#my comfort stable is at war now

[samerpal]

"First, I would like to thank everyone who supported me.🙏🌹

This is my new platform, friends, after my old platform was deleted for reasons unknown to me.

I ask for your help in sharing my story again to keep hope alive for me and my family, friends.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.♥️

My family and I appreciate your cooperation and hope to reach the desired goal and save us.🙏

Attached are the verification links for the old account from the supporters.

Link vetted by @ibtisams

Link vetted by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi

Link vetted by @sar-soor

My approved number by the families in need and endorsed by the supervisors is 196."

@90-ghost @ibtisams @nabulsi @aces-and-angels @sar-soor @sayruq @fairuzfan @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @northgazaupdates @northgazaupdates2

Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive 🕊️🇵🇸🙏

I Samer Abu Ras, am reaching out to you with a heartfelt humanitarian appeal, after the ongoing war in Gaza has cast its dark shadow over my life and the lives of my family. Our lives were once filled with peace and stability before the onset of this catastrophe, but now, we find ourselves living in a situation described as nothing short of tragic.

My wife, Shurooq, our three children, and I are now homeless, without a source of income, and without hope for the future. My family and I have lost our businesses and our home due to the war, and we now have nothing left but the cold streets and troubled hearts.

My children are suffering greatly as a result of these horrific events. They have lost the security and stability they once enjoyed and are now facing new health and psychological challenges that threaten their lives. As a father and husband, I feel powerless in my ability to provide adequate protection and care for them.

My child, who is a year and a half old, is experiencing hardships far beyond his tender age. Since the war broke out, we had to flee our home and seek refuge in a tent in a displacement camp. My child lives in extremely difficult conditions, deprived of safety and stability. The tent does not provide adequate protection from harsh weather, and food and medicine are scarce. My child suffers from malnutrition and illness, lacking basic healthcare. He cannot play or grow in a healthy and suitable environment. My only dream is to see him grow up in a safe place full of opportunities

In the face of difficult circumstances, Samer Abu Ras and his family find themselves facing serious challenges in their daily lives. They reside in a modest tent lacking comfort and security, suffering from a shortage of clean water and food, and encountering difficulties in accessing necessary healthcare. Despite these challenges, they continue to express hope and resilience in confronting adversity, holding onto hope for a better tomorrow and a return to a more stable and secure life.

I appeal to you today, dear friends, to extend to me a helping hand in escaping this hell. Regardless of the size of the donation, every drop of generosity will contribute to alleviating our suffering and rebuilding our lives anew.

We need your help to secure the funds necessary to travel away from these destructive wars and seek a safe and stable environment where we can build a better future for our children

Let us stand together in these difficult times and let hope triumph over despair by providing support and assistance to those in dire need. Let us be part of the solution and build a better future for ourselves and future generations.

Thank you for listening and for the potential generosity of your giving, and for your generous donations that will change the lives of my family for the better.

With sincere gratitude and appreciation

‏Samer Abu Ras and family.

@heba-20 @soon-palestine @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl @nabulsi @sayruq @communistchilchuck @palipunk @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc @faggotfungus @ghost-and-a-half @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @three-croissants @interfacefox @appsa @akajustmerry @feluka @flower-tea-fairies @90-ghost @victoriawhimsey @ficsforgaza @aria-ashryver @mangocheesecakes @humanvoicebox @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @palestinegenocide @ghost-and-a-half @bibyebae @heritageposts @norrriey 🍉🌹🍉✍️

🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉

[justgazan]

My campaign is vetted by @el-shab hussein and @gaza-evacuation-funds

This is Eman from Gaza, I used to live a stable life with my family till 7th Oct, after the war we lost our business, house, and safety.

We used to provide our children with a comfortable life, now we cant provide them with food or clean drinking water.

My campaign aimed at evacuating us from Gaza, unfortunately, it did not succeed and I used the fund money to be displaced from one area to another inside Gaza.

I'm calling your humanity to kindly support me and my family survive the genocide in Gaza. I implore you to help rescue me and my family from this catastrophic existence in Gaza. Your donation could provide us the means to provide our basic daily needs.

Your generosity offers a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness we face every day.Please, not only consider donating but also share our story widely. Your empathy and support can make an immeasurable difference in alleviating our suffering and helping us rebuild our shattered lives.

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[shamsfamily12]

Please don't skip

Donate for help my baby and family 🙏💔

We need every dollar you donate.. Please don't be stingy with my little baby he needs your help 🙏🇵🇸🍉

Hello my friend ,My name is Shams I'm 25 years old mother . from Rafah in Gaza Strip.. My life was stable with my child and husband in our beautiful home until the war came. We lost our home, our work, our comfort... We lost our food, our drink, our shelter... Now we just want food and safety... There is nothing more important than my child's food and safety... My husband, Dr. Adel, had a pharmacy, but it was also destroyed in this cruel war 💔. I am a medical laboratory doctor, and I lost my job too 🥺. We lost everything in this war, our home, our pharmacy, and our safety 💔 It is up to you to help me...🥺🥺💔 Please, I beg you—help us survive. Help us give our son a chance at life, away from the violence and destruction that have stolen everything from us.

I don’t know how much longer we can endure this nightmare, but with your help, we can escape it and start again Please donate to me

✅️✅️ vetted by @bilal-salah0

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #535 )✅️

@just-browsings-world @mothernaturenetwork @aleciosun @fluoresensitivearchived @khizuo @transmutationist @schoolhater98 @timogsilangan @appsappsapps @90-ghost @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @gryficowa @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka-blog-blog @tortiefrancis @feministqu33n @verodoodles @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @jozoroddu @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @k4dr4 @keeperthemultiversemom @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @tamarrabrunet @4ft10in-blog @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @camgirlsurvivalguide @nabulsi27 @sygoldenhair-blog @junglejim4322 @heritageposts @chososhairbuns @palistani123-blog @gallusrostromegalus

[neodymiumcuilz]

HELP A FAMILY IN GAZA!!

"I am a mother of 4 children, Jamil, Ahmed, Karim and Rital, all of whom are school students. We have been living in tragic circumstances for more than 10 months. I lost my job as a teacher because of the war. I owned two houses, which were partially destroyed and then burned. I lost a lot of my furniture. Because of the destruction, we were displaced to the Mawasi area of ​​Khan Yunis. Now, I, my four children and my husband live in a tent and suffer from severe shelling, lack of food, water, health care and all the necessities of life. During this war, my children fell ill with hepatitis. We find treatment only with difficulty.

Insects have multiplied in the tents, epidemics and diseases have spread, and we suffer from difficulty in obtaining the necessities of life, extreme heat in the summer and cold in the winter. In addition, the tents have become worn out and water has entered the tents, damaging everything in them, and the water has reached our clothes, in addition to the shortage of cleaning materials and their high prices. This war has cost us a lot of what we own: housing, money, friends, and health. Now all I want from you is to help me and my children rebuild our future and start a new life."

Hello everyone, please listen to the message from @haninfamily9 who has reached out to me asking for help, in rebuilding their lives and securing a stable future for children in need, along with surviving the harsh conditions and providing basic needs, basic needs like food, water, good shelter and health care, clothes. They are human and deserving of being warm, comfortable, dry, and not displaced or in constant fear. Please have a heart and donate if you can. What you may spend on a coffee or something unnecessary can really get this campaign off the ground. Thank you.

51% OF GOAL REACHED!! PLEASE DO WHAT YOU CAN!!

Please also share, vist @haninfamily9 and interact with the posts, share the account, share the message, and campaign so it can reach more donors. Thank you!

[adieutristana]

Well, reader and Jinx matching rings (maybe even wedding rings), and when Caitlin shoots Jinx's finger, she destroys this ring. Jinx’s honest reaction?

of course! thank you for the request <3

i decided to make them promise rings since she lost her middle finger. i hope that’s alright!

summary; jinx’s promise ring being destroyed, and fem!reader comforting her after the fact.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of war/combat, mentions of poor mental health, medical talk ig? (patching up), s2 spoilers

men dni.

you’re sat in jinx’s hideout watching her tinker away with… something. a new type of explosive she’s experimenting with, she says. something that only requires one hexcrystal instead of two or three, since she can’t keep using so many. she’s unceremoniously hunched over the workbench, goggles over her eyes as she messes with the piece of scrap metal in her hand.

“having fun?”

you ask, sitting back in the chair she got you.

“mm… this is more difficult than i thought it would be. who knew this could be so challenging? but i like a challenge.”

she smirks to herself, not taking her eyes off of her project.

“well, you’ve never let ‘difficult’ stop you. you’re a right genius.”

“oh, stop. you’re biased!”

she teases, but she’s got the lightest rouge dusting her cheeks. got her. your gaze continues to follow your girlfriend, the way she moves so freely and carelessly. getting her face impossibly close to power tools, using her nails to clean up dirt, teeth capturing her bottom lip when she’s particularly stumped.

“alright! that’s enough for right now.”

she proclaims, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

“already?” it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since you asked her how she was doing.

“yeah! besides, i’ve got something for ‘ya.”

jinx springs up from her seat and skitters over to yours, quickly turning it around. you hear cheerful humming from behind you as she shuffles through piles of belongings, clearly looking for something.

"a-ha!"

she spins you back around, both hands on your seat and quickly rises. she's got something clasped in her left hand, but won't reveal it, not yet.

"what's that?"

"you have to be patient, toots! i've got a speech prepared, don't distract me!"

a speech? jinx never gave speeches. was she breaking up with you? so many thoughts began swirling through your mind as your palms began to sweat, gripping the chair- and then jinx revealed what she was hiding. a wooden box. a... ring box?

"isn't it a little soon to be getting engaged, jinx?"

you chuckle dryly, looking up at your girlfriend. she playfully rolls her eyes, and shakes her head, blue bang swaying.

"yes it is, that's why we're not getting engaged."

she clears her throat.

"not yet."

she turns her attention back to the box, and she opens it. inside lays a thick silver ring, with a circular blue gem in the middle. it looked eerily similar to a hexcrystal- but carved into a gemstone. 'JINX' is shakily engraved on the inside, something she undoubtedly did herself.

"this is a promise ring. i've been working on it for a while, and well... it's kind of stupid." she looks off to the side, sheepishly. "but this is me promising myself to you. to show you that i'm serious about this, ya know?"

you look over the ring for a moment, taking it in for all that it is. it's obviously unprofessional, the metal is a bit dull, and the shape isn't precise. but god dammit if it isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. you glance back to your girlfriend, noticing her observing you- likely for any signs of disapproval. poor girl. as much as jinx had improved since meeting you, she still had the habit of expecting the worst. you didn't think that part would ever go away.

"jinx, it's beautiful. i- you made this?"

you ask, your eyes flickering back to the ring she's holding out. noticing how her grip is becoming a bit less stable.

"with my own two hands."

you chuckle, giving her a little grin.

"well? come on, put it on."

jinx doesn't need to be told twice. she gently takes hold of your left hand, removing the ring from the box and slowly slipping it onto your finger.

"there! it's on your middle finger, so your ring finger is open for the real thing."

not an ‘i do,’ but an ‘i will.’

you hold your hand up to the light, admiring how the ring catches it, before leaning forward to press a flurry of kisses to jinx's face.

"ah- hey! stop, you goof!"

she laughs, arms coming to wrap around you as a fit of giggles erupts from her.

"nope! i get to do this!"

it's not a week later when you arrive to jinx's hideout with a promise ring of your own to give her. a thick gold band to contrast the silver jinx had given you, with a rose quartz to accompany your own hexcrystal. pink and blue… she had a theme going, didn't she?

it wasn't handmade, but held the same sentimental value. you weren't as handy as jinx, and you'd learned to accept that a while ago. you had strengths in other areas, one of them being finding perfect gifts. it didn't take you long to find a jeweler in piltover who had exactly what you needed.

"oh, my god- you didn't have to do this."

she gasps, rosy eyes blown wide. both hands are on her cheeks as jinx gently approaches the open box in your hand.

"you promised yourself to me, didn't you? this is my promise to you."

jinx lets you put the ring onto her own left middle finger, her eyes never leaving your face. watching you so intently, she can feel her heart fluttering in her chest. what did she do to deserve you exactly? she could never quite figure it out, but that doesn't matter right now. you glance back up at her, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"i… you're too good to me, toots. really."

"i am not. i love you, remember?"

"mm… i love you too. i still think you're too good to me, though."

you let out a low chuckle.

"c'mere."

you bring the girl into your arms, tilting her chin with your index finger to gently bring her closer to you. pressing your lips to hers in a slow, gentle kiss.

oh- and of course, your name is engraved on the inside of the ring.

✧.*

you're posted at your girlfriend's hideout, going over notes in preparation for an exam. it's nerve wracking, sure, but the odd tranquility of jinx's desk is useful in its own way.

jinx swings open the door to the hideout, and as soon as she steps onto the panel of the wind turbine supporting her hideout, you can tell she's in hysterics.

the girl is wailing. she's pacing back and forth, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. but most importantly, her hand is gushing blood. you immediately drop your notes, papers scattering across the desk to rush over to your girlfriend.

"jinx? jinx?! what the hell happened, oh my god..."

you kneel down in front of jinx, taking her hand to examine it. her middle left finger is completely gone, blood rushing out from the wound. it seems to be a clean cut, at least, you won't have to deal with any extra bits to clean up.

"the ring, the ring, it's gone-"

she sobs, a hiccup following and her free hand clenching into a fist at her side. you gasp, looking up at jinx, then back down at her finger.

"jinx, seriously? you just lost your finger and you're worried about a damn ring?!"

you breathe out, exasperation and worry weighing heavy on your voice.

"the ring is important! it's- it's our promise!"

she cries, hanging her head low. jinx is so ashamed, it hurts your heart to see. you let go of her hand and frantically sweep along her workbench for anything. you knew you had a first aid kit somewhere, you'd gotten it after seeing jinx patch herself up in a way that would make any doctor shiver. but god damn it, where was it?

there.

you quickly swipe the kit and a bottle of peroxide from her workbench, rushing back over to jinx. you take one of her wrists and quickly guide her over to her beaten-up couch.

"sit."

"but-"

"sit."

jinx huffs and sits down on the couch, you sitting down beside her. you open the kit and bottle, pouring peroxide onto a cotton square and taking her hand into your lap.

"this is going to sting. a lot."

jinx winces at just the thought, but nods slowly. keeping her eyes on what you're doing-

"agh- fuck!"

she yelps, tossing her head back as you press the square to the wound, holding it there to both disinfect and stop the bleeding.

"i'm sorry, baby, it'll be over soon. i just need to stop the bleeding."

you coo, trying to do anything in your power to calm her down. yet it's obvious the injury itself isn't what she's upset about.

"that- that fucker vi is with shot it off, she shot the ring off..."

jinx seethes through gritted teeth, trying to keep her composure as you hold the peroxide to her wound. ah.. that makes sense. caitlyn was never fond of jinx, especially after the stunt she pulled with the council room. part of you was simply grateful that she didn't just take jinx out, as much as you knew she was probably trying to.

jinx was always putting herself in so much danger, both for the sake of necessity and the fact her ego was just so damn inflated. she said it herself- she just can't seem to die. but she got impossibly close way more than you would've liked her to.

you take out a roll of gauze and begin to wrap it around her hand, the wound being in the center of it all. it's far from professional, but this will have to do until you can get her proper medical attention. which you were trying to avoid talking about, since jinx was the last person to ever admit she needed help.

"jinx, i'm just happy that you're alive. i don't care about the ring right now. what if she had shot you somewhere more... vital?"

"then i would've gotten to keep the ring."

god damn it. she could not be serious right now. you finish wrapping her hand, bleeding having come to a halt and wound disinfected. you'd grab some painkillers in a moment. you quickly take both of her cheeks in your hands, forcing her to look you directly in the eye. the cold metal of your own ring against soft skin.

"jinx. again, i'm happy that you're here, and you're alive, and losing your finger was the worst thing that happened. i will get you a new ring, first thing tomorrow. okay?"

she sighs, her lips coming into a slight pout. at the very least, she's not crying anymore.

"but..."

you press your index finger to her lips, shushing her.

"no. just because you don't have the ring anymore doesn't mean the promise went out the window, okay?" you whisper, brushing your lips against her forehead. "i still love you, and still have promised myself to you. that won't change.

jinx closes her eyes, and leans into your kiss. she seems to have finally resigned, and is snaking her arms around your waist.

"i just- i love you so much..."

"i know, baby. i love you too, which is why i'll get you a new ring. a better one, even."

your hand still cupping her face, you lean in to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

"just stay here, with me. you've had a hell of a day."

[lady-ashfade]

⚘*ೃ Birds Above

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Jacaerys & Baela Targaryen x Fem!Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summary: the two have always known the love they shared for one another, even before their betrothal. Now that bond is threatened when another is promised to the prince.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 3.5k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: angst, both being cold to the reader, reader being amazing, betrayal, a little oc on them both, fluff, reader is attracted to both sides, apologies.

𓅿 @wickedpotential wanted to be tagged when this was out.

The castle has its fair share of arguments, and disappointment throughout the war already. Most of them were between Jacaerys and his mother about the choice she’d make.

And never have the walls withstood this level of anger and yelling from the young prince.

“Why couldn’t we have made another deal or have you decided to constantly throw every insult my way.” Jacaerys stood with his voice raised to his mother— never thinking of her as the Queen in theses moments.

“We? Have you already forgotten that I am your queen?” Rhaenrya shouted back, “I am trying to win this war with the little we have. To gain another army of men to our side is worth more to us then wishes and hopes.” She slammed her hand against the table and turned away from him.

“What of baela? How do you think she feels to have another woman promised my hand? To have someone else for my attention to go to?” he hummed at the end of his sentence and his shoulders shrugging. Rhaenyra took a deep breath to think before she spoke again knowing there would be less good done from angry words.

Withdrawing her head from its low hanging she looked at her son with a softened gaze, “Aegon The Conquer had two Wifes so this is not unheard of, I hope you’ll both learn to be stable in the marriage,” her heels echoed off the walls when she walked towards him and rested her hand upon his cheek.

“We all have made sacrifices, Jacaerys. I am not asking you both to leave each other but to welcome someone new for us to win this war.”

The prince walked out of her quarters with haste to his steps and nostrils flaring at the overwhelming emotions burning inside him. Why must he be the one to constantly suffer from her deals, Dragonseeds claiming dragons and never being chosen to take action. It was his birth right to fight in this war and yet he’d be forced to stay away from anything dangerous — it was disrespectful.

His hands forced a new pair of doors open and they echoed off the walls they hit. His eyes dart across the room until he found the woman who had his heart, Baela, sitting at her decks with book beneath her hands but her eyes staring into his in shock.

“It’s insane,” he began, as he walked towards her as his mouth continues to run, “I did not agree to this— We did not agree to have another. She takes no consideration about me or you — her most loyal members of her council.” his feet wonders back and forth.

She listened to his words and tried to keep her own anger within, “She is your mother, and our Queen.” Beala pushed herself up off the chair. “And as The Queen, she must do what it takes for us to win back the throne.”

Jace took his sweet time searching her eyes for comfort — to see that she too was upset about this. “You’re talking as though this means nothing. Why are you so calm?” he shouted.

Baale grabbed ahold of his hands in hers to yank it toward her, her eyes now darkening and facial expression becoming more detailed, “I dislike all of this too. I don’t want to share you with anybody, let alone a woman I have never met,” her voice cracked.

“But I’d rather still be married to you then non at all,” she cupped his cheek. A sad smile resting on her lips.

Silents swept over the room as the pair took in each other. Leaning his forehead against hers, he laced his fingers with hers, “I wouldn’t let my heart belong to another as long as I live.” Jace whispers. His mouth drew closer to hers.

“We are bonded, my heart remains with yours.” Baela took his lips against hers to feel the sparks she craved each moment.

— ‧₊˚ ࣭˚⊹‧₊˚⋆⁺₊ ࣪✩₊˚.⋆—

A few nights have passed since the announcement of the new betrothal was first declared and the aid has been thick for everyone to notice. The prince and his betrothal rarely were seen without the other and harder to separate, and his grace was easily annoyed in council. When the queen spoke, Jace was quick to disagree or roll his eyes and though he was always vocal of his opinions, the men around heard more of it.

Now, they stand on either side of one other awaiting the arrival of their new addition while filled with lack of patiences.

Once you walk through the doorway something stops for both of them and yet they brush it off for another thing entirely. Baela took it as jealousy when you walked with such beauty her eyes couldn’t seem to pull away. If you were ugly she wouldn’t have needed to worry about his heart being stolen away. Jace knew you were beautiful— but he knew nothing of your personality, but he thought it easier to wed you if you were good looking.

You halted your movements as you stood before the Royal blood, bowing your head quietly to show respect. “My Queen, it’s a honor to be welcomed by your hospitality.”

Rhaenyra flicked her eyes on your every move with a kinda smile, “Likewise.”

You straighten back up before she points to her side were they stand — eye’s taking in all your being. “My Son Prince Jacaerys and his other betrothed, Beala Targaryen.”

The sweet dark hair that swept his head and curled perfectly made you wonder what it would feel like to rub your hand through them. His pale skin with little creases or imperfections was stunning, he really was a handsome prince. But your attention was pulled away when someone wrap their arm with his causing you to look at their smooth hands — up to their stunning face.

Beala Targaryen was the apple of your eyes. You’ve seen woman who made your heart flutter but never in a way that you’ve felt as of now. Silver curls fell across her shoulders and a few pieces braided upwards to keep some hair out of her face. Just like Jacaerys, her features were something the gods should be jealous of, her skin looked soft and her eyes looked full of fire — nothing has ever made you more enthralled.

Bending your knees you bow again at yourr new betroths with a smile on your lips, “A pleasure to meet you.” You hummed. Jace and Beala glared at your frame in investigation to see what you were like.

“My son will show you around the castle,” she spoke and earned a heated look from the both of them but she stood her ground, “I am sure you will take a liking to this place in do time.”

Beala had to force herself away from her lover and watch him walk out with you by his side, a polite smile on his face that filled herself with rage and jealousy. She knew his charm, and you would fall quickly to it because of the way it was — no one could resist him in her eyes. No woman with eyes could. And yet her eyes followed you. Your lips moving to speak words she could not hear with a pretty smile that made her stomach hurt from seeing.

Why must the gods send someone beautiful to marry him? Has the pain she felt from him having to be with another not great enough.

The waves are loud enough to hear from the castle halls from the openings as you walk by the prince’s side. It was calming and felt warm. You listened to his thoughts on the castle of his and followed his every move into each room. But his words stopped a few minutes ago as silence took over. Jace could not think of anything to continue on about since this bored him a bit and he refused to look at more then he had to. He was keeping his thoughts on his love, on Beala.

“Forgive me my prince,” you stop and folded your hands together, he turned with a raised attention, “I am feeling quite tired, should we could head back?”

The sunlight came right through the glasses windows and covered you in the golden light making you looked divine. His breath hitched in his throat. A soft breeze stroked your hair and made the strands slightly move.

“Uh- hmm. Sounds like a wonderful idea, my lady.” You tried to show him gratitude but he walked past you again and found himself quiet again and shut you out.

Must interactions, had disappointed you forth on. Of course you knew they had been in love before you entered the picture but you’d hope they would spare you the cruelties.

Countless days passed at dragonstone while you found yourself alone and in need of company of anyone. Beala had only spared you a few words that you could tell were forced through her teeth before leaving you alone. You tried to talk to her like a friend would and show her compliments.

“I’ve never seen something as beautiful as your dragon riding,” you smiled when seeing her in the halls. You’d been on the beach and saw her and her dragon moved around in the air so gracefully.

“Thank you, My Lady.” Beala took off her gloves and never stopped her movements of walking. You watched her, wanting to reach out or follow her. But had to stay back with the sour strings of your heart.

Jacaerys wasn’t much better and If not more hurtful. Yes, he was a gentleman and at least acknowledged your presence when he saw you. But he was always going back to her side, laughing and joking while you had to stand alone with no one to talk too. It was painful to watch them. You wanted to be by their side. You wanted attention from the both of them.

Why couldn’t they see you weren’t trying to tear them apart?

— ‧₊˚ ࣭˚⊹‧₊˚⋆⁺₊ ࣪✩₊˚.⋆—

It wasn’t until you started to be more content with your self and ignored them as well that they started to notice the lack of you. Beala had grown used to seeing you in the halls early in the morning, she hated it but she was used to it… now not seeing your smile felt unsettling. Almost like she missed it. Or how you didn’t make many notices of her new dresses. Of course when you did talk to her it still was just as warm and happy as before.

Jace grew used to your voice when he’d spend a little bit of time, his mother making it his job to do so, but still he grew to appreciate the quiet time with you. At breakfast you’d always tell him good morning and chat small with him but that had been gone in these past few days. All he ever got was a small smile and a bow before walking off with little care for him.

Now as the candle light flicked across their skin making the shadows appear more light in his chambers they found themselves talking non sense. Beala had her fingers laced with his while rubbing her thumb over his warm flesh while watching him talk. A dark curl feel right above his eye as it always did after a long day and his styling wasn’t as strong as the early hours of the morning.

“Do you think we have been to harsh,” her sudden voice made the prince stop talking and turn to his betrothed.

“What do you mean?” Jace pondered to her. His eyes narrowed and head lean to the side in confusion. Jace wouldn’t remember doing anything wrong in the past few days and much less her doing anything.

Baela sucked her teeth and looked down at their hands grasping each other as she repeated her thumbs movement for comfort. “Lady Y/n, have we been harsh more then we should have?” Baela pointed out. The flash of all the times she saw just the slightest bit of hurt in your eyes as she walked away from you. Or when jace left you alone to be at her side.

Jace began to wonder the same thing, “I have been the most cruel, Jace. To think of being shipped of to a new place in the middle of this bloody war and be married off — while having no one to turn too. And the only people that should be at her side treats her poorly.” her voice breaks and eyes being to sting of the tears gathering.

Jace sighed deeply and tugged their hands up towards his mouth and kissed hers. He tried to give her a comforting smile, “In truth I have been finding myself think of her as of late,” jace confessed. Bales looked up at him and he began to regret his words. “My love for you runs deep and no one will ever pull me away from you,” he trails on.

“But, I have heard of lovers being more then two.” Jace leans back and Baela watches a grin form on his cheeks, “Targaryen woman are allowed to love woman, it’s not unheard of. My mother seems to be very content with Lady Mysaria in daemon’s absences.”

Baela sniffed and whips her cheeks as a laugh rumbles from her lips. Jace was always there to make her feel better and is why she found happiness with him, why she was in love with him. “I thought my feelings were just jealousy, but I think i would like to see her by my side as well.”

Jace chuckled and stared at his beloved and raised both his brows, “Don’t stop on my accord. She is very beautiful and sweet natured, nor has she ever not mentioned you while we are together.” Baelas eyes spark at the thought of you mentioning her or even wanting to get to know her.

“What has she said?” She grabs ahold of his arm breaking free of his hands, she seems to be wanting to gossip.

Jace rolls his eyes playfully, “I seem to recall her asking for you to join us on walks many times, or asking very light details of what you like.”

Baela seems satisfied to hear this but wants more details so she spends all night asking about every convenience you’ve ever had with him. Or what you are like, how you talk or act. And she listened like he was singing her favorite tone.

Dragonstone was once again touched by the sunlight as the morning arrived and the waves from the shores peacefully crashing against the sand. You needed fresh air and to be alone, so you went down to the shores without anyone noticing. The salty air had grown costume to your nose and now felt normal and comfortable, just as well as the constant noise of the sea. You snuck down as sand covered your bare feet and your body swayed a bit while closing your eyes.

The birds from above flocked and called out together just as dragons did normally, the birds had become your only source of inspiration. They had each other to migrate with when times got cold. They could spread their wings and fly were ever they wanted, never being bond by anything. It has been lonely without any friends or people you could turn to, your maids have been a big help but you couldn’t speak to them about your troubles.

It was painful to keep silent, to constantly be forgotten and forced away.

But yet you faced the path laid out for you by the gods, by your father and the queen to win the war. If they wouldn’t like you after you tried hard then it wasn’t worth the breath trying to convince them otherwise. It was better to get used to it then yearn for something unfitting for you. The warmth felt wonderful on your skin, and perfect temperature water ran over your feet once in a while. You wondered if after the war is over you could return home and leave them be to their own accord. Opening your eyes with a sigh at the thought, you found a few birds flying around each other that resemble dancing.

As you focused on what’s in front of you the pair drew closer towards you, trying gain courage from each other of what they were about to attempt. Their footsteps covered up by every other sound from the open scene around them.

Jace was the one who broke you out of your thought, “You had us worried,” he called out and had caught your attention as you spun around party to looked at him, and you noticed her as well. “Our knights thought you’d been taken.” you smile at his attempts to be friendly.

“My apologies, Your Grace, My Lady, it was not intention to cause a fuss.” you turned back to the waves. Jacaerys stepped closer while Baela followed at his side while they took you in, seemingly looking peaceful and the most beautiful they had seen you.

“I quite like being here, alone,” they didn’t hear any ill tone in your voice but yet they took it badly, you must have come her alone often then, “Makes it easy to think.”

“And what exactly has you taken so deep in thought?” Jace questioned while propping his arm on his sword handle. The cape that feel from his shoulders matched Baels, both red and textured like the black mimicked scales on their clothes.

“Nothing worth sharing, my prince.” You deflect his question and it makes him a bit upset. If he hadn’t acted sour towards you then maybe you’d feel comfortable talking like you normally did. Baela decided to take a chance at it and walks past her beloved and right next to you. Your shoulders almost touching.

“You should see it from above,” Baela smiled as she looked ahead, “Especially when the wings of a dragon dropped and the water hits you just right.” she recalls many time that Moondancer has decided to get closer to the water.

You smiled at the thought of being on a dragon even if it did scare you. Being hundreds of feet in the air, knowing you could fall off at any moment is terrifying. But not if you were the one with wings…you’d much prefer being the dragon.

“It indeed does sound wonderful, but I much rather stay on the ground.” You hum and place your fingers together. Before you would recoil in joy at the fact they are speak with you but you’re now spectacle of their intentions.

“I could take you on a ride sometime, Moondancer will find joy in another spectator.” this is her way of flirting or showing a way of her taken interest in you.

You sigh and placed your hand in a swift motion, you couldn’t help but get irritated by their behavior. Everyday since you have arrived they have no interest in talking or barely acknowledging your presence. Suddenly, no warning they seem to acted as if nothing happened.

“Forgive me, though I appreciate your efforts and proposals, I can not accept. Much to my dismay upon my arrival you both have been eager to push me way. I respect your wishes, but I will not accept pity lies. I shall have my solitude alone while you both continue on,” you nod before getting the courage to leave the situation before tension arises.

The lovers share a glance once again in regret and guilt. They could not put blame on you for rejecting their offers, nor too speak plainly about their previous doings. Jacaerys wasn’t going to let you think they weren’t genuine now of wanting you. Even if you still wanted nothing to do with them.

“My lady, forgive us for our wrong doings when you arrived. I wish I could say we had no ill intentions but it’s not good for royals to lie,” he licked his lips and draw closer towards you. “We couldn’t imagine letting another into our love, much less on who shares love for…Everyone. I thought i would be the main attraction,” jace blushes and looked away.

Beala steps forwards too and smiles, “I was jealous, there was no hiding it. As soon as you step through the doors I knew your beauty was unmatched, i felt the need to complete.” your heart skipped a beat when her soft hands grabbed ahold of yours, her eyes just a lovely as you hoped they would be.

“You wanted to love us both, not just one. We have been struggling with the growing feelings for you as well and wanted to make up everything we did.” her thumbs traces over your wrist and skin gently.

You’ve watched countless times of her soft caresses at the dinner table, how her thumb and fingers rub of his knuckles, and tight fist. The light reflects from her eyes, as if her emotions were the cause while looking at him. And here she is, doing the same with you.

“If you’ll allow us, we’d like to fit you in,” his figure grows closer, so close to yours and beside her, his eyes never leaving your face.

“After all, you’ll be our wife.”

[sebbianas]

After the war Minerva becomes Hogwarts’ Headmistress and so she had to finally clear out her beloved office and dorm in the Gryffindor Tower for the next Head of Gryffindor. Its been years since she started there and she knows she’ll have to go through a lot of old essays, books, and letters.

It was halfway through her cleaning did she discover a bunch of essay she did when she sat all her 7th year Gryffindor down to ask them what their plans are. The essay was simple, answer the question “where do you see yourself in 10 years?”. It’s a yearly thing she does with her graduating students just so she can keep track of where they’ll be and where she can finds them.

Minerva wasn’t sure which batch this essay belongs to so she was a bit excited to see who’s essay it all belongs to and see if they end up doing what they said they will. With a swish of her wand the papers straightened themselves and she was able to see the first essay on top.

Her heart immediately broke.

Sirius Black

I have no plans 10 years from now but inside those 10 years I want to explore the world. I want to see everything until I get sick of it, I want to be everywhere. I want to buy the stupidest shit things to bring home to my friends and hopefully my brother. 10 years is a long time to fix a broken relationship, right?

Minnie knew the other essay will destroy her but seeing these student’s handwriting would give her so much comfort.

Lily Evans

Quite realistically 10 years is a short time to be something great or historical, I wish to explore what this world can offer to me and show it what i can offer it. I want to prove myself more than just my magical blood. I am a great witch and I wish to prove that to the world. Along with this I hope to raise a family of my own, nurture a home that is full of compassion, kindness, and love.

Remus Lupin

I don’t have any great expectations for my future, if I get a stable job then I’ll be okay. What I hope to see in 10 years is that the family I have with me now are still there with me.

Mary MacDonald

10 years from now I hope the war is over and I am free to be a fashion designer for the muggle world and the wizarding world.

Marlene Mckinnon

I want to be the greatest quidditch player there is. I want little girls to look at me and realize they can do whatever they want, I want to give them hope that there is more to life than boys putting you down. I want to show them that there is strength in trying and there is strength in their femininity. I want to be the voice that I spent my whole childhood looking for.

Peter Pettigrew

I hope I’m braver than I am now, stronger than I am, and finally comfortable in who I am and who I become.

There was no controlling the tears that fell from Minnie’s eyes, she couldnt hole them back anymore. There was 1 more essay and she knew whatever’s inside it will destroy her even more.

James Potter

10 years from now, I hope the war is over and I was able to keep everyone I love safe.

Minnie holds the papers to her chest. She never had children of her own but these kids? These children she never watch grow up? These kids are hers.

[shamsablog]

Please donate and share 🙏🏻

✅✅ vetted by @bilal-salah0

Hello my friend ,My name is Shams I'm 25 years old mother . from Rafah in Gaza Strip.. My life was stable with my child and husband in our beautiful home until the war came. We lost our home, our work, our comfort... We lost our food, our drink, our shelter... Now we just want food and safety... There is nothing more important than my child's food and safety... My husband, Dr. Adel, had a pharmacy, but it was also destroyed in this cruel war 💔. I am a medical laboratory doctor, and I lost my job too 🥺. We lost everything in this war, our home, our pharmacy, and our safety 💔 It is up to you to help me...🥺🥺💔 Please, I beg you—help us survive. Help us give our son a chance at life, away from the violence and destruction that have stolen everything from us.

I don’t know how much longer we can endure this nightmare, but with your help, we can escape it and start again Please donate to me on my link ❤️🙏🏻

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[shybluebirdninja]

Second Date

continuation from this.

Summary: Logan’s nerves ease up during the second date, as he finally opens up about being a mutant, and things get hilariously sweet and chaotic.

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Genre              : Fluff

You weren’t sure what to expect for the second date. After all, Logan had been… well, awkward as hell the first time. He was cute, sure, but the guy seemed more comfortable punching bad guys than sitting at a bar chatting about work. But still, here you were, standing outside the dessert shop he picked for tonight.

Through the window, you spotted him in his signature flannel, boots still a little muddy—classic Logan. When he saw you, he stood up like a soldier ready for duty. Adorable.

“Hey, babe,” Logan greeted you, catching you off guard. Babe? Really? Since when did he start calling you that?

You blinked, trying not to laugh. “Babe, huh? We're moving fast.”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly not used to the nickname either. “Yeah, uh... figured I’d try it out. Sounded better in my head.”

You smirked. “Nah, it’s cute. Keep it up.”

The place was cozy, full of pastel-colored walls and a dessert counter that looked like it was out of a Pinterest board. Logan looked hilariously out of place—like a bear in a cupcake shop—but you found it charming.

“So, you brought me to a dessert place?” you teased as you sat down.

Logan shrugged, avoiding your eyes. “Figured you'd like it. Plus, beer and wings weren’t exactly a hit last time.”

You grinned. “True. But this is nice. Besides, who doesn’t like sugar?”

Logan cracked a small smile, still fidgeting like he didn’t know where to put his hands. The waitress came by, and you both ordered a ridiculous-looking dessert platter. But Logan stayed quiet for a minute, clearly holding something back.

Finally, after he stabbed his fork into a cupcake, he blurted, “I gotta tell you somethin’.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Sounds serious.”

“I’m, uh... kinda not like most people.” He paused, looking at you for a reaction, but you just nodded. “I’m a mutant.”

You blinked. “Oh. Is that it?”

Logan stared at you like you'd just told him Santa was real. “What d’ya mean, ‘is that it’? I’m practically a walking science experiment! Claws, healing powers, and I’ve lived through more wars than I care to count!”

You sipped your drink and smiled. “Logan, c'mon. Mutants aren’t exactly rare. You know that, right? Everyone’s cool with it now.”

Logan’s face softened, clearly relieved. “Shit. You’re serious?”

You nodded. “Yeah, babe. It's all good. Besides, claws are kinda hot.”

He nearly choked on his cupcake. “Claws are hot?”

You leaned in, grinning. “What else you got?”

Logan finally relaxed, a real smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I can heal pretty quick. Like, faster than you’d believe.”

“Useful in case you fall during the ice skating part of tonight, huh?”

Logan frowned, confused. “Ice skatin’? I don’t—” He trailed off when you pointed at the rink just across the street. “You serious? I’ll look like an idiot.”

“You’ll be fine. Besides, I’m clumsy as hell. You’ll just have to catch me.”

Logan’s expression softened at that, his usual gruffness fading a bit. “Yeah, alright. But if you fall, I’m draggin’ you outta there.”

Half an hour later, you were wobbling on the ice, while Logan, surprisingly stable, kept pace beside you. Turns out super healing makes for decent balance.

“I told you I’d suck at this!” you laughed, nearly toppling over for the third time.

Logan caught your arm, pulling you upright with a grin. “You weren’t lyin’, babe. You’re like a baby deer out here.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, barely keeping your feet under you.

You slipped—again—and this time, Logan yanked you into him, his arms catching you just in time. For a second, you both just stood there, inches apart, his breath warm against your cheek. Logan looked down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re a menace on ice, you know that?”

Before you could snap back, he reached out, lightly pinching your cheek. “But you’re cute as hell, so I guess I can deal.”

Your heart did a little flip. Logan? Pinching cheeks and calling you cute? Who was this guy?

“Y’know, you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be,” you teased, nudging him.

Logan just grunted, looking away. “Don’t get used to it.”

You chuckled. “Too late, babe.”

The night went on like that—little moments of clumsy skating and playful jabs, Logan more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. By the time you both sat down on a bench outside, you were still laughing about how you’d nearly taken him down with you on the ice.

“Alright, you win,” he said, wiping his brow. “Maybe ice skatin’ ain’t so bad.”

“Maybe?” you raised an eyebrow. “I think you had fun.”

Logan smirked, leaning back. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

Then, before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you—soft at first, but with enough heat to make your stomach flip. And when he pulled back, his eyes had that same mischievous glint from earlier.

“Round three?” he muttered against your lips.

You laughed, cheeks burning. “You’re on, babe.”

[lymtw]

Hi ! This is my first time requesting something on Tumblr and I don't know if your requests are open, but if they are could you please write something about Toji where f!reader is his girlfriend (long term) and she gets in a small argument with young megumi in which he says she's not his mom (which she isn't, but she still kinda raised him with Toji). She gets sad and Toji comforts her and maybe scolds megumi and it's fluffy at the end ?

I hope it's not too confusing 😅 and if you don't want to do it it's completely okay ! I really like the way you write Toji and your works are so good !

A/N: Ngl I actually kinda teared up a little when I was thinking out the scenario for this. Don't judge me, it was like 2am-ish lol. This prompt is so good 😭🫶🏼

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji could hear bickering coming from outside your shared bedroom, familiar voices going back and forth over who knows what in the room next door. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, because he trusted that it would be over soon. You're an adult talking to a kid. Your logic is sharper than Megumi's, so things should be resolved quickly. His eyes shut again, but the arguing wouldn't cease. Who knows how long this has gone on for.

He sighs and blinks his tired eyes open, before getting out of bed to see what all the commotion is about at eight in the morning. He grabs his shirt from the end of the bed and slips it on, over his head, as he walks over Megumi's room. Your voices are much clearer to Toji, now, as he nears the door. He stands by to listen in on what's going on.

"I just organized your room, Megumi. All i'm asking you to do is to put your toys back where they belong when you're not playing with them."

"I am playing with them," the boy says, holding two dinosaur figures. "I'm playing with all of them. I'm gonna go back to the ones over there, right now."

You sigh. The argument has been looping this way for too long. It feels pointless to argue with a child, yet you're still doing it because deep down, it irks you to have put in so much effort to keep his space clean, just for him to trash it the second he occupies the room, again.

"Let's see." You start looking around the floor for toys you know for certain he hasn't been playing with. "You're not playing with this plushie or this car. This slinky isn't being used either and it's gonna get tangled if you don't put it somewhere safe."

The boy groans, tired of hearing you list off things you see out of place on the floor. He goes back to playing with the dinosaurs in his hands, blocking out your voice.

"Megumi, are you even listening to me?" You ask, setting some of the smaller toys you collected off the floor onto the top of his dresser.

"I don't want to and I don't have to," he utters, carelessly, not even sparing you a glance. "You're not my mom, so I don't have to listen to you. Just my dad."

You're stunned by this sudden revelation of his feelings towards you. The argument is over. Megumi was the winner because he got you to back off, but at what cost? Your heart weighed a ton after what he said. You had nothing else to say to him in that moment, so you let go of your end of the tug of war rope.

Toji hears your footsteps nearing the door and makes himself known by appearing as you're heading out.

"Hey." He attempts to grab your attention, but you don't even look at him. You pat his chest twice and leave the room. He takes a step out of the room, calling for you once more as you get farther away from him. "Ma." All he gets is a thumbs up from you as you keep walking, an indication of how you're not emotionally stable enough to respond verbally.

Toji sighs, briefly watching Megumi, who still hasn't stopped playing with his toys. He's completely unaware of what just went down.

He steps further into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed, next to his mini.

"Megs, that wasn't cool." He receives a hum in response. "Why would you say something like that?"

Megumi's hands still. He briefly looks at his dad before resuming what he was doing. "Like what? I was just in here, playing with my toys," he says, feigning innocence, not knowing that Toji had been listening.

"I heard what you said and it wasn't nice at all. She's always been good to you."

"But what I said is true," he exclaims, his expressive, green eyes widening, defensively.

"Okay, let's calm down. I'm not raising my voice, am I?"

Megumi slowly shakes his head. He puts down the dinosaur toys and crosses his legs, folding his hands in his lap.

"I want you to look at it this way," Toji starts, looking around at the room you were once so proud of for returning to a pristine state, now cluttered with various toys and clothes. "She's always been here for you. She takes care of you when I have to go to work, she reads to you before bed, she wakes up to make you breakfast. You like when she makes breakfast, right?"

The boy nods. "I like when she makes dog shaped pancakes."

"Yeah, me too. You think she's gonna wanna be around and make dog shaped pancakes for us if you talk to her like that?"

Megumi shakes his head. "No, but she wouldn't stop telling me to clean up my toys when I told her that i'm still playing with them."

"Well, I only see you playing with this little pool of toys, here on the bed. Everything else is just scattered all over the place. You know she worked hard to clean this place up, right?"

"Mm... yeah," he responds, coyly.

"You're like a tornado, Megs," he says, causing the fluffy-haired boy to laugh. "Yeah, it's pretty funny, huh?" Megumi keeps laughing while nodding which makes Toji crack a grin.

"I'm sorry," Megumi mumbles, once he settles down. He looks down at the palm of his hand, tracing the lines on it with his thumb.

"That's not for me to hear, kid," Toji says, setting a hand on his head.

"But, i'm scared to tell her. What if she's mad at me?" He turns his head to look at his dad, eyes darting between matching green eyes and the scar that mars his lips.

"Nah, she loves you too much to ever get mad at you. How 'bout I go see what she's doing, and you draw something to give to her? When you're ready to give her your drawing, you can come out, yeah?"

"Okay." Megumi nods. "I'll go out there when i'm ready."

"Alright. See you in a bit. Love you."

"Love you, too, dad," he responds, a slight tint of red on his cheeks.

Toji leaves him to it, leaving the door slightly ajar when he exits the room. He immediately directs himself towards you. You didn't hide or hole up in the room, instead you went to the couch. Toji sits next to you, watching you scroll through your phone.

"Hey, you good?" He asks, watching your face as you turn your screen off and shift your attention to him.

You sigh. "Yeah, it's fine. It's not like he lied."

"Don't say that. You know he's wrong." He puts a hand on your knee, squeezing comfortingly. "He's still a brat that doesn't know the weight of his words. Thinks he can just fire out things like that and move on like it's nothing. As long as i'm here, he won't get away with saying ridiculous things like that to you."

"Yeah," you say, still sounding disheartened.

"I talked to him about it. The kid was just pissed that you called him out for the mess he made. He just wanted to be right, with zero logical thoughts in that head."

You nod, not wanting to say anything more about it. Everything Toji said was correct, but you still felt like you were tossed aside, in that moment. Like you were a puzzle piece that didn't fit into their family.

"Don't be bummed about it, baby. You know he loves you, and remember, he has called you 'mom' before."

That brings a smile to your face. You remember how shy he got after realizing what he said. The word slipped out so naturally. You treated him like you normally do, but on the inside you were all giddy and proud to be considered a maternal figure by him.

"There you go. There's that pretty smile," Toji says, grinning as he pulls you close.

"Stop," you say, blushing when he starts peppering your face with kisses. You giggle when he starts chasing your lips, eventually giving you the warm, comforting kisses he wanted to give you.

You push his face away when you hear the door to Megumi's room creak, followed by Megumi himself. He takes slow steps out of the hallway and when he sees you and Toji staring at him, he gets nervous. All the attention is on him so he diverts his gaze and looks down at the floor until he's standing in front of you two. His face is red and his hands are behind his back. Toji knows what he's hiding and he smiles.

"What's up, Megs?" You ask, when he just stands there, silently.

He shifts on his feet, looking at you and then at his dad, before looking at you once more. His arms come forward and his hands shakily extend a folded piece of paper towards you.

"For me?" You ask, enthusiastically, to which he nods before looking down at his feet, again. You unfold the paper and take in the whole page of bright colors. Toji looks at it over your shoulder, a soft smile resting on his face when he sees the genuine effort that was put into the page. The first thing you notice is the big 'I'm sorry' written in his jagged and uneven handwriting, followed by a heart that you can tell he redrew multiple times based on the faded outlines behind it. There's a drawing of two simplistic dogs and what looks like the flowers you put on the dinner table. There are three stick figures that resemble you, Toji, and Megumi. You smile when you see that he didn't miss Toji's scar. He used the top corner of the page to draw the sun and there are different colored stars all over the place.

"Aw, I love it! Can I keep it forever?" You ask, smiling when you look at his adorable blush-y expression.

"Yeah, I made it for you," he mumbles, shiny eyes looking back at you.

You fold the paper, carefully, making sure to follow along the crease he already made, and set it down beside you.

"Can I have a hug?" You ask, reaching your arms out. He nods and makes his way over to you, his small arms coming up short as they wrap around you. Your embrace envelops him entirely. He's nonexistent in your hold because of how small he is. You squeeze him a little tighter, causing him to giggle at the gesture. "Love you soooo much, Megs." Before you release him, you give him a small peck on the cheek. "How about some pancakes for breakfast?"

"Can you make them in the shapes of dogs, again?" He asks, tapping his foot, excitedly.

"Of course, I can," you respond, and he gets even more excited.

"Dad! D-Dad! Dad! She's gonna make dog shaped pancakes, dad!"

"Yeah, I heard," Toji responds, a dumb grin on his face. "You should help her out, today."

"Okay," Megumi says, before sprinting to the kitchen.

"I should go help him before he gets the kitchen messy, too," you say, rising from the couch when the boy quickly vanishes.

"Hey, come here," Toji says, pulling you back by your wrist. You're pulled down for some quick kisses, a continuation of the session that was interrupted earlier.

"Love you, doll," he says, his eyes flitting between your starry ones and that smile that makes him weak.

"Love you." He doesn't let go of your hand until the link breaks, once you're out of his reach.

[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 7 - Rescue

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: PTSD, panic attacks, medical inaccuracies, mentions of wounds, mentions of tourture, negitive coping mechanisms, hurt/comfort.

AN: Writers block is kicking my ass plus i'm sick so i've been working on comfort projects. I can't keep a schedule to save my life.

Previous parts - masterlist- next AO3

Enjoy <3

When Price makes it to Ghost the medics are already working on Soap.

“How is she?” Ghost asks without taking his eyes off Soap.

“Safe, how about him?” Price asks.

“Alive” Ghost says. Price can see the tension in his shoulders and the grip on his weapon.

“Captain Price?” He hears the voice behind him and turns. “Commander Graves would like to see you.” 

“You’ve got this right?” Price asks, resting his hand on Ghost's shoulder. He nods, Price gives him a squeeze and follows the shadow through the building. He's taken into what looks like a main room of some kind. There are bodies everywhere except one. Tied to a chair, his face is bloody, there's a shadow training a weapon on him. 

“Sayyid Al-Asad.” Graves says from the other side of the table. “Khaled’s brother.”

“Had no idea he had a brother.” Price admits.

“They want him alive, POW.” Graves says, Sayyid shouts something in Arabic. “He’s not too happy about it.” 

“No of course.” Price says looking over at him. So he’s the person responsible for your capture, it makes him feel sick. At least they have him, they’ll want intel from him. He’s about to be a very valuable prisoner of war. 

“Take Soap and the medic to the town. There’s a medevac waiting on the airfeild.” Graves says. “We’ll transport the prisoner.” 

“Ghost and Gaz can stay behind.” Price offers.

“Negative, get them back to the base, we’ll clear things here.” Graves says. 

“Thank you.” Price says, he heads for the door, as he does Sayyid laughs. Price looks over at him meeting his eyeline. 

“Something you’d like to say?” Price snaps, he doesn’t mean to its unprofessional, he just can’t help it.

“She’s a good medic but I doubt she’ll be able to save him.” John presses his lips together, grinding his teeth. 

“You’re right she’s a good medic.” Price says shooting a look at Graves and turning out the room. He blows out a breath walking down the stairs. He sees Ghost still standing in the same doorway. 

“There’s a medevac waiting for us at the airfield. Is he stable to move?” Price asks him. 

“As stable as he can be. They’ve got the bleeding under control.” Price can hear the uncertainty in his voice. “What about her?”

“Don’t worry about that, focus on him. She’s safe, Gaz is with her.” He pats Ghost on the back who nods. Price looks over at Soap laid out on the floor, people fussing around him, pressing over his body working on his wounds. He has the best people around him right now. 

“Gaz. Graves has given us the go ahead to evac to an airfield where there’s a casevac waiting. What’s your situation?” Price asks into his radio walking out of the room. 

“Copy. She’s still with us barely, the medics are asking about sedation, at least until she’s back at base.” Gaz replies. Price knows Ghost will have heard the same intel. 

“Copy, I'm coming out.” Price says, Ghost looks over and nods at him again, it’s the reassuring gesture he needs right now. He heads out towards the waiting trucks and the rest of the shadow medics. He sees Gaz bent down by your head, his fingers laced with yours. 

The closer he gets the worse you look, there are fresh bandages over your pale shaking body. Gaz looks up at him, not letting your hand go. Your eyes are drooping closed but your grip on Gaz’s hand is strong. It’s almost like you’re holding on to him for dear life. 

“Based on my initial assessment she’s severely dehydrated. Her wounds are infected and her BP and pulse are unstable. My recommendation is sedation while she’s transported.” The shadow medic says to Price. He looks down at Kyle trying to keep the oxygen mask over your face as you try to pull it off. 

His other hand grips yours pressing it too his lips.

“Sedate her.” John says. The medic nods going back over to you. It makes his stomach drop as the medic follows the order. Price is holding his breath as he watches drugs being pushed into your arm. Your eyes start to close and your grip on Gaz falters. 

“It’s all going to be okay.” Gaz says as you fall into unconsciousness. Gaz looks up at Price, John can see the shine in his eyes as he keeps a grip on your hand. 

You don’t deserve this, but you’re safe and that's what matters.

That's all that matters. 

___

You wake to a gentle beeping. It’s a sound you’ve heard many times, it's a sound you’re used to hearing. The methodical beep of a heart reat monitor. You slowly open your eyes, you’re in a hospital room, in a hospital bed. You try to move your arms but you can't. You look down to see straps round your wrists. You panic and start pulling on them. Maybe it was all a trap. Maybe this isn’t real. 

“Hey, you’re okay.” A hand lands on you, you look over to see John standing next to you. 

“John?” You ask, your eyes wide, is he real? You pull on the restraints again. You need to touch him.

“Easy, here let me.” He says reaching down to undo the straps. You reach out grabbing his hand. It is real, he is real. You look up at him feeling your eyes fill with tears, you blink them away as he smiles at you, you reach out throwing your arms around him. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” He says in your ear. You close your eyes, breathing him in. You wish you could stay like this, wrapped in his arms but you start to feel the first twinges of pain. You sniffle, opening your eyes again. 

He lets you go and you lay back into the bed. You wipe your eyes looking down at your other hand. Your fingertips are all bandaged. Your arm hurts to move-

“Johnny!?” You gasp, shooting back up in the bed and looking over at John.

“He’s okay, he’s out of surgery.” He says one of his hands lands on your shoulder and squeezes.

“Surgery?” You feel panic rising in you. 

“Yeah, he’s okay, he’s resting.” 

“Why was I tied up?” 

“You attacked the staff while you were out of it.”

“I don’t remember.” You say, shaking your head.

“Yeah, they said that might happen. Psychosis or something.” 

“I’m not psychotic.” You snap, you feel like you can't breathe. Johnny’s alive, he had surgery. You bring your hand up to press on your chest. 

“No, I know.” His hand moves from your shoulder to your back. “Breathe, c’mon. It’s okay.” You listen to his voice forcing yourself to swallow gulps of air, it hurts. Everything hurts, there's a fuzziness in your head. 

You look back over at John, his hand rubs your back. “That’s it.” He says, you focus on the beeping of the machine. You feel tears well in your eyes, you don’t stop them this time letting yourself sob, John’s arms come round you pulling him against his chest. 

You don’t know how long you’re crying for, it makes your whole body throb as John holds you, reassuring you everything is okay. It doesn’t feel okay though, your body hurts and your head spins. When John feels you relax he loosens his grip, letting you lay back in the bed.

“Can I see my chart?” You ask, pointing towards the end of the bed. He sighs, you know you’re not supposed to see it but he brings it to you anyway. You flip it open looking at the overview. You feel a lump rise in your throat as you see the list of injuries. 

Broken rib, the wound on your arm and the back of your head are infected. Your hand rubs your neck, you feel the thick bandage where you were slashed. Malnourished and dehydrated that you expected, you don’t have a feeding tube though thats a good thing. You look down at the medication, they have you on fluids, antibiotics and morphine. 

You don’t want to be on any pain relief, the longer you’re on it the harder it will be to come off. You feel your lip quiver when you see the last injury listed. MIssing finger nails on your left hand, right now they’re bandaged up. You put the folder down. 

“Do you want to talk?” John asks. No, no you don’t. You look over at him. 

“I want to get back to work.” You say, he sighs looking at you sympathetically. 

“You need to recover first, you’ve only been out for a few hours.” He says reaching over to grip your wrist. 

“I know, I can’t lay around in bed though. I need to-” The words catch in your throat. 

“You need to rest.” John says standing up. He laces his fingers with yours looking down at your other hand. “There’s no rush, no one is expecting you to get back to work anytime soon.”

“I want to work.” You say. You need to work, the thought of staying in bed for an unknown amount of time. All you’re going to do is worry about Johnny and overthink what happened to you. You look back over at him. 

“You need to pass a psych evaluation before you can do anything, and finish the course of antibiotics.” John says. You smile, bringing his hand up to your mouth and kissing it. 

“I want to be taken off all pain killers.” You say, John sighs again leaning over to kiss the top of your head. 

“You’ll have to talk to the doctor.” He says. You pass your chart back to him and he goes back to put it in the end of the bed. 

“How long have you been here? I thought you would be busy with work.” He pauses for a second coming back round to the side of your bed. 

“I’m on probation.” He says. 

“What the fuck.” You call shooting up in bed. “Who? Who ordered that?” 

“Shepherd.” 

“Why?” 

“It doesn’t matter. My review is tomorrow.” He says.

“Do you need me to-I don’t know-say something?” You ask.

“I need you to relax and rest.” He says. “You’ve been through hell, You need to take time to recover.” 

“John-"

“No, please.” His hands come up to hold your face. “You need to rest, recover. Christ love I’m so sorry we didn’t come to you sooner. I’m so sorry I let you suffer. I didn’t think Johnny would do what he did.” 

You can hear the choke in his voice, you can see the strain in his eyes. He came after you and got suspended for it. 

“John, it’s okay.” You say reaching out for him. You press your hands on his chest feeling heartbeat, it’s pounding in his chest, he presses his forehead to yours you feel his breath on your face. You tip your face up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. His hands drop from your face to your shoulders then down your arms. 

You sink into the kiss as he pulls you tighter against him. You never want it to end, your mind is blank all you can think about is John and his tongue brushing yours. A knock at the door breaks you both from the moment. 

You both look over to see a nurse standing there not quite sure what to do. John looks back at you. 

“I’ll come visit you later. I’ll go check on John.” He says. You nod, smiling at him and relaxing back into the bed. He leaves the room as the nurse comes over. She’s nice, you smile at her, you want to get out of here though, get out of here and back to work. 

__

3 days later

“How long are we going to pretend this is healthy?” Kyle asks. 

“It’s this or medical discharge.” John says, leaning in the chair behind his desk. 

“She has PTSD right?” Simon asks. As he looks out into the medical bay 

“Her psych evaluation came back normal, she was still recommended for leave but it’s not obligatory.” 

“Yeah but it’s easy to bullshit the shrinks.” Simon says. “She was the one who taught us to do it.” 

“She won’t talk about it. She won’t talk to Johnny.” Kyle says “She still hasn’t been to see him?” John asks, sitting up in his chair. Kyle shakes his head. 

“I’ll talk to her again.” John says. 

“Until then?” Simon asks. 

“Keep doing what you’re doing. Keep an eye on Johnny, I'll keep an eye on her.” John says, that was his reason for moving his office closer to the med bay. As soon as you were discharged you were on your feet back to work like nothing had happened. 

Kyle’s right, it’s not healthy. You’re ignoring what happened and throwing yourself into work, it’s only going to last so long, especially when they’re forced to move. 

“How’s things going with Graves?” John asks Simon, he actually looks back at John for once instead of having his eyes fixed on you talking to a nurse. 

“He’s not talking. Shepherd wants to do a prisoner swap.” He says turning to look back out the window.

“That's a terrible idea.” Kyle scoffs. “Has he still not spoken to you?”

“No, the base commander has called a meeting though. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was about Sayyid and how to handle him.” John says.

“Need me to be there?” Simon asks.

“I wouldn’t mind another ball in my court but I would rather you work with Graves. At least one of us should have access to Sayyid.” John says, Simon nods. 

“Go check on John, I’ll talk to her.” Price says getting up. Kyle Joins Simon and they both walk out of his office. 

You see John coming over to you. He’s not as subtle as he thinks. You could see Simon watching you the whole time too. The nurse you’re talking to shoots you a look when he gets to the station and she walks away.

“Hey.” He says as you pick up the file you were looking over. 

“I’m working, John.” You say walking away from him. He follows you deeper into the ward. 

“I know, I thought maybe later we could get something to eat?” He asks, you roll your eyes going back to put the folder back in its slot. That’s not what he wants, he wants to talk, try and convince you to see Johnny. You don’t want to see him right now. You have too much work to do.

“Maybe tomorrow. I have a lot of work to do.” You say, you want to let him down slowly. 

“Have you been to see Soap yet?” He asks. You let out a sigh clutching the stethoscope around your neck.

“I heard his second surgery went well.” You say. You’ve been sneaking looks at his notes, you’ve been keeping an eye on him, from a distance. You can’t see him yet, you just can’t.

“Yeah, he’s been keeping Ghost on his toes.” That makes you smile, the thought of Johnny ordering Simon around. You hear the emergency phone go off. You watch as the doctor goes over to answer it. 

“We could go together?” He asks. You feel yourself start to panic. You can't, you're just not ready yet. You push the thought away listening to the doctor repeat the incoming traumas. It sounds like a bad one. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” you say, feeling your adrenaline spike. This is it, this is what you need a good trauma to sink your teeth into. Soldiers to pull bullets out of, this is what you live for. There’s no thoughts of Johnny, no worries about your mental health. Just a good trauma, you can already feel your heartbeat picking up. 

“We’ve got civilians incoming, missile strike.” The doctor says hanging the phone back up. Your stomach drops, suddenly the adrenaline wains. John’s hand reaches out to grab your arm. You’re holding your breath, you look up at him. His expression changes, he looks worried. 

“You don’t have to do this.” He says. Your fingers tingle. You look back into the incoming bay, nurses are getting ready. You and the doctor are the highest trained medical staff. You can’t leave him alone. You look back at John, you can still see a worried look on his face. 

“I can do this.” You say. You don’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. Civilians, missile strike. It’s happening again, it’s happening again. 

“We’re going to need blood.” You hear the doctor shout, John hasn’t let go of your arm. “Bring whatever oh-neg you have, we’ll figure the rest out as we go.” Your head is swimming as you watch the nurses and other people rush around. Your name is being called but you can’t hear it. Theres a rining in your ears drownding out all the sound. 

John squeezes your arm tight, you look back at him. Your adrenaline is spiked but it’s not the thought of saving lives you’re focusing on, it’s the thought of losing them.

Innocent civilians are coming in. You step away from the entrance to the bay. It’s not a fully stocked resus unit you’re seeing, it's a room in the middle of the desert. The doors to the outside are opened and you see sand blowing in the wind. Someone is calling you, you feel hands run up your back. 

‘You’re never going to be able to save them all.’ It’s Sayyid’s voice in your head. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. You hear John raising his voice, trying to get you to listen to him. The doctor's coming towards you, for a split second it's not the doctor, it's Sayyid. 

You turn away from them and run. You don’t think you just run. You feel the hot sun on your face as you exit out the buiding, tears stream down your cheeks. You don’t care where you’re going, you just need to get away, away from the thought of Johnny dying. Away from the innocent people dying under your hands. 

You don’t know where you end up but you remember throwing a store room door open weaving through the shelves before collapsing on the ground. You’re curled up on the floor sobbing as you hug your knees. 

You’re shaking, sobbing, you can’t get a lung full of air and you don’t deserve to. You let innocent people die. You let Johnny get hurt, you let yourself help the enemy. 

Do no harm. 

There’s no such thing as; do no harm. You’ve killed too many people, you've lost too many people. You remember something you told Sayyid; you save the people you can save, not the people you want to save. 

It’s always the innocents who suffer, it’s always the civilians who lose. You dig your fingers into your legs, you pull your nails down your skin. You bring your shaking left hand up to your vision and look at the missing fingernails on your hand. 

You deserve that, you deserve that. You did that for Johnny, they would have hurt him but instead they hurt you. And what are you doing? Fucking hiding in a store room having a panic attack while he’s recovering from his second surgery. 

Johnny deserves better, 141 deserves better. They deserve a medic who can do their job. Right now you can’t do your job. You close your eyes and let yourself sob, you pull your damaged hand to your chest and cry into the echoing room. 

…

A door opening pulls you back into reality. You hear a low voice and footsteps. Your head is spinning, the hand pressed against your chest throbs. You don’t know how long you’ve been here but you feel a shiver run through your body. 

“Hey love.” You hear a familiar voice. Kyle bends down next to you. His hand landing on your arm makes you jump. You open your eyes looking up at him. His expression is soft, as his hand comes to stroke our face. It causes you to panic and you yelp trying to force your body away from him. 

“It’s okay love. It’s me.” You look up at him. It is him, Kyle. It feels like you haven’t seen him properly in days, he’s been spending time with Johnny. 

Johnny, you let him down. You should be with him advocating for his care. Thats what you always promised them, that you would make sure they get everything they deserve. 

“Kyle.” You sob as you reach out from him. His hand travels up your arm. 

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s okay.” He lays down on the floor next to you his body parallel with yours. 

“I’m sorry.” You sob, your eyes welling up with tears. 

“It’s okay baby.” Kyle pulls you into his embrace, you press your face into his chest. “You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

You sob panting in his chest, your body shakes as he pulls you tighter against him. “It’s okay love, it’s okay. You’re safe. Just breathe, nice deep breaths for me.” 

You let them down, you’ll never be a good medic again. What kind of medic runs when innocent people are hurt? 

You’re a broken fucking mess and no one deserves you, especially not the people who rely on you to save their life. Especially not the people you love.

next

Banners by plum98

[authorhjk1]

1813

(Jisoo X Male Reader)

--------

@mintwithchoco thank you for this promp. Was a lot of fun!

-------

September 5th, 1813 – Weißenfels

The war has led me to many villages like this one—quiet, modest places, their people hardened by hardship, yet resilient. But Weißenfels is different. Not because of its thatched-roof cottages or its cobbled streets, nor because of the bakery that fills the air with the scent of fresh bread, but because of something - or rather, someone - I saw as we rode in.

Our corps arrived in the village just after midday, the autumn sun casting long shadows as our horses’ hooves clattered over the stones. The people of Weißenfels gathered in the square, some watching in quiet awe, others whispering among themselves. Some had seen French troops march through not long ago. Now, it was Prussian banners that fluttered in the wind.

As I rode behind my superior, Hauptmann Reinhardt, I surveyed the villagers.

That was when I saw her.

A young woman, standing next to an elderly pair, watching the procession with a mixture of curiosity and caution. She was not like the others. Her dark hair was neatly braided, her features delicate but unfamiliar. And when her gaze met mine, something in me stalled, if only for a moment.

She did not lower her eyes immediately, nor did she smile. She simply observed, her expression unreadable. And I, despite my training, my discipline, could not help but admire her foreign beauty. Then, as quickly as it happened, the moment was gone, and I rode past her, following my superior.

After he set up his office in one of the rooms of the village’s townhall, he sent for me for an audience. The sun already began to set as he ordered me to stay with the local baker’s family. Since I’m an officer of the Prussian army, a leading officer of the 1. Brandenburg Dragoon Regiment even, I didn’t have to make camp with the rest of the lower ranking soldiers.

September 5th, 1813

Herr and Frau Lindemann greeted me warmly when I arrived at their home. Their bakery, modest in size, carried the rich aroma of flour and yeast, comforting in a way I had not expected.

“It is an honor to host a Prussian officer.”

Herr Lindemann said as he ushered me inside.

“I pray this war ends soon, but until then, we are grateful for your protection.”

“My thanks. Your kindness is noted.”

Frau Lindemann turned towards the small table where another figure sat.

“And this is our niece, Kim Jisoo.”

I recognized her instantly. The girl from the square.

She stood as I approached, her posture graceful but not overly formal.

“Leutnant von Amsberg.”

She said, her voice carrying the slightest accent, her German better than I expected. She must have caught my name as I introduced myself.

“Fräulein Jisoo.”

I acknowledged, dipping my head slightly.

“It seems fate has arranged another meeting.”

Her lips quirked slightly at that, but she said nothing.

Dinner was pleasant, though conversation quickly turned toward the war. Herr Lindemann, like many villagers, had seen both French and Prussian troops pass through his home. He expressed relief at the alliance against Napoleon, but worried for the future.

“Do you believe we will ever see the end of this war?”

“I’m sure of it. Napoleon cannot sustain a war on all fronts. If the next battle ends in our favor, we may finally see an end to this.”

“And if it does not?”

Jisoo’s voice was quiet, but firm.

I looked at her, surprised by the directness of the question.

“Then we fight on.”

I said simply.

“There is no other choice.”

She held my gaze for a moment longer before turning her attention back to her meal.

September 9th, 1813

I have never met a woman who loves horses as much as Jisoo does.

We had spoken briefly over the past days, but always within the confines of her family’s home. It was not until this morning that I discovered her fondness for riding.

“I used to ride in Joseon.”

She told me as she brushed the Lindemanns’ mare in the stable.

“Not for war, but for the joy of it.”

At this, I could not help but smile.

“Then let us ride.”

She hesitated at first, glancing toward the bakery.

“Herr and Frau Lindemann-”

“Will understand.”

I assured her.

“The day is too fine to waste indoors.”

Moments later, we set off, her riding the Lindemanns’ horse while I rode my own. The fields stretched out before us, the autumn wind carrying the scent of fallen leaves.

We came to a hold near a grove of trees to let the horses rest for a moment after tying their reigns to a nearby tree. We didn’t talk much during the ride, but now I wanted to take this opportunity to get to know her better. In the confines of her relative’s house, we weren’t able to converse freely without anyone listening in. Jisoo told me about her parents in Joseon and how her father owns a small restaurant. Her parents wanted her to leave and follow her uncle’s footsteps, hoping for a better life for her in Europe. She asked me about my own family as well. I mentioned my father’s military career and how he is now a horse breeder after his retirement. Jisoo’s eyes suddenly sparkled in envy and surprise, her fondness of riding shining through.

We kept on talking for a while after that, until the sun began to sink. As we were untying the reigns of our horses, Jisoo’s suddenly jerked its head away with all its might, making her stumble forward. I reached for its reigns and instinctively placed a hand on her lower back to keep her from falling. For only a split second we kept standing like that without either one of us moving. My hand on hers, which was holding the reigns, my other hand slightly supporting her back. I felt my heart stutter, an unfamiliar warmth creeping up my neck. I could smell the hint of flour and the yellow dandelions she picked, after tying her horse to the tree earlier. I immediately took a step back, my hand grazing hers in the process. She glanced at me, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes. Something unspoken.

I cleared my throat.

“Apologies.”

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

She murmured, though I thought I saw a faint flush on her cheeks.

We said nothing more about it, but the moment lingered long after we continued our ride.

September 10th, 1813

During dinner today, Herr Lindemann mentioned the upcoming ball in honors of a royal general’s birthday.

Jisoo’s spoon stopped on its way to her mouth, her eyes falling on me.

“Will you be attending the ball as well, Leutnant von Amsberg?”

I caught the curiosity in her voice, which made me fondly remember yesterday’s accident.

“Of course he will, dear.”

Frau Lindemann spoke up, before I had a chance to do so myself.

“Every officer in this town will be at the townhall in five days.”

She was just about to eat more of her soup, when she suddenly gasped out.

“Oh no, you don’t own an appropriate dress yet, dear.”

The older woman reached out to hold Jisoo’s arm in apology.

“We will visit Herr Schneider first thing tomorrow. He will make you a beautiful dress for the ball. I promise.”

Jisoo couldn’t help but smile at me in amusement and after thanking her aunt, she looked at me once more. This time, her expression was on the more mischievous side.

“Do you dance, Leutnant?”

“I would like to think that I dance as good as I ride.”

I replied and a second later, I could already see a teasing comment forming in her head by the way her lips slightly twitched. It made me happy top see how comfortable she was with me. After all, we haven’t known each other for long yet.

September 15th, 1813

Tonight, as I prepared for the ball, I found myself paying more attention to my uniform than ever before.

My blue coat, adorned with golden epaulettes, had been brushed to perfection. The brass buttons gleamed in the candlelight; my boots polished to a mirror shine. It was strange, I had worn this uniform in countless battles, but this was the first time I truly cared about how I looked.

As I fastened my saber at my hip, I caught my reflection in the small mirror provided in my quarters. Would she notice? Would she care? I shook the thoughts from my mind, straightened my collar, and left for the hall.

The hall was bright with candlelight, laughter, and the hum of music. My superior, Hauptmann Reinhardt, found Herr Lindemann early on, engaging him in conversation. I stood nearby, only half-listening as Reinhardt spoke of the army, of battles, and of Prussia’s and Saxony’s future.

When Jisoo entered, I lost my train of thought entirely. I wasn’t able to catch a glimpse of the dress when she brought it home yesterday and I was disappointed when I was unable to see her as I left for the ball earlier.

She wore a deep blue gown, simple yet elegant, her dark hair pinned with delicate silver ornaments. She looked… radiant. Her smile seemed to light up the room as she walked towards the four of us. I tried not to stare, but when her gaze met mine, she smiled - shy, yet affectionate.

It was Reinhardt’s voice that pulled me back to reality.

“Leutnant, I wasn’t aware you had such a bright smile.”

His words would have sufficed as a warning for me to regain my composure, but he made a point out of saying them too late. Jisoo’s cheeks turned pink as she took her place next to the older couple.

I heard the small orchestra preparing for the next dance and took a step closer to Jisoo, suddenly aware of my own heartbeat. Surprised by my own forwardness I cleared my throat before I addressed her.

“Fräulein Jisoo,”

I said, inclining my head.

“Would you grant me this dance?”

I held out my hand and she placed her own on top of it, her eyes bright with amusement.

“I would be honored.”

And as we stepped onto the floor, for the first time in years, I felt truly at peace.

----------

Hi, everyone. I hope you enjoy this short fic. I'm considering making that a small series, depending on how it goes and how much time I have.

Stay healthy!

[tricksh0t]

★ comfort

☾ jaime lannister x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ prince charming jaime lannister (s1 jaime) is my fav; also genuinely the first fic of mine where the pairing kisses lip to lip

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 3.0k words

cw: long intro, lighthearted s*x, reunion s*x, soft, cheating, light incest (don't sue me, it's game of thrones, they're very distant cousins however many times removed) , calling your lover names playfully (bastard, asshole), more plot than porn (entire second part is s*x, but not focused on the s*x)

"Did you grow up with boy-cousins, Lord Tywin? Sons of your father's bannermen, squires, stable boys."

"Of course."

"And you... never..?"

"No."

"Not once? Not in any way?"

"Never."

You were never destined for anything.

You were born a Lannister, yes, but you were so far from the main line that you were set to inherit nothing. You were only a Lannister by name, long lines of second sons marrying outside of important houses over and over until your blonde locks were nothing but dirty.

Your father did not own a large sum of Lannister fortune. His greatest achievement was being the squire of one of Tywin's lesser brothers; but his brother never lead any wars, and so that was hardly a feat anyway.

When you were born, it seemed like you would follow in your father's footsteps. There was hardly anything Lannister about you.

Your greatest feat would probably be setting foot in Casterly Rock to shovel horse shit to and fro. At least then you'd get to admire your distant cousins, the glorious ones, the ones you'd use in your fantasies as the shoes you'd like to wear.

Except, one day you stole a sword and caught the eye of Tywin's lesser brother, the very same that your father had squired for. He showed you, in turn, to his brother, Tywin Lannister.

Under the Lord of Casterly Rock's eyes, you showed promise.

Before Jaime Lannister ever took up the sword with a purpose that wasn't "because daddy told me to", there was you in the training grounds as far as he could remember.

There was you, strong, barely a teen yet.

You became friends, then, under the sword. Tywin bid you an example for his son. As a boy, you were hardly fit to be an example, so instead you became friends.

Between his overzealous sister, his outcast brother, his jealous cousins and the frightened servants, you were the best friend he could ever have.

From friends, you became... not lovers, but something close. It was hardly romance, it was hormones, it was just boys being boys, and it was only fooling around. A kiss or two, sometimes longer, sometimes with tongue; playing at maturity.

With you, Jaime got a taste for breaking the rules and the thrill of sneaking out of his bedroom under the bright cast of moonlight. He got his first taste of romantic companionship, and he liked it.

You were only a couple years older then, but Jaime's dislike for letters caused him to be bound to the book for several hours a day, and so you were the stronger swordfighter.

He admired you. You were more literate than him, though most people are, and stronger, taller, more built, more worked.

You knew hardship and, as the heir to Casterly Rock, he didn't.

He got his first taste of hardship when you were summoned to become a King's Guard, and he did not like it.

Jaime had never begged before. "Don't go. Please, don't go."

And you had never denied him. "I must."

That's why, when you left for the King's Guard, he was left in despair. Despair caused impulse, and he fell back to his sister.

You did not send any ravens the years you were gone, so you grew apart. Jaime held some resentment too, for the first couple of years when he became a King's Guard, so you grew further apart.

He had his sister now, and she was a jealous woman.

The older you grew, the more you thought of your little youthful escapades as just that, things of the youth, inconsequential to anything else of your now adult existance.

Jaime came around eventually.

He became the better swordsman. He was quite fine with letters, and stronger, taller, more discreet, more dutiful.

You were lovers once more, but only that. This time, you knew how to please a man, but again he was only learning. You pleased each other under the influence of wine, or maybe not. Maybe sometimes your minds were unobstructed, and instead, you were more truthful, softer... and some rare nights, you only talked, you shared heart-to-hearts.

But you weren't friends, not by actions. You did not talk often enough, freely enough, unguarded. You were just lovers.

Regardless, to Jaime, there was great comfort in knowing that you were somewhere in the Red Keep, still there for him, still alive. It was one of the things he fought to remember during his year-long journey back to King's Landing.

When you open your door to leave your chambers, you are quickly pushed back inside.

Jaime's there. He's different, but he's there, and he slams the door behind him. You take it as another moment where he seeks the comfort of your body, especially after what you heard had happened to him. The idea occurs naturally to you, even after a year apart.

You kiss him roughly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, because you've missed him.

Jaime breaths hard into the kiss. He's breathing hard in general, and it's more evident when he pushes you away.

You lose your footing in a daze and land on a chair. It'd be a great position, and you'd be quite excited in anticipation, if it weren't for the look on his face.

"Jaime?"

"You didn't come see me." He says, angrily. His arms are crossed, hands—hand folded over his inner elbow.

Standing before you is a shadow of the man Jaime once was. His hair is shorter, darker, his skin is tanner, he's got dark circles under his eyes. He looks worn.

This is a man who has gone through hell. This is a man going through his second war, a man who was held prisoner for a time, who had to kill his cousin, and who tracked through mud and shit to get back to his home. He was missing a bloody hand!

And you didn't go see him.

"No, I didn't." You sit up quickly, fixing the smirk on your lips to a neutral one. "I thought Cersei would keep you, or that you'd be busy recovering...or that our family would want to see you."

"Cersei saw me." Jaime said pointedly. The next moment, he's climbing onto your lap, bracketing your legs with his. "I saw Joffrey and Tommen. Myrcella is gone, and I just found out. Tyrion had his opportunity. Father wished to do nothing but scold me. I was recovering from my journey in my chambers for three days. You didn't come see me."

"I didn't... and now I see I have no excuse." You keep your eyes on him. Past his heavy lids and dark circles, his eyes are the same as you last saw them, a beautiful green.

"All I could think about was getting back to you." He says through gritted teeth, and though it was a lie, you would believe it. He shifts his hips to rub against your length, a subtle grind.

It loses all subtlety when he continues, over and over. Pleasure rises.

"You are." You say with shaky breaths, heavy enough to mirror his. Your eyes close instinctively, head tilted down to the source of your pleasure.

You haven't had him in a year. You miss him, his body. A brothel whore cannot compare.

"Look at me." His teeth are still gritted. He grasps your face with his hand, squeezing your cheeks in the pull to make you look at him.

"Jaime." You say, acknowledging him, looking at him once more.

He looks angry. It's in his gritted teeth and wide eyes and his heaving chest, it's in his words—but he's not violent, no, never to you.

You kiss him, lick into his mouth to urge his tongue to meet yours. His teeth separate, not with a screeching difficulty, but easily. It's almost familiar, the way his tongue feels against yours, the taste of his saliva.

You have known this man longer than you haven't. Perhaps he is missing a hand, perhaps he is wrinkled and older, but he is still the same man you tousled with in your youth.

You find yourselves eventually on the bed, like you have a hundred times before. You on your back, him on your lap.

Except this time it is not quite as swift, and this time he is struggling with the clasps of your armor.

"Let me."

"No."

You do it anyway. Jaime watches you sit up and he sighs. He thinks of himself as helpless, a mope of a man settled on your lap like a peasant sitting on the Iron Throne.

He sighs out of his nose once more, but to you, he only seems like a sad puppy. "Knights can hardly do this themselves. That's what squires are for. I'm sure you've never heard of a one-handed squire."

"That's not helping." Jaime huffs.

"Look," You say, with all the parts of your chest plate, shoulder parts and neck pieces off. You fix his arms around your neck, "you can still wrap them around here. That's all that matters, hm? All you need is to hold on tight enough."

"Asshole." Jaime says as he pushes you onto your back again, though there's a bit of a lift to his lips.

It's the third time he pushes you. "Pushy."

"Asshole." He repeats.

There's little else to remove after that, just the flowing scales covering your crotch that he removes easily with new determination, and your shin guards, but those won't obstruct the path to your dick.

He undoes the laces of your pants with two harsh tugs and then your cock is free to him. With the way he's looking at it like a meal, you're sure he's missed it.

"Do you still keep oil behind the curtains?" Jaime asks, already reaching behind the canopy's bedpost, where the curtain is usually wrapped securely around the flask.

"No." He looks disappointed then, for a moment. "At least it means I've been loyal to you?"

"It can just as well mean that you've only been visiting brothels." Jaime laughs, leaning his forearms on either side of your head to kiss you before you can protest.

You like this, it's easy; it's carefree and humorous. You can feel his smile against your lips.

He shifts his position to press his ass to your cock and grind against the length of it, swallowing your groan with his lips. You hardly noticed when he tugged off his own pants.

For a moment you think that might be how he gets you off, but then one of his arms leaves the mattress, and his fingers are gathering precum from the tip of your swollen head.

It sacrifices his balance, and you catch him before his full weight falls on you. "Bastard." You breathe out a laugh.

"What?" Jamie returns a grin, though it falls open just slightly when he stretches himself out with your precum as lubrication. Quite the sight.

"One journey from the North to King's Landing on foot, and suddenly you don't care for cleanliness?"

He winces slightly, "One, I was also tricked into drinking horse piss. Two, you're cumming inside sooner or later, it's not very different, is it?"

"One," You mirror with raised eyebrows, "what in the Seven Hells? Two, fair enough."

Holding up his thinner body with one hand is easy enough, and if it weren't, you'd have sacrificed the possibility of him falling onto you for the opportunity to hold his face.

You cup his cheek. In another time, a year ago, your fingernails would've been tickled by boyishly long hair. Now, his hair is only prickly.

"Will you grow it out again?"

Jaime thinks on it. He thinks about how it stuck to his face whenever it was dirty with muck or grime, about how easy it was to tug at his hair, how it was used to tug him backwards into horseshit or some other crazed punishment... but he also thinks about how much you liked it, how you often sweetly pushed it off his forehead when it stuck, how tugging at it did feel good in intimate situations such as this.

"I might." Is what he settles for, and he relishes the sight of your smile.

He's good at prepping himself and keeping a smug face. You've seen it thousands of times before, when he's tired of being ordered around and decided he needed to take control for once. You've seen him the other way around just as many times, quite willing to give up the reigns because he's just so tired.

There's just something about another person's hand.

"Oh..." Jaime moans as you push his hand away and replace his fingers with yours.

Furtheremore, you let him slump forward. You're almost—nay, you are cuddling in this way. Your legs even tangle. You've got him right on top of you, one hand over his back and the other prepping him, letting him just relax.

"That feel good?"

He's practically melting on top of you. It's rather funny how nonchalant he replies with the subtle nod of his head and, "Yeah, uh-huh."

You drag your other hand over his spine and up to hold the back of his head. "Tell me about your journey."

"Okay," He hums pliantly, "Robb Stark captured me in an ambush... which, though it cost me hell, is quite admirable for a boy born after the war. I spent several months travelling behind the army convoys as a prisoner, without a roof, without a floor. Just a stick in the mud and a shitty cage."

He recounts the journey while you prep him languidly like you have all the time in the world.

You don't have all the time in the world. You'll only have tonight, and perhaps the next night, thought it is quite unlikely. Before long, you're sure, Cersei will stop this grudge of hers and Jaime will be gone again, only crawling back after another lovers' quarrel.

"Are you listening?" Jaime suddenly asks, voice rather soft. He looks up at you, beautiful green eyes batting under his eyelashes. Yes, you're looking.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening." You say dismissively.

"Hold on a moment."

Jaime sits up to straddle you once more. You watch him go up all the way, eyes locked onto his. He's beautiful; different, worn, but still beautiful.

He shakes his head with a small laugh, "What are you looking at?"

You're so distracted with his face that you don't realize him sliding down onto your cock in one swift motion. "Fuck."

"Fuck is what you're looking at?" Jaime teases.

"Bastard."

"Ah, ah, ah," He tuts his tongue, hand on your abdomen as he rolls his hips. "you already used that one once. Be a little more creative, for once?"

You roll your eyes yet reply anyway, "Dickhead."

Jaime grins, "Better."

You settle a hand on his hip, helping guide his movements as well as make sure he doesn't lose his balance, what with the hand and all. It's... he's probably fine, but you can't help but be cautious.

You wrap your other hand on what remains of his wrist, almost as if to hold his hand. He notices the gesture.

His voice is soft when he says, "As I was saying?"

You nod your head, "As you were saying."

"About losing my hand... suppose I was way in over my head. I'd managed to convince that bastard of a man, Locke to leave lady Brienne untouched. I thought I could convince him to do more, to give me a decent meal and a fire, but instead, he convinced me that he was following along with my orders. Next moment, his men are pinning me down and he cuts my hand off himself. For the next months, he ties the bloody thing around my neck and I can't even take it off."

Grueling business to talk about while he rides you, but you've never held off from venting during these moments. It makes release all the sweeter, releasing your problems as well as your pent up sexual frustrations.

It's soft, all of it. The hand holding, the slow pace and desire to clench around every part of your cock, the eye contact, the easy way he tells you the entire story without sparing details to save his dignity.

"I should've gone after you." You sigh, kissing his bandaged wrist.

"No, you're a King's Guard, not a foot soldier." Jaime shakes his head, heaving a sigh. "You–"

You flip him over easily. "I should've gone after you." You say, and it's almost like you have authority over him, leaning over his body. You do, really, you're in control of your pleasure now.

Speechless, Jaime doesn't fight you. "Yeah."

You start up slow again, but quickly build up in chase of his pleasure. Jaime breathes out a shaky sigh, breaths growing heavier with each thrust.

"I'm sorry for all you've been through," Jaime has half the mind to protest, but you give him a look and continue, "and I wish I could kill every man that wronged you myself. I'm glad for Catelyn Stark, and glad for lady Brienne. I'm also happy that you're back, back to me. Happier than women leaving Maester Pycelle's room."

He wraps his arms around your neck, like you'd showed him earlier, and his legs around your waist. He's holding you close, for comfort, as if to make sure you're really there.

It's silly to do so. You're in front of his very eyes, your cock is fucking him open, and you're very much real.

"I'm happy I'm back with you." He mirrors with a grin, "Happier than even your cock is, I'm sure."

You kiss. No teeth, no tongue, just him and you holding it for as long as possible.

Maybe he will go back to Cersei. You think it almost inevitable; but at least you're sure there's a little part of him that loves you dearly, even if you might never admit it to each other.

For tonight, he's yours.

Yours to lavish, yours to pleasure, yours to fuck.

Yours to love.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 36. The Only Mare In His Stable

Summary: With War Games and her first year over, Dahlia finally has the time to seek out Garrick. But maybe he just beats her to it.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links

Of course Xaden had to pick the one spot to defend that had the longest flight there and back. My body was screaming at me to rest. We’d barely gotten time to sleep and fully rest. But it had been worth it. We’d successfully defended our outpost and taken over others in the area. I swear to gods we better have won this. Otherwise Xaden might need to hide for the next few days.

”It will get easier little flower.” Proth drawls in my head. But I can tell he’s just as exhausted as me through the bond.

”I know. And please don’t call me that anymore.” I tell him, my mind going back to when Garrick had used the name as he’d pulled a the first of many orgasms from me that night.

Proth chuckles in my head. “I have always called you that. The large one can find another name, or you can learn to separate the two.”

I can’t help but laugh at his nickname for Garrick. “You say that like it’s going to happen again.”

”I have spent the last five days listening to you think about him like a lovesick puppy even when you think you aren’t thinking about him.” He snaps at me. “So please do us both a favour and sort out whatever this is when we get back.”

Noted. And I’m sure my friends would be bugging me for updates as soon as I’d had time to shower and get back to normal. Damn Bodhi and his inability to keep his mouth shut. I sag with relief as the flight field comes into sight, only a few squads ahead of us as they make their way down to the Rotunda. I can’t see it from here, but I know it will be filled with the rest of the Quadrant waiting for the last of us to return so they can reveal the winner of War Games.

My feet barely touch the ground before Proth takes off, clearly wanting to rest after the long flight. We all fall into a comfortable silence as we follow Xaden through the field and down the stairs. All of us too exhausted to talk amongst each other. As we walk into the Rotunda I can’t help but scan the squads to find him. And due to his height he’s easy to spy down the back of tail section, his body sagging in relief as he sees me alive. I’d like to say unharmed, but I now sport a new scar on my right jaw that extends onto my neck from a well thrown dagger from second wing. And from what I can see he’s unharmed, just exhausted like the rest of us. His squad had been on the opposite end of our area, meaning we hadn’t crossed paths at all in the five days.

As soon as we take our spot Panchek steps forward. We must have been the last squad back. “Congratulations on surviving War Games. Just a small taste of what you will all do one day when you graduate. Tomorrow once all Squads have been accounted for, we will conduct the death roll and graduation. But for now, we must declare a winner.”

The quadrant buzzes with excitement, everyone mustering whatever energy they can. But as I scan the other squads I note a good number of them clearly showered and rested. Lucky bastards.

Markham walks forward, handing a scroll to Panchek who unrolls it, keeping his face void of any emotion as he reads it. His eyes raise to us, scanning the wings in front of him. Everyone going silent as they anxiously await the results.

”The winner of this years War Games after a very impressive battle this year, is Fourth Wing!” He calls out before the Quadrant is deafened by the cheers of our wing.

I’m immediately pulled into the arms of my Squad, Xaden begrudgingly joining us as Bodhi pulls him in. All of a sudden relaxing and a shower is the last thing on my mind, on any of our minds. We’d fucking won War Games. Guess I wouldn’t need to murder Xaden for picking the outpost that he did. Slowly we break apart, my other squad members moving away to congratulate the rest of our wing.

I can’t help but look over at Dain who looks thoroughly annoyed his wing hadn’t won. I’m sure Panchek had read out the placements of the other Wings, but I’d been too lost in the cheers of my Wing to hear it. Dain furrows his brow at me. No, not me. Something behind me. His eyes looking at something above me. I turn to see Garrick pushing his way over to me. My heart starts beating loudly in my chest as he gets closer.

I open my mouth to say something, but he rushes forward, grasping my face in his hands as he crushes his lips to mine. All I can register is the warmth of his hands, the firm pressure of his lips, and the way my pulse thrums like a drum in my ears. My hands instinctively rise, clutching at his flight jacket, half for balance, half in disbelief.

The cheers of my Wing morph into hoots and hollers, but they feel distant, like they belong to a world I’m no longer part of. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and his breath comes in shallow bursts. His eyes, bright and intense, search mine, as though he’s trying to find words but can’t quite manage them. The silence between us feels louder than the noise around us.

“You—” I start, but my voice catches, barely above a whisper. “What was that?”

Garrick smirks down at me. “Making what I want clear. This,” He says as he gestures between us, “Is not just sex. Not anymore. You made it clear what you wanted from me to even consider this being a thing. And I did it.” I swear I note a slight shake in his hand, but it’s hard to tell with how hard we’re both breathing.

”You barely know me.” I say as I look down at where my hands still grip his jacket.

”You know that isn’t true. We might have spent most of the year despising each other, but we both know more about each other than we care to admit.” Garrick puts a finger under my chin, guiding my eyes back to him. “So, what do you say to being the only mare in my stable?”

My heart pounds in my chest, drowning out everyone around us as I look up at Garrick. And after a few seconds where I swear Garrick looks scared, I nod up at him. And for the first time since I was a kid, I beam up at Garrick, unable to hold back the smile at the way he’s asked me. But with the amount of times I’d thrown that analogy at him, it was fitting.

”Imogen! I want my ten gold pieces!” Bodhi yells out, startling us both as he pushes past Austin and Liz, walking towards Imogen who shakes her head and tries to walk away from him.

”Did they-”

”Yeah, they placed a bet on us.” Garrick confirms with a shake of his head.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus

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[ririright]

hi my new favorite writer 🧚🏼‍♀️🫶🏼

i know you're booked and busy bc you're pumping out post after post and ily for it

could you do hayden x youngwife!reader headcanons with all things pregnancy and having a newborn baby boy

(including what that might realistically be like to become a father for the second time, this late in life.)

He’s Nervous but Excited.

At 44, he’s got a calm, steady confidence about most things—except becoming a dad again.

He worries about keeping up with a newborn, about sleepless nights, about doing it all “right.”

“I just… I hope I’m not too old to be the fun dad.”

But when he feels the baby kick under your palm, his face lights up with pure joy.

“Oh my—did you feel that? They’re already so strong.”

He’s Relentlessly Protective.

He’s already experienced parenthood once, so his instincts are even sharper this time.

Won’t let you carry anything heavy, even if it’s just a grocery bag.

Hovers around you, making sure you’re comfortable, fed, and resting.

Will absolutely carry you if he thinks you’re overexerting yourself.

Has a habit of placing his hand on your lower back whenever you’re out in public, guiding you protectively.

“Easy, babe. Careful on that step.”

He Finds Himself More Attached Than Ever.

You’ve always been his safe place, but now you’re his whole world.

Hugs last longer, kisses are deeper, and he’s always looking for an excuse to be close.

Gets almost clingy, following you from room to room just to be near you.

“Can I stay here while you’re in the bath? Just… wanna keep you company.”

He’s Thoughtful About Your Age Difference.

Sometimes worries that you’ll miss out on “young parent” experiences because of his age.

“If you ever feel like I’m too old to keep up, you have to tell me.”

You reassure him that he’s the perfect partner and dad, and he melts.

Secretly, he’s grateful for your youth—it makes him feel alive and adventurous.

He Finds Comfort in Routine with His Daughter.

Balances co-parenting with his ex by keeping everything stable for his daughter.

Stays consistent with her pick-up and drop-off schedule.

Still takes her out for their father-daughter movie nights.

Makes sure she knows she’s loved and never feels replaced.

He’s Your Rock When You’re Anxious.

If you have any worries about being a younger mom, he’s quick to comfort you.

“We’ve got this, okay? I’ve done it before, but it’s going to be even better with you.”

Always insists that you’re going to be an incredible mom.

He’s Got a Sharp Radar for Cameras.

The second he spots paparazzi, his expression subtly changes—calm but guarded.

He instinctively steps in front of you, a gentle, protective shield.

“Sorry, folks. No pictures today.”

If they ask about you or the baby, he smiles politely but doesn’t engage.

“I keep my family life private. Thanks for understanding.”

He Has a Polite “Shut-Down” Response Ready.

If paparazzi catch him outside the grocery store:

“Hey, Hayden! How’s the family?”

“They’re great, thanks. Hope you’re having a good day.”

Keeps walking, doesn’t give them a chance to pry.

He always stays polite, but his tone makes it clear there’s no room for follow-up.

He Loves You More for Understanding His Privacy Obsession.

Sometimes apologizes for being so paranoid. “I’m sorry if I’m overprotective.”

You always assure him you understand, and he smiles, squeezing your hand.

“I just… I can’t lose this. You’re my peace.”

If His Ex Hints at His Private Life on Her Podcast, He’s Quick to Act.

Gives her a calm, firm call: “I asked you not to talk about me. Please respect that.”

If she ever tries to twist it as a “joke,” he doesn’t laugh.

“I’m serious. My family’s privacy isn’t negotiable.”

He Turns the Guest Room into the Perfect Nursery.

Measures the room three times before setting up the crib—he wants everything perfectly centered.

Builds the crib himself, reading the instructions like he’s assembling a Lego Star Wars set.

Adds soft, neutral tones but sneaks in a few Star Wars plushies (a tiny Yoda, a baby Ewok).

Installs blackout curtains because he knows how important sleep is for a baby.

Places a comfy, homemade rocking chair by the window for those late-night feedings, already picturing you there.

Baby-Proofs Everything.

Crawls around the house on his hands and knees to check for sharp corners or dangerous items.

Adds soft bumpers to the coffee table and outlet covers to every plug.

Adjusts the temperature settings on the house thermostat to ensure it’s always comfortable.

Even goes so far as to get a water filtration system for the cleanest bath water.

The Farm Gets a ‘Baby-Safe’ Makeover.

Fixes all the fencing to make sure no animals wander too close to the house.

Moves the rabbit hutch farther from the main house to avoid too much noise.

Mows the grass regularly and adds a flower garden just outside the nursery window.

Builds a little wooden bench with your name and the baby’s name carved into it—his “storytime spot.”

Starts clearing a small, fenced section of the farm as a future “play area” for when the baby can walk.

Packs the Ultimate Hospital Bag.

Makes a list and packs it two months early: your comfy pajamas, slippers, chargers, snacks, toiletries.

Adds a Bluetooth speaker for calming music, a photo of his daughter (for luck), and his favorite cozy hoodie.

Packs a separate bag for the baby—tiny onesies, socks, a baby blanket, and a little stuffed animal.

Keeps the bag by the door, double-checking it every week.

Gets the Animals Used to Baby Sounds.

Starts playing soft baby giggles and cries on his phone around the animals to get them used to it.

Spends extra time with the dogs, teaching them to be gentle around your bump.

The border collies are already herding everything away from the house, trying to “protect” you.

He sneaks the baby’s blanket outside so the animals can get familiar with the scent.

Reminds Himself Not to Overdo It.

Occasionally has to be pulled away by you when he gets too carried away fixing something.

You laugh when you catch him adjusting the nursery wallpaper at 2 a.m.

“Hayden, it’s perfect. Come to bed.”

He blushes, rubbing his neck. “I just… I want it to be perfect for them.”

He Talks to the Baby Through Your Belly.

Whenever you’re lying on the couch, he leans down to whisper to your belly.

“Hey, little one. It’s me, Daddy. You being good to your mom in there?”

Tells your belly stories about the farm, his favorite Star Wars movies, and how excited he is.

If the baby kicks, he acts like they’re responding. “Oh, you agree? Good taste.”

He Sees You as the Center of His Universe.

Can’t imagine life without you now that you’re having his child.

Feels this overwhelming sense of purpose—to protect, love, and cherish you.

Sometimes just watches you sleep, his hand resting gently on your bump.

“You’re my everything. Both of you.”

Author’s Note:

I tried to make this as realistic as possible. I’m not completely satisfied with what I wrote, but I didn’t want to keep you waiting. I’ll probably rewrite this idea as a mini-series featuring my character, Barron—Hayden’s son in all the fics I’ve been writing :)