being presented.

“This king is certainly glad to have her services at least.”

And Kizaru was forced to make a choice. 

He disappeared in a flash of yellow light, taking the snail with him as Aokiji had reached for it to speak.

No one could match Kizaru’s speed. And Aokiji had then turned, the purest rage within those dark eyes as Kizaru now stood all the way out in the hallway, holding that snail.

It was already back asleep as Kizaru had disconnected the call even before he’d moved.

“I’ll kill him.” Aokiji breathed, ice having already overtaken half of his face.

Kizaru was initially silent. His eyes had narrowed as well behind his glasses.

But then he spoke to his peer, blunt and sure. “They’d order me and Sakazuki to erase you for treason, brother. And that wouldn’t help anybody. Now would it?”

Aokiji gave him a look of disgust. Words seemed pointless by now. They both knew how wrong this was.

Yet Kizaru did begin walking back to him. A show of continued trust really. Because they were not enemies.

“Whatever you already did…” Kizaru started. “Is that going to help her?”

Aokiji’s shoulders sank ever so slightly, but his ice did not recede.

“Temporarily…but I came back here to do the rest of it. I am going to get her off of Dressrosa. No matter what that takes.”

——————————

Borsalino had actually hung up on him. The least passionate of all three admirals, and Doflamingo was certain he’d still gotten under that man’s skin.

Were you really that important to all of them then? Doflamingo’s own ego was happy to believe that you were.

Because it made you feel even more hard won if so. His marine treasure, stolen straight from the top and now further slipping through the hands of even the world’s greatest soldiers.

And how interesting that they didn’t seem to know about your public betrothal yet. Kizaru was a hard one to judge though. He hadn’t mentioned it at least.

Hopefully this really did mean that there were no marine spies left on Dressrosa to call and tattle to HQ. None outside of the toys working in his underground port anyway.

And he’d taken your own phone away immediately after the incident with Crocodile. You’d only been allowed to make calls right in front of him now.

Morgans’ reporters were likely playing things close to the vest too, to not share anything until those newspapers went to press. They wanted the first and only scoop for tomorrow’s worldwide release.

But there was nothing Sengoku could possibly do to reverse this either once he would find out. You were still a marine, just as Doflamingo had promised he’d let you remain. But you were also now his wife, with all of the added immunity that provided for you.

You couldn’t be fired, or even demoted. Not unless Doflamingo wanted you to be.

The five old men on the Red Line had reluctantly agreed to this in his stipulations. No doubt just humoring the traitorous brat that they still thought he was.

If they believed he was distracted, it made their lives easier. Less trouble he could cause for them.

Perhaps you’d actually thank him some day though. He was a generous master after all. Pulling his strings all the way from heaven to hell in this whirlwind of a love affair with you.

But tonight you were still too upset. Still too close to it all to realize how lucky you actually were to have his attention this deeply.

Your head was on his chest once more as he rubbed your back idly in the dark.

He could feel that dampness against his bare skin. Your silent tears as you surely thought your career was now dead and gone.

You were crying yourself back to sleep like the pitiful, broken thing you still were.

But he didn’t mind. 

Doflamingo kissed the top of your head as that new whim overcame him.

You were his responsibility now.

His prize and his companion to defend. 

Dawn would come again tomorrow, and with it the world’s reactions to what he’d done to you. But he welcomed that challenge and whatever new enemies it would bring him.

Because he’d bury them all like the good mate he was. He would protect you. This was his nest and his woman. 

He nuzzled his face back down against your hair. Hiding his scarred eye as the other eye watched the room for a bit longer before also drifting closed.

Your arms were tight around him. It felt right. But even in all his intense possessiveness that this inspired, there was something else so wholly new as well.

He felt safe.

He felt needed.

Until death do you part indeed. As that would be the only possible way for anyone to ever carve you from him now.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!