#n 26

[jaybirdscoffee]

helen doing the distortion laugh reawakened something within me

[birf]

26th summer

[misscherry-26]

I saw you were taking requests for Bellamy Blake and I haddd to send one in!! Could you please write a lil spice fic, where they’re in the woods and get in a fight or sum n he js suddenly kissss her. Thank you twin!!

Unspoken Feelings

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for this!! My first request for Bellamy Blake. Oh the things I felt while working on this...👀 By the way I had to make a few changes, this is my most polished draft, haha. I'm so excited to share it, though I don't know how good I did with the spicy. I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting. ❤️

There could be grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language.

He really thinks he’s the leader, the king of the earth. Self-centered egoist of a man. He can go fuck himself. You think as you walk through the woods in search of the plant that Clarke needs for Finn, who was attached by the grounder that kidnapped Octavia.

They managed to get him to the ship, but now he was struggling for his life. The problem was that the knife he was stabbed with was infected. Bellamy and his group got the grounder and tortured him to get information. Of course he refused to give it, that until Octavia threatened him to harm herself with the poisoned knife. Finn would live, but Clark needed more medicinal plants for him.

But of course, Bellamy Blake had to give his ultimatum that no one would leave the camp, no after realizing that you aren’t the only survivors of earth. He could care less about saving people, but you for sure didn’t. You don’t know Finn completely but, he deserves to live.

Since the ship landed on Earth, You and Bellamy have been at each other’s throat every single moment. It’s like you are locked in a never-ending battle, a constant clash of wills. Every decision he makes seems to deliberately oppose yours, every step he takes is a challenge to your very presence. He thrives in the chaos, you can see it in the way he strides trough camp, shoulders squared, head held high, daring anyone to question him. His motto—whatever the hell we want—rings in your ears like a taunt, a reckless mantra you can’t ignore. He embodies it with every decision, with every command he gives without caring for the consequences.

When he encouraged the others to rip off their bracelets, you felt the sting of frustration burning through your veins. To him it was a bold declaration of independence from the Ark, but to you, it was a hasty move to those above thinking Earth wasn’t livable.

And then, there was the Grounder. The way he’d dragged the man into camp, beaten and bloodied, as if his very existence was a crime that needed punishing. You left the room when he ordered the torture, convinced that brute force was the only answer. The look in his eyes then—cold, calculating, determined—was a look that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

He’s always there, hiding on the edges of your vision, challenging you. It’s infuriating, the way he dismisses anything resembling compromise or collaboration as weakness, how he scoffs at your attempts to hold onto something resembling order or morality.

Yet, there’s something in his attitude —something in the way he glances at you, a flicker of underdetermination, a tension that thrums between you like a wire. It’s in the way he steps closer when you argue, his body taut, like he’s gearing up for a fight he both craves and dreads. You feel it too—the tightness in your chest, the burn of frustration that’s more than just anger, something deeper, more complicated. You don’t know whether you want to scream at him or—

But no, you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he gets under your skin.

You take a look at the sky losing its light with each minute that it passes.

Taking a deep breath, you continue.

After what feels like hours of searching, you finally spot the familiar shape of the plant you’re looking for. You remember the details Clark gave you. Crouching down you carefully pull a small bag from your pocket. You work quickly, plucking the plants and stuffing them into the bag, your movements precise and purposeful.

But then—a sudden rustling, a low whisper of movement through the leaves nearby. Your heart stutters, and your breath catches in your throat.

Instinct takes over. You drop low, pressing yourself against the cold ground, hiding behind the broad leaves of the plant. Grounders, maybe.

They could be watching, waiting.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps, for the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves that would betray their presence. But instead, you hear a low chuckle—soft, mocking, and far too familiar.

Your eyes snap open, and you whip around, breath catching in your chest.

There, arms on his waist, is Bellamy. His eyes, dark and sharp, are fixed on you like a predator who has found his prey. His brows are drawn together, the muscles in his neck tense, and there's a fire in his gaze that blazes hotter than any annoyance you've seen before.

“I see you like to test my patience, Princess.” His deep voice cuts through the silence, pulling your gaze upward. He's standing right in front of you.

You get up immediately, your breathing and muscles relaxing at the notice that you are not in danger.

“What are you doing here?” You ignore his previous comment, turning around and continuing on getting more plants.

“I remember telling everyone to not leave camp, and that includes you too, you know? There’s no special treatment here.” You hear him from behind.

“I wasn’t going to sit around. Clark needs this for Finn.”

“He’s stable enough; we don’t need anyone else getting hurt over this.” Bellamy insists, his tone sharp.

You clench your teeth and turn. “Look, I couldn’t care less what you think. I don’t go by your rules.”

Bellamy scoffs and grabs your arm. You let go of his grasp as soon as he starts walking.

“Don’t touch me!”

Bellamy watches you, wondering why you are being stubborn right now. Hell, he even wonders why he came here for the first place. Was he worried about you? Why did he come here? He questions himself. Bellamy’s mind races, battling with the tangled web of his feelings. He’s been fighting to keep everyone safe, to enforce rules that seem cold but necessary, and yet, here he is, breaking his own rule because of you.

Truth is, you have been nothing but a burden to him every single day since they put a foot on earth. Your defiance, your refusal to follow orders, your reckless bravery—all of it has been a thorn in his side. Every day, you challenged his authority and decisions, and yet, despite all the friction, despite the constant arguments and the resentment, there’s something about you that pulls at him.

He can’t quite distinguish it, but it’s there—a magnetic pull that makes him question his own motives and feelings. It’s in the way you stand up for what you believe in, even when it puts you at risk. It’s in the fire and determination in your eyes, something that resonates with him on a deeper level than he’s willing to admit.

The frustration he feels is braided with an unspoken admiration, a bittering respect that complicates his emotions even further. Bellamy is torn between his duty and the sudden impulses of something else—something he can’t easily define or control. It’s a vulnerability he hasn’t allowed himself to explore, and it confuses him.

All he knows is that despite the danger and the defiance, he can’t seem to turn his back on you. His frustration is laced with a deeper, more complex emotion that makes him question why he’s so determined to keep you safe.

He thought you would be this scared of everyone and everything type of girl, but you prove him all the opposite.

“Let’s go back—”

“I won’t.” You cut him off, not giving him a chance to say anything. You turn again and continue with your job.

Of course, you hoped that he would go and leave you alone. You hoped.

Next thing you know, your feet aren’t touching the ground and you are being lifted up by him. A few leaves escape your grasp, so you make sure to close the bag.

“Let me go!” You protest.

“Stop screaming, you are putting us in danger” He doesn’t listen to your request, instead he walks back to camp.

You scoff, moving frantically. “If you cared so much about safety, you wouldn’t be carrying me off like I’m just another pack to you!”

Bellamy's jaw clenches, and he stops abruptly, eyes scanning the surrounding woods.

“You’re the one making noise,” he retorts, setting you down but not releasing his grip entirely. “Keep quiet or—”

You hear it then—a rustling of leaves, far too close, far too deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s not just the wind. Bellamy stiffens beside you, his grip on your arm tightening reflexively.

For a split second, your eyes meet, and you both know: the Grounders.

“Run,” he whispers, urgency dripping from the word.

But there’s no time to argue. You both take off, feet pounding against the damp earth, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The sounds behind you grow closer—footsteps, which makes your heart race even faster.

Up ahead, you spot a dark opening—a cave, half-hidden by foliage. You yank Bellamy toward it without thinking, and for once, he doesn’t resist. Both dive inside, pressing against the cold rock. The cave is narrow, suffocating, but it’s cover.

Outside, you hear the murmurs and footsteps of the Grounders drawing near. You hold your breath, every muscle tense. Bellamy’s hand is still around your wrist, and you can feel his pulse racing just as fast as yours.

“We’re not going anywhere until it clears. We need to stay inside.” he mutters, barely audible.

Bellamy presses a hand against the small of your back, steering you deeper into the cave, his touch firm, almost commanding. You feel the heat of his palm through your shirt, and it sends a jolt of anger through you.

“Get your hand off me.” You snap, jerking away from his touch. But the cave is too narrow, and he doesn't give you much space to maneuver.

His jaw tightens, and he steps even closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I’m trying to keep you from getting killed.”

You dig your heels in, resisting just to spite him. “I don’t need you to save my life, Bellamy.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it—just a sharp, bitter edge. “You think I want to be stuck here with you? Trust me, Princess, this is the last place I want to be.”

You whirl around, stepping closer, your chest brushing against his, both of you too angry to care. “Then why are you here?” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “Why do you always have to control everything? Who made you the boss of me?"

His hand, still on your back, clenches into a fist, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away.

“Maybe because I’m trying to keep you alive!” he spits out, his face inches from yours, his breath hot. “You are always doing this—taking risks, getting in my way. Do you have a death wish?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, anger flaring into something more intense. “No, but maybe you do,” you whisper fiercely. “Coming out here, risking your life for someone you supposedly can’t stand. What is it, Bellamy? Why do you even care?”

He grits his teeth, and you see something flicker in his eyes—a momentary crack in his armor. “I don’t!” he snaps, but his voice lacks conviction, faltering on the last word.

“Liar,” you accuse, stepping even closer, your forehead nearly touching his. “If you didn’t care, you’d have let me go. You wouldn’t have come after me, wouldn’t have—”

His grip tightens on your arm, and his other hand moves to your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” His voice is low, almost a growl. “You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

You tilt your chin defiantly, eyes blazing. “Why don’t you just admit it? All this, you’re not really angry. You’re scared. Scared of what might happen if you lose control. Scared of what it means if something happens to m—"

But he doesn’t let you finish. In the blink of an eye, he’s on you, lips crashing against yours with a force that takes your breath away. The kiss is rough, almost bruising, a mixture of frustration and something deeper—something desperate. You freeze for a moment, caught off guard, before the shock melts into anger again, and you shove against his chest.

He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he presses you harder against the cold, cave wall, his body flush against yours. His hands move up, one sliding to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while his mouth claims yours with a furious intensity, like he’s trying to silence every word, every protest.

Your heart is racing, your thoughts a tangled mess. You should push him away again, should shove him back and yell in his face, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as fiercely, your hands fisting in his shirt. It’s like all the anger, all the arguments have boiled over into this—this raw, heated clash of mouths and tongues.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are panting, breaths coming fast, and his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still dark with emotion.

“Why do you care?” you whisper again, but this time your voice is softer, less certain.

His thumb brushes your cheek, and his gaze is intense, almost searching. “I don’t know,” he mutters, but there’s something vulnerable in his tone, something that makes your heart ache even as your anger simmers beneath the surface.

“Maybe I’m frustrated…so damn frustrated because—” He hesitates, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “—because you’ve got a way of getting under my skin, and it’s driving me crazy. But yeah, there it is. I’m worried. Happy?”

His lips are so close you can feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world has narrowed to just the two of you, trapped together in this cave, trapped by something you can’t name.

"Bell..." you start, but he silences you again, this time with a softer kiss, one that seems to ask for something instead of demand it.

His hands slips down to the curve of your waist pulling you even closer, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, heat pounding low in your belly.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers locking on his dark strands. The kids deepens, growing more urgent, desperate, as if both of you are trying to pour all this unspoken feelings into a single, shared breath.

And you know that whatever this is, you are not ready to stop it. Not yet.

[holylulusworld]

Up his sleeve - Kinktober 26

Summary: You're in trouble.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: forearm/hand kink, sexy mafia Bucky, implied oral (male rec), fluff

Kink: Forearm/Hand kink

Idea/Requested by: @buck-star

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Blue eyes watch your every move.

You’re in big trouble. You knew the moment your fiancé stepped inside your shared home. He called your name, and you heard the angry undertone in his voice. Someone must’ve ratted you out, telling him you broke his rule to not bring up his past relationships.

His features darkened watching you sit in his leather chair while reading another article about his past. A sneaky reporter believed he could get away with writing shit about Bucky's past lovers.

He forbids you to read more of the lies the report spread, but you were like a woman obsessed. Bucky never talked much about his past lovers. He always told you that what’s in the past is past.

You, on the other hand, wanted to know for the longest time who were the women before you.

“Doll, you’re in big trouble,” he taunts as you drop the magazine in your hands. You lift your gaze to meet his stormy blue eyes. “I told you not to read this crap. But here you are, reading yet another article about me.”

“I was just trying to find out if the women before me were—” You bite your tongue. The last thing you want to admit is that you doubted your relationship with Bucky due to the articles. He assured you the women before you didn’t mean anything to him.

Bucky was a heartbreaker and womanizer before he settled down. He only wants you; Bucky assured you more than once. Still, there’s this bitchy little voice nagging in the back of your mind.

“Our bedroom,” he says. “Five minutes. I want you naked, and don’t believe I’ll forgive you easily tonight.”

You whimper. Not in fear or because you believe Bucky will break up with you. No. He’s up to something dirtier when he’s in this mood.

“Yes, Bucky,” you say, and slip off the chair to hurriedly walk out of his office. You giggle when he playfully swats your ass.

“That goddamn reporter,” Bucky huffs. “Good riddance, though.”

This time, you watch Bucky’s every move. While you sit on the bed, vulnerable and bare, he’s still in his suit, minus his tie and suit jacket.

He smirks as you watch him roll up his sleeve. You whine, catching his attention. Bucky quirks a brow as your eyes are glued to his forearms. You lick your lips, remembering how he once allowed you to ride one of his arms and hands.

“Bucky,” you purr his name. He rolled up his sleeves, which means the game is on. If you play your cards right, he’ll forgive and not edge you again. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“If you are still reading the articles, it means you doubt my word. We can’t have this, can we?”

“No,” you reply, afraid Bucky is madder at you than you thought. You exhale sharply when he rolls his shoulders. Your eyes drop to his forearms again. Fuck, why is this so much hotter than having him naked? “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, believe me, baby doll,” he says while stepping toward the bed. “You’ll be sorry,” Bucky smirks down at you. “Now I want you on your hands and knees. You won’t get back up until I tell you so.”

[qweenofurheart]

oldest 🦇 youngest 🦇

[damn-stark]

Chapter 26 In that treetop night

Chapter 26 of Moonlight

A/N- I giggled

Warning- light swearing, talks of pregnancy and blood, some violence, angst, some FLUFF, and SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

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

Episode/Pages- 491-515

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

The day was taxing, not because there was a battle that required all the energy his body had made that day. The battle was fought and the battle was lost, so one would say the day should be laxing. Yet it’s dealing with the aftermath of such a tragic loss that seems to be more wary than any battle.

“How could they win now?” Cregan thinks to himself as he hangs his head low and mindlessly watches the cold ground beneath his feet. “How could an army of men win against three dragons without being completely wiped out?”

It was trying to come up with a strategy for that question that was wearing him out. He has so many men to think of, so many lives are in his hands. How can he lead them to a hopeful battle?

“Lord Stark!” A voice cuts in before quick and stumbling footsteps stop outside his tent, pulling Cregan out of his running mind to listen with very low curiosity—All he wants is to rest. Maybe just close his eyes, but alas… “Forgive me for interrupting, I know you said not to disturb you, but it’s urgent!” The young voice speaks rapidly and between heavy breaths. “The princess and a companion are here!”

As if a spike of energy shot his heart, he snaps his head up in disbelief whilst that exhaustion is suddenly forgotten. Can it be?

What the visitor just announced to him can be one of the Targaryen twins. They’re not titled princesses but their father is the husband of a Queen so it could have changed. But it can also be you…with your husband?

Who is the companion they announced? Did you come together? If it is really you, that is.

Even if it isn’t, he has to go out to meet them, so he gets up from his seat and swipes his sheathed sword from the ground. As he walks out he straps the sheath over his shoulder and strides out with the tall and lanky young man, hoping to see no one in particular to avoid feeling disappointed if the outcome is not to his liking

“Just over here, past the clearing,” the young man interjects. “We did not want to let them through to be safe because of the sides the people say they’re on.”

Cregan hums, finding their caution justifiable after being betrayed by two of Team Black’s dragonriders, and hearing that the third one escaped to avoid being caught. Let’s see how the caution is taken though. He knows Targaryens have similar tempers to the dragons you all are linked to so here’s hoping it’s not made into a fuss.

“Lord Stark,” the young man interjects but pauses to take a deep breath as if weighing whether to share what's in his mind or not. “You have been around dragons, are they…”

Nevertheless, the next words to come out of the young man’s mouth are drowned out by the sight of you the moment he turns a corner and faces the clearing.

He can hardly believe his eyes. You must be some conjured-up illusion made by his exhaustion.

Yet how can that be when his exhaustion no longer exists as the mere sight of you is like a spike of adrenaline to his beating heart? You cause the blood coursing through his veins to pump frantically, tuning out every sound, and blurring everything besides you. You are the sole keeper of his attention. You, bathing under the shining spots of moonlight that break through the treetops are the center of all his attention.

You don’t see him yet, but oh he sees you standing there with a displeased frown curled on your face telling him that this encounter is the opposite of what he wanted, proving your short temper. Someone else is beside you but like a full moon against a clear and starry night, he can’t keep his eyes off you, not even for a second and he doesn’t want to look at anything but you.

Even as soldiers pass by him he doesn’t keep you out of his sight. Even as a man leads a pair of horses toward him, he doesn’t bother giving it a glance to stop and be careful, he forces the man with the horses to a halting stop as he keeps walking to you as if it pained him not to be close, as if he’s tranced by you and your beauty, by you in that shiny silver and soft purple gown that makes you look all that more divine.

Oh, and once you finally roll your eyes and find him making his way to you between the busy camp, that’s a completely different set of feelings he’s completely bombarded with.

When you find him, even though his blood is racing through his veins, causing his heart to thump and thump rapidly against his chest, suddenly his entire world slows down. Everything that surrounds him ceases to exist except for you and him breaking through barriers of space to at last reach you after a terrible couple of months of being apart.

Only you and him exist in your loud and busy world. Only you and him. Him and you. After all these months it’s finally him that you see in all his mighty glory, caught under the shine of the moonlight, and for the first time in a long time there in the depths of your chest, you can feel it. You feel your heart revive and skip a beat as you lose yourself in Cregan’s grey eyes. Which is unbelievable to your grieving soul that not even Aemond could get that reaction from you, but Cregan does. Cregan brings back the light to the stars and to the moon, and he brings back the color to your once dull world.

Oh and once he’s close. Once his presence is known, your heart starts racing and your lips slowly start tugging into a smile, erasing that disbelief caught on your features whilst every muscle in your body cries for you to move toward him; while he, himself, takes a daring step toward you, but nevertheless, neither of you can give into your desires. You’re stopped, and both snapped out of your stupor as the man who stopped you addresses Cregan and your current situation.

“Lord Stark, sorry to disturb you but as you can see the Princess is here.”

Cregan still doesn’t break eye contact, he keeps his eyes laid on you and bows his head. “Princess,” he greets and then stands upright and drifts his eyes to the side to at last acknowledge your companion; a slim charming young man with his dark eyes on him.

“Forgive me, I don’t recognize you.” Cregan addresses Addam with his chin tilted slightly higher than usual. “You are…”

“This is Ser Addam Velaryon,” you interject and glance at Addam with a small smile. “Son of Lord Corlys Velaryon. Rider of Seasmoke.”

Cregan nods and then bows his head. “Ser Addam,” he greets your companion, making your smile a bit wider.

“Addam this is Lord Cregan Stark,” you present him in return. “Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”

Addam briefly meets your gaze before he looks back at the tall and buff man to bow his head. “Lord Stark, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Cregan nods in response to acknowledge his comment before he looks between the two of you with confusion. “It’s an honor having you both here,” he says and lets his eyes fall on you as if speaking to you alone. “Yet I am confused as to why. We did not expect your arrival.”

You nod. “That’s why we wanted to walk in, to explain, but your knight here has not let us pass,” you hiss as you drag your gaze to the knight and pass him a glare.

“It's a surprise, we know,” Addam cuts in and steps forward to take Cregan’s attention, but the Lord spares him a short glance before he once again focuses on you as if still in disbelief about your presence—“And it’s late, but we come with good intentions,” Addam explains. “We come to join your forces and fight alongside you against the Hightower army and the three Dragonriders.”

The men across from you look at each other, sharing speechless glances before Cregan gives Addam more than a second of his attention. “We would be honored to have you join our forces, but you have to also excuse our caution,” he shares, catching you by surprise even though it really shouldn’t. You know Cregan, he cares about his people, he cares about the men fighting with him, and puts them first so, you shouldn’t be surprised that he’s being cautious. But you still are.

“You were branded a traitor by the Queen, Ser, and you,” Cregan says and turns his gaze to you, shifting where he stands before he continues. “It’s been said you were allied with the Greens.”

You immediately react by shaking your head and correcting him. “My husband. Not the Greens, my husband.”

He blinks and hums. “You can see why you were stopped, right?” He adds and looks at Addam. “Besides, what is stopping your husband from coming after you and burning down our camp out of spite?” Cregan directs at you, making you stiffen and drop your gaze.

Addam proceeds to part his lips as he sees your reaction and intends to share the news for you so you wouldn’t have to say such heavy words, but you drag in a shaky breath and with tears already forming in your eyes you share the news yourself. “You needn’t worry about Prince Aemond because he,” you pause as the words pain you to even think about. “He…he’s dead,” you say with a shaky breath. And at the sound of the news Cregan’s face falls from that tense and serious hold and he looks at you with pity. Yet before he can express his consolation you continue abruptly.

“Vhagar is gone too, along with Daemon and Caraxes, so there’s nothing you need to worry about,” you mutter and avert your gaze to wipe away the stray tears that fall down your face.

“I am sorry for your loss, Princess,” Cregan’s voice is soft and his gaze is heavy on you. “And I am sorry for the loss of Daemon, he was a legendary warrior. His loss will cost us a great deal.”

You draw in a heavy and shaky breath before you lift your head and face the men with a collected demeanor, refusing to show them any more vulnerability. “If we can talk somewhere warm we can explain ourselves,” you interject with determination. “If not, well we can gladly leave and abandon you in your time of need.” You huff, making Cregan scoff and drop his head to hide his smirk

“Alright,” he says with a huff before he picks his head up and looks at you with his soft gaze. “Come with me.”

You share a speechless but assuring gaze before feeding that previous temptation and walking to Cregan to address him like old friends.

“It’s a pleasure seeing you out here, My Lord Stark,” you share in a honey-laced voice as you start to walk around each other to avoid walking away and remain as close as you can. All while neither of the other dares to lose eye contact. “Especially after you said you couldn’t leave your home.”

Cregan’s gaze narrows slightly in a lighthearted manner and the corner of his lips twitch up. “Well, my men and my Queen needed me. My choice was made with a heavy heart but I do not regret it.

You offer him a sweet and thankful smile before you express yourself in words too. “Well, the Queen appreciates your efforts. We all do.”

Cregan holds your gaze with a burning intensity while he comes to a stop right where he started as he sees how truly ethereal you look under the moon’s soft hue.

“Thank you, my Princess, and I'm sorry again for your loss.”

You blink repeatedly as your emotions come to you and proceed to respond with an acknowledging hum before you continue down your path, catching Addam’s questioning gaze before he quickly snaps his eyes ahead to look at the path instead.

“Uh, if you don’t mind me asking, Princess,” Cregan interjects as he leads the way. “How far along are you?”

You rest your hands on your belly and sigh softly before you give him the answer. “Seven. I’m almost there.”

Cregan nods and adds nothing else on the matter, letting you fill the silence. “How’s Rickon?”

Cregan peers back and responds. “Good. Growing every day and surviving the winter.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

Silence continues to befall you again and once again Addam steals a quick look between Cregan and you, making you discreetly slow down to fall beside him instead.

Once you reach the intended tent you wait for the higher-ranked commanders and knights to join you before you make your case.

“You have every reason not to trust us,” you address the group of men. “You have every reason to question our motives, but I can say that in regards to myself, my loyalty lied with my husband. Neither you here are wives, but I am and…” you pause as you know you can’t give all the reasons why you truly sided with Aemond. “My loyalty was to him. I did the things they say I did. I took my part in burning House Strong,” you admit and make the men grow stiff as if fearful you have come to do the same to them.

“It was me. I won’t hide from it,” you continue as you look around the group of old battered men looking at you with displeasure and discomfort. “I won’t feel ashamed of it either. I did it because it was the right thing to do for me, and for my husband,” you mutter and stroke the table with the pad of your fingers. “Not Team Green. Not the Usurper, but for my husband who is…now dead,” your voice trembles. “Along with his dragon and Prince Daemon and his dragon.”

You end in silence so the men can do as expected, and share shocked whispers at the sound of such an unexpected revelation.

“But my shame on the matter is not what you should be asking, neither should you be asking if I was dedicated to Team Green,” you speak over the whispers and slowly regain the men’s attention. “The question you should be asking is if I would die for them. And the answer is no,” you say confidently as you press your hands on the wooden table and lean forward to be in the center of everyone’s attention. “But I am willing to die for my mother. For my Queen, and for all of you if the need arises. My loyalty is here, with you and with her too.”

The air in the tent slowly loses some of the previous tension they were holding, and their hardened gazes ease as your sweet yet confident words ease their hearts. Yet they can’t fully come to trust you because of Addam, but that’s why you don’t leave him out of your plea.

“As for Addam,” you add to the conversation, earning his undivided attention. “You will not find anyone more loyal. You won’t find someone kinder or braver than him. The son Corlys Velaryon, my uncle, and my dearest friend.”

Cregan sits up at the sound of your words, unbeknownst to you.

“Then why did the Queen cast him as a traitor?” A man blurts, returning your attention to the group of men. “Why run if he is not guilty of what he is accused of?”

You and Addam share a glance before you look at the waiting crowd and think about your words because you can’t say the truth or it will paint your mother in a bad light, and right now these men can’t lose hope or respect, not when they have already lost so much for her cause.

“Because the Queen was being cautious. That’s why she deemed him a traitor when he isn’t,” you add as you push yourself away from the table and stand up with your shoulders straight and your eyes narrowed so they know you’re being serious. “She has to be careful now more than ever, and that’s why Addam left. What are words compared to actions of dedication and loyalty?”

Addam passes you a thankful smile before he steps forward to garner everyone’s attention so he can speak in his own case. “That’s why I’m here, to prove to her that I would die for her. I don’t want to, not yet, but if it has to happen I would die to see her succeed because I believe in her, because she should be on that throne, and I can only prove that in the battlefield on top of my dragon, not on my knees begging. If she wants to punish me after, then so be it, but it will only be after we win against those turncloack and against the traitors wanting to march to the Red Keep and take her throne.”

You look at him proudly, missing the way Cregan catches the shared looks between the two of you.

“Now I know my word doesn’t mean anything to any of you, you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but trusting one another is by chance, isn’t it? So give us a chance and we will be your greatest ally,” he continues, easing the tension and their demeanors toward him and you—“we have a plan to garner more fighting men, and we have two dragons, but that power can only be gained if you trust us. Give us a chance.”

No matter what Cregan thinks about the two of you together, or just Addam making you smile so fondly, he still stands up to address the group now.

“You both speak fiercely, and from what I can pick up on, with sincerity, but may I ask one thing?” He asks and slowly lets his eyes drag to you. “Will you fight in the state you are in? If not then can your dragon fight? Because it’s true that we need what you can offer, we need it to win against three dragons, so if you can’t fight, can your dragon fight without you on her back?”

You blink in disbelief and challenge his gaze as if he had just uttered the most offensive thing he could ever utter, and then counter right away with a sense of ferocity so you’re not questioned or pestered as if you were a helpless little girl. “My dragon fights if I fight, if I am out of the field so is she. And right now you need all the firepower you can get so I am going to be on dragonback fighting like Addam.”

Said man sighs in protest, but he knows he can't do a thing about it so he just stays quiet. As for Cregan, even if he thinks that the babies you’re carrying are not his right now, he still cares about you and therefore cares for them so he’s not convinced or intimidated like the others are, but he will talk about that later.

“Alright,” he says with a nod before he sighs and goes on. “Well, I welcome you then, if the others are in agreement say aye.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer until the men gathered around the wooden table all agree to let you join their forces, letting you and Addam let out a breath of relief.

“Find an empty tent for Ser Addam,” Cregan instructs one of the young squires. “The princess can take mine until hers is set up.”

You immediately cut in with a shake of your head as you try to turn him down. “No, my Lord it’s quite fine. I can take any other tent.”

Cregan immediately shuts you down. “No,” he scoffs. “Don't be mad. I am not with child. You are and you are my Princess. You will take my tent, and if not, regardless I won’t sleep in it tonight.”

You part your lips to try and rebuttal him but you also know he won’t back down, not about this or the other matter if you’re being realistic, so you hesitantly give in. And since it’s already late and there isn't anything that needs your attention you find your way to Cregan’s tent right away.

Yet no matter how much the tent is riddled with his scent, no matter how every corner is a reminder that you are finally together, all you can think about is how long this day has been and how much you need it to end. In the morning you woke up with Aemond by your side, with his arms secured around you, and now you’re getting ready for bed with the knowledge that you won’t ever get to share a bed together. You won’t have your limbs tangled, and you won’t make him smile or watch him breathe as he sleeps deeply. He is gone forever and that thought makes your heart ache and weep.

You want to see him again. You want to steal one more kiss. You just need to feel his warmth one more time. You just need…something…

Yet how can you have any of it when he’s gone and will never return? You’re left with nothing but the memory of him. That’s all you will have for the rest of your life—how tragic. How depressing.

Nevertheless, as you’re lost in your grief, as the silence mingles in the tent, a voice makes your shoulders jump and cranes your head over your shoulder.

“Princess, may I come in?” You identify Cregan's voice right away.

“Yes, of course.”

Not even a lingering minute later the flaps of the tent open and he walks in holding something you don’t even give any attention to. Your eyes immediately land on his face and remain locked there.

“Did you forget something?” You probe, and he shakes his head before he lifts the fur blankets he brought in.

“No. I just had extra in my tent so I wanted to bring them to you. It’s cold when you’re in a tent,” he explains in a softer voice than he was using before.

“Oh,” you breathe out and nod ever so lightly. “Okay. Thank you.”

He walks further in to place the blankets on the table, and instead of proceeding to walk out, he stays where he is and studies your face, noticing the grief that now decorates every part of your face. You had held yourself together so well before, just like you were taught, just like a princess and an heir should, but now that it’s just you and him alone, you let your eyes droop and grief paints a tragic and aching picture in your eyes. More so now as he asks with his eyes alone if you’re okay—you completely break with a shaking breath as you hold his gaze as if he was everything you had been missing to let yourself really feel.

Thus without needing to utter a word, without gesturing each other close, you break away from your spot and he welcomes you with open arms, holding you tightly against him the moment you clash and clutch onto him like he is your salvation.

“Cregan,” you weep and he drags a hand up to cup the back of your head and press his head against yours.

“I know darling. I know,” he whispers to comfort you. “I know. I’m here.”

You cry harder at the sound of comfort and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck without thinking about getting him wet. You keep yourself clung around him and he holds onto you as if his life depends on it, making sure to caress your back and stroke the back of your neck when he moves his hand down.

You remain in the silence, soaking in each other's comfort and company. Nothing is uttered but there is something you need to get off your chest, so you just drag your face away from his neck and break the silence.

“I tried,” your voice breaks. “I tried so hard. I tried, but I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save Jace. I was too late,” you cry. “And Viserys…” you trail off and shake your head. “I couldn’t find him. Now they’re gone. Jace is gone, he died in my arms and I couldn’t save him. If-if—” before you can finish, Cregan suddenly yanks himself back but doesn’t put too much distance between you, he cradles your face with his large hands and looks deep into your eyes.

“Listen to me, you tried. That’s what matters. You were there for him in his last moments, that’s what matters, darling. Do you understand? You were there for him, you comforted him and held him as he went. You did good,” he praises you as he caresses your cheekbones with his thumbs. “Do you understand?”

You blink repeatedly, letting more warm tears fall down your cheeks before you nod faintly and croak under your breath. “I understand.”

Cregan nods with you and tilts his head but never loses hold of your eyes. “And as for Viserys. There’s nothing you could have done. You tried, that matters. Now you fight for them, okay? You keep living for them, for their memory, okay?”

You sniffle and nod faintly once again, not daring to argue because this is all you needed; comforting words from someone who did care about your brothers. Someone to hold you so you could grieve them.

“Good,” he whispers before he fixes his head and points to the bed. “Let’s go sit okay, darling?”

You let him guide you to the edge of bed and sit with him in a comforting silence. After a while, after you no longer have running tears and your breaths come steady and not shaky, you look over at him and study him, noticing how dark the circles are under his eyes.

“You need to rest Cregan,” you point out without needing to ask if he is exhausted because you know he is. “You’re exhausted.”

Cregan slowly turns his head to take you in and sighs deeply. “I will. Soon. I just need to make sure you're taken care of.”

You scoff softly and drop your head to smile faintly at your hands. “I am. Thank you.”

He hums as he admires you while you’re not looking. “I will have some of the healers tend to you. Make sure you're fed and looked after.”

You roll your head up and look at him with a pointed gaze. “No need, I can tend to myself. Don't bother them. If I wanted to be looked after I would return home with Vanessa, but I’m here, I will remain here tending to myself.”

Cregan bites the inside of his cheek and nods slowly in understanding, knowing neither of you will get anywhere if you keep arguing about it. “Alright,” he gives you what you want.

You hum and then avert your gaze to stop feeling your heart flutter under his heavy gaze. “Where’s Ser Rolf? Sleeping?”

Cregan chuckles. “Probably, but not here. He’s in Winterfell in my stead since Rickon is too young.”

You nod with comprehension and feel his eyes roam your face before they fall on your belly.

“Your boy?” He asks. “Is he fine? Healthy?”

You smile brightly and nod as you face him. “Yes, healthy and fat. Dragging his bottom across the floor.”

Cregan hums and offers you a flickering smile before he leans in. “Well, my offer still stands. It may be winter but if your son and Vanessa need refuge they can find some at Winterfell. And if this war is still going on when your twins are born then they have a home there too. The people there love you, and therefore they love your children. They will protect them.”

Your heart swoons but you hide your flustered face by looking down. “Thank you, Cregan, really, and right now they’re taken care of by my mother and my sworn protectors. Hopefully, they won’t need refuge but if they do I will gladly accept your invitation:”

“Good.”

You nod gently and follow up with silence, letting him continue to just take you in as you fiddle with your sapphire ring. You should send him to his own tent so you can both find sleep, but neither of you actually want to leave each other's company so you find the excuse to linger next to each other for a few more stolen minutes.

“Your sword, it’s Valyrian steel. Which one is it?” He finds a reason to stay longer.

You glance over at Blackfyre resting by the table and give him the name. “Blackfyre. The one passed to the rulers of our house. Aemond…took it from Aegon while he was abed, and before…” you trail off but don’t and can’t finish the rest.

“I understand,” Cregan mutters.

You snap your head toward him and breathe out deeply. “He died today and I don’t know if I can take care of three children on my own. I…don’t know what to do without him.” You share in a moment of vulnerability, knowing in the back of your head that you are capable and that a bright future awaits you, but right now you feel so defeated and he’s your best friend. You know it hurts him to hear you speak about Aemond in such a way, you see him swallow thickly and finally let his eyes wander away from you, but you need to confide in him.

“You're the strongest person I know,” he says to the air ahead of him. “You may feel helpless now, but you’re just grieving. You can and will raise your children because you’re strong. This grief will pass eventually.”

You take a deep breath and look away too, losing your gaze on nothing in particular and just listening to each other breathe for a few more stolen minutes. And this time there’s nothing to keep him from leaving.

“I should let you rest,” he says with a deep breath before he gets off the bed. “Goodnight, my princess.”

You stand up with him and meet his gaze to return his comment. “Goodnight, my Lord.”

Said man scoffs at what you call him and before he can leave you lean in and press a kiss on his cheek, catching him by surprise.

“Goodnight,” you whisper again, earning his attentive gaze and letting it mingle on you for a moment before you force yourself back.

“Goodnight,” he says one more time before he bows his head and finally departs, stealing one last look at you watching him leave before he exits the tent, leaving you to your lonesome in that bitter night where all that occupies your mind and dreams is Aemond. Aemond, Aemond, and Aemond.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

There’s no escaping the pain, not anymore, not after losing Aemond, but as you look at the clouded sky, as you watch the parting clouds drifting by, for some reason there in that endless sky you can find the fact that eventually the pain will be a memory and you will look back at your losses in a much more fonder light.

You won’t cry every time the simplest memory comes to mind, you won’t want to stay curled up in bed as the kisses from the man you loved haunt your lips. You’ll think back and smile because they were in your life. That will be a beautiful thing, one day.

“Good morning,” the sound of Cregan’s voice pulls your attention away from the sky to drift your eyes down. You can’t see him since you don’t stand up, but you also don’t want to stand up so you just aim your eyes in his general direction.

“You left your sword in your tent,” he brings up and you then hear the shuffling of leather against his hands, meaning he brought Blackfyre with him. “We’re in an active war, you can’t be wandering off on your own. Not without protection.”

You blow a raspberry and turn your body against the water to turn towards your dragon resting her large neck in the water to keep the water warm with her steams of breath.

“My girl is with me,” you point your dragon out. “She’ll protect me.”

“And if something were to happen to your twins?” He keeps pestering you, but this time you don’t have a good argument so you just probe him.

“Why did you come find me? How did you find me?”

You hear his footsteps approach the lake's shore and come to a stop shortly thereafter to respond. “I went to look for you to invite you to break fast with me, and when I didn’t find you in your tent I asked around.”

A teasing smile tugs on your lips. “Well thank you for thinking about me, but I already broke fast. I saw the lake on Dragonback so I walked here after I woke up and had breakfast by the lake because the twins were hungry.”

Cregan scoffs in amusement before he fills the silence with a comment filled with…annoyance. You detect it in his voice. “I’m surprised your uncle is not here with you. Accompanying you.”

Is he jealous of Addam?

You almost have to laugh. You don’t but you let a smile dance on your lips before you finally push yourself to your feet and face him, seeing him wear that ever so heavy cloak, and carrying his own large sword as if he’s expecting to be attacked at any second.

“Is that not heavy?” You tease with a half smile, seeing him maintain his eyes on your face even though your gown is sticking to your figure and water is dripping off your chin and falling on your chest. You would have gone in completely nude but there are a lot of men around so you chose to play it safe instead.

“Your cloak? Your massive sword?” You specify. “Unload my Lord. We’re not going to war right now.”

Cregan swallows thickly and lifts his hand to take his sheathed sword off, but as you start to walk out of the water he stops what he’s attempting to watch your dripping body expose more and more as you walk to shore to meet him.

“Addam is my uncle, my friend. My confidant. Nothing more and nothing less,” you finally assure him. “Don’t…worry.”

When your feet hit the shore he snaps from his stupor and finally slides his sheath off his shoulder before resting it next to, Blackfyre.

“You wouldn’t want to take a dip with me would you, my Lord?” You offer with a taunting smirk that he catches as his eyes are quick to find your lips. “Astraea keeps the water warm so you wouldn’t freeze. Albeit you are used to a colder climate, so.”

Cregan’s grey eyes slide up to meet your gaze and he shakes his head. “Thank you for the offer but not now. Perhaps if the offer still stands later, when the day has drained me I will gladly accept a dip in the steaming lake.”

You swallow back nervously and feel your heart skip a beat as he holds your eyes with a great intensity. You almost don’t retort, but you manage to collect yourself.

“We’ll see if Astraea is willing to help again. The offer is very much ready now though, just say the word,” you roll out slowly before you start to walk past him, making him turn his body where he stands so he doesn’t lose sight of you, and so you keep each other chest to chest until you part away to sit on a rock.

“I heard conflicting reports,” Cregan doesn’t let silence intrude, causing you to pick your gaze off the dry and clean wrap that you need to put around your wet body to dry it—“you can touch fire without getting hurt.”

You lift a quizzical brow and press him for more. “What else have you heard about me?”

Cregan shakes his head. “I have tried not to hear much. I don’t let my men speak ill of you.”

A small smile flickers on your lips but you still press him, knowing that whether he wants to or not he’s heard about you; bad and good things. “But word still spreads. Tell me.”

“It’s nothing I believe,” he still avoids sharing the trash spread by venomous tongues. “Just tell me if it’s true or not that you can walk in fire.”

You drop your head to tie the long piece of cloth around you. “Yes,” you put it simply. “But the discovery is new. I only found out after I left Winterfell. I mean I have always had a feeling but given that I never had a reason to test it, I never really knew. Not until after I left.”

Cregan hums and you give an example as to what he might have heard. “They say I'm cursed, don’t they? That my mother gave birth to a demon?”

Cregan utters your name in disbelief and you look up at him unaffected by such things.

“I heard a man utter those words to an empty cobble square,” you share softly regardless of how unbothered you try to be. “He might be mad but he said it with passion so I know that it’s something that he doesn’t believe alone. If he says that, other people across the realm think it too.”

Cregan shakes his head and you put your hand up.

“Don’t try to be a gentleman,” you interrupt him. “People will say the same thing for as long as I live. Even when I die they will say the same thing. They will read it too, so I will spit in their faces even in death and be proud of my ability. I can walk through fire, I don’t burn. My flesh is fire made and I’m proud.” You say with the same emotions you speak of, offering him a proud smirk that he can’t help but be relieved by.

Yet even if you see the glimmers of pride brighten his grey eyes, you still have to doubt him out of fear. “It doesn’t scare you? What I can do?”

Cregan drops his head to glance at the ground for a brief moment before he walks to you and sits on the little space next to you, proceeding to tilt his head up to have you under his gaze before he speaks softly in the exact way his eyes look. “My people. My family can warg into the minds of animals. The dead are hidden behind a large wall, and you ride a dragon. I would have to be pretty ignorant and stupid to fear you, my Princess. The people fear you because they don’t know anyone like you because you are a fearsome thing to behold.”

You shake your head and whisper with a hint of insecurity. “I am not scary. I never wanted to be scary to people. I’m just a girl.”

Cregan’s eyebrows knit together and he follows your gaze as you avert them to hide the tears that well in your eyes.

“I know, but you are Targaryen, you ride a dragon, you wield a sword, and now you walk through fire without being harmed; the people will always fear the unknown, and you know your subjects should always hold a little fear for you while also holding respect and love,” he says to try and console you.

“I know,” you share with a vulnerability that comes easy when you’re speaking to him. “I know I have to strike fear in people, but I never wanted it. Not truly. I embrace it now, I relish in it, but isn’t it easier to love us? My mother, me, and my family? Why do they prefer war and death over letting her take her rightful place? Why do they push her over the edge?”

Cregan’s eyes flicker down to your hand, letting his hand slide over yours before his eyes find yours again and he gives you an answer. “Unfortunately it’s the way people are. They’re ignorant and close-minded, thinking a certain sex is better than another when it’s not true. It’s the way the world works, but it can change. Your mother can prove that. You can too. And if they still don’t want to see that then they can continue to lead themselves to death, or deal with it when she officially sits on that throne.”

Your ache eases and a soft smile slowly spreads on your lips. Cregan watches you, watches your smile, and takes a deep breath, letting his overdriving emotions push him forward.

However, before he can close the gap before the wetness of his lips can connect to yours, and before you can pull your head away, he keeps still and lets the warmth of his lips radiate over yours, letting his desire build but not give in.

“Cregan,” you whisper as you slowly cup his jaw. “Aemond just died yesterday.”

He gives you a nod that’s almost ghostly as he repeats what you just said. “Your husband just died. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes go small as you offer him a sweet smile. “I can’t truly give you what you want, what you have been longing for, and what I myself have desired. Not right now,” you say honestly.

Cregan lets out a deep sigh and lets his head drop, but you quickly give him some reassurance by tilting your head down to press your forehead against his. “We waited this long, we can wait a while longer, no?” You try to comfort him. “My path and my heart all lead to you, just give me time. Please.”

Cregan slowly presses his hand over yours, being quick to stroke your knuckles with his thumb before he draws in a breath to speak his mind.

Yet before he can utter a word, branches snap in the distance; yanking you apart from each other, and turning your heads away from one another to play as if nothing is happening. When the noise turns to an intruder you stand up and face Addam.

“Addam,” you greet with a pleased smile.

He doesn’t return it though. He looks at your body drenched in water and wrapped with a simple cloth before his eyes drift to Cregan and lets a displeased look start to mingle on his features.

“Someone arrived for you,” he reveals and peels his eyes away from Cregan slowly standing on his feet to focus on you and search for an answer without speaking a word about it.

“Who?” You probe with worry. “Is it news?”

Addam points to the direction of the camp. “Why don’t you come and see.”

You challenge him so he can reveal who it is, but he doesn’t give in, thus making you let out a deep breath before you take Blackfyre and walk ahead, knowing he and Cregan will trail behind you without needing to be told. However, Addam quickly gets behind you so the Lord isn’t any closer to you than he already was when he found you.

“Here,” he interjects and takes the sword from you so you don’t have to be carrying the heavy thing around when it’s not necessary—“why didn’t you tell me you were coming out here? I was worried.”

You sigh and peer over your shoulder. “Sorry, I just didn’t want to wake you that’s all. It was early.”

“The twins?” He asks making Cregan pay close attention—“are they bothering you?”

“They’re getting too big so they’re growing restless,” you share as you rub your belly. “Besides Daenys is always on time, she wakes up at the same time every morning.”

Addam scoffs and you catch him rolling his eyes at the fact that you call your unborn children by their names. Even though you shouldn’t know their gender yet.

“What?” You press teasingly and stop briefly to instead walk side by side. “Spit it out.”

“There’s no way for you to know what you’re expecting,” he utters the same bullshit as always. “You’re just getting yourself excited over what can be a boy.”

You smile as you roll your head to the side and once again repeat the same thing you already told him just yesterday. “I told you, Alys told me—well she told Aemond, and he told me, but she is not wrong.”

“Just like the witch is not wrong about your seven children?” He mocks you but you don’t ever back down, you nod confidently.

“I have one, and two on the way,” you argue. “That makes three. I just need four more.”

“I wouldn’t entertain it,” Cregan interjects, jumping on Addam’s side. “She loves her witches.”

You throw your arms out. “You say that like it’s a bad thing!” You exclaim. “Why don’t either of you believe in them when dragons and Green Men exist?!”

Addam shakes his head and argues. “Green Men are different. Protectors. Alys has lived in the depths of the forest alone for far too long. She’s mad.”

You shake your head and get ready to defend her but Cregan jumps in too. “And your Red Priestess is a part of a cult. Fanatics who only scam you.”

You roll your eyes and don’t let them dim your beliefs, you bite back. “The Red Priestess did not take my money first of all. She took my blood in exchange for a vision of my future. She approached me, and Alys helped me in the same way the Green Men helped you, Addam.”

He hums and nods his head lightly, telling you he doesn’t believe you, so you continue.

“She let me see the same thing the Red Priestess showed me in the fire, a long winter carrying the dead with it…”

Cregan stiffens at the sound of the words he heard you speak only months before. And like before you carry the same passion and belief behind your words.

“It can be an illusion. A lie to frighten you,” Addam rebuttals, but you hold his gaze and stand your ground, sharing more than you should have.

“It was not a lie because he told me,” you say and come to a stop, making both men stop to hang onto every word with intent—“my son. Not Aerion, and not either of the twins. And before you cut in with something witty, I know. Who wouldn’t know their own son? He was as clear as you are now, with deep grey eyes and dark hair…”

Cregan’s gaze narrows in confusion and more wonder than ever before.

“With a melancholy look, he shared what he knows. He told me about the long winter. He told me and I believe him and in turn, I believe Alys. So yes there is a way for me to know what my twins are. That’s all I know. Everything they told me is all I’ll ever know and I’ll cherish it.” You finish confidently before you turn away to continue walking down your path before they can ask questions. And even though they’re both itching to question you—Cregan, more than Addam; neither man speaks on the matter, choosing a stunned silence over speaking their minds. Thankfully.

Soon thereafter nevertheless, you reach the campgrounds and follow Addam to who’s waiting for you, catching a growing crowd of men already gawking and whispering about your visitor which in turn heightens your curiosity.

“Make room for the princess,” a man announces, forcing the crowd to break apart and clear a path toward the visitor. However, once the path is clear and leads you to your visitor, you come to a stop and drop your jaw out of surprise when you see Ser Cane Clegane is the one who came in search of you. He is the one standing in the middle of the crowd, and he is the one you face. Your sworn protector.

“Ser Cane,” you gasp and attempt to smile, but it comes out wobbly as you’re struck with disbelief, joy, and appreciation.

“Princess,” he immediately greets and bows to you, causing you to watch him so he wouldn’t get out of sight because a part of you believes he’s some illusion. It’s just…his arrival is a surprise. That’s why when he stands up straight and your eyes immediately fall on his gaze, you ask the overwhelming question.

“What are you doing here, Ser? So far from home?”

Ser Cane walks toward you and stops when he reaches a good and respectable distance to give your question an obvious answer. “Once I heard you left in a hurry, I came after you. I arrived at Harrenhal and the woman told me you had left so, I rode all night to catch up to you.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and feel your eyebrows knit together for a brief second before your face eases and all you can express is disbelief. “You came after me?” Your voice cracks, making him look at you as if you just asked the most stupid question in your life, because why wouldn’t he come after you?

“I made the mistake of not going to find you before and you got held captive. You of course fought back and freed yourself,” he chuckles with a sense of pride. “But I never want you to be put in that situation again. Not while I’m still alive. I am your sworn protector, my duty is to protect you, my duty is to follow you to the ends of the earth until my last breath. That’s what I will do.”

Your breath hitches as your heart skips a beat. That look of appreciation that you hold on your face turns to sweet admiration and before he knows it you rush to him to surprise him with an embrace. And as caught off guard as he is, he doesn’t leave you hanging, he gently wraps his arms around you and lets you take the time you need, which isn’t a lot, but he still doesn’t rush you, letting you pull away first.

“Where’s Ser Jason?” You ask for your other sworn protector.

“I left him protecting the little lord,” he says and gives your mind and heart relief.

“Good, thank you.” You offer him kindly before you step back and turn around to move to the side and present him. “Lord Stark, this is my sworn protector, Ser Cane Clegane. Ser Cane this is Lord Cregan Stark.”

Ser Cane bows his head, and Cregan offers him a gentle nod as a greeting.

“And these are the men we are fighting with,” you introduce the knight to the crowd growing smaller and smaller now that they know who arrived.

Ser Cane offers anyone who is still lingering around a stiff nod before he gives you his attention.

“You must be tired of riding, so once a tent is set up you will find some rest. That’s an order,” you blurt before he can argue. “Ser Addam can watch out for me for today. Alright?

Ser Cane sighs as he’s left unable to even lift a finger to argue back.

“Tomorrow morning you may get up whenever you need to start your watch,” you ease his worry. “And if you do want to know to ease your heart, today we will just have a brainstorming meeting to figure out what to do, okay? Nothing grande.”

He hums and nods in comprehension before his eyes drift ahead. “Lord Stark, may you direct me to the commander in charge of your guards?” He interjects in an attempt to do the work he can while he’s on his short leave. “I would like to set up a watch for the night shift to stand outside the Princess’ tent.”

Cregan, the ever-so-protective friend, doesn’t hesitate to indulge the knight’s request. “Right this way Ser.”

Said man returns his attention to you and bows his head. “If you may excuse me Princess I will now go pick guards to protect you. If you don’t require any more of my attention that is.”

You shake your head. “No, that is all, I’m sure Lord Stark can share the inner workings of our camp and have someone give you a tent so you can rest. I mean it Ser.”

“Of course, I will, my Princess. Rest assured.”

You smile at him and grab his arm to give it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for coming after me, my friend. I’m

Thankful and glad you’re here.”

“Always,” he says in return with a surprisingly softer tone. “I am glad I found you.”

Your smile widens and you grow even more fond of your knight, choosing to watch him and Cregan walk off together and jump right into a conversation.

“May I ask you something?” Addam’s sudden intrusion surprises you, and when you look over at him you see his gaze locked on Cregan before he finds you with a curiosity you quickly dissect and know what it’s going to lead to.

“I’m going to change,” you cut him off before he can utter a word, and then turn swiftly to march to your tent.

“Wait!” Addam blurts and walks after you. “It's just a question.”

——

*LATER*

“The goal is clear; we march to the great and small houses of the Riverlands to have them gather fighting men to join us in our fight against the Greens in Tumbleton,” Addam shares what he’s been brainstorming. “That may not have many to spare but the numbers they can spare will still aid us in our fight.”

The men pass each other confused looks, and when they return their attention to Addam, one of them interjects with an argument. “The terror of the Trident is dead and…no offense, but you are considered a traitor to everyone who isn’t us, and,” he pauses and glances over at you. “The princess has been passing the war flying between enemy lines doing as she pleases. The houses of the Riverlands will not spare their few remaining men for…a chance.”

“Mind yourself My Lord, the Princess, and Ser Addam are not some common folk you may speak to as you please,” Cregan cuts in and steps forward so he can be seen and understood.

“It’s alright, My Lord,” you ease the tension and continue for Addam in a much rougher way than he was speaking. “It’s true. It may be difficult for us to gain their trust, but when we ask them they won’t hear the same speech we gave you. We will offer them kind terms or I will offer them fire and blood.” You flash them a smirk.

The men go uneasy at the sound of the threat that slips so easily off your tongue, and as your eyes scan their tensing bodies whilst you push your chair back. Addam helps you to your feet, but he proceeds to go on for you, letting you be an intimidating figure instead.

“If they don’t have men to spare we won’t force them to fight, but if they do it’s them that we will need. It’s why we need to march to the Houses we can, so we can have a chance at succeeding. This fight won't be won alone. It will take all of us.”

Addam’s words are kinder so some of their tension eases off their shoulders, but that threat you made still lingers in their heads, showing more distrust for you than the man next to you as they take you as some mad Targaryen.

“Very well,” another lord cuts in. “I assume we depart at once, no?”

Cregan is the one who answers this time, giving an answer only he knows since you are still getting to know the army of men. “At first light. So prepare to leave.”

The men around the table all offer him a comprehensive nod and soon thereafter one of them leans towards the wooden table to add something before the meeting can conclude. “What of the prisoners? The men who fought with Ser Criston? We can’t keep bringing them with us, can we? What is the solution for them?”

“I say we kill them and deliver their bodies to the Hightower army and the daring Prince. Show them that they still have not killed our spirit,” a young boy no older than Lucerys had been, offers a very loud and quite gruesome solution.

Yet it’s because of his bold offer that an idea comes to you.

“I have a solution,” you say and make them start to wonder. “Get all the prisoners out of their cells and gather them in the clearing.”

The men don’t move, they look to Cregan for permission and he himself doesn’t have an idea of what you have planned, but he doesn’t need to know, he trusts you so he raises his voice to scold the men. “You heard the Princess, gather the prisoners. She should not repeat herself.”

This time the men rise out of their seats and some do as you ordered, while others leave to gather men so they can all watch what’s about to transcend, leaving you, Addam, and Cregan in the tent.

“Call to Seasmoke,” you let Addam know as you turn and face him, catching the confusion flicker on his face.

“Why?” He asks.

“Do it, but don’t have him appear in the clearing just yet. I don’t want the men to be frightened,” you make him even more confused, but he doesn’t question you. He just brings up a question.

“How do I let him know when to appear and when not to?”

You flash him a smile and tap his chest with your fist. “It all comes from here,” you say and keep your fist pressed against his chest. “That’s how we communicate with our dragons. Our souls are intertwined. Listen.” You share as you pull your hand away and let it fall back on your side before you walk away with Cregan by your side.

Yet it’s only once you’re out of the tent that he finally probes. “What are you planning to do?”

You blink and turn to look at him at your side. “I know some of those men. I did not know them for long at all, but the moments we did share I got to garner some of their respect. And we need men.”

Cregan scoffs and the corner of his lips twitch to a smirk, but he doesn’t let it stay.

“Besides,” you add and look ahead again. “The men in there don’t respect me. They fear me because of my dragon, because of the rumors they heard, but besides their fear, I also need their respect as a warrior.”

“And you think what you have in mind will gain it?” Cregan asks out of curiosity.

You sigh. “If I could gain it another way I would take that route, but we are at war, and I am their commander. I need them to respect me like they respect you and the rest of the men here.”

Cregan hums and you let your gaze linger on nothing in particular before you turn your head to him. “You trust me?”

Cregan’s grey eyes find your gaze and he looks into you as if there isn’t an obvious answer to your question. He looks at you expecting you to know the answer, but you have been away from him for a long time, you’ve changed since the last time you saw him. And letters weren’t going to show that, but he sees that now so you need to hear his answer.

“I do. Whatever choice you make.” He reassures your worried heart.

You let out a relieved sigh and nod in comprehension, letting your gaze linger on each other so you’re all each other sees, so you’re all each other can think about to the point he remembers a matter he needs to get off his chest.

“May I ask you something?” He brings up, causing you to blink out of your daze.

“Of course,” you assure him with a nod before you look away.

Cregan clears his throat first before he probes. “This vision you had about your son. What was his name? What…was he like?”

Shit, you shared too much before, didn’t you?

Well, the boy did have grey eyes, a strong chin, and this solemn look Cregan carries too, but can you be sure he's his? What if all you do is get his hopes up for something that might not be his?

“What I shared is all I know,” you say without sharing your assumptions so you don’t hurt him in the process. “It was only a short vision. He said we would meet each other again.”

Cregan’s eyes stay on you for a second longer before he looks away, letting you now take your turn to look at him while he’s not looking. “You believe me now?” You tease him, making his lips flicker a smile on his features before he shrugs.

“I would be foolish not to wouldn’t I?” He says.

“Not really. More logical than anything else.”

He turns to face you with the corner of his lips turning up for a second before nothing else is added to the matter and silence seeps through as you head to the clearing.

Once you arrive at the clearing, you wait on top of a small hill that faces the clearing and wait for the prisoners to be rounded up, and a crowd to gather before you commence and finally feed the curiosity of all the men gathered before you.

“It's a surprise to see my face on the other side of this war, isn’t it?” You start off by saying with your hands clasped before you, your shoulders straight, and your nose pointed to the air—“not long ago we roamed the same campsite. Not long ago you followed the orders of my husband and his men, but now my husband and his men are dead,” you share without having your voice break. “And I stand before you. The ones who lived. You are captured but you are still alive and for that I applaud you.”

The crowd of men look at you lost, not knowing where you’re taking this gathering.

“As well as offer a way to stay alive,” you say and create a tension amongst the Rivermen and the Northerners. “As the heir to Queen Rhaenyra, and as your princess I will grant you the choice to bend the knee to Queen Rhaenyra, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, because I know you. I know how brave some of you are. I know some of you are respectful, and some of you were just doing what you were told after you got ripped from your homes, from your families, and from your lives to be given a sword and shoved to fight for a usurper you don’t believe in. I know some of you know nothing else but to fight, and to those, to all of you. I say bend the knee,” you sneer and look at them between your lashes.

Whispers travel throughout the crowd gathered around the prisoners, while some of the prisoners themselves look at one another to question what they have in mind before they mirror each other and bend the knee. Yet as some bend the knee without question, others remain defiant and stick out like a sore thumb as they remain standing.

“Very well,” you interject once everyone has made up their minds. “Round up half of the men left standing and the other half take them back to their cells,” you demand and right away the young lord from before is the first to bark orders at his men before he joins them and eagerly rounds up the defiant prisoners to the side, leaving those on their knees where they are and as they are. And since you don’t have anything to say to them right now you turn to Addam.

“Come, it’s time. Call to Seasmoke,” you let him know ominously before you walk uphill a few paces to be able to face the men that were gathered to the side. Addam trails behind you but stops before he can catch up when he hears the rustling of trees, and the echoes of branches breaking before the fierce glare of a dragon appears from the shadows of the forest, stealing the breaths of the men you’re allied with and the prisoners alike, before they’re completely out of their skins when your purple dragon brings down the trees in her path and stands right behind you.

“Mercy,” one of the prisoners breathes out loud enough to be heard, but nothing is done, his wishes aren’t granted. The men that gathered them up move away, leaving them there in your dragon's direct aim.

“You want to stand with your broken king?” Your threatening voice fills the air as your dragon snarls and slowly pushes her neck out to have her head hover over you—“well, so be it. Let’s see if he saves you now.” You snicker, creating goosebumps on the men who were against you around that meeting table, but earning the respect that they failed to have for you then as you don’t fear the violence or the tough decision. You don’t look away from death, you face it. They respect that.

However, they have yet to see what you have to demonstrate, and you only wait for Seasmoke to descend from the skies, bringing a blast of air with him as he lands harshly behind Addam.

“Mercy!” Another prisoner cries out and gets on his knees now, but you don’t give him what he so desperately wants. What he had the chance to gain before.

“Dracarys,” you respond to his plea with the command and a hungry look in your eyes that matches your dragons before she leans more forward to have her head past you and open her jaw.

“Dr—Dracarys,” Addam proceeds to voice his own command, and unlike Astraea, Seasmoke moves forward, past Addam to face the prisoners before he and Astraea both bath the prisoners with fire, creating a song of cries and wails to ring through the clearing, and causing Addam to move away as waves of heat from the dragon fire hit him. All while you stay under Astraea and show that the heat doesn’t bother you. You don’t flinch or cry, the lively fire eating away at the bodies reflects in your ravenous eyes before you turn away as it all suddenly goes silent when the men turn to nothing but burnt corpses the dragons feast on.

“Now,” you don’t linger in the silence and start to walk off the hill. “You.”

When you’re on the same level as the men left on their knees you continue. “If you want to leave you may. No one will stop you and no one will harm you. Or if you wish to stay, do so, but know you will fight yet another war at Tumbleton against the Hightower army who have sacked the town. Against my uncle Prince Daeron,” you spat his name. “His dragon, and the turncloaks who regrettably call themselves dragonriders. If you stay, you fight with me, with Ser Addam, Lord Stark and his men, and the Lords of the Riverlands. Stay, and you fight for Queen Rhaenyra, you fight to bring peace to this treacherous war. You fight for your families, your homes, and your own lives. Stay, and fight if you want. Or leave.”

Silence is a common visitor and once again finds a place amongst the crowd as you all wait to see what they will choose.

And as you and a majority of the lords expect the men to get up and leave, the men get up on their feet and instead face you with a fiery determination. “Blood Dragon!” One man exclaims from the crowd of previous prisoners.

“Blood Dragon!” Another man echoes before more and more voice the same thing with more excitement, turning the cry into a chant that litters your skin with goosebumps.

No matter how many times you hear people chant for you, the excitement and dedication shared in a roar of excitement is something you will never get used to.

“Give the men tents,” you give a demand once you turn away from the cheering crowd. “Feed them, offer them warm baths, and give them new armor. They will now be one of us, treat them as such. If I see any mistreatment I will personally see to that punishment.”

“Princess,” a commanding knight says in comprehension.

Shortly thereafter, before you take a step to leave a Lord interjects. “What of the other men you left as prisoners?”

You face the Lord with a creeping smile and give him a simple answer. “Let’s see some fun before we depart.”

With no further explanation, you depart and leave confusion in the air. Confusion that turns to curiosity. And curiosity that gets fed when the sun is down and the stars and moon are in your company, giving light to the prisoners gathered in a makeshift ring in the clearing, and giving light to you and Addam along with Cregan as you sit on the hill that overlooks the scene below and attracts a rather excited crowd as everyone gathers the fact that you are going to make the prisoners fight.

“Greetings everyone!” You make your voice boom as you stand on the hill and face the crowd of men. “Thank you all for joining us tonight. As you all may know we depart in the morning, and it will be the start of a rather wary journey. I won’t lie. We need to ask the houses in the Riverlands for more of their help so we may be that last push we need to win this war. And it’s because of it that I offer a night of fun.” You announce and slowly start to smile a rather cynical smile.

“Place your bets,” you suggest as you clasp your hands together and begin to look eager. “Get a drink and watch these traitors fight in a battle to the death where only one gets to be free and pardoned for not bending the knee, and turning their cloak against Queen Rhaenyra.”

Murmurs travel through the crowd, smiles spread, excitement glimmers in the eyes of tired men, and the little money they have with them is passed around as bets are placed on the prisoners all gathered around the makeshift ring.

“With that said!” You exclaim and throw your arms out because of genuine excitement riddling your body. “Let. The. Fight. To the. Death. COMMENCE!” You make your voice travel out throughout the clearing before you bring your hands together with a clap to signal the start, making the crowd boom with the same excitement that you show off.

Yet that excitement that once overfilled you quickly dies when you sit back in your seat and glower at the fighting men with a piercing glare that glistens against the fire dancing on the torches by you and the three you trust the most, making you seem like a predator stalking their prey from the shadows where if you pay close attention, only their glowing eyes are seen before death becomes their acquaintance.

And the glowering glare works as a warning to the men you spared, letting them know that at any wrong turn, they make that could be them; fighting with every breath they have to try and come out the winner—if they weren’t turned into dragon fodder that is.

Furthermore, the ravenous glare that paints your features, and the sight of the fighting prisoners also works to let the other warriors and the doubtful commanders and Lords know that you aren’t to be trifled with. You don’t squirm at the sight of blood, but most importantly they see that you are someone they can respect and fight with, fight for. It’s an odd and rather bloody way to gain someone’s respect, but it’s because you provide the depleted men with entertainment that they don't see you so high above them. You’re still rather unreachable, but they don’t look at you and see the soles of your feet, they can meet your eyes now and that’s worth fighting for.

What of the men closest to you though? Addam, Ser Cane, and Cregan, what do they see?

Ser Cane sees it as something that has to be done, a way that will keep the fighting men fed from growing mentally wary. While Addam sees blood, bright and crimson red blood, and a rather tasteless sport that he doesn’t take pleasure in watching or see why you seem to enjoy it so much.

As for Cregan? Cregan sees a part of you he didn’t know. A rather cynical part of you, a part of you that stands up and claps with an impressed look in your eyes as a man spins down to avoid being struck, but fails to see his opponent spin down too until it’s too late and his throat is sliced open.

Past that though, he also sees the pain that hides past that smile spreading on your face. He sees the need for revenge flickering like a dancing flame in your eyes as you watch the men from Team Green fight with every fiber their bodies can muster in hopes they feel what Jacaerys felt as he took his last breath, or what Lucerys felt as he was crushed by the jaws of a dragon, what Viserys felt when he was lost at sea, the pain your mother has gone through, what your grandmother felt when she fell to her death, and what Aemond felt. He might have supported Aegon, but you still crave that the men fighting feel what he did when he was stabbed through his head. Cregan can see that thirst for blood, it’s so desperate for something, for a single drop, and yet it’s such a painful emotion.

It’s why he’s not any less fond of you. Then again even if you didn’t carry the agony in your eyes he still would feel the same way he feels burning within him now.

“I’m going to bed,” Addam announces as he gets up.

You pick your head up and turn to look at him. “Okay,” you don’t argue and bid him a sweet goodnight before you turn to Cregan.

“If only I could fight,” you whisper to him as you keep your eyes on the fight below. “It would be so much fun showing them what they deserve.”

Cregan eyes shift to you, you can feel his stare besides just seeing it from the corner of your eyes. “And you think this,” he says and points to the fight. “Display of violence will make them see that they were wrong?”

You spare him a glance but don’t look at him long, choosing to keep your eyes on the fight before you answer without as much as thinking of your response. “I’m not making them fight to death in hopes they see their wrongs. I’m making them fight because it’s what they deserve. What use would they have in cells? What would rotting in a cell do?” You slowly start to grimace, proving to Cregan what he already knew. “They had it coming.”

“They had it coming” echoes in Cregan’s mind, and as he hears yours words echo over and over again, he hopes that your pure visceral anger beneath the surface of your grief and sorrow doesn’t find a way out or else may the gods bless your enemies left with a beating heart because he sees it, he hears that pure visceral anger wanting to break out and be the only dominating emotion.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Maybe two or three full chapters of cregan before another battle!

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[grogumaximus]

[fanfics4all]

Forgiveness

Request: Yes / No Fluffcember Day 26!

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 737

Warnings: Just happy caring fluff!

Prompt(s): Forgiveness

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

*Draco’s POV*

Diagon Alley felt different in the winter twilight… softer, quieter, as if the bustling energy had finally dulled, leaving behind a muted calm that clung to the cold air. The lanterns cast warm pools of light against the cobblestone streets, and as I walked alone, my hand buried deep in my coat pockets, I found myself drifting in thought. 

It had been years since the war ended, but memories of that time lingered like ghosts. Regret clung to me, a constant silent companion that kept me in the shadows even now, years after Hogwarts and the battle that changed everything. I was no longer Draco Malfoy, the self-assured Slytherin prince; I was just a man trying to rebuild a life from the fragments left in the wake of all I’ve done. I became so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn’t see her until she called my name. 

“Draco?” I froze, the sound of my name jolting me out of my thoughts. Turning, I found myself face-to-face with her. She was in my year at Hogwarts, but we never spoke much back then, only in passing. Yet, she was unforgettable. Her eyes held a kindness I didn’t deserve, her expression soft as she stood there, her hands tucked into her coat. 

“Hello.” I forced myself to meet her gaze. I wasn’t quite sure what she was doing talking to me, of all people. 

She took a small step closer and though I expected anger and judgment I’d long since grown used to, her face held none of that. Just a quiet understanding that made me more uncomfortable than anything. 

“Are you… doing well?” She gently asked. I almost scoffed at the question, but caught myself, nodding instead. 

“As well as I can be, and you?” I replied, the words sounding stiff even to me. 

“I’m alright, thank you. Just picking up a few things.” She answered, het face brightening a bit. She held up a small bag, and we fell into silence, neither of us quite sure how to continue. Yet, she didn’t move and her gaze remained steady on me, as if she was waiting for something. 

“Listen…” I began, shifting uncomfortably. 

“I know what you must think of me, what everyone thinks of me… and I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me. I know I deserve it.” The worlds were out before I could stop them, blunt and honest in a way I rarely allowed myself. She didn’t flinch or look away. Instead, her expression softened and she took a step forward. 

“I know you’ve been through a lot, we all have… and I can’t pretend to understand everything you went through, but…” She paused as if searching for the right words. 

“I just wanted you to know that I don’t hold it against you, any of it.” I looked down at the ground, the familiar guilt and shame brewing inside me. 

“You should hold it against me… everyone should…” I said, bitterness creeping into my tone despite myself. She shook her head, her voice soft yet firm. 

“I don’t believe that people can change. I believe you were just as trapped as everyone else.” Her words hung in the air, cutting through the tension like a knife, but in the best possible way. I forced myself to look up, meeting her eyes. 

“Why are you saying this? Why forgive me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. 

“Because holding onto the past won’t change anything, Draco. You did things you regret, I can see that. Yet here you are, trying to move forward like everyone else.” 

It was almost too much to take in. All this time, I’d been ready to face the sneers and the disgust, but forgiveness? I never thought it possible, not from anyone outside my family, let alone from her. 

“Thank you…” I managed to say, feeling a weight lift ever so slightly. Her forgiveness loosened the chains of guilt I’d been carrying all these years. She offered a small smile, and it was enough to make the cold, empty street feel just a bit warmer. 

“You don’t have to thank me, just remember that you’re not alone, okay?” I nodded, unable to find any words. 

“Perhaps we could get a drink, maybe catch up?” She asked and I gave her a small smile. 

“I’d like that…”

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @in-slytherin-we-trust @accio-rogers @sambucky8 @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @vanessa-kom-skaikru @impulse-anchor @psamathegoesrawr @nighttimemoonlover @liz-owl @dracoswhvre​

[vhvrs]

guy who is so not worried n just goofin

[teenytinyapprentice]

lots and lots of teddy bears 🧸💙

I still have my childhood teddy bear that I adore... I inherited him from my older brother, who decided a few days in he didn't want him, and he had already named him "Master Teddy" - so I was to be this teddy bears butler. A prestigious role for a little kid ... anyways I call him Ted for short

[itspkuwu]

26. yes.

[kattabuse]

i hate men

[onceuponastory]

the day i lost you - bucky barnes x reader

Still remember how you taste Somewhere in the bitter and the sweet dream Do you think of me standing in a summer haze? When we were gonna be okay? - january rain by PVRIS

Plot: In the aftermath of The Blip and her boyfriend Bucky turning to dust, Y/N finds a voicemail from him... sent the day she lost him. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death, or at least Bucky is presumed dead (obviously we know Bucky isn't dead but we all thought he was after Infinity War, let's be honest) and grief. And of course, some angst. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is for @whumptober Day 24. I used the prompt: "Goodbye Note". I also combined it with the @angstober "The Day I Lost You" prompt. I was once again sad and listening to PVRIS as I wrote this, so now you can be too :)

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Stepping over the threshold into her apartment, Y/N drops her bags to the floor with a tired groan. The rain still pounds down outside, the sound echoing through the building. As a personal assistant to Tony Stark himself, Y/N’s working life is extremely busy. And since The Blip, she’s busier than ever, constantly being pulled into meetings with little time for herself. For the past few weeks, she’s been away at a conference with the surviving Avengers, working on a solution to The Blip. This is the first time she’s had to breathe in about a year. And that also means it’s the first time she’s been home since it all happened, since her boyfriend and some of her best friends turned to dust.

And she’s never felt so alone.

Of course, Y/N knows that dating an Avenger, let alone the Winter Soldier himself, comes with its own risk. Especially the risk he may never come home. But although it’s always been at the back of her mind, seeping into her every thought whilst he’s away on a mission… Bucky came back safe so many times that the worry dissipated. Foolishly, she believed he was indestructible, and that he’d always come home to her.

Until he didn’t.

Tears spring at her eyes then, and she furiously tries to wipe them away. She’s done enough grieving over the last year. Enough hoping that he’s coming back, only to end up disappointed. There’s only so much pain you can take before you can’t go on anymore. And Y/N crossed that line a long time ago.

The red light on her answering machine blinks back at her, and she sighs, rubbing her temples and closing her eyes, hoping that when she opens them, the light will be gone. But no matter how hard she tries, it’s still there, and she groans. The last thing she wants to hear right now is more “I’m sorry to hear about Bucky” and “We understand how much it hurts, but he’s in our thoughts.” Nobody will ever understand how much it hurts. Even the other Avengers. 

Because Bucky isn’t just in her thoughts. He’s everywhere. He still occupies the empty space in her bed, his laughter still fills the halls, his singing echoing from the shower. He’s the whisper in the wind, the faint scent of his cologne whenever she enters a room, and that still clings to her clothing like a safety blanket. He’s the shiver up her spine, the faint feeling of a hand holding hers, an arm wrapped around her waist.

It’s like he never even left.

Y/N presses the button, bracing herself for the onslaught of messages to come. “Hey sweetheart. It’s me-” As soon as she hears her mother’s voice, Y/N deletes the message. She’ll deal with her and her incessant questions later. She means well, of course, they all do. But the last thing she wants is to be pestered, reminded of her pain over and over again. They may mean well, but there’s nothing they can do. There’s nothing anyone can do. The other message is boring, a message about her car’s extended warranty that gets deleted almost immediately.

But when she hears the voice in the next message, she collapses to her knees. “Hey doll.” Bucky speaks. It's the first time she’s heard his voice - actually heard it - since he left. As soon as she hears him speak, she can see the smile on his face, and hear the laughter in his tone. Her presence always brought a smile to Bucky's face, even on his worst days. Because he loves her. …Loved her.

Hearing Bucky’s voice again, so soon after losing him, causes all her pent-up emotions to erupt, a year's worth of pain spilling over. As the first of her sobs break through, Bucky’s voice continues. “Just checking in to see how you are and keep you updated. Steve and the others are here…”

“Why didn’t I answer the call? I could’ve stopped them!”

“... and we have a game plan now to stop this asshole. Before you know it, I’ll be back home in New York with you, my favourite girl.” Her chest heaves, and she sobs even harder. “I miss you so much, though. The guys keep pestering me about it, but I don’t care. I love you, Y/N, and I want the entire world to know.” That sends her over the edge. A painful, anguished wail rips through her, the sound filling the room. Y/N’s full body shakes, and she clutches at her chest. “I hope you’re doing well and staying out of trouble.” Bucky chuckles. “Keep me updated. But I’ll see you soon enough, anyway.” 

“Why didn’t I answer? Why didn’t I answer?!”

“I better go, Steve’s shouting at me. Think the mission is about to start.” 

Y/N sits up, trying to grab the phone to dial Bucky’s number and tell him she’s still here, that she still loves him. Hoping that he’s there on the other side, waiting for her.

“Bye doll. See you soon. Love you always.” And then, the line goes dead, the dull beeping noise going right through her. Picking up the phone, she dials Bucky’s number, holding it to her ear as her heart pounds.

“Please… please…” she begs. "Just answer me Bucky... please."

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Hey! This is Bucky. I can’t talk right now, and I don’t really know how these things work.” He chuckles, the sound forming a small glimpse of warmth in her belly, and Y/N even laughs softly too. She was there when he recorded that message, her best efforts to teach him the wonders modern technology still not sinking in. Not that it matters now, though. None of it does. She just wants him back. “So I guess if you leave a message, I’ll call you back?”

And he always called her back. Even if it was a day, a week or even a month late. Bucky always called her back. But he won’t call back. Not this time. 

She tries to speak, to say something, anything, to Bucky's voicemail. If there's even a chance he could hear it, she wants him to know how much she loves him, and how much she misses him. Yet she can't say anything through her tears.

When the call disconnects, Y/N sinks to her knees, huddling into a ball as the sobs rack through her entire body. 

She’s alone again. 

And she always will be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[misscherry-26]

Adventures at the grocery store

Pairing: CEO!Ari x Wife Reader x Daughter! Marie Levinson

Summary: Ari is in charge of getting you some ingredients you need and heads to the grocery store with Marie...He thinks it will be easy...

Warnings: None. Pure love. Fluff. Cute.

Tag list is open!! Let me know in the comments!!

Asks and requests for this series are open.

The Levinson's Masterlist

No proofread. All mistakes my own. Let me know your thoughts about this after reading. Enjoy!!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“We only need to get what’s on the list mommy gave us, Okay?” Ari reminds to his daughter as he sits her on the child’s sit on the cart. 

Lil Marie laughs—almost mischievously, thinks Ari as he steps inside the store. He remembers your words from earlier:

“Only get what’s on the list Ari, nothing more, nothing less.”

But as he sees his daughter claps her hands happily, he shakes off the words from his mind. 

It won’t be that hard…

Usually, it’s you who gets in charge of getting the groceries for the house, you don’t mind it, you like to spend hours in the store, viewing each aisle. You actually came here so often that the employees at the store already know you and Marie. 

You already did the big grocery shopping of the month to stock the house, but today you wanted to bake some cookies—chocolate cookies—but you ran out of some ingredients. Kind of a lazy day, you sent Ari to get them for you—your sweet daughter tagging along. 

“Now, let's see what mommy wants” reads the first ingredient. “Chocolate chips”

Marie claps her hands and giggles “yay!”  

Ari grins. “See? This is going to be easy.” 

He wheels the cart toward the baking aisle, and after grabbing the chocolate chips, they make their way down the next aisle. Marie’s eyes immediately light up.but Marie’s eyes catch something on the way—a display of peanut butter of all brands and kinds. 

“Daddy! Pea’butt’r!” she squeals, pointing at the peanut butter

Ari hesitates. “That’s not on Mommy’s list.”

Marie looks at him with wide eyes, pouting slightly. “Pea’butt’r on ‘poons!”

Ari can’t resist her pleading expression. “Alright,” he sighs, grabbing one and adding it to the cart. “But don’t tell Mommy, okay?”

Marie giggles. “pea’butt’r!”

They move on, but as they pass another display, Marie gasps and points again.

“Daddy! Look! Unic’orn cere’al!”

Ari looks at the colorful box with a skeptical smile. “Unicorn cereal?”

“Yesss! Pwetty col’rs!” Marie insists.

Ari raises an eyebrow, but before he can say anything, she’s already bouncing in her seat, excitedly holding up her hands. “Pwease, Daddy!”

“Okay, okay,” Ari says, shaking his head. “One box of unicorn cereal. But that’s it.” He adds it to the cart, and they move on to the next aisle.

As they continue through the store, every aisle seems to spark another request from Marie.

“Daddy, we need more crack’rs!” she says, pointing to a shelf full of boxes.

Ari glances at the list. “We’ve got crackers at home…”

“Pwease! Da fun shapes!” Marie begs.

Ari looks at the box with fish-shaped crackers and finally gives in. “Fine.”

Finally, as they near the checkout, Marie spots the last thing on her list: a big, fluffy teddy bear on a nearby shelf.

“Daddy! Bear! Mine!” she exclaims, her hands reaching out to grab it.

Ari looks at the bear, and then at the cart full of goodies he didn’t exactly plan on buying. He feels a pang of guilt.

“We don’t need a bear, sweetie,” he says gently.

Marie’s bottom lip quivers, and she looks up at him with those big, pleading eyes. “Pwease, Daddy?”

Ari looks down at her, sighs, and with a defeated grin, grabs the bear off the shelf. “Okay, okay. You win. One bear.”

Marie cheers, her arms hugging the bear tightly as they make their way to the checkout.

When they finally get home, you’re waiting in the kitchen, apron on, and mixing bowl in hand.

“How’d it go?” you ask, trying to sound casual as you watch Ari struggle to carry in all the bags.

“Got everything you needed,” he says confidently, setting the bags on the counter. “And—”

Marie immediately holds up the teddy bear and shouts, “Wook, Mommy! Daddy got bear!”

You raise an eyebrow, then glance at the overflowing counter. “really? What happened to ‘just the list’ ?”

Ari shrugs sheepishly. “Well, she had a few requests…”

You can’t help but laugh as you look at the snacks and peanut butter. “I’m not sure whether to thank you or send you back for the things you forgot to get.”

“I swear, we just went to get what you needed baby,” Ari says, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But she’s a tough negotiator.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “Well, at least she’s well-stocked for the month."

[midiosaamor]

౨ৎ you with the dark curls,

belle.. 𝓢/her. june gemini. hispanic. aphrodites’ little girl. motorcycle lover. hopeless romanic. romantasy girlie. grayson hawthorne’s gf. silly gr. adrenaline’s #1 slut!! mascara + lip gloss. written by aurora and anastasia. feminine pink??? emo red??? girl boaf

★ ON THE SHELF! kingdom of the wicked.

★ PLAYING IN THE HEADPHONES! million dollar man.

★ WATCHING ON THE TV! silly christmas movies.

౨ৎ you with the watercolor eyes.

LINKS. in depth intro. pinterest. spotify. writing acc. good reads. list to boycott for palestine. whisper pinterest. daily clicks.

[ravenclod]

CRINGETOBER DAY 26: Y/N / MARY SUE

> so someone said we could do self-insertz for this prompt and since i never actually made one when i waz younger i decided to make one !! :D her designs v incomplete so her outfit will probably change but aaa here she is !!!

sorry for the late post was at a concert so couldnt finish on time >.<

the text reads :

name : raven

wish : [ scribbles ]

age : ?

weapon : not applicable

arms turn into wings instead of weapon, acts as a supporting character during fights, usually focuses on helping her teams health [ mental/physical ]

soul gem : ☆

main colour : white / brown

see through sleeves