#please enjoy their journey this fine morning))

[airandyeah]

Sins (Alpha Geto X Omega Gojo X Omega Reader) Part.20 (Finale)

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, fated mates, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club, where I just mark every chapter as 18+ Last part! Thank you to all of my readers and otherwise supporters, this has been a wild, fun, journey. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of my A/B/O series' and any of my other fics/content. Thank you again, and have a nice day/night.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting the beach in hues of soft gold and warm orange. The sound of waves rolling against the shore mixed with the laughter of your children—your daughters, both just as mischievous as their father, and your son, a perfect mix of Suguru’s calm and your own stubbornness.

They ran through the sand, tiny footprints trailing behind them as they shrieked and giggled, chasing each other with seashells and splashes of water.

Satoru sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the blanket. "You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been this exhausted in my life. Even running a mafia wasn’t this hard."

Suguru snorted, reaching over to ruffle his white hair. "That’s because they’re your daughters. They’re just like you—loud, dramatic, and completely unhinged."

Satoru gasped, hand over his heart. "Excuse me? They have your little evil mastermind streak! I caught them plotting against me yesterday."

You smiled, watching your daughters tug your son along, making him the unwilling participant in whatever grand scheme they were planning. "At least our son is a little more level-headed," you mused.

Suguru hummed, tilting his head. "For now. Give him a few years with those two, and he’ll be just as bad."

Satoru grinned, sitting up to kiss your temple. "At least they’re cute," he murmured.

You leaned into him, eyes soft as you watched the three of them shriek with laughter, chasing each other through the surf.

"They’re perfect," you whispered.

Suguru sighed contentedly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the three of you sat together, watching the sunset and the little family you had built—one that would always, always be full of love.

Nanami had grumbled for weeks about their decision, sighing heavily as he signed off on paperwork and handled the mess they left behind.

"I should have known you'd dump everything on me," he had muttered, rubbing his temples as Satoru grinned at him from across the table, completely unbothered.

"Come on, Nanamin, you were practically made for this job. You love rules, structure, all that boring stuff."

"That doesn’t mean I wanted to run the entire operation," Nanami shot back, exasperated. "You can’t just leave the mafia like it’s a hobby, Satoru."

Suguru had simply chuckled, patting Nanami’s shoulder. "You’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not like we’re leaving you completely alone—Shoko’s still here oh and Higuruma still stops by, and we trust you more than anyone else."

Nanami sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before muttering, "That doesn't make me feel better."

But in the end, he let them go.

Because for the first time in their lives, Satoru and Suguru wanted peace—real peace. They wanted quiet mornings and lazy afternoons, wanted to wake up beside you without worrying about blood on their hands.

They wanted to raise their family without the weight of their past looming over them.

And as you sat there now, watching your children play under the sun, listening to the soft laughter of your mates beside you, you knew they had made the right choice. ~~~ Satoru crossed his arms, sighing dramatically. "Alright, which one of you is going to explain why the cat is covered in paint?"

The twins, identical white-haired girls with guilty expressions, exchanged glances before looking at their younger brother.

The little boy, Suguru’s son, simply grinned—mischievous and far too pleased with himself. "It was an experiment."

"An experiment?*" Suguru arched a brow, tilting his head. "Go on."

The twins immediately started shaking their heads, their tiny hands flailing as they tried to protest. "No, no! Don’t listen to him, Papa! He’s lying!"

"Am not!" the boy shot back, puffing out his chest. "I just wanted to see if Moose would look cool with stripes like a tiger."

Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose, trying very hard not to laugh. "So you thought covering the cat in orange and black paint was the best way to do that?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "Uh-huh!"

"And you two?" Suguru turned his gaze to the twins, who suddenly seemed very interested in their feet. "Did you help?"

One of them—Satoru’s little copy through and through—huffed. "...Maybe."

The other twin pouted. "But it was his idea!" She pointed aggressively at her brother, who merely smirked.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "You guys do realize Moose is white, right? That’s not coming out easily."

From the corner of the room, Moose—your ever-suffering, patient cat—huffed loudly, looking absolutely done with life as he sat covered in streaks of orange and black.

Satoru finally broke, snickering as he leaned against Suguru. "You gotta admit, he does kinda look cool as a tiger."

"Satoru!"

"What? I’m just saying!"

You knelt beside the tub, sleeves rolled up as you worked a generous amount of dog-safe shampoo into Moose’s paint-streaked fur. The massive, long-suffering cat let out a low, grumbling sigh, clearly displeased with his predicament. You had to use dog shampoo just because it would power through more of the paint than cat shampoo-

"Oh, don’t be so dramatic," you muttered, rubbing at a stubborn patch of orange on his side. "It’s just a little paint. You’ve been through worse."

From beside you, Hime— His black cat girlfriend —sat perched on the edge of the tub, tail flicking as she watched over Moose like a concerned nurse. Every time one of the kids got too close, she let out a small, disapproving mrrp as if scolding them for their crimes.

"See? Even Hime knows you guys messed up," you said, glancing at the guilty trio of children who were each holding their own tiny washcloths.

"Sorry, Moose," one of the twins muttered, gently scrubbing at him.

"You still look kinda cool, though," her sister added under her breath, making her younger brother snicker.

Moose groaned, as if lamenting his fate.

You sighed, shaking your head fondly. "Alright, alright, let’s just get this over with before your fathers get back and start another interrogation."

The kids giggled at that, getting more into the task, their previous mischief momentarily forgotten.

As the warm water ran through Moose’s fur, slowly washing away the evidence of their little experiment, Hime stretched out a paw and delicately tapped his nose—perhaps her way of telling him it would all be over soon.

You smiled softly, watching them all.

Chaos and messes aside, you wouldn’t trade this life for anything. ~~~ Some days, you genuinely couldn’t decide what was worse—the kids or Satoru.

Like today.

"It was a perfectly reasonable idea," Satoru huffed, arms crossed as he sat on the kitchen counter like an oversized child who had just been scolded.

"You tried to teach them how to shoot a gun," you deadpanned, rubbing your temples as you pointed to the three giggling culprits, who had very nearly shot through the damn ceiling. "They’re barely out of their toddler years, Satoru."

"Exactly! Start ‘em young!" He grinned, ruffling one of the twins’ white locks. "How else are they gonna become prodigies?"

"Orphans," you corrected. "The word you’re looking for is orphans."

Suguru sighed from his place at the kitchen table, sipping his tea with the patience of a saint. "You should’ve seen him earlier," he muttered. "Tried to get them to do a ‘cool entrance’ like he does at work."

"And it would have been cool!" Satoru argued, waving his hands. "Until someone—" he shot a look at his son, "—decided to get ‘creative’ and ended up in the pantry instead."

The boy in question looked smug, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I was hungry."

You groaned, running a hand down your face. "I swear, sometimes I don’t know who’s worse—"

"Satoru," Suguru answered without hesitation.

"Hey!"

The kids cackled, clearly in agreement. Even Hime let out a small mrrp of approval from her perch.

You sighed, shaking your head. "I should’ve known this was a lost cause the moment I married you two."

Satoru beamed, pulling you into his arms. "And yet," he purred, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "you wouldn’t change a thing."

You wanted to argue. You really did.

But then you glanced at your family—at the kids giggling, at Suguru’s fond amusement, at Satoru’s unrelenting, ridiculous grin.

Yeah. You wouldn't change it for anything at all. ~~~ Nanami’s wife was a godsend.

There were days when the chaos of three little monsters—your three little monsters—became overwhelming, and just when you thought you’d lose your mind, she’d show up at your doorstep with that gentle smile and an offer that had you nearly in tears.

"I’ll take them for the day," she’d say, already bending down to scoop up one of the twins. "You three need some time to yourselves."

You didn’t argue. You couldn’t.

She was amazing with children, the kind of person who could calm even the most restless pup with a few soft words and a warm hug. And the kids adored her, always clamoring to spend time at “Auntie’s” house, where they were spoiled beyond belief. Even Nanami, as exasperated as he pretended to be, secretly enjoyed having them around.

So on those days, you, Suguru, and Satoru finally got to breathe.

To just be mates again, instead of parents.

Some days, it meant slow mornings in bed, tangled in sheets and warm limbs, making up for all the nights you had been woken by tiny voices calling for you. Other times, it meant sneaking away to a private dinner, hands clasped under the table, whispered confessions of love like you were still newly mated.

And sometimes—especially when Satoru was feeling particularly smug—it meant indulging in activities that reminded you just how you ended up with three pups in the first place.

No matter how you spent the time, by the end of the day, when you picked up your children—now full of stories and sleepy smiles—you were always grateful.

Grateful for Nanami’s wife.

Grateful for the love that surrounded you. On the rare days you had to yourselves, the three of you barely made it out of bed.

It always started the same way—waking up in a warm tangle of limbs, the weight of Suguru’s arm draped over your waist, Satoru’s face nuzzled into your neck. For once, there were no little feet kicking at your ribs, no tiny voices calling for breakfast, no urgent need to leave the safety of your nest.

And none of you were in any hurry to change that.

Satoru was the worst—shameless in his clinginess, wrapping himself around you like a second skin, murmuring about how you belonged here, right here, forever and ever. Suguru wasn’t much better, though he pretended to be—always the calm one, always composed—until you shifted just right and the deep rumble of his growl betrayed his restraint.

You weren’t any different.

It had been too long since the three of you had time to just be, without work, without pups, without the exhaustion of everyday life pulling you away from each other.

So, you took your time.

Soft kisses turned desperate, lingering touches became possessive, whispered words of love melted into needy pleas. They worshipped you—like they always did—Satoru all teasing smirks and breathy laughter, Suguru’s hands firm and steady, grounding you between them.

Hours passed—maybe more. You weren’t sure. Time had no meaning when you were here, wrapped up in them, drowning in their love.

By the time you finally surfaced from the haze, exhaustion pulling at your limbs, you knew the rest of the day would be spent much the same way. ~~~ It was a quiet afternoon when your oldest twin came home, all giggles and excitement, practically bouncing as she kicked off her shoes. You barely glanced up from the kitchen, distracted with dinner prep, but the moment the words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the apartment shifted.

"Mama! Guess what? I have a boyfriend!"

Silence.

A slow, creeping dread settled over you as you turned to look at your mates.

Suguru, who had been reading on the couch, had frozen mid-page, his grip tightening until the paper crinkled under his fingers. His eyes lifted, dark and unreadable, as he processed the words.

Satoru? Oh, Satoru lost it.

"A what?!" The chair he had been lounging in scraped harshly against the floor as he sprang up, dramatically clutching his chest as if he had been stabbed. "You’re six! What do you mean, you have a boyfriend?! Who is this little punk?! What’s his last name? His address?"

Your daughter blinked up at him, entirely unbothered. "I’m eight, Daddy. And his name is Haru! He’s really nice! He—"

"That’s it. We’re moving." Satoru spun on his heel, already reaching for his phone. "Suguru, pack the bags. We need to take our baby somewhere where boys don’t exist."

Suguru finally moved, standing up at his full height, the deep rumble of a very displeased Alpha filling the room. "What does this Haru look like?"

Your daughter, oblivious to her impending doom, just shrugged. "He has brown hair! And he gave me a juice box today! So now we’re dating!"

Satoru made a wounded noise. "Is that all it takes?! I’ve given you way more juice boxes than some random kid—do you know how many sweets I’ve snuck you behind your mama’s back?! Where’s my love?!"

"You’re already married to Mommy and Papa," she reasoned, rolling her eyes. "You don’t need a boyfriend."

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply through his nostrils like he was trying very, very hard to keep his composure. "We need to meet him."

"No, we don’t," you interjected, stepping in before things spiraled. "She’s eight. This is just a childhood crush, and you two are not going to scare some poor boy away just because he shared his juice box."

But neither of them looked convinced.

Satoru crossed his arms, scowling. "I want a background check."

"Satoru."

"Just a little one! Just a peek at his family records!"

Suguru nodded in agreement. "If he’s going to be around our daughter, we should at least know who he is."

"You’re both insane."

"We’re protective," Satoru corrected. "There’s a difference."

Your daughter huffed. "You guys are overreacting. Haru is really nice! He said my hair clip was pretty today!*"

Suguru growled.

Satoru snapped his fingers. "That’s it. We’re sending her to an all-girls school."

"We are not sending her to an all-girls school," you sighed, rubbing your temples.

Your daughter, meanwhile, seemed unbothered, skipping toward her room as if she hadn’t just shattered her fathers’ worlds. "I’m gonna call Haru! He said we can play games together!"

As she disappeared down the hall, Suguru sat back down with a heavy sigh, while Satoru slumped dramatically against you. "Baby, this is horrible. We weren’t ready for this."

You rolled your eyes, but you let him bury his face in your neck, his distress comical. "She’s a child, Satoru."

"Yeah, well, she’s our child," he muttered. "And no little brat is stealing her from us."

Suguru was already on his phone, searching. "Haru, huh? Let’s see what we’re working with."

"You two are not stalking a child."

They didn’t answer.

And suddenly, you knew—this was only the beginning. ~~~ It was as if one wasn’t bad enough.

One by one, all three of your children came home with news that had their fathers on the verge of absolute meltdown.

First, it was your eldest twin with Haru. Then, not to be outdone, her sister declared that she had a boyfriend now too—some boy named Daichi, who apparently shared his pudding with her at lunch. Pudding. That was all it took. Satoru nearly combusted on the spot.

And then, just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, your son, your baby boy, came home and casually mentioned that he had a girlfriend.

A girlfriend.

Satoru nearly flipped the dinner table. Suguru looked like he had been personally betrayed.

Your mate’s fork clattered onto his plate as he turned to your son with an expression so deeply unamused it could have frozen hell over. "What did you just say?"

Your son, the traitor, just kept munching on his rice like he didn’t just deliver the final blow. "I said, I have a girlfriend. Her name is Hina. She told me I was handsome, so we’re dating now."

Satoru made a choked noise. "That’s not how it works!"

"You two got together because Papa called you pretty," your son reasoned, utterly unfazed. "So I don’t see the difference."

Suguru visibly winced, while Satoru looked personally offended. "That’s completely different!"

"How?"

"Because I was an adult! You’re six—you don’t even know what a girlfriend is!"

Your son, deadpan, sipped his juice. "I do. It means she likes me the most."

"She likes you the most?!" Suguru finally spoke, his voice dangerously calm. "Who is this Hina? What’s her last name? Where do her parents work?"

"Oh my god," you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Not again."

Satoru, meanwhile, was on the verge of hysteria. "That’s it! The girls were bad enough, but now even our son is getting stolen?! This is an attack! This is a conspiracy! They’re trying to take all our babies from us!"

"It’s not that serious," you sighed.

"It’s worse," Satoru whined, grabbing you dramatically. "Our babies are growing up! It’s all downhill from here! Next, they’ll be sneaking out, then getting married, then—"

"Married?!" Suguru snapped, hands slamming on the table. "Over my dead body!"

Your son blinked at his fathers, then turned to you. "Are they okay?"

"No," you answered bluntly. "No, they are not."

Satoru groaned. "We should have had more kids. Just a few more. Then we’d still have some left when these ones abandon us."

"They are six and eight years old," you stressed. "No one is abandoning anyone."

"Yet," Satoru muttered darkly. "Yet."

Suguru exhaled slowly through his nose, clearly trying to collect himself, before he leveled his son with a look. "Listen to me, sweetheart. No dating until you’re at least thirty."

Your son frowned. "But Papa—"

"Thirty," Satoru repeated firmly. "Maybe thirty-five, if we’re feeling generous."

"That’s not fair," the boy pouted. "Hina says we’re going to get married one day, too."

Suguru let out a slow, dangerous hum. "Married?"

Your son nodded happily. "Yeah! She said I’m her soulmate, so we have to!"

Satoru collapsed.

Suguru stood up, rolling his sleeves like he was about to personally interrogate a six-year-old. "I need to have a word with her."

"You are not hunting down a child," you said, grabbing his arm before he could storm off.

"I just want to talk to her," Suguru lied.

Your son, bless his soul, just kept eating like he wasn’t fueling his fathers’ descent into madness.

Meanwhile, in the other room, the twins were playing with their dolls, completely ignoring the chaos they had created.

Satoru, face buried in his hands, let out a wounded sigh. "I’m too pretty to be this stressed."

"Oh, shut up," you muttered.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @purpleicing , mini-kunoichi , @gravity-valley , @jinjen , @c0quin , @makingtimemine , @asweetblueberry2 , @vyxte I think that's everyone who asked to be tagged, I apologize if I missed anyone!!! Perma-tags: @thenightperson

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

[entitled-fangirl]

Mind and Body.

Cregan Stark x chronic illness Targaryen!reader

Summary: Cregan visits King's Landing, spotting a princess who'd been hidden away due to her constant illness. He's enamored.

A/n: based on an ask!

Masterlist

...........................................

"Lord Stark," Alicent greeted. "How wonderful for you to journey so far."

There was an agreement for the Warden to visit every five years to ensure his loyalty to the Realm and vice versa. Not that King Viserys was ever worried about Cregan. But the North was far and it was important to each side to check on the development of the other.

"'Tis only my duty to the North," he answered. 

The two walked quietly to the council room. Viserys had quickly grown ill, so most business would be conducted there. When he was well enough to go.

Which meant Alicent and Otto were in charge of their meetings when the king was absent.

…

The initial greeting was pleasant, even if the king was slowly decaying in front of him.

But Cregan had been free to wander around the castle as their guest. The next talk of business would not be until the morning, so he decided to take advantage of that.

The sun was beginning to set, just a hint of the dark creeping onto King's Landing. Cregan stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Even their cold nights here were hotter than the chill of a warm Northern day.

"Princess, surely you should rest!"

His head snapped back towards the open doors behind him. His curiosity was beyond peaked. Princess Helaena was fine. He'd given her a brief nod and a polite acknowledgement hours ago.

And soon enough, a ghostly presence passed by the doorway. Cregan felt his breath catch.

Silver hair. Grey complexion. And a gown and cloak that dragged with every step.

He was struck.

Her guard followed behind, a resigned look in his eyes.

"I feel fine," her voice softly commented. It was weak, like she never used it.

As they journeyed down the corridor, the voices faded and Cregan found himself following them.

"You've still yet to regain your strength from your scare last week. You'll catch a chill," her guard reprimanded. His armor clunked together with each step, a reminder of the life he abided by.

She was like a gust of wind that chilled you from the bottom to top of your spine. And Cregan quite enjoyed the cold.

"I only wish to leave my chambers for a moment." Her movements were slow and lethargic, yet graceful and calculated. 

"You should have waited for me to gather your boots. I have no doubt the stone is freezing over. Please."

Cregan noted just how comfortable this guard was with telling the Princess off. They'd obviously gotten to know one another well.

She released a ragged sigh, pausing in her steps to look over her shoulder. "I-" She froze completely at the sight of Cregan behind them. She hadn't even heard him following, and he didn't make himself known.

Her guard followed her line of sight with ease, immediately moving into a defensive position at the sight of the large stranger.

"Forgive me," Cregan immediately covered, holding his hands out to show he wasn't a threat. He took cautious steps forward more into the light of the nearest window so he could be more seen. "My curiosity got the better of me."

Her guard turned, relying on the princess for her answer to the situation. It was up to her, after all.

Her head tilted to the side and she stepped past him to close in on Cregan.

As she neared, he noticed just how shallow her cheeks were sunken in. The grey in her complexion was an unwelcome one. Her eyes held a dullness to them, despite the intensity of their gaze. 

"Cregan Stark, my princess," he greeted, tipping his head down and holding out a hand. He only hoped she'd accept it.

She stared for a while before remembrance ran through her. "Stark of the North. Right." She took his invitation, a shaky hand falling on his.

He noted how cold they were. But he stashed that fact away and kissed her knuckles gently as any gentleman should.

He also noted the ready look in the guard's eyes. Like he'd pummel him just for stepping a toe out of line.

"I can't say I've had the pleasure of meeting you," Cregan continued, letting her hand fall back to her side. "How the Crown has hidden a pretty girl away, I cannot understand."

For once, her lips quirked up on the ends, a soft breath escaping her nose. She finds his comment humorous. "You mustn't lie."

True, she's a bit worse for wear, but she still holds the Targaryen beauty that's so coveted. 

"I have not yet," he insists. "Nor do I intend to."

She gets antsy, unsure what to say. Her guard catches on and steps up to the pair. "Excuse us, Lord Stark. Princess Y/n much needs her rest."

"Of course. Excuse my ignorance. Please." His last word is directed right at her as if assuring she'd understand that he meant no harm in his actions before.

She still doesn't speak, only staring as her guard gently turns her back to where they were coming from. "Please start moving back to your room. I will catch up with you in a moment."

She doesn't fight, beginning the willowy trek back to her room. Slow steps once again.

Both watched until she turned the corner, and her guard's worried face switched immediately to questioning. "Ser Criston Cole, Commander of the City Guard," he introduced himself. "Might I ask your reason for following the princess?"

"I only saw her pass through the doorway. Curiosity truly got the better of me. I've not seen her around-"

"-and you won't," Criston finished. "Between you and I, it would be better if you forgot her entirely."

The Stark was thrown off by Criston's sudden aggression. And so he got defensive. "The Crown cannot simply hide away a vital member of its lineage!"

Criston grabbed Cregan's collar with both fists. "I'd warn you to walk away from this now." He was older than him, clearly trying to use that as an intimidation tactic.

Too bad nothing intimidated the Wolf of the North.

"And if I do not?"

"The Crown doesn't take it lightly when its weakest member is targeted."

"What is wrong with her?"

Criston, realizing his intimidation is doing nothing, lets go of him. He gives a glare that clearly says 'none of your fucking business' and begins to walk off in the direction of the princess. "Stick to snow and barbarianism, Cregan Stark!" He calls over his shoulder.

If anything, the guard's gall encourages Cregan. He loves a challenge.

…

The next time he spotted her was while sparring. The training courtyard of King's Landing was very different from that of Winterfell, but he took the opportunity to train with gratitude. 

It was quite amusing to see Cregan sweating profusely in a thin tunic while the others wore multiple layers.

Not that he would brag about his adherence to the cold. Out loud, anyway. In his head was different.

And when his eyes wandered up the castle walls, there she was. 

Seated in a comfortable chair on her tiny balcony that was clearly drug in and out every night she sat. She was covered in a thick fur, but there she was. Maybe the outdoor air brought her comfort. Her handmaiden brushed through the woman's overly shiny locks.

It was hard to tell exactly what she was looking at, but it was clearly in his direction, so he did his best to avoid staring.

Easier said than done.

Every few hits, he'd find himself looking up to make sure she was still there. She truly felt like a ghost, potentially disappearing now that he'd spotted her.

But she didn't. She only watched from above.

…

By the fifth day of meeting with Alicent and Otto, he brought it up.

"I also couldn't help but notice the princess you keep hidden from sight. I want to ask about her."

Alicent had been waiting for this. Criston had tattled on the man that first night. 

Otto was more amused. "Ah yes. I believe it's time we spoke of her. For once."

The queen gripped the chair tightly, earning a small 'tsk' from her father. "What is there to say? She's sickly."

Cregan leaned forward in his chair. "Why keep her locked away from the people?"

"She is not-" Alicent calmed herself and began again. "She is not 'locked away.' She is too ill to attend matters. That is all I wish to say of it."

"Humor the boy," Otto reprimanded. "Once you've spotted her, she's hard to forget."

"Forgive me for my bluntness," Cregan continued. "What illness does she carry?"

Alicent forced herself to keep speaking. "The maesters don't know. We've brought in every kind of maester and septon we could find. It just… comes and goes like the tide. You've not seen her at her healthy side, and for that, I am sorry. She can be a joy when she feels alive."

"She looks like death, no doubt," Otto asked Cregan.

"Like she's seen through its eyes," he agreed. "But not completely dead. There's still a small flame."

Otto liked that answer, smiling. "I like that. Now, back to the North…"

Cregan couldn't wait for the next sighting.

…

Had he stayed up late in the library, just hoping to see a glimpse of her during the dark hours? Yes. But he wouldn't admit that to anyone.

But it paid off. 

Like clockwork, she journeyed through the open doorway to the library, pausing when she spotted Cregan.

And she changed her course, moving into the room.

He felt that gust up his spine again, though it eased within moments.

She looked a little better. There was just a tiny increase of color to her cheeks than the last encounter.

Perhaps she was getting better.

"Do you always watch the men train from your balcony?" He braved to ask. He wanted the answer. He needed to hear if it was a special occurrence for him.

"No," her soft answer came.

He felt thrill warm his face. "Then why do it now?"

"I had to… cool myself. I was feverish."

Well, now he feels like a dick for trying to flirt with a woman close to death.

"Forgive me. I meant no offense."

"'S alright." Her attention turned to the vast shelves aligning the walls. 

He looked around too, though not in that direction. "Where's Ser Criston?"

She manages a smile and gazes back at him. "Think I can't outrun my guard dog?"

He exhales with a guilty look. "I truly don't believe you can, Princess."

"Good. You're right." She moves past him. "He was excused for the night. I snuck out during guard change."

"Quick," he remarked, watching her journey one of the large wooden tables there and sit. "I want to know more about you."

"There is not much to know." She rested her head in her hand. "Though, I can entertain your questions enough."

"Alright. Your age."

"Eight and ten."

He nodded. That was only a two years difference. "Have you always been sick?"

"No. I developed a horrid fever when I was four. No one thought that I'd make it. And I never really recovered. I've been stuck in this… state."

"And the kingdom just… forgot?"

She shrugs. "When the King never announced the recovery of his daughter… they make assumptions."

"Do they believe you to be dead?"

"I don't know what they believe. I don't talk to them."

A sadness filled Cregan at her declaration. He was beginning to realize just how much he takes his health for granted. He couldn't imagine a day without greeting his people. It felt like a stake in his heart. "Then I apologize for disrupting that when I spotted you in the hall that night. I should have kept to myself."

"No," she mused. "I'm grateful that you did not."

His head tilts. "Truly?"

She grows a tired smile. "I've never met a Northerner."

"And now that you have?"

Her eyes lazily travel over his body, taking her time to appreciate every part. When her eyes met his again, her smile only grew.

…

Cregan's three week stay was now entering its final week. He had found himself over and over again running into the silver-haired princess.

He tried to keep their meetings stashed away in his mind, but the look Otto gave him over dinner had told him he'd done a poor job of it.

So, there they all sat. Cregan Stark and the Targaryen dynasty- Otto and Alicent, Aegon II, and Aemond. Helaena found herself often staying within her chamber, eating with her young children. Sometimes eating with her ill sister when the two grew lonely.

Cregan was never good at small talk. He was a man that always got straight to the point. And the arrangements between the Crown and the North were at a standstill. It caused a light tension over the food.

They just couldn't agree. With the death of Viserys nearing, Cregan wished for reassurance that the next King or Queen would hold the North's arrangements. Alicent's word wasn't enough to reassure him. He needed more.

But that argument was hours ago, and now they all sat awkwardly over their plates.

Cregan had managed to bond with Aemond briefly over discussions of blacksmiths and longswords. It was something he knew well, and the prince clearly had an interest in it. It was better than sitting in silence.

Aegon had no interest whatsoever. He drank away his worries, no doubt planning his next trip out into the night.

"We all heard the rumor," Aemond mused through his quirked lips.

"Rumor?" Stark asked, sipping from his cup.

At the sudden question, each of the royals heads tipped up. They needed to know the truth.

Aemond smirked and leaned forward. His voice lowered. "That you killed a bear with nothing but a club and your hands."

He looked around the table, seeing everyone's eyes on him. He cleared his throat and set his goblet down with a light thud. 

A nod.

A collective intimidated breath fell across the table.

Aemond was impressed. He tipped his cup to the Northman and took a swig.

"Your Grace," a guard interrupted, bowing his head. "Princess Y/n," he announced.

Cregan didn't catch the others reactions, instead turning as much as he could in the direction of the door.

He'd feasted with them for over two weeks and only now did the ill princess join them.

She had color to her cheeks now, the light pink standing out beautifully. Lively. 

She was finally in a gown fit for a princess, deciding to uphold her appearance. 

She clearly wanted to be there.

It was quiet as each step echoed until she reached the seat next to Aegon. The prince reached out, tugging her chair back to encourage her to sit.

Now seated across from Cregan, her eyes met his.

And she smiled.

"It's good to see you up," Otto announced. "I didn't dare to think you'd recovered this well."

She watched the servants tend to her. "Neither did I, but Criston was nearing the idea of simply locking me in my room to get me to rest."

They all found that relatively amusing. Except for Alicent, who only stared with a guilty look. They all knew the queen was sleeping with the Commander of the Guard. She ordered him around like a dog, having him watch her ill daughter like a hawk.

"It is," Cregan spoke, clearing his throat again, "It is good to see you." His voice was softer, clearly meant for her. His eyes took her in a way the gods would scorn. Like she was something to worship.

When healthy, he thought she was a version of the earth itself. Like the warmest day in Winterfell when the wind was just cool enough to remind you to be awake. Or the beauty of falling snow. It bites when you get too close, but he wouldn't be frightened of death in its embrace. She was not sunshine or light, but she was beautiful in her own way, dragging death alongside her wherever she went.

His eyes only left hers when he heard Aegon clear his throat obnoxiously. 

"Sister, I thought you were dining with Helaena tonight?"

"The twins were… rather tiring today and she wished to rest instead."

He nodded, accepting that answer, but his eyes were trained on Cregan now, squinting as if he could read him. His fingers picked the meat off of a bone on his plate absentmindedly.

Alicent was about the same, recognizing the longing look in the Wolf's eyes.

…

The princess had excused herself early from dinner, still not entirely up to the usual standard of supping like the others.

That gave Cregan no excuse when Alicent dismissed everyone except for him.

So here he is, stuck sitting at the large table and Alicent paces around it like a lion and its prey.

"I don't like the way you look at her," she started. "She is ill. Have you no morals?"

"Like what?" Cregan challenged. "Look at her in what way?"

"Like you want her."

Her bluntness is not something he expected. He's a bit thrown off. But the queen isn't entirely wrong. "Your Grace-"

"-Do not give her false hope," Alicent says in a lower tone. A pleading one. "She cannot take a heartbreak. She cannot take any outside occurrences tormenting her. She'd surely die."

In truthfulness, Cregan had not considered what would happen if she did grow attached, only for him to leave. The thought hurts. "I mean no harm to her. She is magnificent."

Alicent pauses like the words were poison. "Do not lie to me." Her anger grows. "She is ill. She will always be ill. She'll spent her life in her chamber, in her bed. Do not act like that is not the case."

"Meaning what, my queen?"

"That she could never be a wife."

…

The queen's words had haunted Cregan more than he cared to admit. He mostly hated that she might be right.

When he saw the princess again the next day, she was more chipper than he'd ever seen her before. 

"Lord Stark!" She greeted, her steps a bit quicker than before, though still not he'd consider fast.

He gave a brief smile, continuing his walk down the corridor.

Her face fell a bit. "I-Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm only rushing to meet with your mother."

She sighed, trying to keep up with him. "I thought you did not meet again until the morrow."

"You'd be correct in that."

His tone was matter of fact, no room for the gentle pronunciations he'd used before. It was clearly hurting her. It hurt him, too. But he was on a mission.

So she stopped, watching the Northerner walk away with heavy footsteps.

…

He threw the doors open, not waiting for the guards to do it. "I've decided you're wrong."

It was a bold move, causing the Queen to stand and frown. Not many challenged her, especially in this way. To arrange a meeting midday and then enter in this fashion? Suicide.

Otto was amused, not moving from his seat. He gestured to a chair in encouragement.

But Cregan stood, his hands flat on the tabletop. "You've promised the agreement will continue to the next ruler in line, and I said I could not take your word. That I needed more proof of your insistence. Well, I know what I want."

"I appreciate a man who is bold, Lord Stark, but I implore you not to make demands of the Crown," Otto tried to ease.

"No," Cregan began again, his anger turning to Otto. "Though I doubt there will be much fight to this demand. After all, it seems you will not notice its absence."

"And what is that?"

He paused. "The princess. The one hidden away from prying eyes. I will make her my wife. If she'll have me."

Otto was genuinely not expecting that. Alicent grew angry. "That is my daughter! You will not take her away like a bartered cow!"

"That was not my intention. But fine. Let me rephrase." The Wolf rolled his shoulders back, standing tall before the two. " I wish to court your daughter. No alliance involved. No quill to parchment. No deals. This is not part of our agreement."

"How is it not?"

"If you let me court her, it means you have faith in the North. In me. I don't need a parchment to say that."

Otto sighed. "Let me get this clear. You wish to marry a princess of whom will spend her life half dead?"

Cregan shrugged. "Half dead is half alive. And I like the odds. I like her."

"Surely she won't last in the North," Alicent reasoned. "The second the air seeps through your window, she'll die."

"The same way she's dying here?"

That shut Alicent up.

"There are great maesters in the North. They know the effects of the cold on the body. I have no fear of that. I'll tend to the fires in her chamber myself if I must- even collect the wood myself if you're so frightened. I am no idiot. I can keep her alive and happy."

The two considered the man's proposal. It was a strange one. But they recalled the look between him and her at dinner the night before.

"She'll never give you children," Alicent said with remorse.

He nodded. "I'm prepared to deal with that."

Otto look to the Queen, giving a tilt of his head.

She sighed. "If she wants you, she's yours."

…

Three days left in his stay, and he had spent two days without seeing her.

He didn't wish to go to her chamber. She deserved the privacy. That and… he didn't know where it was. 

So instead, he resorted to staying up late, hoping she'd appear. 

She didn't.

…

Criston Cole passed Cregan, a glare in his eyes.

Cregan followed, grabbing the guard from behind and pinning him against the wall. "Where is she?"

Criston hissed through his teeth. "Why do you assume I've hidden her?"

"Tell me."

He spit in the Wolf's face.

Cregan only blinked, the rest of his face unflinching. "Where is she?"

"In her room. Where she always is," he seethed.

Cregan's head tilted menacingly.

Criston continued. "West wing. Up the stairs, the door at the end."

He slammed the guard against the wall one more time for good measure, then stormed off.

…

He knocked on the door, and her handmaiden answered. "Oh. You're not the maester."

He frowned. "The maester?"

A soft voice came from inside the room, catching the handmaiden's attention. She nodded and opened the door for him.

He stepped in.

The princess laid on her bed, looking quite literally like death. It was worse than the first time he'd sighted her.

She was thinner, her cheeks sunken in again, her skin the dull grey he hated. Her hair was greased with sweat. Yet at the sight of him, she tried to give a weak smile.

Nearing her side, he sighed. "I had… I had no idea, Princess."

Her handmaiden moved to the other side of the bed, going back to dabbing the princess's forehead with a wet cloth. 

Y/n hummed at the chill. "'S alright."

"So, these are the ill spells you were speaking of." It was a statement, rather than a question.

"Yes," she sighed. "'S so sudden."

"I see that." He reached out to her hand, brushing his fingers over hers. He didn't want to overstep. But she was the one to intertwine their fingers. 

He spent the rest of the day in there, leaving when the maester entered. He stopped him, leaning in to speak lowly to the doctor. "I want you to feed her meat. Lamb, pig, I do not care. But have it brought to her."

…

The maester did as he commanded. And the next day when Cregan visited, she was chipper.

Was she entirely well? No. But the protein had her sitting up in bed, speaking to her handmaiden as her hair was being braided.

It warmed Cregan.

He grinned when he entered, sitting at her side comfortably now. "You look much better."

"I feel better," she smiled. "The maester said you helped."

"That's ridiculous. What do I know about health?"

But they both knew. They all knew.

"Mother told me something odd."

He froze. "Oh?"

"That you wish to marry me."

He took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves. Perhaps she's rejecting him.

"Is that true?"

He nodded, his fingers playing with hers. "It is. If you'll have me."

She smiled, gently waving her handmaiden off now that her hair was done. The girl left with a knowing grin.

"I'll have you, Cregan Stark."

He cupped her face, brushing his thumb over the light pink in her cheeks. "Then I am a lucky man."

…

And in the North, she blossomed. 

He kept a steady diet of red meat for her, watching as she no longer spent every day in their chamber, even getting to journey out to the courtyards and sit through petitions. 

The two spent every night cuddled under the furs of their bed. The fire always burned, he made sure of it. 

Her mind loved Cregan, and now her body could too.

................................................

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[navybrat817]

Sunrises and Sunsets

Pairing: Ranch Hand!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to watch a sunrise with you.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, tooth rotting sweetness, a bit of sass, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @bigtreefest requested for Ranch Hand!Bucky to either Go for a Swim (smut) or dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff - this won with my muse) with prompt #1 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You woke up before the alarm went off thanks to Bucky. He normally did his best not to disturb your slumber if you didn't have to get up right away, unless he wanted you and you would gladly forgo sleep for that. But the soft kisses he placed along your shoulder and neck weren't rushed or needy. In the darkness you reached for his hand and felt him smile against your skin when you took it. It made you smile, too, and your heart beat faster in your chest. Waking up beside him was a gift.

“Morning,” you whispered, brushing some of the hair from his eyes when you turned to face him.

“Morning,” he whispered back, kissing the center of your forehead. “Time to get up.”

“No,” you groaned. You didn't glance at the time, but your inner alarm clock knew you had a few more minutes.

He chuckled and nipped your other shoulder hard enough to make you gasp. “Yes, Sunbeam,” he said, his tongue tracing the spot he bit. “Gonna watch the sun come up together before breakfast.”

“Why?” You asked. Today wasn't a special occasion or anniversary that you were aware of. He would have reminded you at some point or vice versa.

“Because I wanna watch the sunrise with you,” he replied, sliding a finger under your chin before you could hide your face in his chest. The room was dark, but you felt his gaze plead with you to get up. “Please?” He added for good measure.

With another groan, you gave in. “Fine,” you sighed, trying to hide your smile as you stretched under the sheets. You lucked out with Bucky when it came to small romantic moments. What other man would wake you just to watch the sunrise together? “Sun, breakfast, caffeine.”

“Turning on the light,” he warned, giving you time to cover your eyes when he leaned over to flip the lamp switch. He was thoughtful like that. “I didn't hear 'sex with my amazing boyfriend' on that list. Kinda hurts my feelings.”

You giggled and removed your hand, blinking more of the sleep from your eyes. “Sex is for after I have my caffeine.”

It was his turn to groan. “Fine,” he mocked in his best imitation of you, making you giggle again. You didn't always laugh this early in the morning and not every day began this bright, but every day was a bit lighter thanks to him. “C’mon. You can sleep later.”

“Whatever you say, Buckaroo,” you said as you sat up. You slid your feet into your slippers, your stomach fluttering because you know you didn't put them back in that spot yesterday. “Thank you,” you said, wiggling your toes.

“Can't let your feet touch the cold floor now, can I?” He winked, stretching as he stood up.

Your throat tightened. It was such a tiny gesture in the grand scheme of things, but it was the little things that mattered. They showed that he paid attention and cared. You tried to do the same for him, like cooking his favorite meals or drawing him a bath after a hard day. You hoped it was enough.

“You’re so good to me,” you said, holding your hands out so he could help you stand.

“We’re good to each other,” he said, pulling you up with ease.

The rough pads of his fingertips rubbed along your skin, a physical reminder of the work he put in day in and day out. His hands made a difference in the world and your life, his calloused touch telling hundreds of stories. Being part of his journey and creating a new story together was something out of a dream. The beauty of it was that your story wasn't over yet.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked.

“I’ll tell you when we go outside,” you replied, not wanting him to miss any of the view. “Do you need to put a shirt on?”

He pulled a hand away to pat his pocket before he smirked and pointed to his washboard abs. “These give me plenty of heat.”

Your gaze went to his torso, heat of your own spreading from your core. Working day in and day out kept him in great shape. He belonged on one of those cowboy romance novel covers. Or a calendar.

I could make a killing with a ranch hand calendar featuring all the guys.

“And for breakfast, I'll make you some humble pie. A big ol’ slice,” you teased.

“Mmm. Pie for breakfast. You do love me,” he joked.

“More than anything,” you smiled.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth, tilting your world on its axis like always. “Love you, too.”

“You have to if you don't care about my morning breath,” you smiled.

He grabbed a couple of blankets as he led you out to the front porch, just in case there was a chill in the air. Another thoughtful gesture. Instead of taking you to the porch swing like you expected, he took you down the steps and laid out one of the blankets in the grass where you sometimes had picnics together.

“Why aren't we sitting in the swing?” You asked.

“I mean, we could sit in the swing and I can put my arm around you.” He sat down and spread his legs out in front of him, patting the spot between them. “But it’s easier to hold you like this and I wanna hold you when the sun comes up.”

“You’re such a sap,” you smiled, happily taking the spot between his legs. “But I like that.”

“You do know I’m only a sap for you, right?”

“I do,” you said, spreading the other blanket across your legs. “Don't worry. I won't tell anyone.”

“Too late. Everyone knows,” he smiled.

“True,” you said, tilting your head and taking the opportunity to kiss underneath his chin before you looked back at the horizon.

Exhaling, you pressed your back against Bucky’s chest and revelled in the warmth of his body as he wrapped his arms around you. He occasionally reminded you of the sun. He had fire within him and brightened your world just by being there. But to him, you were the sun.

We're each other's sun and moon.

“So, you just felt like watching a sunrise with me?” You asked.

“Just felt like it,” he agreed, holding you a bit tighter. “I’ve watched sunrises and sunsets more times than I can count, but it’s just different with you.”

“Why is that?” You asked.

“It may not make sense, but the sunrise just looks more beautiful and hopeful because I have someone to share it with. And people say sunsets are a way to reset, but I’m just thankful because it was another day I got to spend with you.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple as your heart swelled. “Each day is a blessing because you're in my life.”

You were on the verge of spilling tears, but managed to keep them at bay. “I feel blessed, too,” you whispered.

His chest shook as he chuckled. “I really am a sap.”

“Yeah, but you’re my sap,” you said, tracing the palm of his hand. It was a special thing to bring out that side of him. “You know how you asked me what I was thinking about earlier? I was thinking how your hands can tell so many stories. I think your wrinkles will tell stories, too.”

“My wrinkles?” He asked.

“Yeah. Each is a chapter in your story. Just like every scar,” you answered. Bucky thought every mark on your body was a thing of beauty. You wanted him to feel the same way about his. “They’ll say how you survived hard times. How you lived your life. How you loved.”

“You’re a sap, too,” he teased, catching your elbow before you could ram it into him. “Easy, I’m kidding. I think that’s a beautiful way to look at it.”

There was beauty all around you with Bucky.

“Well, the thought of getting older used to scare me, but it doesn't seem so bad because I have you. We won't have to do it alone. We’ll grow together,” you smiled, gazing at the sky that seemed to stretch on forever. “So when we're older and you have wrinkles and gray hairs, I want you to keep doing this: Wake me up for a sunrise just because you felt like it. Just because you wanted to share one more beautiful moment with me.”

“You wanna grow old with me?” He asked, his voice thicker than you expected. “And on those days, you’ll still love me? Wrinkles and all?”

“Of course, I do. And of course, I will,” you promised. You would love him no matter what. “And you’ll still love me when I grow old?”

“Forever and always,” he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder when the sun began to rise.

Your heart raced as the hues touched the land you two shared, painting a canvas in glowing rays. He was right that the sunrise was more beautiful and hopeful because you had someone to share it with. And while you were certain there were others watching the sky, this felt like a new dawn just for the two of you.

“It really is breathtaking, isn’t it?” You smiled.

“You’re breathtaking,” he said, making your smile widen as your cheeks warmed.

“You flatter me, Buckaroo,” you said affectionately.

Bucky took a deep breath by your ear as you continued to look at the view. “Marry me, Sunbeam,” he whispered.

With wide eyes, you spun around in his arms. You didn't know it, but to him you looked like an angel with the rays growing brighter around you. “What?” You asked.

“Shit. I was supposed to ask you, not tell you. And I was supposed to have something special planned, but I keep carrying this around in case the time’s right and this just seemed right.” He swallowed before he reached into his pajama pocket and pulled out a small box. “It isn't much. Sure as hell isn't what you deserve and I'm sorry for that,” he said. You covered your mouth with a gasp when he opened it. Simple, beautiful, and a diamond that sparkled like the sun. To you, it was the most beautiful ring to ever exist. “But I love you and I want you to be my wife. I wanna grow old with you and I don't wanna tell the story of my life without you in it. I-”

“Yes!” You shouted into the morning air, knocking him on his back. You were lucky you didn’t knock the ring box out of his hand. “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you!”

“I wasn't done with my proposal,” he chuckled.

“I don't care. I said ‘yes’. Now’s the part where you put the ring on my finger,” you smiled with tears in your eyes. He managed to slip the ring onto your finger with you stretched out on top of him. A perfect fit. “It’s beautiful. Don't ever apologize for giving me something so beautiful.”

The proposal was beautiful, too. It came from the heart at a time he knew was right. You couldn't ask for anything better.

I have the whole world because of you.

You swore you saw the sunrise in his eyes as he framed your face and smiled up at you. “Love you, Sunbeam.”

“Love you, too, Buckaroo,” you whispered, giggling. “And guess what?”

“What’s that?”

“I can change sex with my amazing boyfriend to fiancé,” you smiled.

“Why don’t we skip to that part? I’ll make sure you get some caffeine after,” he smirked. "Deal," you giggled again, leaning down to kiss him.

The sun continued to climb in the sky behind you as he deepened the kiss, bathing you in light as you celebrated the next chapter in your life together.

And with his ring on your finger, you knew you’d forever appreciate every sunrise and sunset even more.

Anyone else get a cavity from this sweetness? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[db0xtae]

Winning the Breakup | Chapter 2

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

𝜗𝜚⋆ Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

𝜗𝜚⋆ Warnings : None

𝜗𝜚⋆ Word Count : 858

𝜗𝜚⋆ Chapters : 1

𝜗𝜚⋆ A/N : Hope you guys enjoy!!!

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

Chapter 2: The Rules of Engagement

The next morning, Y/N regretted nothing—well, almost nothing. She wasn’t entirely sure agreeing to Minho’s plan was the best decision, but the image of Alex’s dumbfounded face as she and Minho danced at the social was enough to keep her second thoughts at bay.

It was Saturday morning, and the KISS campus was quiet. Most students were either still asleep or lounging in their dorms, but Y/N was already up and dressed, sitting at a small café table in the library courtyard. She was sipping on a latte and going over her notes for an upcoming quiz when a familiar, annoyingly confident voice interrupted her focus.

“Morning, darling,” Minho said, sliding into the chair across from her.

Y/N didn’t even look up. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? We’re dating now,” he said, leaning back in his chair with that smug grin she was already tired of seeing.

“Fake dating,” she corrected, finally meeting his eyes. “Let’s not forget the fake part.”

“Details,” Minho said, waving a hand dismissively. “Anyway, we need to set some ground rules.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Rules?”

“Obviously,” Minho replied, pulling out his phone. “If we’re going to pull this off, we need to be on the same page. Can’t have you ruining my image.”

She snorted. “Your image? Please, enlighten me.”

Minho ignored the jab, opening a notes app on his phone. “Rule one: public displays of affection. We’ll need to sell the relationship, so a little hand-holding, hugging, maybe the occasional kiss—”

“No,” Y/N cut him off, her tone firm. “We’re not kissing.”

He looked up, feigning disappointment. “You wound me. What, you think I’m a bad kisser?”

“I think I don’t want to catch whatever inflated ego disease you’re carrying,” she shot back, smirking when Minho gave an exaggerated gasp.

“Fine,” he relented, typing something into his phone. “No kissing…unless absolutely necessary.”

“There will be no ‘necessary,’” Y/N clarified.

Minho shrugged. “We’ll see. Rule two: we text daily. It doesn’t have to be anything deep, but it’ll look weird if we’re not in constant communication. People will notice.”

“Fine,” she agreed. “But no texting me at 2 a.m. with some nonsense about how amazing you are.”

“I would never,” Minho said, looking offended.

Y/N gave him a flat look.

“Okay, I would,” he admitted with a grin. “But I’ll restrain myself.”

“Good. Next?”

“Rule three: we go on at least one ‘date’ per week. People need to see us together outside of school events. And no ditching me halfway through because you get bored,” he added, pointing at her.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Like I’d be the one ditching.”

“Trust me, darling, I’m a delight,” Minho said, flashing his most charming smile.

“Stop calling me that,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Rule four,” Minho continued, ignoring her complaint. “We don’t tell anyone it’s fake. Not even our friends.”

Y/N hesitated. “Not even Kitty?”

“Especially not Kitty,” Minho said firmly. “She has the biggest mouth at KISS. She’d blow our cover in two seconds.”

“She’d probably make a PowerPoint about it,” Y/N murmured, earning a chuckle from Minho.

“Exactly. So, we keep it between us. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she said reluctantly.

“Great,” Minho said, setting his phone down. “This is going to be fun.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” Y/N muttered, taking a sip of her latte.

By lunchtime, news of Y/N and Minho’s “relationship” had spread like wildfire. As they walked into the cafeteria together, side by side, the stares and whispers were impossible to ignore.

“You’d think people have never seen two attractive people together before,” Minho said, loud enough for the nearby tables to hear.

“Subtle,” Y/N muttered under her breath, elbowing him in the side.

“What? I’m just stating facts,” he said with a grin, guiding her to their usual table.

Kitty was already there, along with Dae, Yuri, and Q. The moment they sat down, Kitty leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Okay, spill,” she said. “How did this happen?”

Y/N opened her mouth, but Minho beat her to it.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, slinging an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “She couldn’t resist my charm.”

Y/N shoved his arm off. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“What’s there to regret, darling?” he teased, winking at her.

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “You two are…dating?”

“Yep,” Minho said confidently.

“Since when?” Dae asked, looking genuinely confused.

“A few days ago,” Y/N lied smoothly. “It just…happened.”

Kitty frowned, clearly trying to piece things together. “But you’ve always been at each other’s throats. What changed?”

Minho leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “She finally realized how amazing I am.”

“I realized you’d never shut up about it if I didn’t give you a chance,” Y/N shot back, earning a laugh from Q.

“This is going to be interesting,” Yuri said, smirking as she sipped her drink.

That evening, Minho texted her.

Minho: “Tomorrow. 2 p.m. Meet me at the park.”

Y/N: “Why?”

Minho: “Date #1, duh. Don’t bail on me.”

Y/N sighed, tossing her phone onto her bed. She had a feeling this was going to be a long few weeks.

[harleehazbinfics]

Can We? an au lucifer x reader oneshot

Author Profile a/n: SURPRISEEEEEE. i got 'we become we' -journey to jerusalem song on a loop since i found it and i knew i wasn't gonna get it out of my system unless i do something about it. so pls enjoy my ramblings lmfao word count: 1200+

"Your Majesty, please reconsider this! Our kingdom needs a Queen!"

Lucifer sighs at the aide's words, feeling irritated with the insistent suggestion of a Queen.

"I agree, your majesty. The people are quite worried for you. You need an heir, and you aren't getting any younger either," another aide jumps in.

Lucifer surrenders to them with hands in the air in exasperation and finally replies, "Fine."

The people in the room sigh in relief that they somehow got through to him. But hitch their breath when he adds on.

"However, I won't just choose anyone. Only the best candidate will stand by my side and be rightfully called the Queen," he glares.

"Good day, your majesty. My name is (full name), Princess of the Eastern Kingdom. I'm grateful for this opportunity," you smile amiably.

"Likewise," he responds quite honestly shocked from your tone.

You were the guest that was expected to arrive at the palace after receiving the invitation to be a Queen candidate. However, after word got around that you will be joining the fight for the title. All the ladies mutually agreed to resign. When he asked why, all the aide's replies were, "There is no other person worthy to be by your side other than the Princess."

Now, you stood in front of him. You were dressed beautifully, but not as extravagant as those ladies that came before him. You had a melodic tone in your voice that was pleasant to the ear. Your hands folded together gracefully. Everything about you was enchanting.

You tilt your head confused about his speechlessness. "Did I catch you in the wrong time?" you ask him.

His cheeks reddened, embarrassed that you left him dazed just from your introduction alone.

"No no," he excuses then coughs to get a grip on himself, "I apologize. I must have been tired from all the work this morning."

You give him an understanding smile and reply, "No apologies needed, your majesty. I feel honored to be here and see how hard you work. I'm sure this kingdom is grateful to have such a diligent King."

His blush intensifies from your non-stop flattery. He's heard many compliments in his life for his achievements. However, when you were the one saying those words. He can't help but believe it was all true with how genuine you sounded.

"Please, I'm quite embarrassed to hear such words from you, Princess. I've heard many tales of your acts of charity for your and other neighboring kingdoms. You've paved the way for others to follow in your example and gave a chance for the poor, homeless and orphaned," he redirected trying to calm his flaring cheeks.

He was pleasantly surprised at your reaction.

"P-Please! You've heard of that? Oh, I'm embarrassed! I hope only good thing reached your ears," you stumbled over your words when the attention turned back to you.

He laughs at you as you tried to hide behind your hair as you also flushed red. 'For someone, who gives out so many compliments. She can't even handle a couple of her own.'

'This wasn't such a bad idea,' he thought as he watched as you smile and continue talking to him.

"(Y/n), can I ask you something?" he says sitting at the edge of the bed where you sat beside while reading a book.

It had been several weeks since your marriage and it's been quite busy for the both of you as you adjusted to your married life. Lucifer finished paperwork for his projects and formal preparations for your ascension to your rights as the new Queen. Thankfully, it had finally calmed down and now you helped him with his work and even the inner management of the castle.

You have shared the room since the beginning, and you've already shared your first night as husband and wife together. Which was.. quite passionate to say the least. But, after both of you would wake up earlier or later than the other, too considerate to wake up the other from their well-earned rest. So, now that it has finally calmed down and Lucifer approached you. You couldn't help but feel nervous.

"Of course, anything," you reply putting away the book and taking his hand in yours.

He smiles and gains courage as he caresses your hand back and says, "Are you okay with this arrangement?"

You tilt your head unsure of the meaning, "About what?"

"This," he gestures to the both of you, "are you okay about our marriage?"

You huff out a laugh relieved, you thought it was a life or death situation, "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugs and replies, "I don't know. I just thought you were having doubts about us."

You give him a meaningful look and stood up from your spot. You then tugged him to stand with you. You made him hold your waist and hand while you placed yours on his shoulder. You led him into a slow dance with a smile on your face.

"Remember, our dance together?" you asked.

"At the wedding?" he asks.

You shook your head and laughed, "We danced one together way before that. That night where we shared the stars together."

His eyes lit up, remembering that night.

"During that dance, I thought that being with you will be worthwhile. And if wherever this choice leads me. I won't regret being with you, Lucifer," you say with a deep look in your eyes.

His eyes soften as he gazed at you. You were nothing but wonderful to him, it was childish of him to assume you were having doubts. He should have trusted you and made you happy instead. You deserve nothing less than that.

"Can we become more Than half of a union we're chosen for?"

He sings as he pulls you closer to him.

"Where I am your best half And I am yours,"

You continue with a huge smile on your face as you followed his lead, gliding around the room.

"Stuck here forever And hopefully not ending in estrangement,"

You sang together faces inching towards each other with half lidded eyes.

"Can mine become yours Combining our dreams Without keeping score?"

You twirled around the room with him catching you. He opens the door and leads you out into the halls where you continued your dance.

"Always together, but never bored No choice in the matter but This will never work without each other,"

The both of you laugh like children as you chased each other down the halls.

"Can we become we? (Can we become we?) Start a new line on this family tree,"

He catches up to you and lifts you off the ground and kisses your cheek with a hearty chuckle from your deviousness.

"Two hearts connected by one beat, Your hand in mine and,"

You beam him a smile as you placed your hands on his chest feeling the rhythmic thumping of his heart from chasing you around.

"I could never choose to love another," Lucifer whispers as he pulls you into a kiss which you return with fervor.

After minutes of kissing one another, he places you down and hold your waist as places another kiss on your temple with a beaming smile. You return it and let him lead you back to your room.

"Maybe one day I can learn to love you, too," you whisper as you gave a passing gaze at the portrait of a blonde woman with her face covered with a large cloth.

Other Lucifer Fics:

@bonnie-02 @marxo5 @whaatttlaufey @froggybich @rybunnie @midorichoco @bontensbabygirl @janey @akiqvq @wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @preciousbabypeter @roboticsuccubus83 @simbalioness @reachthestars @atlas-rin @manachpo@luc1fersducky @lovestruck-enby @azullynxx @delightedtosee @cherry-4200 @aria-tempest @lvstyangel @0strawberrysorbet0 @corvid007 @kaminarithebest @whydosnakesnotdance @psychoanalyze0 @sweetadonisbutbetter @lunalily19 @dionysusismypatrongod @skyeliteratures @sappire904

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | one.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 7k

⇢chapter content/warnings: not much - just a basic intro to yunho x seora, yunho is 31 and seora is 11, cussing, mentions of character death, mentions of a tragic car accident by drunk driving, mentions of casual relationships (not yunho), mentions of distant/unsupportive parents

⇢a/n: it's finally here! i hope you all enjoy this journey and tysm for coming along! i'm not sure what the update schedule will be for this, but i'll try my best to update in between wildfire; this series came to me suddenly so i barely did any prior planning or writing. 😭 anywho, ty again for your support on this! <33

"Seora." Yunho calls her name one last time as he pops in two toaster strudels into the toaster. He lets out a small sigh, pausing when he doesn't hear any movements coming from her room. Just as he finishes getting his coffee together, he turns on his heel to head back down the hallway to check on his 11-year old daughter.

"I'm up." She mumbles, dragging herself across the hallway and into the bathroom. Yunho stands there for a minute, doing a slight head tilt before heading back to the kitchen.

"Well, that was slightly easy today." He finishes packing her lunch [some quickly made spam masubi], making sure she has all her favorite snacks tucked neatly in her lunch box. He nibbles onto some hardboiled eggs he made for himself, plopping Seora's toaster strudels onto a plate. She takes about a good 30 minutes before she's out and dressed in her uniform, hair neatly brushed and pulled back into a low ponytail. "Morning." He hands her the plate after she pours herself some milk. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, I guess." She sits and takes a bite before looking at her dad, leaning against the counter. "Just wish it was still the weekend." Yunho chuckles.

"Told you to stop sleeping late. Scrolling through TikTok and all that mess."

"Dad. I beg to differ." She says so matter-of-factly. "I get a lot from TikTok. If anything, I'm up late cause I'm learning."

"Please. You could also learn alot from those books you carry into the school I pay heavily for." 

"Yes, okay, but I learn other things. Like how to do cute hairstyles for myself. How to cook one pot dishes. What's important in an emergency kit. How to file taxes. Ou, and let's not forget the cool goodies on TikTok shop—"

"Why would you learn filing taxes on there?" Yunho furrows his brows. "It's not even something you need to worry about now."

"It's helping me prepare for the real world." She cocks a brow up and turns slightly. "What if you get too busy and forget to teach me?"

"Like you're not gonna pick up the phone to call me and have me do it for you when you get older." Yunho crosses his arms and leans back against the counter.

"See, no. I'll learn."

"Jeez, times really have changed." 

"You're only 31 but you sure sound like you're turning 80." She looks at him with a small teasing smile even though he's squinting his eyes at her.

"I'll just act like you didn't say that." He playfully scoffs. 

"Dad, don't you ever go on Instagram or Twitter? Anything?"

"Not like I used to. My Instagram is probably collecting cobwebs." She chuckles. "I just don't find it useful."

"I mean, you can see what your friends are up to. Like Uncle Hwa or Uncle Mingi. They post alot, no?"

"Your uncles don't even do anything fun. They aren't even fun." 

"Uncle Mingi travels a lot!" Yunho shrugs and nods in agreement. "Anyway, there's also good resources on there, actually."

"I would have never thought Twitter or Instagram could be categorized as resources."

"Pushing 85 now." He's playfully rolling his eyes now.

"Hurry and eat so we can get you to school on time." He checks his watch. "You have practice today, right?"

"Mhm."

"Are you riding home with Chan-mi?" 

"Yup!"

"Sorry, ace. I'll be home a bit after you, okay?" Seora smiles toothlessly at her father when she hears the beloved nickname slip from his lips. It had been a long time coming with that nickname, but Seora loves every bit of it. She knows it's her dad's way of saying he's proud of her in every way; all the good grades she gets, the games she plays, the hard days in and out of practice.

She is his ace, his everything.

"No big." She cleans up her plate and drinks the rest of her milk before washing her dishes. 

"Text me what you want for dinner later." She nods, facing him after setting the dishes on the rack.

"Ready." She throws her backpack strap over her shoulder.

"Alright." He grabs his bag and his thermos before handing Seora her lunch bag. He takes one last look around the kitchen to make sure all is good and unplugged before heading out the door to the car. Seora is patiently waiting at the passenger's door, already scrolling away on her phone. 

"Goodmorning you two!" Auntie Love, the next door neighbor, calls out. Yunho and Seora have grown a fond, wholesome relationship with their neighbors— they call themselves Auntie Love and Uncle Po. Despite having that relationship, Yunho feels like he doesn't know much about them besides the fact that their kids are grown and off doing their own thing— barely visiting cause of busy lives. At least, he's never seen them visit while he's around. They're sweet, and they always bring over food and check up on Seora when she's home alone while Yunho is still finishing up at work. "Where's my sweet girl?" Auntie Love comes running out in her pajamas just to give Seora a big bear hug. "Yunho, she grows more and more beautiful every day."

"Yeah she does, and the attitude grows, too!" She laughs just as he hops in the driver's seat, waving them off for the day.

"Dad." She buckles her seatbelt at the same time as he father, giving him the green light to drive off.

"That's me." Seora snorts. "What's up?"

"Have you ever met Auntie Love and Uncle Po's kids?"

"Never." Granted, Yunho and Seora just moved to their current spot about a year and a half ago, starting fresh in a smaller house that would be perfect for the two of them. But, he does find it a little odd that he's never even ran into them once. "I know they exist, I just never see them when I'm around. It's also kinda crazy cause Auntie Love said her daughter works at the same hospital as me, but it's such a huge hospital, I don't think we'd ever cross paths."

"That's pretty crazy if you did and you just didn't know it." Seora looks out the window. "I wonder why they don't visit often. They seem like such cool parents." 

"People get busy and have their own lives to end to. Plus, the sad thing about parenting is that we prepare our kids to tough it out in the world without us." Yunho playfully pinches her cheeks, making her laugh a bit.

"I'll always need you." Yunho smiles.

"You say that now, but once you find your footing in the world and someone who will take care of you, I'll be a long distant memory."

"Stop. Don't say that. I'll always need you." She repeats, tugging onto his free arm and hugging onto it like a koala. Yunho laughs at her as she continues to tug on his arm, giving it a few more playful tugs before she's letting go. "Dad."

"Yes?"

"Can you take me and my friends shopping this weekend?"

"Oh, so that's why you were being that way?" He pokes fun at her and she laughs.

"No! It's obviously because I love you."

"I love you, too." He smiles. "What're you guys trying to do?"

"I wanna buy more stuff for my scrapbook. Like stickers and stuff. And they just wanna walk around an shop. Do cute girly things." She shimmies a bit in her seat.

"Don't you have a ton of scrapbooking supplies sitting on your desk?" Yunho flawlessly turns down the street, approaching the lot to her school.

"I'm running through them. Plus, I need more highlighters and pens. And there's a new edition of the sticker books I buy." She pouts and pleads. "Please, please, please!"

"Seora." He laughs. "Yeah, cause you could certainly use more." He jokes. "Sure. Just let me know. But!"

"But?" She looks at him.

"As long as I can drag one of your uncles along."

"Duh." She laughs. "You're the best." She mumbles as she types away on her phone, Yunho pulling into a spot to walk her towards the school entrance. He helps her with her backpack, duffle bag and lunch bag, trailing behind his daughter with his hands in his pockets. He greets a few parents and teachers, pausing in his tracks just as they get to the steps. She turns to look at him, a smile on her face. Yunho looks at her and still can't believe his babygirl is already 11, going on 12 soon. She's tall, just like her father. She's got the same eyes and smile, but she definitely has similarities to Eunha. She's become quite the athlete, head deep in her books.

Time sure flies.

"See you later, ace. Have a good day at school and practice, k? Remember, text me when you get home and what you're craving for dinner." She nods, throwing her arms around her dad before they do their little handshake.

"I will. Have a good day too, gramps." He rolls his eyes again and shakes his head as he watches her walk up the steps and disappear into the main lobby of the school. 

"Goodmorning Yunho." One of the moms passing by waves and smiles sweetly at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she tries to keep her blushing subtle. He gives her a simple nod of acknowledgement with a tiny smile, slipping into his car to head to work.

Yunho can't really remember the time he went on a real date. 

He has met a few women, but super casually. He didn't really feel anything special with anyone, and he's someone who loves to connect with people. Otherwise, he finds it to be a waste of time. He's not sure how people [aka Uncle Mingi and Uncle Seonghwa] slept around without getting attached; he doesn't think he could pull it off the same way.

Plus, he comes with a forever plus one. His Seora, his babygirl, his ace. And he will always put her before anything, anyone.

Maybe Yunho was just numb. Losing Eunha was the hardest thing he's ever had to endure, and he still feels it 'till this day, as if that accident was yesterday. Seora had been shy over 4 years old when she was tragically struck by an oncoming drunk driver, leaving her car to flip off the highway. Seora barely got to live her life with her mother and that's what aches the most for Yunho. He knows she's fine, and he knows he's tried his best all these years to help shape her into who she is today. But, he knows there is a part of her that misses her mother terribly, that yearns for a mother's love even though Yunho has done everything he can to fill the shoes for both.

So, he thinks about that when he goes on dates. He could never replace Eunha, but he also knows him and Seora are good with where they're at. No one else needed to come into the mix to disrupt their flow for now. Although, he yearns for love too, though. He is scared, but he is equally sad that the truest, most raw form of love he's ever experienced was stripped away from him so fast— he barely got to indulge in Eunha being there as his wife. He's not sure if he'll ever move past it, even though Seonghwa and Mingi tell him time and time again that he deserves to experience love despite everything that's happened.

That he's still deserving of it, and that he should try to open his heart up to it.

He isn't sure how Seora would be though, and that's the most important thing for him. Because he just wants his daughter to be happy. He will always put her first.

When he drives off to work, he pulls into the staff garage and flashes his badge to the security guard waiting at the booth. He drives down to the 2nd level before he's able to find a spot and reverses into it flawlessly. He shuts off the car and grabs his backpack, heading straight to the stairs to bring him back up to the ground level and entrance of the main hospital.

The main hospital has 8 floors, with the emergency room off to the side and valet at the front for patient pickup. It's connected to an adjacent building, the older hospital— which has 3 floors and the older emergency room at the back end of the building. The pediatrics hospital is right behind the main hospital but there isn't a bridge connecting the two; staff typically have to take a 5-10 minute walk over if they need anything on that end. Along the ways are food trucks and mobile coffee trucks, with cafeterias and smaller cafés and shops situated inside the buildings itself.

The hospital is huge and could literally float and function as its own island if it wanted to. 

"Morning, Yunho!" One of the front desk staff members greets him. Yunho sends them a small salute, before smiling and responding back.

"Goodmorning!" Yunho's dressed in jeans and a thick black sweater, the colder weather slowly making its way in at this time of the year. He heads up to the second floor, his office nestled in the corner of the huge office space dedicated to his IT team and part of the administrative team. He greets everyone goodmorning on the way over, setting his things down before he comes out to chat a bit with his team members.

"Yo." He leans against an empty desk while sipping on his coffee.

"Sup boss." Taehyun swings around in his chair, while his other two coworkers, Kyung-soo and Jihoon plop into their chairs. "How's it going?"

"Alright, not too bad." Yunho chuckles. "How about you?"

"All good, can't complain." His main team is made up of 10 people— Taehyun being the team lead, the others branching into specifics like system administrators, helpdesk techs and cybersecurity. His team alone supports a few departments since the hospital is so huge— other IT teams are spread out to cover other remaining wings; plus, the older hospital and the pediatrics corner. From time to time, they'll hop in and help if needed. Without Taehyun's help triaging and prioritizing certain tasks, Yunho wouldn't be able to focus on the high-level aspects of his job. Of course, their team meshes with so many different departments within the hospital— they're all involved deeply in current ongoing and new developments.

"Didn't seem like we got too many tickets last night? Any urgent action items come up in the last hour or so?" Taehyun shakes his head.

"Not really. We've been sorting through and closing out those tickets. Most have been quick fixes." Yunho nods.

"Sounds good. I gotta work on that new clinical project that's opening up on the fifth floor soon. Might loop some of you guys in to help with the Epic implementation and other tweaks we might need to incorporate for patient ordering." 

"Aye! They're finally moving forward with it?" Yunho chuckles.

"Yeah, I guess they've slowly been recruiting patients for their program so they've been moving at a quick pace for the space and everything."

"Sick, that'll be a big project."

"Yup, already starting to feel like it. Thanks for handling those tickets. If we can make sure we stay on top of the queue and help get the AV system going for the board meeting happening in the next hour, that would be great." Yunho goes through a few other priorities he needs his team members to focus on, thanking them for all their hardwork before excusing himself to the office and beginning his own project planning and schedule organization.

He's got a few higher-level meetings to hop into, especially to debrief about the new clinical department opening up and its current timeline. He also needs to set some time aside to brainstorm the data migration request he got a few days ago for another department, along with figuring out how to structure this new department's servers, bandwidth and storage.

It doesn't sound like much, but Yunho definitely has his day cut out for him.

And as he expected, he's barely getting a moment to breathe. Especially when Taehyun pulls him into an urgent server issue that has him thinking on his feet for close to 15 minutes until he realizes the best way to move forward without any major data loss. Then, he's making it to the next meeting but he is already exhausted and hungry. He doesn't get the chance to grab lunch until 1:30pm— Yunho rushing over to the cafeteria to grab today's lunch special before they stop offering hot food. 

"Today ended up being a lot busier than expected." Yunho mumbles as he slips into a seat, Taehyun and Jihoon following suit in the spaces in front of him.

"Seriously. Thanks for your help with the servers."

"All good." Yunho chuckles. "Sooner or later, we'll find better ways to tackle those issues. I know we're gonna have to work on upgrades soon."

"Agreed. And it's probably about time." Jihoon chimes in. "I know we were kinda brushing it off for a bit but I'm slowly seeing it crumble." Yunho nods.

"Nah, I agree. I'll think about it over the next few days. Let me know if you guys have any ideas." Yunho sips his water. "I'll also need your help for the clinical project a lot sooner than expected. I'll forward any invites so you two can start attending meetings. It'll be good for you to get involved now so you have a better idea of the setting and the trials taking place in this new department."

"Sounds good! Let me know if you need anything else, we'll be happy to help out." Yunho smiles and cocks his head to the side.

"Thanks. How's everything else been with you guys? I've been going through candidates, but I expect us to interview and wrap up the whole thing by next month. We'll get some extra help."

"Thanks, boss. That's good to hear." Taehyun hums. "And hm, I think everyone's completely fine and taking it day by day. No one seems to be unhappy."

"We've got a good team and good people around us so I can't complain either. Days are busy but wouldn't want it any other way." Jihoon takes a spoonful of food into his mouth and shrugs. "Got a good manager." He points at Yunho.

"Well, least I'm doing something right?" Taehyun laughs and shakes his head.

"Have a little faith, will you?" Taehyun smiles. "The team doesn't go anywhere without you."

"I think it's the other way around for sure."

"Hey." Seonghwa pops in and sits next to Yunho. Taehyun and Jihoon nod at Seonghwa and send their usual greetings, Yunho knitting his brows at how flustered he looks.

"You okay? Should I even ask?" Seonghwa shakes his head.

"Just tired." Seonghwa takes a bite of the sandwich he brought over. "This health fair we've been planning is driving me crazy. Vendors have been too flakey and our deadline to finalize everything is next week. Plus, I gotta get those interviews and articles done for the new department by next week, too." Seonghwa is one of the marketing and communications managers for the hospital. He had been working here for a bit longer than Yunho, and actually introduced him to the hiring manager and IT director when they were in dire need of building a new team to support the growth of the new main hospital. They had both been working there for a couple of years, Seonghwa organically growing from the bottom up since he had started. Yunho respects him alot [besides the fact that he's one of his bestfriends], and admires his work ethic. Seonghwa is probably one of the constants in his life that helps push him to where he needs to be and serves as a reminder that he needs to keep going regardless of what life brings to the table. 

"I bet you're hella roped into the fine details for that." Taehyun says.

"Yeah, and it doesn't help that the core faculty members are all crazy busy. They're all psychiatrists and neurosurgeons. I can barely get them to respond about meeting with me to talk about it." Seonghwa sighs. "Anyway, that's all. I just needed to let that out, so thanks." They all chuckle.

"Yeah." Yunho looks at him. "Going to that huge introductory meeting later this week then?"

"Mhm." 

"By the way, how's you and Seora?" Taehyun asks. 

"My ace!" Seonghwa adds.

"We're as good as we can be." Yunho smiles, eyes looking down at the polaroid on the back of his phone that Seora slipped in. It's a picture of them two at the amusement park, wearing cute headbands per her request.

"That's good. School and basketball still treating her okay?" Yunho nods. "Cool. I'm glad you're doing okay. I just wasn't sure when I could ask since you've been so busy."

"You can always pop into my office." Yunho laughs. "But, thank you. I appreciate you guys for asking and for all your help."

"Does she have a game soon?" Seonghwa cuts in to ask.

"Think so. Pretty sure."

"Let me know. I'll try and make it." Seonghwa's eyes are traveling across the room, situated on a person as they grab their lunch and sit at a table on the opposite end of the room. 

"How's that going?" Yunho follows his gaze and lets out a small laugh. Jihoon and Taehyun can't help themselves either, subtly looking over their shoulder to see what has gotten Seonghwa all quiet. It's Yoori, one of the Directors of Space and Planning, and the same girl he had been seeing recently.

"I dunno. It's alright I guess."

"Do you think you'll end up in something serious with her?"

"No." Seonghwa chuckles it off, but internally, he's torn between keeping Yoori as his past-time or his full-time.

"She seems to like you a lot already." Yunho continues to look at Yoori as she talks to her coworkers. She's about 4 years older than them. Was in a long term relationship that ended a few months ago, according to Seonghwa. He thought it was a good opportunity to get to know her and have some fun, assuming she wouldn't be ready for a relationship. He might've been wrong because yeah, she does like him a lot already. She's been hinting at it a lot. It's not that Seonghwa can't see them being something serious— he's just not sure if he's ready to jump into that or take that road right now.

He likes his independence and he likes having fun, he's not gonna lie about it.

"Yeah, but we already talked about where we were at and she agreed on it, so." 

"Uh huh.." Yunho responds. "You know, it's okay to want something serious." He chuckles. But, before Seonghwa can respond, he nods towards the aisle ahead.

"Hm." Seonghwa hums. "Speaking of something serious to get into."

"Hey Yunho!" One of the nurses, Ara, passes by with her friends, smiling at him. "Seonghwa, Taehyun, Jihoon." She gives them nods of acknowledgements.

"Sup!" They all say in their own way.

"Hey Ara." He looks up at her.

"Haven't seen you around for awhile?"

"Just been running around is all."

"Locked up in his office actually—" Taehyun says, causing Yunho to press on his foot under the table. "Ouch— yeah, we've all been busy."

"I see." She giggles. "How's Seora?"

"Good!"

"Give her a big hug for me." Ara smiles. "We should definitely grab some dinner one day and hang out. Bring Seora, too!"

"For sure! Sounds fun."

"See you around then, maybe?" She subtly bites onto her bottom lip as her friends giggle away and hurry along to a table.

"Yeah, I'll see you." She waves for one last goodbye before reuniting with her friends. Seonghwa lets out a small snort, while Taehyun and Jihoon quietly poke away at their food with a smirk growing on their lips.

"Um, so." Jihoon laughs when he's the first to break the silence. "She's definitely interested."

"And Yunho definitely should take the opportunity." Seonghwa responds right away, making Yunho shake his head.

"Nah."

"Why not? She's literally opening the door in front of you. Doesn't hurt to try."

"Could be fun. Doesn't have to be serious." Jihoon adds. "She's cute."

"You should see where it takes you. No harm in letting it go if it doesn't pan out as expected." Taehyun also adds his two cents.

"Was not expecting to get lectured by you three during lunch." They laugh.

"Seriously." Seonghwa looks at him. "It's been awhile since you've went on a date. Just see where it goes." Yunho stays silent as he pokes at his food, thinking about the whole thing. It couldn't hurt just to see where it'd take him— and quite frankly, he could use someone new to talk to and hang out with. It doesn't necessarily mean it needs to work out into anything. "I will literally sit at home with Seora and keep her occupied when you take Ara out." Yunho sighs and finally meets his gaze.

"Really now? I'm holding you to it."

"Yes! Not like I haven't before. Could use time to hangout with my ace and bring back the favorite uncle title." Yunho chuckles.

"Yeah, gotta say. Mingi has been taking over." Yunho says just to rile him up even though there's no such thing for Seora; she loves her uncles equally.

"Well, fuck Mingi." Taehyun and Jihoon laugh. "Ask her later. Or tomorrow. Promise me. It doesn't have to turn into anything but at least get out of the house and hang out with a fresh face." Seonghwa turns back to his food. "But for your sake, I hope it does." He mumbles, causing Yunho to nudge him.

"Fine, but no promises on a specific outcome."

"My job here is done." Seonghwa sips on his soda and tosses a crumpled napkin into the sandwich wrapper.

"Shoulda known."

"I was just gonna catch up with you guys, not my fault she happened to walk by at the same time." Seonghwa chuckles and stands. "Gotta get back to my desk and start pressing people for answers. See you guys around." He stands and grabs his trash, making his way to the trash can before walking off out of the cafeteria.

"He's right." Taehyun shrugs. "Gotta try and see where it goes. You deserve to take a break and have some fun. You always work so damn hard."

"And we all know how much Seora means to you and comes first, but you gotta think about yourself, too." Yunho chuckles as he takes his last forkful and sits back in his seat.

"Thanks guys."

"Just looking out for you." Jihoon stretches. "Anyway, time to head back?"

"Yup. I gotta get ready for my next meeting." They all stand and slowly make their way out of the cafeteria, throwing their trash into the appropriate bins.

Yunho's day ends a little after 5:45pm, which is when rush hour hits. He's heading downtown to pick up the food Seora requested, making sure to place the order ahead of time so he can just pick it up and go. As expected, he hits traffic and it takes him an extra 15 minutes to get deep into downtown. It's crazy everywhere, and all Yunho can do is look forward to getting home.

seora: daddy-o i am home

seora: honey-soy glazed fried chicken and kimchi fried rice from chick'n coop pls!

seora: pls pls pls <3333 love youuu

Luckily, he's able to snag a spot in front of the restaurant. It's a 15 minute spot, so he quickly runs in and grabs the food, thanking the friendly staff before running out and getting back into the car. He's not entirely excited about the trek home in all this chaos, but he finds it worth it when he reminds himself of how happy Seora will be when he gets home with her current craving.

So, his usual 30 min drive home ends up being 45 from inner downtown with all the traffic. He parks his car out front before grabbing his things and pulling on his car handle to make sure the doors are locked. When Yunho unlocks the front door, the house is quiet but it doesn't worry him one bit because he knows exactly where Seora is. He kicks off his shoes, setting the bag of food down on the counter before placing his bag down on a dining table chair. He turns down the hallway towards Seora's room, her door slightly ajar. He gives it a few knocks before he's poking his head in, finding her deep in her books at her desk— those huge Bose headphones she asked for last Christmas sitting on her head while she works on her homework.

"Ace." She surprisingly turns her head towards the door, but it's probably because she felt her father's looming figure standing there. She smiles and shoves off her headphones, playfully jumping on her dad while he wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly.

"You're home!" Yunho laughs as she gently hops off.

"How was school and practice?" She shrugs, walking back to her desk.

"Um, it was okay? The usual."

"Got lots of homework?" She shakes her head.

"Not really. I'm about to finish up!"

"Why don't you wrap it up so we can have dinner and watch our show together?" She chuckles.

"Okay. I'll be out in a sec." Yunho nods, shutting her door before heading out to wash up and get comfy for the evening. He heads to his room and takes a piping hot shower before completing his routine and slipping into a shirt and some flannel pajamas. He heads into the kitchen to unpack dinner, setting out the plates and utensils for him and Seora. He's not usually a stickler about these things— there are days when the two of them sit at the table and talk about everything and anything, then there's days where they'll plop onto the living room floor to eat at the coffee table and watch a show or movie. Any moment spent with Seora is a cherished moment for Yunho, and he'll never take any of it for granted;

Not when she's growing up so damn fast.

Yunho remembers when Seora was born— him and Eunha were shy over 20 years old. Young, dumb and naive; so incredibly unsure of how they'd move forward with having a child so young, how they'd make it without the support they hoped to have. Both their parents didn't think they were ready and tried to force other agendas on them, ones that didn't include being in Seora's life and Eunha was almost convinced it was the better route solely because of all the noise and talk in her ear. But, Yunho didn't want any of it at all. He wanted to be in Seora's life, he wanted to raise her, he wanted to go through life's ups and downs with her— even if that meant their parents wouldn't agree and would cut off ties. 

All that mattered was Seora and Eunha.

So, they had her. Yunho and Eunha had the hardest, most challenging time trying to work to get by, all while finishing school over the years. They packed up and moved to different in-laws, renting rooms in random homes until they could afford a tiny studio to build in for awhile. They pushed through no matter how rough it got because they were both on the same page and understood the end goal: providing for Seora and being able to give her a comfortable life. Their parents weren't the happiest; hence, the disconnect between Seora and both her grandparents. When Eunha passed, her parents cut off ties completely because they claimed it was too painful to. Yunho's parents on the other hand, will see their granddaughter once in a blue moon over a quick meal. Otherwise, they send over birthday and holiday cards with extra cash wishing her the best. Yunho doesn't really have a great relationship with them anyway, and when he does manage to have dinner with them, he tries to keep it civil. 

Keyword: tries.

Things changed when Seora hit 7 years old and was smart enough to pick up on their cues. She realized her grandparents didn't really wanna be a part of her life like that and that was hurtful for Yunho to see. She'd question why they weren't there to see her exceed during the sports competitions in summer camp, she'd question why they wouldn't go to her little school dance recitals. She'd question why they weren't there when she'd win Student of the Month or when they'd have fall and spring family festivals.

She questioned why they weren't there and Yunho didn't have an answer for her. 

But, since they are his parents, he tries to keep that window open out of respect. In the end, he knows it would truly just be them two against the world, and that was completely fine. Yunho made it this far throughout all the trials and tribulations— he's sure he can handle anything else that comes their way.

"Yay!" Seora squeals when she comes out into the living room and plops next to her dad on the floor. "Thank you." She smiles at him and he chuckles.

"You're welcome. Good choice for dinner." She begins to plop some fried rice onto her plate, followed by pieces of the honey-soy glazed chicken wings. 

"Been craving it for so long."

"You could've just asked for it." Yunho switches it to their favorite zombie apocalypse show. 

"I know, but I know you have long days at work so I feel bad for asking you to stop by."

"I appreciate that." Yunho laughs. "But, I want you to know that I don't mind, okay? Just let me know and I'll make the stop."

"You really are the best." She mutters just as she takes a bite into her chicken. 

"You know what we haven't done in awhile?"

"Hm?" Her eyes widen at the scene, and she lets out a small 'oh my god, run!' in between.

"We haven't gone out for our usual father/daughter dates."

"You're right." She takes a spoonful of rice into her mouth. "Can we go next weekend? I think I have a game that Saturday, but in the morning."

"Yeah, what do you wanna do?" She grabs the remote to pause the show.

"Hold on, I need to think about this." She looks up in thought. "I wanna go to the movies to catch Wicked. But, I wanna go to the theater that has the cute suites with the couches inside."

"Okay. But, let me get this straight." Yunho laughs and takes a sip of his beer. "You wanna do that with me and not your friends?"

"They're surprisingly not all that into it. We might later on, but I definitely wanna watch it with you cause I know you'll enjoy it either way." Yunho nods.

"What else? More shopping? More eating out?"

"They opened up that new dog café downtown."

"Let's go then." 

"Bbq after it all?"

"Sounds like a good date to me."

"Dad, for the next-next one, we should drive somewhere or do something outdoorsy or active. Like those indoor rock climbing gyms."

"Woah." He laughs loudly. "Yeah, actually. We should. I'll start planning something for a weekend you don't have any games."

"Woohoo! Sick. Now I can beat you at rock climbing and rub it in your face." She claps and gently headbutts her dad's arm before resuming the show.

"Seora." Yunho looks over at her with a fond smile.

"Uh huh? Holy crap—" She responds to the show before quickly glancing over at him, then back to the TV. "Yeah, dad?"

"Love you." He makes it a point to always remind her because he doesn't want her to feel like she's lacking in love anywhere, despite no longer having her mother or her grandparents around. He is hoping he's enough to fill their shoes. "You know that, right?" He gently tickles her and she squeals.

"Yes! Oh my god, don't do that!" He laughs. "I love you too." Yunho sits back against the couch and fully immerses himself in dinner and the show— responding just as animatedly as Seora. They get through about four 50-min episodes, a little bit into the fifth before Seora is beginning to yawn like crazy, almost falling asleep on the opposite end of the couch.

"Ace." Yunho gently shakes her by the shoulder after pausing the show and slowly cleaning up the coffee table.

"I'm definitely not falling asleep." He snorts.

"You sure are. We'll pick this up again tomorrow. You had a long day." She sits up and yawns, stretching before she rubs at her eyes.

"Practice killed me today. Coach had us running suicides up and down the court for warm up."

"That's a good way to start practice." She nods and sleepily begins her walk off to the bathroom to brush her teeth and do her nightly routine.

"I'm off!" 

"Goodnight, sleep well. Don't stay up on your phone for too long."

"I won't, I won't. Actually—" She lazily pauses and walks back to give Yunho a hug. "Night dad." He playfully squeezes her before planting a chaste kiss to the top of her head and ruffling her hair.

"Night." He watches her finally walk off to the bathroom before turning his attention to the dishes in the sink. He takes his time washing them thoroughly before wiping down the kitchen counters, the dining table and living room coffee table. He slips the leftovers into Seora's tupperware for lunch tomorrow, prepping snacks for himself and Seora to take as well.

He'll probably head to the cafeteria and buy himself something to eat.

Once he's satisfied with his cleaning, he shuts off the lights and double checks the doors before heading into his room on the opposite side of Seora's. He lets out a sigh, exhaustion fully hitting him at this time. He gets himself ready for bed, brushing his teeth and doing his final round of skincare before plopping onto his bed and turning on his own TV. He lowers the volume slightly, the TV now just giving off soft background noise to fill the void. Before he could really settle in, his phone rings— a call coming in from his other bestfriend.

"What?" Mingi scoffs hearing Yunho's greeting.

"You're such a dick, you know that?" Yunho laughs as Mingi continues to whine. "I called to check on you and that's all I get?"

"Jesus, relax. What's wrong?"

"I'm just saying! You didn't even text me back."

"Sorry, I got caught up. Work was busy today, then I stopped by to grab some food Seora's been craving. We were watching our show all night and just finished up not too long ago." Yunho briefly puts him on speaker phone to check Mingi's text. 

mingi: wanna do something this weekend?

"I just asked if you wanted to do something this weekend." Yunho responds anyway, just to give him what he wants.

yunho: no

"Well, okay. It doesn't even matter anymore, why are you responding now?!" Mingi's voice turns up a pitch.

"You wanted me to text you back." Yunho laughs. "No can do anyway. I told Seora I'd take her and the girls shopping. Unless.. you wanna tag along?"

"How sweet. You want me to keep you company?" 

"We can go on our own date while they shop." Mingi chuckles.

"Yeah, sure."

"What did you have in mind originally?"

"Just walking around the city or grabbing dinner. Nothing too fancy."

"What's Hwa doing? Saw him earlier but didn't really get a chance to ask."

"Hanging out with that girl he's been talking to for a two weeks and three days. What's her name? Yoori?"

"Mhm. You're oddly specific." Yunho snorts.

"I don't think it'll last, if I'm being honest." Mingi laughs.

"He's having fun."

"As with the others. Anyway. When's ace's next game?"

"The following Saturday. I gotta check the exact time, but it's an early one. Was planning to take her out afterwards."

"No invite to that?"

"No, dude. My time with my daughter." He sighs.

"I want one."

"Then stop fucking around and settle down." Yunho chuckles. "Also not just something you can want like a toy, Mingi. You know it's way more than that."

"No, I know. You and Eunha did well with Seora, seriously. You're like her bestfriend."

"That's my girl." Mingi nods to himself because he does eventually wanna settle down and have a family, but he's mainly proud of the way Yunho has gracefully tackled life despite all the ups and downs. He wasn't afraid to ask for help when he really needed it, leaning on him and Seonghwa when times were incredibly trying. Taking turns babysitting and driving the girl to and from places, helping buy groceries or cook for the two. Sometimes, Seonghwa or Mingi would offer to hang out with her for a day or so just so Yunho could get some time to himself. For the most part though, Yunho and Eunha did their best. Yunho did his best to pick himself up and carry on for the both of them after Eunha passed. He's not sure how he managed, but he did. He commends Yunho cause he isn't sure how he'd do it if he was in his place.

He hopes his bestfriend can be genuinely happy one day. Yunho says he is but Mingi knows he isn't. There's always gonna be that empty space and that void that he'll look past, and he's worried it'll be too much to bear when times get tough again. Yunho feels like he has everything being by Seora's side and Mingi doesn't doubt that at all.

Still, it must get lonely at times.

"Anyway, I'll let you be. Just wanted to check in. Tell ace I said hi and give her a big hug for me. Send me the details of her game when you can and what time you need me to be ready this weekend."

"Yeah, I will."

"Alright, peaaace." Yunho ends the call and sticks his phone onto the charger. On his nightstand is a photo of him, Eunha and Seora when Seora just turned three— they took her up to the snow so she could play around and enjoy herself. He picks up the photo and smiles as he stares at Eunha's face, truly missing her presence until this day.

That's probably the one other thing that stops him when he thinks about seriously dating again and seeing people. He knows he shouldn't compare but he can't help himself when Eunha was ripped away from his life so suddenly; all he knows is Eunha. They were always on the same page. They weren't perfect, and they sure as hell had their ups and downs. But, they both had the end goal of making it together and being the best parents Seora could have. There was that mutual understanding, that same determination and grit to push through regardless of how tough it got.

He doesn't think he could find a partner in crime like that ever again. Maybe, he just isn't destined to.

And for now, that's okay.

It's okay because he has Seora, and she is the biggest reminder, the biggest vessel of love that he needs.

For now, he thinks he's okay.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies

[thewritetofreespeech]

Can I please request Astarion with a flirty yet oblivious plus size Tav? In the way that they do flirt because it's fun and light like their companions/friends with benefits thing, but they think that their feelings are unrequited (because of some slight insecurity about their size) until Astarion is like I actually like you and Tav is like '???' (Idk if that makes sense lol) Thank you!

-------------------------------🩸-------------------------------

“So, Astarion, what is your actual type?”

“My ‘type’,” Astarion repeated at Shadowheart’s question as they traveled, “is such a broad prevue. I can’t think to narrow it down to just a single collection of words.”

“That’s a unique way to say you’re a trollop.”

Tav snickered at Shadowhearts retort, getting a stern glare from Astarion. “What? It was funny?”

“Pft. And here I was going to say you, my dear, but if you’re going to be so incredibly cruel.”

“Aw shucks. Always a bridesmaid I suppose.”

During their journey together, Tav had grown very fond of Astarion. He was a little shit, but deep down he was very funny and undeniably charming (although not for the ways he tried to be). The two of you had picked up a friendly banter over your time together, sometimes even flirty, but only that. And Tav was fine with that. Well aware that a handsome rake like Astarion could have his pick of the litter, and they were just happy to be considered a friend.

Later that night, while everyone was finishing their day and slinking off to bed, Astarion came over to Tav by the fire to sit with them. “You know I really meant it earlier by the way.”

“Meant what?” Tav asked. Lost, by this point, on what he was talking about.

“That you’re my….‘type’.” He seemed loathed to use the word. Even scrunched his nose. Tav just laughed.

“Yeah. Right. I’m sure.”

“No, really, I mean it.” He insisted.

“Come on Astarion, the only way you’d be interested in me is because I’m a a keg instead of a flagon.” Tav gestured to themselves and their full frame. “I have ample blood to spare.”

Astarion frowned. “Yes, your blood is certainly a bonus, but that isn’t why I care for you.” He huffed and crossed his arms dramatically. “Honestly, why does everyone think I’m not being serious when I am?” Astarion asked with a bit of flabbergast. “Is it something about my expression?”

Tav looked more than a bit flabbergasted at his remark. They didn’t really think they liked them….that way. Friends sure. Allies, of course. But romantically? “You…really have feelings for me?”

“Ugh! What is it with you new generation and wanting to put a name to everything?” Astarion bemoaned. “Feelings. Type. Can’t we just enjoy this for whatever…this is? All I know is that out of all the people in this whole wicked world I would want to be stuck with, it’s you.”

“Gee, that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” Tav teased.

Astarion frowned again, but then leaned in close to Tav so all they could see was his piercing red eyes. “I could wax poems for you, if you’d prefer. How your eyes are the stars. How your curves are roads I would never get tired of roaming. How your ample bosom feels like a place to call home. All true, but you’re so much more to me than that.” He moved back to sit in his original spot. Wrapping his arms around his knees at his chest as he looked into the fire. “You’re the first person I’ve trusted in…well ever. You mean more to me than just your body. Though, again, that is certainly a bonus. I had hoped….you feel the same about me.”

Tav blushed, but then quickly gathered their voice and told him, “yes! Of course.”

Astarion seemed relieved. Then leaned over to give Tav a simple, sweet peck on the cheek. “Good. Now, get some sleep. We’ll probably have a completely eventful day tomorrow as well. You’ll need your beauty sleep. Not that you need it, of course. I’ll keep watch until the morning.”

Tav smiled, blushed again, and then went to their bed roll. Tentative in accepting Astarion’s confession & feelings, but hopeful it was all true. Perhaps, for once, they could really be the bride instead of the bridesmaid.

[quickstappen]

track 004: the see is calm (before the storm)

A/N: i know i've disappeared for a while but it turns out that second year of college is very different to the first. now finally after two months i've got it under control so hopefully we'll have a semi-regular schedule for now, i'll try to post something every two weeks (on weekends most likely). anyway, this one's not very plot heavy but it's needed for the story, enjoy!

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paola_sainz contrary to popular belief, I do actually work sometimes ;) keep your eyes open guys, things are getting done here

tagged: sean_cliff

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F4ST_C4R oh please say its a new collection, i was too late for the 1st one and it sold out 😭

oui_lyanne who the fuck is sean

↳ 4ND1 from what i can see he's another designer

↳ oui_lyanne ooh, collab maybe? 👀

↳ f1w1tch OR the super secret boyf

L3CH41R well, looks like she's not in spa after all

mcwilliams are you gonna comment on the williams/carlos announcement??

↳ prplsector i mean,, why would she?? it's not her announcement, she's got a job

lightning_enjyr oh my god are those pieces from the new collection?? 😳

danielricciardo Respect the grind 💪🤠

↳ sadiebull sorry what is daniel ricciardo doing

↳ fastkiwi trying to relate to the youth lol

shithappens oh god women in suits 😳

STARG3N guys,,, what is carlos alcaraz doing in the likes

↳ hamilteaa the tennis player???

↳ STARG3N yeahhh

sean_cliff you know it's always a pleasure working with you 🤭

↳ paola_sainz oh I know, I am brilliant of course

↳ elmatadorf1 jesus what a self-centred bitch 💀

predestined55 no one's gonna buy this crap anyway 🐍

carlitosalcarazz We need to play again sometime! 🎾

↳ paola_sainz do your job at the Olympics first, then we'll see 👏

↳ isawthesainz THEY KNOW EACH OTHER???

↳ dutchlion sure looks like it 👀

oscarpiastri You gonna spend the whole summer break working too?

↳ paola_sainz actually no, this one guy invited me to visit his family you know

↳ oscarpiastri Lucky guy

↳ lightning_enjyr oui_lyanne surely you see my point now

↳ oui_lyanne everyday i am closer to believing you

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paola's messages:

paola_sainz posted new instagram stories!

caption 1: a little pitstop before our journey ;)

caption 2: mid-rant and a little drunk but he's fine, alive and well

⟶ alex_albon replied to your story!

alex_albon oh thank god you're with him, he hasn't been answering my calls and texts

paola_sainz yeahh, we figured. me and Osc are with him rn but we have to leave in the morning

alex_albon shit, how is he really? do you seriously have to leave?

paola_sainz he's better than yesterday, mostly pissed atp but I'm sure that the self-hatered and misery will come soon

paola_sainz and yeah we have to, we've been trying to visit Oscar's family together for ages

paola_sainz I think he's going home for the rest of the break

alex_albon jesus, that's good at least

alex_albon I'll try to reach out again

paola_sainz good idea

caption 3: couldn't take this little guy home, apparently "2 is enough cats Lola"

⟶ maxverstappen1 replied to your story!

maxverstappen1 I think you should've taken him anyway, he is very cute

paola_sainz I knoww! I named him Barron Meowmilton

paola_sainz unfortunately, I do not fancy sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future so we left Barron at a local shelter ;)

maxverstappen1 Ah, I understand

maxverstappen1 We'll always remember you, Barron Meowmilton

caption 4: and we're off to see the future in-laws ;)

⟶ hattiepiastri replied to your story!

hattiepiastri has my brother done something we don't know about??

paola_sainz nahh, dw about it, you'd be first to know after your mum

paola_sainz I'm just sure I'm gonna marry him someday, there's no other option

hattiepiastri you're both so disgustingly gone for each other it should be studied

hattiepiastri can't wait to see you though

paola_sainz girll me too, it's been too long

paola's messages:

liked by jensonbutton, hattiepiastri and others

paola_sainz can confirm that kitties are just as cute down under as in the rest of the world ;)

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shithappens paola talking about cats at all times? fork found in kitchen

arthur_leclerc did you try to take the cat home?

↳ oscarpiastri take a wild guess mate

↳ paola_sainz don't know what you're talking about mate

↳ oscarpiastri I have a feeling that you're gonna grossly overuse mate now

↳ paola_sainz now why would I do that... mate 😇

barbiegirl what are you doing in Australia girllll

elmatadorf1 thank god she's not going home with Carlos, he doesn't need her 🐍

jensonbutton Come back in one piece please

↳ paola_sainz don't you worry about that Jense, I am well taken care of ;)

oui_lyanne yeah okay she's actually in australia

charles_leclerc You're right, that's a very cute kitty

lightning_enjyr did you buy any new records?

oscarpiastri Have you seen the sights yet?

↳ paola_sainz not really, my tour guide has been kinda busy

↳ oscarpiastri That's a shame, there's a lot of great things to see

↳ paola_sainz don't worry mate, I've been looking at different kind of sights plenty enough, lot of beach days yk? I can wait a few more days 😉

↳ oscarpiastri Oh, well in that case 🫢

prplsector oscar is brave fr, I'll give him that 😳

4ND1 god the tension is this comment section is something else

ada_moore if Oscar's not the boyfriend and I was the boyfriend I am straight up fighting that man in some dark alley because that is so flirty and for what (if he IS the boyfriend, carry on please, the energy is unmatched)

L3CH41R how are her outfits always so good???

predestined55 Carlos just signed a contract and she's talking about cats and being a slut in the comments, great 😒

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hattiepiastri posted new instagram stories!

caption 1: did you know, we're killer on karaoke nights?

caption 2: doing all this late night talking

caption 3: we're keeping her oscarpiastri, if you don't wife her up I will

⟶ oscarpiastri replied to your story!

oscarpiastri You don't have to worry about that

paola_sainz posted new instagram stories!

caption 1: g'day mate! celebrity crush meet up officially checked out from my wishlist

caption 2: the locals showing me the best ice cream places in town

caption 3: hands that have never seen manual labour

⟶ oscarpiastri replied to your story!

oscarpiastri hey!

paola_sainz you're offended like it's not true

caption 4: bad bitch on the beach

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and others

paola_sainz most unexpected crossover of the year? maybe not as unexpected as you think! me and Robert did some cool things this week and I got to meet some sweet pets, I might not come back from 'Straya

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N3CKSTRI excuse me- Robert Irwin and Paola Sainz in one place? i might actually die

prplsector spain's sweetheart with australia's sweetheart, way too cute

dutchlion can someone actually explain to me how people can hate her? if you don't like her content just stop looking at it, but actually hating on her?? can't imagine

robertirwinphotography It was good to finally see you! The animals already miss you

↳ paola_sainz oh god please don't say that, I'll cry for real 😭 I miss them too

shithappens i dunno, i still think it's pretty unexpected

fastkiwi the way this isn't even the wildest thing she's done this season 😳

predestined55 can you like rot in hell now? two faced bitch 🐍

barbiegirl they'd look sooooo goooood together

↳ zoebryne_x ik right??

logansargeant Is zookeeper next on the cv?

↳ paola_sainz you're laughing but I'd be an amazing zookeeper

↳ logansargeant Who told you that? I wouldn't trust them, you'd end up taking all the animals home

↳ paola_sainz Robert said I'd do great!

↳ logansargeant I think that's just his job, plus he's too nice to tell you the truth

↳ paola_sainz you're mean, see if I bring you gifts when I get back

4ND1 can I meet Robert Irwin now??

oscarpiastri Still looking at sights?

↳ paola_sainz why, you jealous mate?

↳ oscarpiastri Don't worry, just curious

lightning_enjyr are they even trying to hide it atp???

elmatadorf1 can she just injure sth since she's playing tennis so much? maybe then we'd get a break from her stupid face 🤢

↳ STARG3N you guys are literally insane what the hell

madi_races every time i open the comment section i get whiplash, on twt everyone is trying to figure out who the boyfriend is, the press is eating this all up, people are placing bets and here is oscar just shamelessly flirting, it's like a different universe

arthur_leclerc I'm coming with you next time

↳ paola_sainz ditch Charles and come here then

hammertime_1 guys i really don't think Oscar's the boyfriend, she's just way out of his league

isawthesainz jesus she's so cringe, excuse me while i throw up

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paola's messages:

NETHERLANDS 2024

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others

oscarpiastri And we're back 👍 break at home was good but it's nice to be racing again

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laile_f1 he's never beating the calm cat allegations

catstri81 that is the most oscar caption to ever caption

maximumformula he's doing the dad pose 😭

4ND1 i can't with him 😭 he's just a guyy

chat_withmani ohh he's posted the girlfriend!!

elmatadorf1 i can't believe he still has a seat

↳ prplsector can you guys stop being fucking petty for a minute

paola_sainz so did the girlfriend like it in the down under mate?

↳ oscarpiastri Yeah, since she's now best friends with my sister I'm pretty sure she did mate 🙄

↳ paola_sainz what, you jealous of your sister?

↳ oscarpiastri She basically stole my girlfriend

lestappen116 he looks so happy 😭

fastkiwi it was good to see you back at home

landonorris Let's go mate! Good weekend 👍

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paola's messages:

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DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!

[novaursa]

Between Pride and Fire (his match)

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

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: of fire and gold

- Next chapter: to secure an alliance

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

King Viserys sat in a high-backed chair near the large windows, the morning sun illuminating the silver streaks in his hair. He was nursing a goblet of wine, his expression serene as he gazed out over the sprawling Westerlands below. Tyland Lannister stood nearby, his posture stiff, though his sharp eyes tracked his brother’s movements with barely concealed unease.

Jason bowed with a flourish, his grin as effortless as ever. “Your Grace,” he said, straightening. “A fine morning to you.”

Viserys turned, a warm smile breaking across his face. “Lord Jason! You seem in good spirits. Come, join me.”

Jason strode forward, taking a seat opposite the king. “It’s hard not to be in good spirits with such esteemed company gracing Casterly Rock,” he said smoothly, gesturing toward the view. “Though I must admit, I have a small favor to ask.”

Viserys chuckled, his mood buoyed by the wine and Jason’s charm. “And what favor would that be, my lord?”

Jason leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “Your Grace, I was hoping you might grant me permission to take the princess on a ride to Lannisport. The city is one of the jewels of the Westerlands, and I would be honored to show her its splendor. It would be a chance for her to see more of our lands, to understand the pride we Lannisters take in them.”

Viserys stroked his beard thoughtfully, his expression pensive. “Lannisport, you say? A fine city indeed.”

“It is,” Jason agreed, his tone earnest. “And I promise to ensure her comfort and safety. The journey is short, and the roads are well-guarded.”

Tyland, standing by the hearth, shifted slightly, his frown deepening. He didn’t interrupt, but his gaze bore into Jason with a warning glare that his twin brother deliberately ignored.

Viserys tapped his goblet thoughtfully against his knee. “You have a keen interest in my daughter, Lord Jason.”

Jason smiled, inclining his head. “She is a remarkable woman, Your Grace. It is an honor to be in her presence.”

Viserys’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling. “She is, isn’t she? Though she doesn’t make it easy for her suitors.”

Jason chuckled, his tone light. “A lion doesn’t shy away from a challenge, Your Grace. In fact, we thrive on it.”

The king laughed heartily, clearly pleased. “Well said, Lord Jason. Very well, you have my permission. But,” he added, his tone turning slightly more serious, “be mindful of her temper. She’s not one to hold her tongue.”

Jason’s grin widened, his confidence unwavering. “Her sharp tongue is one of the many things I admire about her, Your Grace.”

Tyland’s frown deepened further, but he remained silent, though his knuckles tightened against the edge of the mantel. Jason caught the movement out of the corner of his eye but chose to ignore it, standing and bowing deeply to the king.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jason said, his tone warm. “I’ll make the necessary preparations. The princess will be in safe hands.”

Viserys nodded, clearly satisfied. “Good. And Jason?”

Jason paused, meeting the king’s gaze. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Make sure she enjoys herself. She deserves to be happy.”

Jason’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, there was a glimmer of sincerity in his expression. “Of course, Your Grace.”

With that, he turned and left the solar, his steps as confident as ever. As he passed Tyland, his younger brother caught his arm, stopping him just outside the door.

“What are you doing, Jason?” Tyland hissed, his voice low but sharp.

Jason turned, his grin returning. “Taking the princess on a ride to Lannisport. You heard the king.”

Tyland’s glare was cold. “Be careful, Jason. You’re walking a fine line.”

Jason’s grin only widened. “I’ve always enjoyed walking fine lines, brother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have plans to make.”

The courtyard of Casterly Rock buzzed with quiet activity as servants and guards prepared for the morning’s excursion. You stood at the center of it, one hand pressed over your face in exasperation. Beside you, Ser Lorent Marbrand held the reins of his horse, his stoic expression doing little to mask the faint hint of sympathy in his eyes. A group of mounted Lannister guards waited nearby, their cloaks fluttering gently in the breeze as they watched the scene with patient curiosity.

From across the courtyard, you could see Rhaenyra leaning against one of the stone balustrades overlooking the commotion, her arms crossed and her expression smug. No doubt she was relishing the situation, having already teased you mercilessly about this “outing.”

You muttered something under your breath, too quiet for Ser Lorent to hear but enough for him to shift slightly, as though bracing for whatever was to come. Moments later, Jason Lannister appeared, leading two magnificent horses, one of them a dappled grey clearly meant for you. His golden hair caught the sunlight, and his confident stride exuded the kind of arrogance that set your teeth on edge.

“Good morning, Princess,” Jason greeted cheerfully as he approached. His grin was as insufferable as ever as he stopped in front of you and held out the reins of the grey mare. “For you.”

You lowered your hand and glared at him, reluctantly taking the reins as his fingers deliberately brushed against yours. The touch was fleeting, but the smug glint in his eye told you it was no accident.

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish by dragging me to Lannisport?” you asked, your tone sharp as you adjusted your grip on the reins.

Jason swung into his own saddle with an effortless grace, turning to you with a grin that only deepened your annoyance. “Why, it’s important for the future Lady Lannister to know the city she’ll one day be ruling over.”

You froze, staring at him in disbelief before narrowing your eyes. “You truly have no shame, do you?”

Jason laughed, the sound rich and unbothered as he guided his horse closer to yours. “None at all, Princess. It’s one of my more charming qualities.”

“You mistake arrogance for charm,” you shot back, mounting your horse with practiced ease, your movements sharp with irritation. “Though I suppose that’s fitting for you.”

“Call it what you will,” Jason replied smoothly, falling into step beside you as the procession began to move out of the courtyard. “But you can’t deny I have a way of getting what I want.”

You rolled your eyes, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, how impressive. The mighty Lord Lannister, annoying people into submission.”

Jason chuckled, clearly enjoying your ire. “Careful, Princess. That sharp tongue of yours is one of the reasons I like you.”

“I’m flattered,” you said dryly. “Truly.”

He leaned slightly toward you, his grin taking on a more mischievous edge. “You should be. Not many women catch my attention the way you have.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Probably because most women have the sense to avoid you.”

Jason feigned a wounded expression, placing a hand over his heart. “Harsh words, Princess. You wound me.”

“Good,” you replied, your voice cutting. “Perhaps next time, you’ll think twice before involving me in one of your ridiculous schemes.”

Jason’s laughter echoed across the courtyard as the group rode through the gates, the lion banners fluttering above. “Ridiculous, maybe. But you’re here, aren’t you?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the sound of Rhaenyra’s laughter from above caught your attention. She waved at you with a smirk, clearly relishing your predicament.

“Enjoy Lannisport, dear sister!” she called out, her voice ringing with amusement. “Try not to let him drive you mad!”

You muttered a curse under your breath as Jason turned to you with a grin that promised nothing but more trouble. “Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the road ahead.

“Lead the way, Lord Lannister,” you replied coldly, your grip tightening on the reins. “And try not to embarrass yourself.”

Jason’s grin widened as he spurred his horse forward, his confidence as unshakable as ever. “I’ll do my best, Princess. But no promises.”

The ride had barely begun, and already the battle of wills was in full swing.

The bustling city of Lannisport came into view as you and Jason crested the final hill of the winding road from Casterly Rock. The city sprawled along the coastline, its harbor teeming with ships bearing the proud lion sigil of House Lannister. The streets below buzzed with life, a patchwork of market stalls, merchant caravans, and townsfolk going about their day. As the procession descended into the city, the air grew thick with the scent of salt and fish mingling with the sweet aroma of baked goods and freshly cut flowers.

Your presence alongside Jason caused an immediate stir. Heads turned as whispers spread like wildfire through the streets. It wasn’t every day the people of Lannisport saw their lord riding beside a Targaryen princess. Children pointed, their mothers shushing them hurriedly, while merchants craned their necks for a better view. The sight of your silver hair, unmistakable even beneath the hood of your cloak, seemed to captivate the crowd.

Jason, of course, basked in the attention, sitting tall in his saddle with a smug grin as he acknowledged the occasional cheer or bow. “Ah, Lannisport,” he said grandly, turning to you with a flourish. “The jewel of the Westerlands. Impressive, isn’t it?”

You arched a brow, your tone dry. “If you’re into jewels that smell like fish.”

Jason laughed, undeterred by your barb. “Come now, Princess. Even you can’t deny its charm. Allow me to show you.”

He dismounted with practiced ease, handing his reins to a waiting guard before turning to help you down. You ignored his extended hand, swinging down from your horse on your own. Jason’s grin widened at your defiance, and he gestured grandly toward the bustling market ahead.

“Shall we?” he asked.

Reluctantly, you followed, your steps measured as you trailed after him through the cobblestone streets. The first stop was the harbor, where Jason launched into a lengthy explanation about Lannisport’s famed shipyards and the wealth they brought to the region.

“And this,” Jason said, gesturing toward a massive galleon being loaded with goods, “is where the finest ships in Westeros are built. The craftsmanship is unparalleled.”

You glanced at the ship, unimpressed. “It’s a boat, Jason. They all float.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Ah, but this is no ordinary boat, Princess. This is a masterpiece.”

“A masterpiece that smells like tar and rotting fish,” you replied, wrinkling your nose.

Jason placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “You wound me. Perhaps the marketplace will be more to your liking.”

He led you to the central square, where merchants peddled everything from vibrant silks to exotic spices. The noise was deafening, a cacophony of shouted offers and bartered deals. Jason picked up a necklace from one stall, holding it up with a mischievous grin.

“Wouldn’t this look lovely on you?” he teased, dangling the necklace in front of you.

You rolled your eyes. “I’d rather wear a noose.”

“Always so dramatic,” Jason quipped, returning the necklace to the merchant with a wink. “Let’s move on.”

The next stop was a bakery, where Jason insisted you try a honey cake freshly pulled from the oven. You reluctantly accepted, and to your annoyance, it was delicious.

“Well?” he asked, watching you with a knowing grin as you took a bite. “Am I right, or am I right?”

You sighed, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “It’s fine.”

Jason chuckled, leaning closer. “I knew you’d like it. See? I’m not completely insufferable.”

“That’s debatable,” you muttered, brushing crumbs from your cloak.

The day continued in much the same fashion, with Jason narrating every detail of the city as if it were the most fascinating place in the world, and you countering with your sharp wit at every turn. He pointed out the grand statue of Lann the Clever in the town square, and you remarked that it was appropriately self-aggrandizing for a Lannister. He showed you the grand market hall, and you noted that it was smaller than the Red Keep’s.

By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, Jason led you to a quiet terrace overlooking the harbor, the city sprawling beneath you. The sight was undeniably beautiful, the light of dusk reflecting off the water and casting the buildings in a warm glow.

Jason leaned against the stone railing, his eyes flicking to yours. “Admit it,” he said, his voice softer now. “Lannisport has its charms.”

You hesitated, your gaze sweeping over the scene. “It’s… suitable,” you said finally, though your tone lacked its usual bite.

Jason chuckled, the sound low and pleased. “High praise, coming from you.”

You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

He smiled, his expression softer than you were used to. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.”

Below, the harbor bustled with activity, but up here, the sounds seemed muted, as if the world had paused for just a moment, as Jason leaned against the stone railing, his usual smirk replaced by a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” Jason began, his voice quieter than usual, “when I was a boy, I used to come up here and dream about what it would be like to rule Casterly Rock.”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing slightly. The uncharacteristic seriousness in his tone caught you off guard. “What did you imagine?” you asked cautiously.

Jason smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Power, wealth, glory. All the things a young Lannister is taught to value. But as I got older, I realized it wasn’t just about those things. It was about responsibility. Every decision, every alliance, every risk—it all comes back to the people who look to you for guidance. It’s… a heavy weight, sometimes.”

You crossed your arms, watching him closely. This was a side of Jason you hadn’t seen before, one that seemed more vulnerable, more human. “And yet you carry it with so much… confidence,” you said, the word tasting unfamiliar as you spoke it.

Jason chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Confidence, arrogance—it’s all the same to some. But it’s easier to wear a mask of bravado than to let anyone see the cracks. That’s something Tyland always understood better than me. He was always the dutiful one, the planner. I was the one who acted first and thought later.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. “Was it always like that? You and Tyland?”

Jason hesitated, his eyes flicking to yours briefly before returning to the view. “In some ways, yes. Tyland was the responsible one, even as children. He always looked out for me, made sure I didn’t get into too much trouble. But he was also… distant. As if he knew he’d have to clean up my messes one day.”

The faint smile on his lips faltered, and he exhaled quietly. “I resented it at first. Felt like he didn’t trust me to handle things on my own. But now… I think I understand. He wasn’t just protecting me. He was protecting the name of our house.”

You didn’t know how to respond at first. This wasn’t the brash, arrogant Lord Lannister you were used to sparring with. This was someone different—someone who carried more weight than he let on.

“I…” You hesitated, unsure if sharing anything personal would shift the dynamic. But something about the moment felt right, and you found yourself speaking before you could think better of it. “I was my mother’s shadow as a child. Wherever she went, I followed. She used to joke that I was her little dragon.”

Jason turned to you fully now, his expression softer, more attentive. “What was she like?”

You smiled faintly, your gaze dropping to the railing. “She was kind but firm. She had this way of making everyone feel seen, like they mattered. And she was strong. Stronger than most men I’ve ever met.” Your smile faltered slightly as a pang of loss crept in. “She taught me to be strong, too. But I never quite figured out how to be… soft. Like her.”

Jason studied you for a moment, his golden eyes thoughtful. “You’re strong in your own way, Princess. And I’d wager you’re softer than you let on.”

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head. “You don’t know me as well as you think.”

“Don’t I?” he countered, his tone gentle but pointed. “You’ve shown me more than you realize.”

The weight of his words hung between you, the silence stretching out as you processed what he had said. For the first time since you’d arrived at Casterly Rock, Jason Lannister felt less like a rival and more like… a person.

“Why tell me this?” you asked finally, your voice quieter now.

Jason shrugged, his smirk returning but softer this time. “Maybe I wanted you to see there’s more to me than arrogance and charm.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Jason chuckled, the sound lighter now as he straightened. “Fair enough. Shall we head back? Or would you rather stay here and ponder my hidden depths?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing off the railing. “Let’s go. This city reeks of fish.”

Jason laughed as he gestured for you to lead the way, his usual confidence tempered now by something more genuine. As the two of you made your way back to the horses, the weight of the conversation lingered, a reminder that even lions had their vulnerabilities—and dragons their moments of softness.

The sound of hoofbeats echoed on the dirt path as you and Jason rode side by side, your usual dynamic quickly reasserting itself after the fleeting vulnerability you’d both shared in Lannisport.

Jason glanced at you, his smirk firmly back in place. “You know,” he began casually, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually enjoyed yourself today.”

You shot him a sideways glance, your tone dry. “Enjoyed myself? That’s a stretch.”

“Oh, come now, Princess,” he teased, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “You smiled at least once. I saw it.”

“Perhaps I was smiling at the thought of pushing you into the harbor,” you replied, your lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smirk.

Jason laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “You wound me once again. Truly.”

“Good,” you said with mock satisfaction, spurring your horse slightly ahead of his.

Before Jason could retort, the sound of approaching riders drew both your attention. A small escort of armed men crested the hill ahead, their armor shining faintly in the sun. At their head was a portly man with a ruddy face and a finely embroidered doublet, the sigil of a leaping trout on his chest. Jason’s demeanor shifted immediately, his expression hardening as he recognized the man.

“Lord Edwyn Tully,” Jason muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with disdain.

You raised a brow, curious. “A friend of yours?”

“Hardly,” Jason replied, his smirk now edged with irritation. “The man’s a walking insult to dignity.”

As the two groups met on the road, Lord Edwyn’s eyes lit up as he spotted you. His gaze lingered a little too long, and he pulled his horse to a stop directly in front of you, bowing with exaggerated courtesy.

“Princess,” Edwyn said, his tone oily. “What a rare and delightful surprise to encounter such radiance on these humble roads.”

You inclined your head politely, though the man’s tone set your nerves on edge. “Lord Edwyn,” you replied evenly. “A pleasure.”

Edwyn’s gaze flicked briefly to Jason, his lips curving into a thin, insincere smile. “And Lord Lannister, of course. Always a pleasure to see the Rock’s golden lion.”

Jason’s smile was cold, his eyes narrowing. “Edwyn.”

Undeterred, Edwyn turned his attention back to you, his tone growing more ingratiating. “I must say, Princess, the beauty of the Targaryens is unmatched, but you… you are a rare jewel indeed.”

Jason’s jaw tightened, and his horse shifted as he gripped the reins a little too hard. “Careful, Tully,” he said, his voice low and edged with warning.

Edwyn ignored him, his smile widening. “It’s a wonder you’re still unwed, Princess. Any lord would count himself the luckiest man in Westeros to stand at your side.”

Jason’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “And yet no one’s counting you among those lords, are they, Edwyn?”

The tension crackled in the air as Edwyn turned to Jason, his own smile faltering slightly. “I was merely paying the princess a compliment, Lord Jason. There’s no need for hostility.”

Jason’s smirk returned, sharper than a blade. “Compliments are one thing. Overstepping is another. And you’re dangerously close to the latter.”

“Enough,” you cut in, your voice firm as you fixed both men with a pointed look. “Lord Edwyn, your words are appreciated, but unnecessary.”

Edwyn blinked, clearly caught off guard by your interruption. “Of course, Princess. I only meant—”

“I know what you meant,” you said, your tone cool. “And now you can continue your journey. We have no need to linger.”

Jason’s smirk turned into a satisfied grin as Edwyn’s pride visibly bruised. The man sputtered for a moment before inclining his head stiffly.

“As you wish, Princess,” Edwyn said, his tone curt. He turned to Jason, his gaze narrowing. “Lord Lannister.”

“Safe travels, Tully,” Jason replied, his voice dripping with false cheer.

Edwyn scowled but said nothing more, spurring his horse forward as his escort followed. Once they were out of earshot, Jason let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Well handled, Princess,” he said, his tone light but laced with amusement. “Though I could have managed just fine.”

“You were about to bite his head off,” you said dryly, steering your horse back onto the road. “Someone had to stop you.”

Jason grinned, falling into step beside you. “He deserved it.”

“Perhaps,” you conceded, glancing at him. “But you can’t go picking fights with every lord who irritates you.”

Jason’s grin widened, his green eyes gleaming. “Watch me.”

You sighed, shaking your head as the two of you continued toward Casterly Rock, the familiar rhythm of your banter easing the anxiety from the encounter. For all his flaws, Jason had a way of making even the most tedious journeys entertaining.

The courtyard of Casterly Rock was alive with the glow of thorches as Jason, you, and the escort returned from Lannisport. The imposing gates swung open to reveal the grand castle loud with activity. The sounds of laughter and the hum of conversation spilled from the great hall, mingling with the faint strains of music carried on the evening breeze.

Jason dismounted first, his usual confident grin firmly in place as he offered his hand to help you down. You ignored it, sliding off your horse with practiced ease, much to his amusement. “Still determined to be independent, I see,” he teased as you brushed past him.

Ser Lorent Marbrand dismounted behind you, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the courtyard as he followed you and Jason into the castle. The air inside was warm and inviting, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine wafting through the halls. As you entered the great hall, the sight of King Viserys at the head table immediately caught your attention. He was surrounded by courtiers of the West and his own retainers, his face alight with joy as he raised his goblet in a toast.

Jason leaned closer to you. “What perfect timing,” he murmured. “Shall we make an entrance?”

Before you could protest, he took your hand and led you toward the center of the hall, where the music swelled. The courtiers parted to make way, their curious gazes lingering as Jason turned to face you, bowing with exaggerated courtesy.

“Care to dance, Princess?” he asked, his tone as smooth as silk.

You hesitated, glancing toward your father, who was already beaming at the sight of you and Jason. To refuse would only cause a scene, and so, with a reluctant sigh, you placed your hand in Jason’s.

The music shifted to a lively tune as Jason pulled you into the dance, his movements confident and fluid. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself matching his steps with ease, your natural grace rivaling his practiced charm. The space between you grew smaller with each turn, and the whispers among the courtiers grew louder. Jason’s hand rested lightly on your waist, his grip firm but not forceful, though the closeness of the dance made your pulse quicken.

“Enjoying yourself yet?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Not in the slightest,” you replied, your tone biting despite the faint flush rising in your cheeks.

Jason chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Liar.”

The dance slowed slightly, the music taking on a more intimate tone as Jason leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Nyke jaelagon naejot sagon iemnȳ ao,” he murmured in High Valyrian, his voice husky and deliberate.

You froze for the briefest moment, your eyes closing as you steadied your nerves. “Did you mean to say, ‘I want to drink in your beauty?’” you asked, your tone sharp but quiet enough that only he could hear. “Because what you actually said was, ‘I want to be within you.’”

Jason’s grin widened, utterly unrepentant. “Same thing.”

You pulled back just enough to glare at him, though the closeness of the dance kept you from creating any real distance. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?” he countered, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Both are true, after all.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned your gaze away, your movements faltering slightly before you regained your composure. Jason’s laughter was soft but genuine, and his grip on your waist tightened just enough to steady you.

From the head table, Viserys beamed, clearly delighted by the sight of his youngest daughter dancing so closely with the charming Lord Lannister. “Look at them!” he exclaimed to no one in particular, raising his goblet again. “A finer match I couldn’t imagine!”

You gritted your teeth, your patience wearing thin as Jason leaned in once more, his tone soft but teasing. “Relax, Princess. You’re doing wonderfully. Even your father thinks so.”

“Careful, Jason,” you warned, your voice a low hiss. “Push me too far, and I’ll end this dance by stepping on your toes.”

Jason laughed again, his eyes shining with a mix of amusement and admiration. “I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, spinning you into another turn as the music swelled around you, the energy between you crackling like the embers of a fire neither of you seemed willing to extinguish.

The dance continued, the music shifting to a slower, more intimate melody that seemed designed to draw partners closer. Jason took full advantage, his hand pressing slightly firmer against your waist as he guided you through the steps. The crowd seemed to melt away as his eyes locked onto yours, his smirk softening into something almost sincere.

“Do you ever stop being difficult?” he asked, his voice low enough to be drowned out by the music and murmurs of the hall.

You snorted lightly, though the closeness between you made it hard to keep your tone as sharp as you intended. “Not when it comes to you.”

Jason chuckled, his thumb brushing against your waist in a way that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “You’re impossible. But that’s part of your charm.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said, your tone dry even as your heart quickened slightly.

“I’m not trying to flatter you,” Jason said, his expression shifting to something more earnest. “I’m trying to make you see reason.”

“Reason?” you echoed, arching a brow. “And what would that be?”

Jason spun you gently, his hand sliding back into place as he pulled you closer. “That I’m the best match for you, Princess. You’re clever, fiery, and impossible to ignore. And I’m stubborn enough to keep up with you.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “How generous of you to offer.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone dropping slightly. “You’re a Targaryen. You deserve someone who won’t try to dull your fire, who won’t be intimidated by your strength.”

“And you think you’re that someone?” you asked, your skepticism clear.

Jason grinned, though there was a flicker of sincerity in his eyes. “I know I am.”

You laughed softly, the sound more bitter than amused. “And why do you think I even want to get married?”

Jason tilted his head, his gaze studying you with the intensity that only a man as arrogant as he could manage. “You’re a princess,” he said simply. “It’s your duty.”

Your lips curved into a faint smirk, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “That’s Rhaenyra’s duty, not mine. She’s the heir, the one the realm watches like a hawk. Father’s far more forgiving when it comes to me.”

Jason’s brow furrowed slightly, though his steps never faltered. “You think that absolves you? That you can live your life free of the expectations your name brings?”

“I think it means I have choices,” you replied, your tone sharp but quiet. “Something you seem intent on taking from me.”

Jason’s jaw tightened briefly before he sighed, his grip on your waist softening. “I’m not trying to take anything from you, Princess. I’m offering you a chance to build something powerful—together.”

You glanced away, your gaze flicking toward the head table where your father watched with unabashed delight. “And what if I don’t want to build anything?”

Jason’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with amusement rather than arrogance. “Then you’d be wasting your potential. You’re not just a princess—you’re a dragon. And dragons don’t sit idle while the world passes them by.”

You rolled your eyes, though the faint flush on your cheeks betrayed the effect his words had. “You really do think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

Jason grinned. “Only because I think highly of you.”

The music began to fade, signaling the end of the dance, but Jason didn’t release you immediately. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his voice a soft murmur meant only for you. “Think about it, Princess. You and I—we’d be unstoppable.”

You met his gaze, your own expression guarded as you considered his words. “Or we’d kill each other within a moon’s turn.”

Jason laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained. “Possibly. But what a glorious way to go.”

The applause from the courtiers pulled your attention back to the present, and Jason finally released you, bowing with exaggerated courtesy. “Thank you for the dance, Princess.”

You inclined your head, your expression cool even as your pulse raced. “Don’t expect another.”

Jason’s smirk widened as he stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “We’ll see about that.”

Jason Lannister strode away from the center of the hall with the easy confidence of a man who knew the eyes of the room were on him. The lords of the Westerlands, gathered around a cluster of tables, greeted him with a mixture of camaraderie and admiration, their goblets raised in his honor.

“Well done, Jason!” one lord called, his voice thick with wine. “Dancing with a Targaryen princess, no less!”

“A rare sight indeed,” added another, his grin wide. “And not just any Targaryen—the sharp-tongued one! She hasn’t skewered you yet, which is more than most could say.”

Jason chuckled, accepting a goblet from a servant as he joined the group. “It takes a lion to handle a dragon,” he replied smoothly, his golden eyes gleaming. “And this lion is up to the task.”

The table erupted into laughter and cheers, the men toasting Jason’s boldness. Tyrek Hill, a minor noble known for his sharp wit, leaned closer, his tone playful. “Tell us, Jason, how do you manage it? The princess isn’t exactly known for her… accommodating nature.”

Jason smirked, taking a slow sip of wine before replying. “Persistence, Tyrek. Dragons respect strength and wit. Fortunately, I have both in abundance.”

The lords roared with laughter again, their voices blending with the lively chatter of the hall. Jason’s grin widened as he basked in the attention, but his gaze strayed more often than not to the head table, where you now sat with your father, Rhaenyra, and Alicent.

You were seated beside King Viserys, who looked thoroughly delighted, his jovial mood infecting those around him. Alicent, her pregnancy visible beneath her flowing green gown, sat to his other side, her demeanor calm and composed as she nibbled delicately on a piece of fruit. Rhaenyra, in contrast, wore a smirk that mirrored Jason’s, her violet eyes flicking between you and the Lannisters with thinly veiled amusement.

Jason’s gaze lingered on you as you leaned closer to your father, engaging him in quiet conversation. The way your silver hair caught the candlelight, the subtle tilt of your head, the stubborn fire in your expression—it all captivated him more than he cared to admit.

One of the lords beside him clapped him on the shoulder, pulling his attention back to the group. “Careful, Jason,” the man said, grinning. “You’re looking at her like a man in love.”

Jason laughed, though the comment struck closer to home than he would have liked. “Hardly. I’m simply appreciating my hard-earned progress.”

“Progress, is it?” Tyrek asked, raising a brow. “She doesn’t exactly look smitten.”

Jason’s grin turned wolfish. “Give it time. The fiercest dragons take the longest to tame.”

The lords erupted into laughter again, raising their goblets in another toast. Jason raised his own with a nod of thanks, though his gaze soon drifted back to the head table.

You had leaned back in your chair now, a faint frown tugging at your lips as Rhaenyra whispered something to you. Whatever it was, it made you roll your eyes and shake your head, a reaction that brought a small, amused smile to Jason’s lips. Even from across the room, your defiance was magnetic.

Viserys, oblivious to the tension swirling around him, suddenly raised his goblet in a loud toast. “To Lord Jason Lannister!” he boomed, his voice carrying over the din of the hall. “A true lion of the West and a fine companion for my daughter!”

The hall erupted into cheers and applause, though your expression soured visibly. Jason smirked, lifting his goblet in acknowledgment of the toast, but his gaze remained fixed on you, reveling in your obvious irritation.

“She’ll kill you before she marries you,” Tyrek quipped, shaking his head.

Jason chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Then at least I’ll die entertained.”

As the lords laughed again, Jason allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. 

Yet, the conversation took an unexpected turn when Lord Gerold Westerling, a stout man with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetually serious expression, cleared his throat to speak.

“Well, Jason,” Westerling began, his tone measured but carrying an unmistakable undertone of suggestion, “you’ve certainly set your sights high with the princess. But if, for any reason, she opposes your suit or refuses a proposal…” He paused, sipping his wine as if to soften the blow of what he was about to say. “My daughter Joanna would be more than happy to accept your hand. She’s well-bred, charming, and has always admired you greatly.”

The gathered lords fell silent, their eyes darting between Westerling and Jason. A few exchanged wary glances, as if unsure whether to laugh or wince at the boldness of the comment. Jason’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment, the light in his eyes dimming as offense flickered across his face.

Jason set his goblet down with deliberate care, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “Lord Westerling,” he said, his tone deceptively calm, though it carried a razor-sharp edge. “I appreciate your… generous offer. But I believe you misunderstand my intentions.”

Westerling raised a brow, clearly unfazed. “Do I?”

Jason straightened, his shoulders squaring as he met Westerling’s gaze head-on. “I have no need to consider alternatives. The king himself has expressed his support for a union between the princess and me. What sort of man would I be to set my sights lower when I’ve already been given the greatest honor?”

The tension at the table thickened, the other lords shifting uncomfortably as they sensed the growing ire behind Jason’s polished words. Westerling, however, seemed unbothered, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Westerling said, his tone dripping with feigned humility. “I only meant to suggest that one should always have contingencies. After all, the princess is… spirited, to say the least. Not every woman is so inclined toward the obligations of marriage.”

Jason’s laugh was sharp, devoid of warmth. “A Targaryen princess is worth any amount of spirit, my lord. And I, unlike some, am not intimidated by a challenge.”

Westerling’s smile faded, the slight jab landing as intended. Jason leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. “Perhaps it is difficult for some to imagine the ambition required to court a dragon. But I assure you, my ambitions do not waver. Nor do I settle for less than what I deserve.”

The other lords exchanged glances, a few chuckling nervously to lighten the mood. Tyrek Hill, ever the opportunist, chimed in with a wry grin. “Careful, Gerold. You don’t want to be the one who doubted Jason Lannister. He does have a habit of proving people wrong.”

Jason’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with something colder as he leaned back in his chair, lifting his goblet once more. “Precisely. And let me make one thing clear, gentlemen—there is no contingency when it comes to a dragon. A lion does not aspire to lesser prey.”

The lords murmured their agreement, though the unease in Westerling’s expression was evident as he inclined his head slightly. “Of course, Lord Jason. No offense was intended.”

“None taken,” Jason replied smoothly, though his golden eyes burned with quiet defiance. He took a deliberate sip of his wine, his gaze flickering back to the head table where you sat. Even from across the room, your posture and the faint set of your jaw spoke volumes about your annoyance.

Jason smiled faintly to himself, a silent promise forming in his mind. You were a dragon, proud and untamed, and he had no intention of letting anyone—least of all a lesser lord—doubt his resolve. Let Westerling keep his daughter and his contingencies. Jason Lannister would settle for nothing less than the fire and fury of a Targaryen princess.

Viserys sat in private chambers, goblet in hand, his expression unusually serious. You stood by the window, your arms crossed as you looked out at the sprawling view of the Westerlands, the grandeur of Casterly Rock serving as an ever-present reminder of the reason for this conversation. The weight of your father’s gaze pressed on you even before he spoke.

“Sit,” Viserys said softly, gesturing to the chair across from him.

You sighed, reluctantly turning and taking a seat. “What is it, Father?”

Viserys studied you for a moment, swirling the wine in his goblet as he searched for the right words. “I wanted to speak with you about Lord Jason.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in the chair. “Of course you did.”

Viserys frowned at your tone but pressed on. “He has made his intentions clear. He will seek your hand, and I—” He hesitated, then met your gaze. “I want to know your thoughts on the matter.”

You raised a brow, the frustration bubbling beneath your calm facade. “My thoughts? I think I don’t have the patience for a marriage, especially to someone like Jason. He aims to elevate his House’s status through my bloodline, nothing more.”

Viserys’s expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You sound just like Rhaenyra.”

Your jaw tightened. “Perhaps because she understands what it means to have our worth measured in alliances and heirs.”

“That is not how the realm works,” Viserys said sharply, his voice carrying an edge of irritation. “You may not be the heir, but you are a princess of House Targaryen. You must marry. It is your duty.”

“My duty?” you echoed, your tone sharper now. “Rhaenyra is the heir. The entire realm watches her every move. Father, you’ve never held me to the same standard, and now you’re ready to sell me off because Lord Jason flatters you?”

Viserys’s shoulders sagged slightly, his expression softening as he set his goblet down. “It is not about flattery. It’s about ensuring your future. Jason may be ambitious, yes, but he is also a strong lord, capable and respected. And more than that… he cares for you.”

You barked a laugh, the sound harsh. “Cares for me? Jason only cares about himself. His smirks, his clever words, his relentless pursuit—it’s all for his own gain. He sees me as a trophy to elevate his House, nothing more.”

Viserys shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t see it that way. Jason is arrogant, yes, but I’ve watched him. He doesn’t look at you like someone seeking a prize. He looks at you as someone he admires.”

“Admiration isn’t love,” you said firmly, your gaze locking with his. “And even if it were, what of my feelings? Shouldn’t they matter?”

Viserys leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together. “They do matter, but so does your duty. I would never force you into something that would bring you misery, but I want you to consider this: Jason isn’t some greedy, unworthy suitor. He is proud, yes, but I believe he truly wants to build something with you. Something lasting.”

You hesitated, your father’s earnestness catching you off guard. “And what if you’re wrong?” you asked quietly. “What if it’s all a game to him?”

Viserys sighed, his age showing in the lines of his face as he looked at you with a mixture of hope and weariness. “I don’t believe it is. But if you truly think so, then tell me. Convince me he’s unworthy. But if you cannot… then I ask you to think on this. The realm is harsh, my daughter. I would wish for you to marry someone who cares about you, at least a little. If not for love, then for partnership.”

Your gaze dropped to your lap, your thoughts swirling. Jason’s relentless pursuit, his arrogance, his charm—it all grated on your nerves, yet there was a spark of something genuine beneath his polished exterior. You hated to admit it, but you couldn’t entirely dismiss what your father was saying.

“I need time to think,” you said finally, your voice quiet but firm.

Viserys nodded, his expression softening into a small smile. “Of course. I won’t rush you. But know that I only want what’s best for you.”

You stood, your movements stiff as you turned back toward the window. “I’ll think about it, Father. But don’t expect me to bend so easily.”

Viserys chuckled softly, his gaze following you. “You are your mother’s daughter, through and through. Stubborn to the end.”

You didn’t respond, your thoughts too tangled to form a reply. The flickering light of the hearth reflected in the glass as you stared out at the horizon, the weight of your father’s words settling heavily on your shoulders.

You stood near the stables, your cloak draped over your shoulders against the crisp breeze. The air carried the faint scent of hay and leather, mingling with the soft nickering of horses. Beside you, Ser Lorent Marbrand stood silently, his stoic presence as constant as ever, the reins of his horse in one hand and a watchful gaze fixed on you.

The horse Jason had gifted you the day you visited Lannisport, a sleek dappled grey with a proud stance, was being prepared by a stablehand nearby. You adjusted your gloves, your mood far from bright after your conversation with your father the previous evening. The prospect of a quiet ride was your only solace.

But, as always, Jason Lannister had other plans.

He arrived with his usual air of unshakable confidence, his golden hair catching the light as he strode into the courtyard. His grin was firmly in place, the kind that both irritated and intrigued you in equal measure. “Good morning, Princess,” he called, his tone far too cheerful for your liking. “Heading out for a ride, I see.”

You turned to him, your expression guarded. “I was.”

Jason stopped before you, his gaze flicking to the grey mare before returning to you. “A fine horse, isn’t she? I made sure she was the best in the stables.”

“She’ll do,” you replied curtly, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of praise.

Jason chuckled, stepping closer to the mare and gesturing to the stablehand, who quickly stepped aside. “Allow me to prepare her for you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. “That’s hardly necessary. She’s already being saddled.”

Jason ignored your protest, running a hand down the mare’s flank with practiced ease. “It’s a lord’s duty to ensure his guest—especially one as esteemed as you—is well cared for.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “I’m not a guest, Jason. I’m a hostage to your incessant need for attention.”

His grin widened, unbothered by the barb. “Call it what you like, Princess. But if I don’t do this, I’ll be thinking about it all day.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, glancing at Ser Lorent, who raised a brow but said nothing. Finally, you turned back to Jason. “Fine. Do what you must. But be quick about it.”

Jason’s smirk deepened as he set to work, adjusting the saddle and checking the reins with meticulous care. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, begrudgingly noting the ease with which he handled the horse. His hands were sure, his movements precise—a reminder that there was more to Jason Lannister than charm and arrogance, though you’d never admit it aloud.

When he finished, he stepped back, brushing his hands together. “There. She’s ready.”

Before you could reply, Jason turned to Ser Lorent, his tone casual but firm. “Thank you for your service, Ser Lorent. I’ll take it from here.”

Lorent’s expression didn’t waver, his hand tightening slightly on his reins. “With respect, my lord, I am here to escort the princess.”

Jason’s grin didn’t falter, but there was a sharpness to his gaze now. “And I am the Lord of Casterly Rock, ensuring her safety. You may stand down.”

Lorent glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Your Highness?”

You rolled your eyes, already tiring of the exchange. “It’s fine, Ser Lorent. You can wait by the gates until I decide to ride out.”

Lorent hesitated for a moment longer before nodding stiffly. “As you wish, Princess.” He gave Jason a lingering look before leading his horse toward the gates, his posture tense.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you turned to Jason, your arms crossing again. “What are you playing at, Jason?”

He tilted his head, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Playing? I’m doing nothing of the sort.”

You raised a brow, unimpressed. “You just dismissed my knight and insisted on saddling my horse. If that’s not a game, then what is it?”

Jason stepped closer, his golden eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and sincerity. “Perhaps I’m just trying to make an impression.”

“You’ve already done that,” you replied dryly. “And not necessarily a good one.”

Jason laughed softly, shaking his head. “You wound me, Princess. But come, there’s something I want to show you.”

You frowned, wary of his intentions. “And why should I follow you?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Because you’re curious. And because, despite your best efforts, you don’t hate me nearly as much as you pretend to.”

Your eyes narrowed, but before you could retort, Jason stepped back, his smirk firmly in place. “Well, Princess? Shall we?”

Jason led you away from the courtyard, the noise of the castle fading as you descended a winding path toward the base of one of Casterly Rock’s oldest towers. The stone structure loomed above you, its weathered facade partially shrouded by climbing ivy. The air grew cooler as the shadows of the tower enveloped you, and the only sounds were the faint whispers of the wind and the occasional clink of your boots against the cobblestones.

“Why are we here, Jason?” you asked, your tone tinged with irritation as you glanced at the unremarkable surroundings.

Jason stopped near the tower’s base, turning to you with his usual smirk. “Patience, Princess. I wanted to show you something.”

He gestured to the structure, his eyes carrying a mix of pride and something else. “This is one of the oldest towers in the Rock. It’s withstood centuries of storms, sieges, and time itself. But recently, I ordered some parts of it to be upgraded and restored.”

You arched a brow, unimpressed. “Fascinating. Truly, I’ve never seen stones before.”

Jason chuckled, stepping closer to you. “Oh, but these are no ordinary stones. This tower is part of Casterly Rock’s legacy. And soon, it’ll bear a touch of yours.”

That caught your attention, though you masked it with a scoff. “What do you mean by that?”

Jason grinned, gesturing upward. “I’ve commissioned a carving for the upper levels—a dragon, fierce and proud, entwined with a lion. A symbol of unity. Of fire and strength.”

You stared at him for a moment, your irritation giving way to faint surprise. “You want to put a Targaryen emblem on Casterly Rock?”

“Why not?” Jason replied, his tone casual. “If we’re to join our houses, shouldn’t the Rock reflect that?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, Jason stepped closer, his movements deliberate. Without warning, he pinned you against the cool stone of the tower, his hands braced on either side of you. His proximity was overwhelming, his green eyes burning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Jason,” you began, your voice sharper now, “what are you—”

“I’m showing you how serious I am,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with intent.

You scoffed, trying to push past him. “This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”

But before you could move, his lips were on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. The kiss was fierce, demanding, and utterly maddening, leaving you momentarily stunned. His hands moved to your waist, holding you firmly in place as he deepened the kiss, his confidence unshakable.

“Jason,” you gasped as you broke the kiss, your tone a mixture of irritation and something you refused to name. “We need to stop doing this.”

“I don’t want to,” he said simply, his voice husky as he leaned in again. His lips found yours, and this time, you couldn’t summon the strength to resist. 

Your hands found their way to his tunic, pulling him closer even as you cursed yourself for giving in again. Jason’s hands worked with practiced ease, loosening the ties of your cloak and the lower layers of your clothing. The cool air brushed against your skin, but the heat of his touch quickly chased it away. You hissed as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, your voice breathless as your hands moved to help him with his own clothing.

Jason smirked, his lips brushing against your ear with now familiar replay. “And you’re irresistible.”

“Shut up,” you snapped, though the sharpness of your tone was undermined by the way your body leaned into his.

Jason chuckled, but for once, he obeyed, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands found your hips, and with one swift motion, your bodies joined. The familiar stretch and sensation sent a jolt of heat through you, stealing the air from your lungs. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his rhythm relentless and commanding.

The cool stone pressed into your back, grounding you as Jason’s hips moved against yours in a relentless rhythm. The sounds of your shared passion echoed off the ancient tower walls, raw and untamed. His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, your waist, your arms—like he couldn’t bear even a moment without touching you. Each movement of his body against yours drew a gasp or a moan from your lips, and to his delight, you stopped holding back.

“You’re incredible,” Jason growled, his breath hot against your ear. His voice was hoarse, his usual pomp replaced by something feral and raw. “The way you take me, Princess—it’s like you were made for this. Made for me.”

“Jason,” you hissed, your nails digging into his shoulders. You wanted to snap at him, to scold him for his arrogance, but the way his body filled you, moved against you, had stolen every coherent thought from your mind.

Jason smirked against your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there before he bit down gently, pulling a gasp from you. “Say my name like that again,” he demanded, his tone both commanding and teasing. “Let me hear it.”

Your reply was a moan as he adjusted his angle, his hips driving deeper. The sound made him chuckle darkly, his hands gripping your hips tighter to pull you flush against him. “Gods, you’re perfect like this. So desperate, so needy for me. Tell me, Princess—does anyone else make you feel this way?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but your silence only emboldened him. He slowed his pace deliberately, grinding against you in a way that made you tremble. “No one else, right? No one else could have you like this.”

“Jason—” His name escaped your lips again, softer this time, and your voice trembled with frustration. His confidence was maddening, but the heat pooling in your core was impossible to deny.

“That’s right,” he murmured, his tone low and possessive. “You’re mine. My dragon, my fire.” His lips found your collarbone, trailing kisses down your chest as he whispered, “Say it.”

“Never,” you managed to gasp, though the defiance in your voice was undercut by the way your body arched against him.

Jason smirked, one hand slipping between your bodies to stroke you in time with his thrusts. The pleasure was overwhelming, and your defiance quickly crumbled as a wave of heat coursed through you.

“Say it,” he demanded again, his voice rough. “Tell me you’re mine, Y/N.”

“I—” Your voice caught as another surge of pleasure made your knees weak. You hated how easily he unraveled you, but there was no escaping the truth. “I’m—”

“Mine,” he finished for you, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. His hand tightened on your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as he drove into you harder, faster. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure through you, making it impossible to think, let alone argue.

“Jason,” you cried out, your voice breaking as your release built dangerously close. He growled in response, his lips trailing down your neck again, leaving marks that you knew would linger.

“You��re going to come for me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice wickedly low. “I can feel it, the way you’re tightening around me. You’re so close, my fiery little dragon.”

You wanted to retort, to say something sharp, but his crude words only pushed you closer to the edge. You hated how much they affected you, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. “Jason—”

“Come on,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”

The combination of his words, his touch, and the unrelenting pace of his movements was too much. Your body trembled as your release washed over you, a wave of pleasure so intense that you cried out, your nails raking down his back. Jason groaned, his own control breaking as he followed you over the edge. He buried himself deep inside you, his grip on your hips tightening as he held you against him, the heat of his release spilling into you.

For a moment, the two of you were utterly still, your breathing heavy as you clung to each other. The world outside the tower seemed to disappear, leaving only the sound of your pounding hearts and the lingering heat between you.

Jason finally broke the silence, his voice low and teasing. “You’re going to admit it one day, you know. That you’re mine.”

You opened your mouth to snap back, but a final aftershock of pleasure rippled through you, stealing your breath and cutting off your retort. Jason chuckled, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “That’s what I thought.”

[ask-irisstar]

Having triplets with Zoro will include...

A/N: Sorry for disappearing for a few days. My brain was empty af and this suddenly came to mind. Hope yall enjoy this fic!

Notes: Zoro x Fem reader, Fluff, SFW

Has triplets just to match his sword style

Straps his kids to his body (He makes all three of the fit, trust)

Gives his kids a kitchen knife just to teach them swordsmanship

You: I will NOT have MY babies holding a KNIFE at such a young age Zoro: Relax, they're fine... You: (kids name) NEARLY CUT HIM/HERSELF!!

All three kids inherited Zoro's sense of direction

May or may not have a sense of smell (Cuz no way the kids can stand his body odor)

Naps all day=cute pictures to take for blackmail

Expect to see your triplets sleeping on top of a sleeping Zoro

Zoro mostly cares for the babies during the night while you in the morning

You just deal with feeding mostly since Zoro is naturally great with kids

Will boast to Sanji about having babies

Sanji crying because he knew Zoro had sex with you the entire time ya'll were dating PLUS he married you PLUS had three healthy babies

When your triplets grow older he'll give each triplet one of his earrings (Every pirate/Marine will know that the triplets are the sons/daughters of Roronoa Zoro)

Once you guys kids grew up and leave the crew to start their own journey, Zoro wants MORE kids

"Hey babe, let's have more kids..." "We're like 38 years old..." "And I don't fucking care..."

Poceeds to fuck a baby into you

Long story short, y'all had more kids...

______________________________________________________________

That's a wrap! I hope you guys enjoy this! Don't forget to request!! Please, I beg, send me more request...

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hey its me who asked for your The Unexpected Guest, and it was brilliant! I love the idea of part 2 it makes more sense!

I loved your idea of once they get to Rivendell Thorins and readers feelings are explored and some spicy stuff happens

Thank you, and love your work!☺️x

(I'm really glad you enjoyed it! I'm really sorry for the wait for part 2 - uni work, work work and writer's block are not a great combo and I didn't want to rush this (this part also got WAY longer than I thought it would), plus I've made some minor edits to part 1 since I wasn't totally happy with it - been a hot minute since I wrote smut so I hope this is ok :D thank you all for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!)

(link for part 1 - warning for NSFW content below, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

ghivashel - treasure of all treasures, amralime - my love

An Unexpected Guest pt.2 (Thorin x AFAB!fem!human!reader)

The journey to Rivendell was taxing on all of you, though you couldn't help but feel most sorry for Bilbo. The hobbit was so new to adventuring - you doubted he had ever been out of the Shire before now - and you had decided to support him wherever you could as a helping hand. Just helping him set up camp, saddling his pony in the morning, offering him water, little gestures seemed to make a difference in his demeanor.

Spending time with the hobbit to keep his morale up, especially after the troll attack, did mean that it was getting harder to find a spare moment with Thorin. The two of you had spoken much more frequently since his confession, and you wished for more time, but the whole group was in poor spirits as it was. While they were all happy for you, public displays of affection were just likely to irritate everyone further. And Thorin's burden of leadership would likely not be eased while you were still on the road. For the moment, all you could do was keep moving and offer comfort to whoever needed it.

Needless to say, arriving at Rivendell was a weight off your shoulders. Even if the dwarves tried to pick a fight with Elrond.

You had all taken your time to settle in and relax, having taken full advantage of the elves' hospitality (and you were forever grateful for being able to feel clean after the long journey). When the group of you were provided with dinner and the inevitable food fight broke out, you were happy to see how everyone's spirits had been lifted. However, you couldn't help but notice your One stood to the side. There was a content smile on his face, but you could easily see the tension that still bristled through him.

You soon found him after everybody had retreated to their rooms for the night. It was hard not to hear him - the pacing in his room seemed to echo through the hallway, if only slightly. Raising your hand, you softly knocked at the door, hoping that he wouldn't be too stubborn to talk to you.

"Come in."

Even his tone of voice betrayed his stress. He visibly relaxed when you entered the room though, shutting the door behind you, and you felt glad to at least be some comfort.

You smiled in greeting, and spoke softly. "Will you tell me what's going on with you?"

"I assure you, I am fine. Do not trouble yourself."

You closed the distance between you hesitantly, giving him the chance to back away, and took his hands. "Please, Thorin. I can see something is troubling you."

"I am just... concerned. About the future of this quest, about everyone's safety." You saw a struggle in his mind of not wanting to be vulnerable, but he seemed to give in, and sighed in defeat. "I fear that people are going to be hurt because of me."

"Oh, my love..." you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. "You are the best leader any of us could ask for, and I promise you that you will not be the cause of any hurt."

He gently pulled back and looked into your eyes. "You truly believe that?"

"Of course I do. Those in this company are strong and intelligent. Perhaps with the exception of your nephews," you chuckled, and Thorin couldn't help but smile. "They are all capable of making their own decisions. They knew the risks of coming along, but they have all chosen to join anyway because they saw a courageous dwarf that they wanted to follow."

"I only want to do right by my people."

"And you will. We all have faith in you."

He pressed his forehead to yours again. "You're far too good to me, ghivashel," he murmured.

"All I want is for you to be happy, my love."

And with that, you tilted your head up and kissed him, your fingers tracing his cheekbones as you pulled him closer. It wasn't rushed and clumsy, as it was when Thorin first confessed, but slow and loving, every movement of your lips against his a confession of love in itself. His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you flush against him, trying to feel as much of you as possible.

When you separated to take a breath, meeting his lust-filled gaze was all the encouragement you needed.

"I wonder if there's any way I could relieve some of your stress..." Your tone was playful as you slid your hands achingly slowly down Thorin's chest, and you heard him inhale as you stopped just at his hips.

"Amralime, are you sure? If we start I will not want to hold back."

"I trust you, Thorin." You smiled and nodded towards the double bed. "And we may as well take advantage of the luxury while we have it."

He smirked. "I'm beginning to think you came here just to bed me."

"Hey, I would never-"

Your sarcastic reply was cut off by him kissing you again, with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before. Maybe you had awakened something long kept under control, but any coherent thought of that was soon lost when he shrugged the furs off his shoulders and his fingers found the hem of your shirt.

Soon becoming restless feeling him trace the curves of your waist, you broke away from the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt off. Thorin did the same, and after some hurried fumbling between more stolen kisses, you were both undressed. His hands never left your body as he backed you up towards the bed.

"You are so beautiful, ghivashel..." he murmured, lips trailing along your jawline and down your neck. It was so easy to get lost in the sensation, but when he tried to sit you down on the bed, you stopped him.

"Tonight is about you, my love." You turned the two of you around and gently pushed him back to sit down, taking the time to admire his toned body as you knelt in front of him.

Thorin's eyes were wide with surprise and he almost looked as if he wanted to protest, but the twitch of his already hard cock gave him away.

"You... you don't have to-"

"I want to." His breath hitched when your lips traced his thigh, and you smiled. "Relax, my king..."

Any further protest was soon lost when you leaned forward and licked a long stripe up his length, wrenching a gasp from his lips. Your movements were slow, mapping out every inch of him with kitten licks until he was writhing impatiently before you, until you were done teasing and sucked his tip into your mouth.

The room was filled with the sounds of breathy groans and muttered Khuzdul that you could barely focus on as you continued. Thorin twisted his fingers into your hair when you began taking him inch by inch into your mouth - his grip was firm, but never controlling - and when you started bobbing your head he was certain that he must've been dreaming.

Looking up at him and pressing your thighs together to suppress your own arousal, you watched his head tilt back in ecstasy every time you pressed your tongue flat against his tip when you rose. The sounds he made were so beautiful that it was becoming more and more difficult to control yourself. Fortunately, it seemed you wouldn't need to for much longer. You felt the tension in his body increase with every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue, and as your movements grew faster you wrapped your hand around the base to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Yet, when you next looked up at him, he gently pushed you away, denying himself climax.

"Is everything alright, my love?"

He leant down for a brief kiss, still breathing heavily, and nodded. "That was... incredible." He took your hands and guided you to stand, then pulled you closer to straddle his lap.

"Then-" You inhaled sharply feeling his lips and teeth over your throat. "Then why didn't you let me finish?"

Thorin didn't answer for a moment, too busy creating a cluster of pink marks along your neck. When he was satisfied with his work, he tugged your hips down to press his hard length against you.

"Because I want to finish inside you, amralime."

You simply nodded, feeling too flustered and on edge to offer any sort of response beyond a whispered, "Please..."

Thorin stood up holding you, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, and carefully laid you down in the center of the bed. He slotted himself between your legs and wasted no time in moving to prepare you. Pausing to receive a nod of consent, he slid one thick finger into you, and you gasped at the sudden feeling. He soon added a second when you began rocking your hips against his hand impatiently, begging for more.

"Patience," he chuckled. "I do not want to hurt you."

"I don't care." You moaned breathlessly with every curl of his fingers. It felt like so much already, but still not enough. "I need you now, Thorin."

"Who would I be to deny my queen?"

He withdrew his fingers and you immediately pulled him forward to kiss you, a soft gasp being pulled from you when he ground his hips against you, ever so lightly pressing against your clit. Holding himself up over you with one hand, he used the other to guide his tip to your entrance and, swallowing your cries in the kiss, he slowly pushed into you.

His hand found yours and your fingers intertwined while he waited for any signs of your discomfort to fade. It was an uncomfortable stretch to fit his thick cock, but it soon became a welcome sensation, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to urge him on.

He moved carefully at first, until your cries of pain became cries of pleasure, and soon his hips snapped back against you much more firmly. Each thrust hit so deep inside of you, filling you up so perfectly, and his fingers gripped your hips almost tight enough to bruise. You clutched onto him tightly, trying to stay grounded amongst the sensations. One hand was buried in his hair, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, the other was digging into his back, leaving scratches that you were sure would last a few days at least. Though it didn't seem to bother him - every time you dug your nails into his back, it seemed to be encouragement, and he relentlessly kept up his pace. It was firm and deep, but never rough, though part of you wondered how hard he would go if you asked.

With each thrust, you bucked your hips to meet him, trying to get more friction to ignite the coil of heat growing in your core. Thorin's moans soon grew louder, despite him trying to remain as quiet as he could, and when his rhythm grew unsteady his fingers slipped down to circle your clit as his teeth latched onto your neck again.

"Ghivashel..." he murmured, his voice strained. "I'm so close..."

Your mind was spinning with pleasure, and you felt yourself reaching your peak as well. "I am too..." you panted.

His hips shifted just enough to hit a spot inside you to make you see stars, and along with the attention on your clit and your neck, it was enough to push you over the edge. Your grip on him tightened as the coil snapped and heat spread through your body, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your cry of pleasure.

It seemed to last forever, and in your pleasure-filled haziness you registered Thorin also growing tense, and you heard his deep groan as he reached his climax and came inside of you. He felt so perfect, and you both stayed clinging onto each other, lost for breath, until you both came to.

Still catching his breath, he kissed your forehead and pulled out to lie next to you, and you couldn't help but whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He lay on his side, facing you, and brought your hand up to his lips. "You are so wonderful, amralime."

You smiled softly and shuffled closer, putting an arm over his waist and tucking your head under his. "So are you, my king."

You glanced back at the door to the room and chuckled.

"What is it?"

"Maybe we should lock the door next time."

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 5

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: So this is it. The journey has come to the end and I'm a bit sad but also very happy. This fic has a lot my own struggles within it and it has helped me to think over and let go of certain things that had accumulated. But before Sihtric and reader can look forward into the bright and shiny future they have to resolve some unsorted questions. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: it's emotionally tense with some angst and self reflection but still sweet

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other? Or will the reader decide to stay with the handsome and talented Sigtryggr?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 7,8 K

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

You felt a surge of betrayal twist through you, an uncomfortable déjà vu that made your stomach drop. The whole scene was surreal, and your mind spun, trying to piece it all together. But before you could say a word, Sigtryggr's hand found yours under the blanket, his grip firm and panicked.

“This—this isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” he stammered, his face pale and clearly horrified by the scene unfolding. He scrambled to sit up, looking between you and the woman standing in the doorway. “This is… this is Stiorra, my ex-girlfriend.”

Stiorra crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised as she regarded him with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “And in case there’s any doubt,” she interjected, “I’m the one who threw him out.” Her eyes flicked to you, and a slightly sheepish smile softened her expression. “Told him to never come back, actually.”

Sigtryggr winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not exactly a high point in our relationship,” he muttered. Then, as if desperate to regain some semblance of control, he gestured toward the kitchen. “Stiorra, why don’t you, uh… wait in the kitchen? Give us a moment?”

With a sigh that suggested she was equally exhausted by this awkward situation, Stiorra shrugged. “Fine. But we’re talking after,” she said, shooting him a look that clearly communicated there was unfinished business between them. She turned on her heel, retreating to the kitchen and leaving the two of you in a tense silence.

You exhaled, still feeling the sting of surprise. “So, let me get this straight. Your ex-girlfriend who kicked you out now has a key and comes barging in?”

Sigtryggr’s cheeks flushed as he stumbled over his words. “It’s… complicated. We broke up months ago. She kept the key for emergencies, but I didn’t think she’d actually use it. I mean, she made it pretty clear she never wanted to see me again.” He shook his head, his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation. “I had no idea she’d be coming by today, I swear.”

You let out a breath, half-amused by his genuine horror at the situation. Despite everything, there was something undeniably ridiculous about it all. Here was this cool, collected artist, now completely rattled by his ex-girlfriend unexpectedly showing up while he was in bed with someone else.

You finally cracked a small smile. “You couldn’t make this up if you tried.”

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “This really isn’t how I imagined our morning together going. I’m sorry.”

Before you could respond, Stiorra’s voice called from the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. There’s milk and sugar somewhere—if Sigtryggr actually bought groceries this week, that is.”

Sigtryggr’s eyes met yours, full of sheepishness, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension starting to dissolve. “I’ll take that as a hint to get dressed,” you said, sliding out of bed and grabbing your clothes, feeling his gaze following you apologetically.

“Take your time,” Stiorra called again, her voice faintly dripping with irony. “I’ll try not to make it more awkward.”

As if more awkward was even possible, a stifled laugh escaped you as you slipped into your clothes, feeling like you were in some strange, twisted sitcom. Sigtryggr joined you, tossing on his shirt and jeans quickly, his eyes darting nervously between you and the kitchen.

Once you were both dressed, you headed to the kitchen. Stiorra was there, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand, her lips twisted in a wry smile. She looked at you and Sigtryggr with an expression that was part curiosity, part thinly veiled irritation. Two other steaming mugs waited on the counter and you grabbed one like a life saviour.

"Well," she drawled, swirling her coffee. "I see you’ve wasted no time finding a replacement." Her gaze flicked from you to Sigtryggr, her tone razor-sharp. "Or were you just waiting for the perfect moment to jump into someone else’s bed, Sigtryggr? Good to know you’ve been so… resilient."

You saw a flicker of hurt cross Sigtryggr’s face as he tried to respond, his gaze darting briefly to you before returning to Stiorra, as if caught in some unresolved pull. He shifted beside you, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Stiorra," he managed, his voice tight, "you know it’s not  like that. It’s been almost half a year..."

But she didn’t give him room to explain. She looked down at her coffee, a hint of sadness breaking through her sarcasm as her fingers tightened around the mug. "I didn’t come here to make a scene," she murmured, her tone softening. "I just… I thought I wanted to move on. But maybe I was wrong."

You swallowed hard, your eyes darted from Sigtryggr to his ex-girlfriend and truth be told the only coherent thought was the increasingly intensive wish for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Facing lions in the Colosseum would have been a more appealing option than drinking coffee in what you’d thought was your new boyfriend’s kitchen, watching it turn into a stage for a soap opera. Whoever said, "If something looks too good to be true, it probably is," had clearly known exactly what they were talking about.

Stiorra lifted her gaze to meet Sigtryggr’s, her defiance melting into something softer, tinged with regret. 

"Siggy, baby, I’m so sorry!" she blurted, her voice cracking as her teary eyes searched his. The sudden burst of emotions startled you both, leaving the room steeped in uncomfortable tension. "Leaving you wasn’t what I thought I wanted," she continued, the words tumbling out, unrestrained and unguarded. "It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I just hoped you… you might feel the same. I couldn’t wait any longer—I just needed to tell you this." Her gaze darted back to the steaming coffee in her hands, as though she couldn’t bear to face him anymore. “I never imagined you’d move on so fast, not after everything we had together.”

You glanced over at Sigtryggr, who looked as if he’d just been slapped with a cold fish. The usual calm, steady demeanour he carried so effortlessly was gone, replaced by a vulnerable uncertainty you hadn’t seen before. His mouth opened as if to respond, then closed again, his mind clearly spinning in too many directions to form coherent words. He looked at you briefly, but his attention was drawn back to Stiorra, as if caught by an invisible thread that still connected them.

His eyes softened, a hint of that old, unguarded affection surfacing as he stammered. “Stiorra, I… I didn’t expect this. I thought… we were over. I thought you’d moved on.”

The longing in his voice was unmistakable. You felt an odd pang, a mixture of empathy and unease as you watched him struggle. The way he looked at her, his gaze clouded with both confusion and something undeniably tender, told you more than his words ever could. And strangely you didn’t even feel betrayed. You felt a deep understanding, even sympathy kindling within you. 

It was clearly time to make an exit before this scene turned into a full-blown tragicomedy. But before you could even think of a polite way to excuse yourself, Stiorra’s gaze shifted to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said, her tone casual—almost too casual. “You must be the mysterious girl who broke Sihtric’s heart. I’ve seen your picture, actually. He still keeps one in his wallet.”

“What?” The words hit you like a frying pan to the face, and you nearly dropped your coffee mug. This was beyond surreal; it was a nightmare layered with unwanted revelations. You glanced around, looking for any possible way to evaporate from the room as a wave of nausea crept over you.

Stiorra caught your reaction, her gaze sharpening as if sensing your unease. “No,” she said, her eyes assessing you calmly. “Not like that. Sihtric and I were never… involved.” She gave a casual shrug, one that seemed both reassuring and indifferent. “But I know him well enough. He worked for my father, Uhtred, for quite some time. And we have some mutual friends—Finan, Osferth. They’re close, practically brothers.”

You swallowed, still processing the shock as she spoke, and noticed the way her gaze flickered, slightly more empathetic now. Sigtryggr shifted beside you, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, his gaze moving between you and Stiorra.

“Stiorra,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a mixture of discomfort and quiet insistence, “I think we’re all getting a bit caught off guard here.”

Stiorra shrugged, but her expression softened as she looked back at him. “Maybe,” she admitted, voice gentler now. “But some things are better said than left hanging.” She turned her attention back to you. “Haven’t seen him in a while, but… he never really got over you, you know.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest, and for a moment, you felt the weight of everything you’d tried to put behind you pressing in. 

“Wait, hold on!” you blurted out, the words escaping faster than you could stop them and surely much louder than you wanted. “I broke his heart? What the hell are you talking about? He was the one who found someone else less than a week after I was out of sight.”

Stiorra’s eyes widened at your outburst. She hesitated before responding, her voice softer, almost cautious. “Wait… really? I don’t know all the details,” she admitted, glancing away briefly, “but I know for sure that Sihtric has been a mess since you left. Osferth and Finan have been trying to get him back on his feet, trying to knock some sense into him. But he’s just… shut everyone out, suffering in silence.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but something in her expression stopped you. There was a subtle reproach that made you falter.

Her words stung. You knew them—Osferth and Finan—Sihtric’s closest friends. Meeting them had felt like a significant step, almost as if you were meeting his family. Sihtric barely spoke about his parents or any siblings, but these two were an inseparable part of his life. The night he’d introduced you to them still lingered vividly in your memory.

Finan had taken to you right away, looking at you with an approving grin, clapping Sihtric on the shoulder and saying, “Finally, he’s found someone who might actually keep him in line.” His easy laughter and quick wit made you feel like you’d known him for years, and there was a warmth to his acceptance that had meant more than he probably knew.

Osferth, meanwhile, had been a bit more reserved, a touch of shyness in his gentle eyes. But there had been a sweetness in the way he’d talked to you, always quick to ask if you needed anything, checking that you felt included. You’d quickly learned he was the steady, caring presence in their group, looking out for both Sihtric and Finan with a brotherly devotion.

Those early evenings with them had been filled with laughter and endless stories from their nights out. You’d felt embraced by the friendship, a part of the easy bond they all shared. But when Sihtric walked out of your life, that sense of belonging had vanished too. They had been his friends, not yours, and your connection with them had ended as abruptly as your relationship with him.

“Look,” Stiorra continued, her voice pulling you back from your thoughts, “there are always two sides to a story. But only one truth. If you want to know more, maybe… maybe you should talk to Finan and Osferth. They know him better than anyone and could probably tell you more than I can.”

Without another word, you stood up, the urge to leave overpowering any sense of decorum. Sigtryggr reached out, his face a mix of surprise and worry as he tried to get your attention. “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

You shook your head, barely able to meet his gaze. “I just… I need to go. I need…” The words trailed off, but you didn’t even bother to finish the sentence as you hastily grabbed your purse and headed to the doors without a single look back. 

You knew that Osferth worked as an assistant stylist at one of the top fashion studios, and Finan had a reputation as a brilliant set designer, always moving between shoots with an infectious energy. They were well-known figures in the industry, so it didn’t take long to track them down at a nearby studio where they were scheduled to prepare for an upcoming campaign.

The studio was bustling when you arrived. Assistants hurried about, racks of clothes lined the walls, and the hum of people preparing for a major shoot filled the space. You spotted Finan first, standing with his hands on his hips, joking with a lighting technician, his signature grin lighting up his face. Beside him, Osferth was focused on arranging a set of accessories on a table, his usually reserved expression serious as he worked.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, and Finan caught sight of you. His grin faded, replaced by surprise that quickly gave way to guarded curiosity. He nudged Osferth, who looked up in shock, the familiar softness in his eyes now laced with uncertainty and distance you hadn’t expected. The two exchanged a look before approaching you, their movements careful, almost wary, as if they were unsure of how to greet you.

“Hey,” you managed, your voice catching. “I… I need to talk to you. About Sihtric.”

“Well,” Finan said, crossing his arms, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “If it isn’t the ghost from Sihtric’s past.”

The jab landed harder than you’d expected, his accusatory tone sinking into you like a heavy stone.

Finan’s gaze was steely, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he fixed you with an unforgiving look. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” he said, his voice thick with frustration. “Twice now, you’ve come crashing into his life—first, tearing him apart, and now, strolling back in like a stranger, as if he doesn’t deserve even a shred of understanding for everything he’s been through. The least you could do is thank him for what he did for you.”

“What he did for me?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, caught in a haze of disbelief. You couldn’t even process the meaning behind his accusations, feeling as if you’d just walked into an ambush. You regretted coming here, every instinct screaming at you to turn and leave, to escape this room and the anger that pressed down on you from all sides. Blinking back tears that threatened to spill, you took a shaky step back, but Finan didn’t relent.

He moved closer, his gaze piercing, his voice unyielding. “Do you know how long it took him to get his life back together after you left?” he continued, his tone unwavering. “To even begin piecing himself back together? And then you show up out of nowhere, with no idea what he’s been through, and somehow make him fall all over again.”

Stunned, you stared at him, but he wasn’t finished. “We’ve been trying to help him move on for ages. Osferth and I—do you know how many nights we’ve spent picking him up after he shut everyone out, barely holding on? He’s been carrying this burden alone since the day he let you go.” Finan scoffed, his voice low and dark with exasperation. “And you—you have the nerve to walk back and judge him?”

You wanted to move but you felt rooted to the spot as you couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks anymore. “Thank him? For what? For dropping me and finding another less than a week after I wasn’t in sight? For ruining my life, leaving me gathering the shards?”

Finan drew a deep breath, but Osferth interrupted him, placing a calming hand on Finan’s arm, though his face still held traces of disappointment as he looked at you. “Finan wait. Something’s not right there.” His eyes shifted to you, his expression softening, but only slightly. “And that’s all you know about what happened?”  he asked, his tone measured but no less serious. 

“What else is there to know?” you snapped, frustration simmering in your chest. “I thought he loved me, and the next thing I know, he’s moved on like I never existed. I think I have a right to be a little angry.”

Finan exchanged a glance with Osferth, as if confirming something, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “So, Gisela never told you why he did it?”

You felt your stomach clench at the mention of Gisela. Confusion gave way to a creeping unease, your mind racing to piece together what they were trying to say. “Gisela?” you repeated, barely masking the surprise in your voice. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Osferth shifted uncomfortably, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Gisela came to him. Said it would be better if he… stepped aside. She told him about that offer you got, the scholarship and the contract – that once in a lifetime opportunity for you. She’s the one who convinced him to let you go. She told him it would be best for you to focus on your future, that he was holding you back.  And Sihtric… well, he thought he was doing what was best for you.”

“Best for me?” The words felt hollow, ringing with an irony that cut deeper with each syllable. You felt a wave of disbelief crash over you, your stomach twisting as you processed his words.

Osferth nodded, his gaze sombre. “He figured if he just… cut ties, you’d have no reason to look back. He tried to bury how he felt, make you believe he’d moved on. But we both know it tore him apart. He’s never been the same since you left.”

You felt your knees weaken, the ground beneath you seeming to tilt as the truth settled over you, each piece of information landing like a blow. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—all of it twisted into something else, something that left you feeling hollow. Your legs gave way, turning to jelly, and you would have surely hit the ground if Finan and Osferth hadn’t steadied you from each side.

“Easy there!” Finan’s voice had softened, a warmth returning that you hadn’t expected as he guided you, his anger replaced by concern. He quickly waved to a set assistant walking nearby. “Get a chair—and some water!” he called, his tone firm but urgent.

You barely noticed the assistant rushing off. A chair was brought over, and Finan and Osferth eased you into it, the world around you blurring as you tried to comprehend what you just heard. Osferth knelt beside you, his eyes steady and full of sadness as he handed you the water.

“I… I didn’t know,” you stammered, the words feeling small, inadequate. You looked at them, your voice cracking. “I thought he… I thought he didn’t care. I thought he wanted me gone.”

Finan shook his head, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. “It was never about him not caring. He thought he was doing the right thing—for you.”

“He’s been living with that choice,” Finan added quietly, his eyes meeting yours, “because he thought it would give you a better life.”

Osferth placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his tone gentle. “Sometimes people make the hardest choices for the ones they love. Doesn’t mean they don’t hurt just as much.”

“Maybe… maybe it’s time you hear it from him,” Finan said softly, his tone no longer accusatory but understanding.

—---------------------------------------------------

The worry gnawed at you, growing with each unanswered call, each message left unread. Sihtric had vanished after the fashion show, and as the hours without a word turned into an entire day, you found yourself pacing around your apartment like a caged animal, restless and frustrated.

You hadn’t wanted to go to his place—not at first. The idea of stepping into his space felt like giving up the neutral ground you’d hoped to keep. But as your concern deepened, it became clear that there was no other option. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your things and headed out, finally making your way to his apartment.

When you arrived, you looked up to see a warm glow coming from Sihtric’s window. Relief flooded over you—he was home. You exhaled deeply, feeling the tightness in your chest ease, if only a little. You deliberately chose the stairs over the elevator, hoping the walk up would give you time to gather your thoughts. But even with the extra moments, your mind remained frustratingly blank, and your heart raced like a drumbeat in your chest.

Standing in front of his door, you raised your hand to the doorbell, trying to ignore the nervous twist in your stomach. But instead of ringing, you pressed your palm and ear to the door, straining to hear any sign of movement on the other side. Come on, you can do this, you urged yourself, taking a deep, steadying breath. Finally, you lifted your hand and pressed the button, feeling your pulse quicken as you waited for him to answer.

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as there was only silence on the other side but you refused to give up. You pressed the doorbell again, then again, determined to get some response. Still, nothing.

“Sihtric,” you finally called. “I know you’re in there. I can see the light. Please, just talk to me.”

Silence stretched, pressing down on you. Frustrated, you balled your fists and pounded on the door, the echo of each hit ricocheting down the empty corridor. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked open, and you glanced over your shoulder to find a pair of curious, disapproving eyes peering at you through a crack. But you were beyond caring about nosy neighbours. Ignoring them, you turned back to Sihtric’s door and knocked again, your voice catching slightly as you called his name once more.

Just as you felt the last shimmer of hope begin to slip away, you heard a faint shuffle behind the door, the sound of hesitant footsteps drawing closer. Relief flickered through you, only to fade as his voice, rough and bitter, cut through the silence.

“Just… go away,” he muttered, his tone carrying a heaviness that felt like a punch to the chest. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Sihtric?” you called, pressing a hand against the door. “Please, open up. I just want to talk.”

Silence. But you knew he was there, so you waited. A bitter, muffled voice finally answered. “Why? There’s nothing more to talk about,” he replied, his tone rough, barely masking the exhaustion in his voice. “Just… leave me alone.”

Ignoring his dismissal, you leaned closer, unwilling to let him shut you out. “Sihtric, please. I was wrong. I was wrong not wanting to listen to you, shutting you out. Please open the door, so we can talk. I just… I need to understand.”

He scoffed from the other side, the bitterness in his voice cutting. “Understand? You want to understand now? Why? You have your perfect little life, your perfect job, your prince charming.” His words were laced with sarcasm. “You want to judge me? I already gave you the chance for that at the show. I saw it on your face. I don’t need more of that.”

You pressed your forehead against the door, your heart pounding as you tried to will back tears slowly gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry. Sihtric, can you hear me? I’m so sorry. And I wasn’t judging you, Sihtric. I was just… surprised. I’m not here to make things worse. I came because I care.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric stood still, barely breathing, his entire body tense. He could feel the ache in his shoulders and neck, the result of hours spent tossing and turning through a sleepless night, haunted by thoughts of you and his own spiralling decisions. Every muscle felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, regret and anger.

He wanted to open the door. Part of him ached to see you, to hear your voice without the barrier between you. But another part—larger, stronger, the part that had convinced him to let you go years ago—held him back. That part reminded him of everything he’d become, the mess he’d made of his life since then, and the humiliation of his drunken, jealousy-fueled outburst at the fashion show. He clenched his fists, fighting the shame that burned inside him, wondering if he could ever face you again.

His heart pounded, each beat reverberating with the bitterness that had taken root within him. What did he have to offer you now? He was broken, he knew that much, and he’d spent too long building up his defences to believe someone would want to come close enough to help him pick up the pieces. Especially not you—the one person he’d hurt most by pushing you away.

Drawing a deep shaky breath he slowly slid down to the ground, resting his back against the door. His elbows propped on his knees he buried his face in his hands, the world reduced to the darkness behind his closed eyelids. 

The memories of the fashion show flashed in his mind—your face when he’d approached you, the shock and disappointment in your eyes, the way he’d stumbled through his words, lost in a haze of jealousy and alcohol. The regret was a deep wound now, throbbing with every word you spoke on the other side of the door.

What could he say to you? That he was sorry? Sorry didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess he’d made of things. 

The sound of your voice, pleading, coaxing him to open the door, tore at him. He could feel you there, so close, and it made everything hurt more sharply. Sihtric let out a shaky breath, feeling the first sting of tears pressing at the corners of his eyes, but he held them back, unwilling to let himself break down, even now.

“Why are you here?” he muttered under his breath, as much to himself as to you. His voice was rough, barely hiding the bitterness he felt, not even toward you but toward himself. “What good can come from this?”

He sat there, torn between the urge to stand up, unlock the door, and reach for you, and the dark, cynical voice in his mind that told him to stay hidden, that he didn’t deserve whatever you were here to offer.

And yet, through it all, he couldn’t help but listen, couldn’t ignore the hope in your words, the softness in your tone. He could almost feel you on the other side, feel the warmth you brought, a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. 

But that hope was terrifying. Because if he opened the door, if he let you in… The very idea of you seeing him like this—broken, regret-filled and barely holding it together—filled him with shame. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to do that. He probably wasn’t. 

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Sihtric’s breathing grew uneven, and for a moment, you wondered if he’d even heard you. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, rough and worn, tinged with a bitterness that struck you like a physical blow.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” he muttered, the words laced with frustration. “I don’t need anything from you. Just leave me alone—I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Sihtric,” you called softly, pressing your hand flat against the door. “Please… just open the door.”

When he didn’t respond, you clenched your fists and banged against the door, louder this time, not caring who heard. “Sihtric, I’m not going anywhere! You don’t have to shut me out. I know… I know what you did for me. I know why you left.”

There was a pause, so deep and tense you could hear the faint sounds from the street outside, muffled and distant. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely audible, fragile. “Who told you that?”

You took a steadying breath, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “Finan and Osferth,” you replied. “They told me everything. How you thought leaving was best for me, how you made it look like you’d moved on just so I wouldn’t come back… how you suffered through it all because you thought it was the right thing.”

There was another pause, and then he laughed, a hollow, defeated sound that twisted painfully in your chest. “So, what?” he said, his voice wavering, barely holding steady. “You came here to pity me? To see what a mess I’ve made of myself?” He sounded tired, as if the words themselves were an effort. “I don’t need your pity either.”

For a moment, all you could hear was his unsteady breathing. You imagined him, standing just on the other side, close enough to touch if only he’d open the door. It was driving you mad—having him so close but so far away at the same time. You silently cursed yourself for turning him down, for refusing to listen when he had tried to talk to you before. Why had you been so cold? Why had you let fear take over?

But it wasn’t just your fear that had brought you to this moment. Gisela. The thought struck like a dagger, bitter and sharp. Why had she meddled? Why had she pushed Sihtric into making that choice without ever telling you? All those times she’d been there, comforting you, assuring you that moving on was the right thing to do—she had known. She had known the truth and had kept it from you. Why, Gisela? you thought bitterly, your hands balling into fists against the door. Why did you do this to me? To us?

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against the door, the whirlwind of emotions inside you felt unbearable, but amidst the chaos, a single thought began to crystallize with startling clarity. I’m not letting this go. Not this time. You had spent too long blaming others for what had happened—Sihtric, the universe, now Gisela. Too long nursing your pain, placing it on a pedestal like some kind of shield to justify not moving forward, not letting yourself feel again. But you couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. This wasn’t just pain or regret—this was love. It had never stopped being love, and it was time you faced it.

You straightened slightly, you weren’t going to let the past define what was left of your future. This was your chance, and you weren’t going to let fear or pride hold you back any longer. Sihtric deserved the truth, and so did you. He needed to hear it, to know that you still loved him—not the sanitized, half-forgotten version of love you’d pretended to bury, but the real thing. The kind of love that ached, that fought, that refused to let go.

And he needed to know the part you’d played in letting it all fall apart. The anger you’d clung to, the walls you’d built to protect yourself, all of it had driven you away from him when you should have stayed and fought, and you needed to own that. 

“I’m not giving up on this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, though you hoped he could feel the determination in your voice. “Not this time, not again.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the door as your only support as you leaned against it. “Sihtric,” you began, your voice trembling, but there was no hesitation in your words. “Please, just listen to me. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Please, I’m begging you just hear me out. I’m here because… because I never stopped loving you.”

You could feel his breathing hitch on the other side, but he didn’t say anything, and you went on, needing him to hear everything.

“I wanted to hate you,” you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. “I tried. I thought that if I could just hate you, it would be easier. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate you, not really. Even when I tried to move on, to make a life without you… I couldn’t let go of you. No one else could replace what you mean to me.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric let out a ragged breath, his hands covering his face. 

The weight of your own words took their toll, and slowly, your legs gave way. You slid down to the ground, sitting with your back pressed against the door, your head resting against the wood as you stared at the empty hallway in front of you. 

“When you wanted to talk to me that day at the shoot… I was so cold because I was scared, Sihtric,” you whispered, the confession falling from your lips before you could stop it. “I was afraid that if I let you in, even a little, I’d break. That all the walls I put up to protect myself would come crashing down.”

Sihtric listened, his face buried in his hands, feeling every word you spoke burning holes in his soul. He wanted to reach for you, to say something, but something kept him still, the knowledge of everything he’d put both of you through holding him back. His breath was shaky, his heart pounding as he imagined you there, only inches away.

“I tried to move on, Sihtric,” you continued. “I tried to make a life without you. I even tried to love someone else, to find what I had with you with someone new. But it didn’t work. No one… no one ever felt like you.”

Sihtric’s hands dropped from his face, and he pressed his palms flat against the door, his fingers splaying out as if they could reach you through the barrier between you as he felt his resolve breaking, his walls crumbling bit by bit.

“I thought letting you go was the best thing I could do for you,” he murmured. “I thought that if I hurt you enough, you’d decide to leave me behind… and you’d never look back. I wanted you to be successful and happy, even if it meant I couldn’t be.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you listened, your heart breaking all over again. “Don’t you see?” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I was never happy without you. I kept telling myself that I could be, but deep down, I knew… I knew I’d never feel whole again.”

For a moment, the two of you sat there, separated by inches of wood and miles of unspoken feelings, both of you held captive by the same painful memories and buried longing.

“You don’t understand…” he continued, his voice breaking. “I’m not who I used to be. I’m not… I’m not enough for you, you need someone better. I don’t even know who I am anymore. You should be out there, living that life you’ve created and earned, not here… with someone like me.”

You swallowed hard, tears pooling in your eyes but refusing to fall. “I don’t need someone better, Sihtric. I need you,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “The real you, flaws and all. I can’t pretend anymore that everything’s fine without you in my life. I don’t care about perfect, Sihtric. I just… I just want you.”

The silence behind the door was deafening, stretching longer than you could bear. Your chest tightened, every second dragging on like an eternity. You strained to hear anything—a shuffle, a breath, even the slightest indication that he was still there—but there was nothing. The hollow quiet seeped into your heart, threatening to shatter it into a thousand pieces again.

Was this really the end? The thought weighed heavy, pressing against you until you couldn’t sit upright any longer. Slowly, you laid your head down on your knees, clutching them tightly as if to hold yourself together. You felt the sting of finality creeping in, the cruel certainty that you had done everything you could. It was time to stand up, to walk away, and this time, not look back.

But just as you started to gather the strength to rise, a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached your ears. A click. Your breath hitched as the unmistakable sound of the lock turning echoed softly through the silence.

You turned your head at the sound of the door creaking open, and there he was. Sihtric stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted, dark rings encircling his beautiful large eyes, face shadowed and tired. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt was rumpled, hanging loosely on his frame, but you didn’t care. All you could see was him, standing there, finally letting you in.

You jumped to your feet, propelled by a wave of relief and emotion, and lunged at him before you could think twice. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and the two of you stumbled backward into the apartment, the door swinging shut behind you. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, holding on as though he might disappear again if you let go. Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into his rumpled shirt as you buried your face against his broad, muscular chest.

For a moment, he stood frozen, his hands hovering uncertainly by his sides. Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms came around you, pulling you closer. He let out a shuddering breath, the tension in his body giving way as he held you tightly, like he was afraid this was just another fleeting dream.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against him, trembling with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry, Sihtric. For shutting you out. For not fighting harder. For letting my anger win.”

His chest rose and fell beneath you as he struggled to steady his breathing. His voice was rough, as he finally spoke. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was me… all of it. I pushed you away. I thought it was the only way.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. 

“I should’ve fought for us,” you said, your voice breaking. “I should’ve seen through it, through what you were doing. But I didn’t.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his touch tentative, almost disbelieving. “You couldn’t have known,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I made sure of that. I wanted you to move on, to be happy.”

“I wasn’t happy,” you said, shaking your head. “I could never be happy without you.”

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours as a tear slid down his cheek. “I don’t know if I can fix this. If I can fix me.”

You reached up, your fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw as you steadied your voice. “You don’t have to fix anything. We’ll figure it out together. Just, please, don’t push me away again.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just held you, his hands trembling slightly as they clung to you. Then, he leaned in and his lips brushed yours in a soft, lingering kiss that carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

Sihtric's lips trembled against yours, as you pressed into him, your hands clutching harder the fabric of his shirt, silently telling him that you were here, that this was real. You kissed him back pouring all your emotions into that one single gentle touch of lips, getting more heated and desperate with each passing moment.

When he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, he began to press a trail of kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose. 

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and low. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I tried to forget… when I tried to move on, I couldn’t.” His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, as though he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

“I tried to find someone else,” he admitted, his voice breaking as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath was warm and unsteady. “I thought I could replace what we had. But it was never the same. No one could ever be you.” His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm but gentle. “I don’t want anyone else. I can’t. It’s always been you, and it will always be you.”

Without warning, he scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you effortlessly as though you weighed nothing. You gasped softly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with something raw and unrestrained.

“I need you,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I need you in every part of my life. And right now… I need to show you how much I love you.”

You smiled through tears, you fingers tangling in his thick, disheveled hair. You pulled him closer and with a low almost desperate growl his lips captured yours again as he carried you further into the apartment.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

The soft hum of voices and the gentle clinking of glasses filled the air as you arrived at the exhibition, a feeling of anticipation settling in your chest. Gisela was waiting for you near the entrance, her ever-poised demeanor slightly off-kilter as she scanned the crowd. When her eyes landed on you, a flicker of something—relief? Concern?—crossed her face, and she hurried over.

“There you are,” she said, taking your hand as though to steady you. Her tone carried an edge of urgency, and you could tell she was gearing up to say something important. “I’m glad you came. But listen, before you go inside, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her voice lowered conspiratorially as she leaned closer. “Sigtryggr… he’s here. And he brought someone. A girlfriend, apparently.” Her words were careful, but her gaze flickered with unease, clearly gauging your reaction.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement rising in you. “That’s fine, Gisela,” you said, squeezing her hand lightly. “Sigtryggr and I… we weren’t meant to be. I’m happy for him.”

She blinked, slightly taken aback by your calm response, but pressed on. “Well, I thought you should know. But I also have someone I want you to meet.” Her voice brightened slightly, as though trying to distract you from the potential awkwardness waiting inside.

You tilted your head, an affectionate smile creeping onto your face. “Actually, Gisela, I have someone I want you to meet first.”

Before Gisela could respond, Sihtric stepped forward from behind you. He wasn’t dressed to blend into the crowd of sharply tailored suits and polished shoes that filled the gallery, yet somehow, he looked effortlessly striking. 

A dark, fitted leather jacket hung perfectly over his broad shoulders, paired with a simple, black t-shirt that clung to his lean, muscular frame. Fitted jeans and scuffed boots completed the look, adding a touch of ruggedness that made him stand out in all the right ways.

His dark hair was neatly tied back, but a few rogue strands fell across his sharp cheekbones, softening the intensity of his piercing eyes. He looked effortlessly cool, the kind of man who drew attention without even trying, and the subtle smirk on his lips only added to the effect.

Sihtric slipped his hand into yours, your fingers intertwining, and the look on Gisela’s face was priceless. She was frozen, her gaze locking on him as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her usual poise faltered, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely at a loss for words. Her eyes flicked between you and Sihtric, wide with shock, her mouth opening and closing slightly as though searching for something—anything—to say.

“Sihtric,” you said warmly, your voice filled with affection as you glanced up at him. He responded by slipping his arm around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back.

Gisela finally found her voice, though it was a touch higher-pitched than usual. “I… didn’t realize…” she stammered, her gaze darting to you as if silently questioning how, when, and why this had happened.

You cut her off with a gentle but firm nudge to the side, brushing past her with a smile. “Gisela, we’ll catch up later. Right now, there are a few people we’d like to say hello to.”

Sihtric’s arms wrapped securely around you as you walked into the exhibition together, his warmth grounding you. You caught sight of Sigtryggr and Stiorra in the center of the gallery, standing close, their heads tilted toward each other as they shared a quiet laugh. Whatever lingering awkwardness might have existed between you and Sigtryggr seemed to dissolve as you approached, Sihtric at your side.

“Sigtryggr,” you greeted warmly, your smile genuine. “It’s good to see you.”

Sigtryggr turned, his expression flickering with brief surprise before softening into a polite smile. “And you,” he replied, his gaze briefly darting to Sihtric before settling back on you. “I see you’ve… moved on as well.”

“Seems like we’ve both found where we’re meant to be,” you replied, your tone light, though the weight of those words resonated deeply within you.

Stiorra raised her glass with a mischievous grin. “Well, well. Isn’t this a picture-perfect reunion?” she quipped, her tone teasing but kind.

Sihtric’s arm tightened around your waist as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “A reunion, maybe,” he murmured just for you, his voice warm and low. “But what matters is where we go from here.”

And as you stood there, surrounded by art, by people who had once been tangled in your past, you couldn’t help but smile as for the first time in a long while, the future felt beautifully, wonderfully yours.

[cardierreh15]

Variants

This is just part one of two! Enjoy ⚡️🐺

***I do not give anyone consent to copy, translate or repost my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Angst , Mild Violence .

Pairings: Logan Howlett (Cavillrine) x Ororo Munroe also known as Storm ⚡️

Description: Ororo wakes up in another universe, she meets someone familiar…

Word Count: 4.8K

Song: Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen (but whatever your favorite version is)

Earth-811, Days of Future Present (my own twist) to Earth-199999

Side Note: Please keep in mind, this is not at all accurate and I am only writing something I thought up. Anything from how she got to this Earth from to her meeting Logan is not canon events.

Side, Side Note: Lyrics are in regular italics. Ororo's thoughts are in Italics Bold and OG Logan's voice is in orange italics.

Part One

Now I've heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do ya?

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing "Hallelujah”

It was a beautiful day on Earth 199999. Not a cloud to be spotted. The birds chirped and there was even a cool breeze to combat the humid air that the season had brought in on its back. But all of that was about to change.

With the bat of an eye, dark heavy clouds rolled into the view of the sun. Blocking out any rays that were toasting up some skins and feeding flowers. Violent lightning bolts filled the sky and loud thunder shook the ground beneath the feet of man. Rain beat down like rocks and the wind blew so strong, it toppled cars and pulled trees from their roots.

In the middle of that chaos, was a woman who would change the entire timeline of this world. Though, she had no idea where she was or whether she was even alive. But she was what this world needed.

Falling unconscious from the thunderous clouds, she collapsed into the pacific. Engulfed and swallowed up by the merciless deep blue. One would think that was the end of this Storm Goddess. But fate and destiny were willing to bend the rules when it came to fulfilling their name.

Upon her contact, the impact of her landing had not only caused hurricanes but water spouts that could tear up an entire island and record breaking tsunamis. Countless lives had been lost upon her ascend.

Months had passed on by and the world was slowly healing from the detrimental damage that came with Ororo’s hard landing. Reporters and storm researchers tried to get to the bottom of what could’ve caused something like this to happen so simultaneously and without warning. The UN (United Nations) had already started on their own journey trying to get to the bottom of it; if it was mutant related and purposeful. As if they give a damn about that really. On her Earth, the United States were the reason why she was here in the first place.

Ororo was found caught in a fishing net in Vancouver. She was well preserved and oddly enough, still warm to the touch. Yet, still knocked into a deep coma that not even inhaling water could wake her from.

A man, not from this plain, had noticed that she wasn’t exactly human. And if the other fisherman had suspected her of being a mutant, they’d have her shipped off to a lab somewhere in the US after they collected their reward. So, he took her back to his home in Alberta, Canada. Far away from society and where he could be himself.

The stranger would come check on the brown sleeping beauty every once in a while. Everyday in the morning before he went to chop wood to aid her fireplace and then once before sunset. She looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t exactly pin it. She was enigmatic! And the feeling of limerence grew the longer she stayed. The way her white finely twisted dreads lay splayed out beneath her head, her thick white brows and lashes. How the shade appeared to enhance her skin and feminine features. Even in her time of nadir, she took his breath away.

Almost like a forbidden kind of beauty. The one that came with a dark past.

Those days had turned into weeks and finally a month had passed since her arrival at the stranger’s residence.

Ororo’s eyes had flashed open, white as her hair as she inhaled so much air that instantly burned her lungs and choked her out.

Sitting up, she placed her hand over her chest before gripping the linens that she wore. She wheezed as salty tears streamed down her face as she fought to breathe. Her vision blurred, her head felt so heavy and it throbbed with an achy vengeance. The words of her lover repeated in her ears.

I love you, Ororo. You don’t have to come back for me. If you find a perfect world, stay there.

She coached herself to steady her breathing as her snowy eyes had faded into something more human. Brown as the Earth’s soil. Ororo hiccuped as her awareness finally hit her like a ton of bricks. She scanned the bedroom for anything to tell her where she was. Or at least, which part of the Multiverse she had landed in.

Pulling herself from the warmth of the heavy comforters, she felt as if she’d been only asleep for a day. Her limbs and balance worked as they did when she was fleeing from the Sentinels. Though, it came with only a little bit of soreness. That was from the battering of the waves.

She whimpered as she rotated her arm to aid the soreness there. ‘Aah. Where the hell am I?’ The bedroom was a piece of paragonal work. Lots of natural light that was let in by 3 large arched windows and a large skylight window that made stargazing comfortable when night came. 

The furniture was vintage; carved out of mahogany and donned with gold handles and knobs. All of the furniture was dusted clean, the mirror at the vanity didn’t see a speck or smudge. A telltale sign that someone had been in here to visit her quite frequently.

With the bedroom’s cleanliness, came no clues of where she was. Ororo began to rummage and search through the dresser drawers and the nightstand. 

Breathing heavily as she felt herself growing anxious with tears filling her eyes, she felt herself falling apart. 

Don’t come back for me. 

Logan please.

I mean it, thundercloud. If you find a perfect world, stay there. 

‘Ooh! Fuck you, Logan!’ She exclaimed through gritted teeth as tears fell from her eyes. ‘Fuck you! Fuck you!’ She exclaimed as she slammed her fists into the mahogany wood that cracked beneath her strength. 

A loud thunder crack echoed outside, with a bolt hitting right outside her bedroom window.

Tiny bolts of lightning danced around her fists as she brought them up before opening her palms. The tiny bolts flickered before vanishing completely and a tear fell in their place. 

Wiping her snotty nose with her sleeve, she took a deep breath and wiped her tears with her free wrist. How was she going to make it without him?

The sound of 80’s rock and roll brought her out of her misery. The same kind of music they’d listen to together on his motorcycle when times were much simpler. She used to peel the clouds out of the sky or simply push them over the next city so they could go riding. 

The smell of his cigar smoke mended into his brown leather jacket. The way his thick dark hair used to fluff about in the wind and how he used to risk their lives by rubbing her arm when she held him tight.

Good times.

Ororo rushed towards the large wooden door and tugged it open with its golden knob. She was met with fresh air when she rushed outside. The sound of the music was no longer muffled by the thickness of those wooden walls. Yet it did echo and bounce off of trees in the surrounding area.

Quickly making her way down the wooden steps, she founded the calls and howls of the infamous Axel Rose. It didn't take her long to find the host; just a cut around the cabin and she was standing in front of it. Catacorner from it was a makeshift garage. Old broken down cars, motorcycles, and tires lie scattered about.

This looked just like Logan’s garage. A mess and unkept.

She felt as if this was all some kind of fever dream. 

Inclined to meet the person who saved her, Ororo began to journey forward until she came across a mature and very large Fir tree that sported claw marks. She walked towards it as the fast music became a blur in her ears. She ran her finger tips over the marks. 

9 claw marks but in threes. She knew only one person who could pull this off. 

‘Oh my god— JAMES!’ Her heart fluttered like crazy as she sped walked to the garage and pushed the doors open. ‘JAMES!’

There he stood, back turned as he worked on his bike. He wore his classic white wife beater, denim jeans and brown boots. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he squeezed the clutch of his bike. She was sure that he couldn’t hear her over the shouting of Guns N Roses and the purr of his motorcycle, so she reached her hand up towards one of the hanging lamps and shot a lightning bolt at it. 

A gleaming smile curled up on her lips with a twinkle in her eye.

That caught his attention, causing him to stand up straight.

There was a long pause before the individual reached over and turned down the old school radio that sat on the toolbox. 

‘You know it’s been a long time since someone called me that.’

His voice… He didn’t sound like the Logan she knew and loved. Though from this angle, he was the spitting image. Her smile remained. ‘Wh-what do you mean we—‘

The male finally turned around to face her. But the cloud of smoke from the cigar that he puffed on, made him impossible to make out.

She used to hate the smell, now she lived for it. Craved it.

‘You still smoke those-‘

Stepping through the cloud, the individual revealed himself. 

His hair was curly thick, styled up to resemble ears as if he were a puppy. The same way her James used to style his hair. He even sported that very same beard cut with the center of his chin shaved and his jaws furry. 

His eyes were bright blue unlike the original Logan’s, comforting brown.

Her smile faltered as she placed a hand on her stomach and took a step back.

‘Hmm.’ The man grumbled as he reached behind him and scooped up a white dirty hand towel to wipe his hands. He held his lit cigar in his jaw before taking it out with his clean fingers.

Ororo stood there, her eyes wide in shock and confusion. Her mouth opened to ask a question but the words just wouldn’t come out!

‘I didn’t think you’d ever wake up. You seem to be walking well.’

He was the one that saved her.

‘H-‘ she swallowed, ‘How long was I out?’

Tossing the dirty cloth on the toolbox, he placed the cigar back between his lips and inhaled greatly. And when he exhaled, another large cloud of smoke shrouded the garage.

‘Well,’ he grumbled, ‘You’ve been here for about a month. I uh— suspect you have no idea what’s going on… do you?’

A month? There’s no way I have been here for a month! I stepped in that portal yesterday! 

Ororo placed her hand on her neck as she felt her blood pressure begin to spike. Her body began to gently rock side to side as her stomach twisted and turned.

‘Wh-where did you find me a-and where am I?’

‘You’re in Alberta…’

Her eyes grew, ‘CANADA?!’

‘Some fishermen in Vancouver found you sleeping in a net with some salmon.’ 

She brought her fingers up to her temples and began to rub that spot when her head began to throb. 

And right on cue, thunder roared outside. 

Logan looked up at the roof as rain drizzled and created a song atop the metal. Then he looked back at her. She appeared to be fighting a migraine. And the more she fought, the heavier the drizzle became.

Then it clicked.

‘You alright over there? Need some pain meds?’ He mumbled with his cigar in his mouth.

‘Mmph! It’s okay just—.’

‘Uh-huh. Y’know, there’s been some dangerous storms going on. Tsunamis, Hurricanes, typhoons, the whole nine.’

‘Mmm.’ Ororo grimaced at the pain, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she clenched her jaw together. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘I don’t know. But, the storms started about 4 months ago.’ 

I’ve been here for four months?! Oh my god.

‘I think I’m gonna be sick.’ Ororo whimpered as her vision blurred once again from tears. Her chest began to heave and her heart thudded hard in her chest.

‘Oh, whatever you do just—‘

Barf. Clear bubbly flim mixed with yellow bile splattered on the smooth concrete. 

‘Take that… outside. Aw shit.’

The woman collapsed to her hands and knees as he rushed over to her aid. She choked as her insides forced and fought to be on the outside. The taste of the raw acid burned at her esophagus and mouth. The rancid taste only made her gag more. 

‘Hey, it’s okay.’

It’s okay, Storm. If we’re meant to be… we’ll be.

Her eyes turned white with tiny bolts dancing around them, heaving harder as she stared at the disgusting vomit.

‘You have to look away! Look at me!’ 

As soon as Logan snatched up her hands, lightning zapped him to hell. 

Fortunately nothing that’ll kill him, but it stung like shit. ‘Aah!’ He hissed as he snatched his hands away, fanning them painfully. ‘Fuck!’

You’re my strong girl.

Ororo shut her eyes tightly as the heaving turned into a sob. ‘I can’t do this without you…’

The drizzle had turned into a heavy pitter patter. Thunder roared outside, causing the tin can of a garage to rattle. 

Logan’s brows tugged into one as the burning tingling began to fade into his hand. He watched as the woman crumbled into herself. 

This wasn’t tears of fear or confusion. But of mourning and grief. He could practically smell the pain exuding off of her. Logan knew what it felt like to lose someone. To be completely lost in a world that didn’t accept who he was. To be alone. 

Reaching out to her, tiny lightning bolts reached out to embrace his fingertips as if they were familiarized with his energy or aura. 

They didn’t burn him this time, just tiny manageable pinches. He placed his palm on her back and sighed softly.

If we’re meant to be…

His mouth parted to say something, afraid to say the wrong thing. 

Ororo blinked her eyes open before looking over at him. 

He was almost the exact same replica of her James. That same mean scowl that she adored greatly.

‘You’ve got blue eyes.’ She said in a hushed tone as she stared into his eyes.

‘You’re very observant.’ Logan said sarcastically with a small chuckle leaving his lips. ‘What is it that they call you?’

My Stormsy. Hey there, my lil’ thundercloud. Hang on lightning bolt! Stormy. 

‘Oro—‘ she sniffed, ‘Forgive me but, I don’t think you’d be able to say my name, white boy.’ She scoffed.

Logan raised his brow, ‘Oh yeah? Try me.’

She tried to muffle her giggle but it fell through, ‘Ororo.’

His brows rose and he blinked hard once.

‘Oro—OK, do you have a nickname?!’

Ororo’s small smile from her giggle had turned into a charming grin as laughter escaped her, ‘Yeah,’ she sighed softly. He was just like him. From his facial expressions to how effortlessly hilarious he was. She was comfortable near him.

‘Storm. Just call me Storm.’

‘Now that sounds… do-able.’ His smirk curled up into a small smile before he felt a raindrop fall upon his shoulder. They both looked up at the ceiling. Another fell on his forehead.

‘Well, that would explain the weather.’ Then wiped his head free of the water and looked back over at her, then it clicked. He was a terrible host.

Her white eyes began to fade into her brown ones.

Glancing down at the barf, he then glanced back at her, ‘You must be starving.’

‘No, no. It’s OK, I’ve been too much trouble already just—‘

‘No, I insist. You haven’t ate—‘

Wrrrrr. Ororo slapped her hand against her stomach as it sang its hunger song, as if she could shut it up like a finger to a set of lips. She snatched her eyes away from his gaze and shut them in defeat.

‘Mmm. I thought so. Alright, up, up, up.’ He took his large hands and helped her to her feet. ’

Rolling her eyes at his condescending tone, she pushed herself up to her feet with his help.

‘Ya alright?’ He asked as he slowly pulled his hands away.

‘Yeah,’ The electricity vanished once again within her, ‘Thank you.’

‘Mmm,’ his head fell to the side, ‘Don’t mention it. Look, I’m gonna get this cleaned up—‘ 

‘James, please—‘ she paused. 

He looked down at her for a long moment. ‘You’re the only one who can get away with calling me that.’ Turning away from her he walked towards the far corner of the garage. 

Ororo let out a sigh and placed her hands on her hips. Were they all the same in every universe? Hardheaded and guileless. Arguments were always challenging with him. 

‘You don’t have to clean up after me, I'm not some kind of damsel in distress.’

‘Well,’ he scoffed as he picked up a bucket and a mop, ‘You were just kind of sleeping beauty for ‘bouta month. I’d say you’re pretty damn close enough. Oh, and— Aurora… mind easing up on the rain until we get the food here?’ 

Her mouth fell before she stammered over her words. ‘We—I—‘

Wait a minute did he just call me beautiful? Damn, they are just alike. 

And he left her inside of the garage to retrieve water for the bucket.

***

Ororo did not in fact keep the rain in check. Instead, when she went back into the cabin she found herself missing James more and more. But, how could she miss him when he was right outside? 

Oh, she was so confused. Stuck in a whirlwind of emotions. But she had to count her blessings. Who knows what would’ve happened if he didn’t find her. She could’ve been poked and pried at beneath wandering eyes. Chopped up in itsy bitsy pieces and thrown in a particle accelerator to be sold to the highest bidder.

At least that was more humane than the chaos that ensued on her world. 

A knock echoed in her bedroom and the sound of the knob twisting followed.

Ororo was bent over the vanity, checking for any oddities that the portal could’ve left her with. So far, so good. The door creaked open and she turned torso to the side.

‘Hey—whoa—‘

With her voluptuous rump in view, she rested her chin on her fist, ‘Your mama ever taught you to knock? What if I was naked?!’

‘Well for one, I did knock. And my mama, didn’t exactly raise a gentleman if you want me to be honest. Come, I’ve got Chinese.’ 

***

The pair sat in silence as they indulged on their take out. Ororo did her best not to inhale all of it so she ate slowly.

Logan chuckled, ‘That’s cute!’ 

Shit, he was on to her.

‘Mmm? What?’ She grumbled as she placed her hand over her lips so that she wasn’t spitting out food.

‘Oh nothing. It’s just you’re trying so hard not to kill all of your food. Eat! Trust me, you definitely need it more than I do.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She said as she stifled her giggle and took another bite out of her food. 

‘Right.’ He snickered and took a sip of his beer. 

The dining room grew quiet once again, soft thunder filled the silent void between them. Not necessarily on purpose but she was studying him. They were eating sweet n sour pork. 

James hated pork. He hated the smell, the salty-ness, the texture and the tummy ache and headache that it gave him after it all. She remembers having to cave in to buying turkey bacon. 

The things you do for love. The sacrifices you make.

James was also right handed. Everything he did started with his right side and eventually the left would aid it. Not that the left was as strong as the right, but when it came to swinging his claws, it always got the job done.

This Logan was an ambidextrous individual. Using both of his hands to work into his food without looking funny. It was so natural.

‘I can feel you burning a hole in my face.’ He murmured as his bright blue hues remained glued to his plate.

It was then when she finally blinked, ‘sorry you just— you just remind me of someone I—‘ she paused as her head fell into her lap.

Logan’s eyes flickered up at her for a second, reading her like a book. ‘Boyfriend?’

She remained quiet.

‘Yeah, I know that look. Sported it a few times myself. Would you like to talk about it?’

Oh she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Should she start with Mystique mercilessly murdering Senator Robert Kelly? Or how her blood contributed to the industrial process of the Sentinels that killed mutants or threw them into concentration camps? How this Logan sitting in front of her could be one of hundreds and maybe thousands of variants of her dead lover?

That was a lot to take in. He wouldn’t even believe her.

‘I—Honestly, I wouldn't even know where to start.’

‘I’ve got nothing but time.’

You take up all my time, Lightning Bolt. A punishment when I have to leave but a reward when I come back home to you. 

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she let out a gentle breath. ‘I’m —‘ Ororo tried to process it herself. If she hadn’t lived it, it wouldn’t have even made sense to her either. 

‘This is going to sound crazy.’ 

‘Trust me, I’ve seen and heard crazy. There’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already heard.’ 

He mustn’t be so sure.

Even that little comment was something James would’ve said. Verbatim. 

‘Alright.’ She sat up straight and let out another breath of air, ‘I’m not from… here.’

Logan sat quietly. She had his full and undivided attention.

‘I’m not from… here.’ She repeated.

‘Oookaaaay, I think I got that the first time.’ He sighed and folded his arms together. ‘What do you mean?’

Damn it was a lot harder to say than she thought. Perhaps she try a different approach. She would talk about… him.

‘My boyfriend… he uh— he was one of a kind. Smart, goofy, sweet… he was everything I dreamed of. He uh— and his brother had it rough. His family was well off… and in most cases the mother and father weren’t around much thus, was raised by their nanny. One night, some man comes into their home and kills their father. It was then when he discovered his powers. He grew—‘ 

Ororo glanced down at Logan’s fist as his fingers tapped against the table cloth. 

‘Claws.’ Her gaze rose to his once again. ‘He stabbed the man in hopes of getting to avenge his father… but it was then revealed to him that the stranger was in fact he and his brother’s biological father.’

Logan stared at her in complete horror. But he remained calm.

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew ya

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.

‘What then?’ He asked before picking up his beer once again. 

‘He and his big brother ran away. Fought in World War II. Years later he met me at Xavier’s School of Gifted—‘

‘Youngsters.’

‘Youngsters.’ She repeated slowly. 

He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, ‘How do you— How do you know all of that?!’

Swallowing her spit, Ororo pressed her lips together, ‘I know — so much more, Logan.’

‘So what, do you read minds like Charles?!’ His voice was a little bit more stern than before.

‘Ja-Logan, it’s not like that! I—I come from a different timeline!’

His eyes grew in disbelief and he raised his hands, ‘Alright. That’s enough sweet n sour pork for you. Now you’re just talking out of your ass.’ He reached over to grab her container but she grabbed his wrist tightly. It was heavy. Just as she thought.

‘Has it ever occurred to you why or how a complete stranger would know your name?!’ 

‘Maybe you’ve been looking at my mail?!’

‘Your name is James Howlett! You had a brother named Liev, also named as Sabertooth—‘

‘What?!’ He chuckled.

‘You were born 1882! Here in Alberta, Canada.’

‘These are all things you can look up on google sweetheart.’ He said as he gently pulled his fist away.

‘That would make sense if I could use google in my sleep!’ She bit back. She watched as he pulled her styrofoam container away. ‘And I don’t think you added your Adamantium skeleton to the census.’

I did my best, it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya

And even though it all went wrong

I'll stand before the lord of song

With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah

He stared at her for a moment before swallowing hard.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about? That metal doesn’t even exist.’ He added as he carried off their take out to the kitchen.

Now, she was annoyed. She folded her arms across her chest and slouched back against the wooden chair with her full lips in a slight pout. That was until she realized what he said.

‘Wait—‘ she quickly stood to her feet and walked into the kitchen, ‘I never said anything about Adamantium being metal!’ 

Logan opened the refrigerator to place the containers inside, ‘You didn’t? Well, it sounds like it would be metal. The “Tium” at the end of it adds the razzle dazzle.’ 

Ororo was growing irritated with his banter. So she snatched the refrigerator door handle and slammed it, not caring much if the food was in there properly. Her backside was pressed firmly against the cool stainless steel.

‘Hey!’ He glared at her.

‘You asked me if I wanted to talk about it and I AM—‘

‘I didn’t ask you for a damn biography on my life!’

Her head fell to the side before looking down at his fists. 

‘Show me.’

Logan stepped back, his thick brows tugging into one. ‘Show you what? There’s nothing to show you!’ 

‘I want to see them! Show me!’ 

‘Lady, you’re really losing it right now.’

‘I WANT TO SEE THEM— NOW!’ She exclaimed as her eyes glowed white with lightning and she raised her hand to cast a lightning bolt at his chest. 

The white electricity sent him flying back against the wall, leaving a large cave in, in its place. He fell to his hands and knees as he groaned and howled in pain. White lightning bolts danced and trickled around his torso, arms and neck. ‘GUH—AAUURGH!’ 

She hadn’t realized what she’d done until it was too late. ‘Oh my god! James!’ Ororo rushed over to him but stopped in her tracks when she heard the unsheathing of his blades. 

She blinked away her glowing eyes as he painfully pulled himself up to his feet. Bubbles of saliva dripped from between his teeth. At his sides were those infamous Adamantium claws. They were beautiful. 

She glanced up at him in caution as she began to slowly approach him. 

Logan growled, taking a step back as he breathed heavily through the pain. 

‘James please, I’m sorry! I know all of this sounds crazy ok? You have to believe me.’

‘B-believe y-you?! Hell, I d-don’t even know you!’ He sputtered through the pain.

The words pained her, ‘I-I deserve that. But I know you.’ She finally walked to him and reached out to wrap her small hand around his fist. Logan turned his head away from her.

Maybe there's a God above,

but all I've ever learned from love,

was how to shoot at someone who out drew you.

And its not the cry you hear tonight,

its not somebody who's seen the light.

‘In a different time— you loved me. And looking at you now…’ she placed her hand against his jaw and turned his gaze back towards her, ‘Means that I have a second chance. Think about it, you went all the way to Vancouver … you had no idea I was there but you came there for me.’

Logan stared down at her, his heaving panting began to slowly return to normal.

‘I know that you hate New Age music, I know that your hobbies include choking down cigars and chopping wood. I know that you love riding your bike on sunny days in the mountains! I know that you dreamed of living in a small cabin like this one.’ Her voice cracked as she did her best to fight back her heartbreak. He never got to see the life he deserved.

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

‘I know that you’ve moved far away to keep from hurting others. I was there, Logan.’

Ororo’s words were almost inaudible; being choked up with tears, she stared up into his eyes as she fought hard not to cry again. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

Sheathing his blades back into the safety of his knuckles, he reached up to grab her fist gently into his large hand. 

‘How much did you love me—him?’

‘Oh James…’ her eyes fluttered as a thick warm tear fell down her cheek. ‘With all of my being…’

Those words ached him a little as if he knew that she did, as if he witnessed her love for him. He’d fallen in love many times. But they never amounted to anything in the end. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

Maybe—

If we’re meant to be— we’ll be.

Ororo burst into a gut wrenching sob before Logan brought her into his strong, heavy arms. He rested his cheek atop her head as she soaked his filthy wife beater. 

Hallelujah. 

[db0xtae]

Winning the Breakup | Chapter 3

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

⋆˚࿔ Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

⋆˚࿔ Warnings : None

⋆˚࿔ WC : 975

⋆˚࿔ Previous Chapter : 2

⋆˚࿔ A/N : Hope you enjoy!!!

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Chapter 3: The First Date

Sunday arrived far too quickly for Y/N’s liking. She’d spent the better part of the morning pacing around her dorm room, second-guessing her outfit for what Minho had so helpfully dubbed their “first date.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Y/N muttered, staring at herself in the mirror. She’d settled on a simple yet cute outfit: a cream cardigan over a fitted tank top, high-waisted jeans, and white sneakers. It was casual enough not to scream “I’m trying too hard,” but still flattering enough to fit the fake girlfriend image.

Her roommate, Hana, raised an eyebrow from her bed. “You’re talking to yourself again. What’s the big deal? It’s just Minho.”

“Exactly,” Y/N said, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s Minho! The most insufferable guy at KISS. And now I have to spend the entire afternoon pretending I don’t want to strangle him.”

Hana smirked. “You’ll survive. Besides, isn’t he, like, ridiculously hot?”

“Hotness doesn’t make up for his personality,” Y/N retorted, grabbing her bag. “Wish me luck. Or don’t. I’m doomed either way.”

Minho was already waiting for her at the park, leaning casually against a bench like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot. He was wearing a black turtleneck, tailored jeans, and a designer jacket, his hair perfectly styled.

Y/N approached him with a sigh. “You’re overdressed. This isn’t a K-drama.”

“And you’re underdressed,” he shot back, smirking. “This is supposed to be a date, Y/N. Put some effort in.”

“I look fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Wow, your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” Minho said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, we’re going for a walk.”

The two of them strolled through the park, trying to look like a couple while keeping as much distance between them as possible. Minho, apparently noticing the gap, grabbed her hand without warning.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed, yanking her hand back.

“People are watching,” he said simply, nodding toward a group of students from KISS sitting nearby. “You want them to believe us, right?”

Reluctantly, Y/N let him take her hand again. “This is the worst idea ever.”

Minho grinned. “You say that now, but by the end of the day, you’ll be thanking me.”

After walking for a while, Minho led her to an ice cream stand.

“I’ll take vanilla,” he told the vendor, then glanced at Y/N. “What about you?”

“Chocolate,” she said.

Minho paid for both, handing her the chocolate cone. “See? I’m a great fake boyfriend. Generous and thoughtful.”

“You’re literally just doing the bare minimum,” Y/N replied, taking a bite of her ice cream.

“Details,” he said with a shrug.

As they sat down on a nearby bench, a little girl walked up to them, staring at Minho with wide eyes.

“Are you a model?” she asked shyly.

Minho beamed. “Why, yes, I am.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”

“What?” Minho said defensively. “She asked!”

The girl giggled, then ran back to her parents, leaving Minho looking oddly pleased with himself.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Y/N said, shaking her head.

“I’m just giving the people what they want,” he replied, flashing her a wink.

As they continued their “date,” Y/N couldn’t help but notice how many KISS students they kept running into. It was almost suspicious.

“Did you tell the entire school to hang out here today?” she asked as another group of students waved at them.

“Of course not,” Minho said innocently. “But if people happen to see us together, who am I to stop them?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming,” he corrected.

She ignored him, but when they passed Alex and his new girlfriend, her heart skipped a beat. Alex froze when he saw them, his expression shifting from surprise to something that looked suspiciously like jealousy.

“Y/N?” Alex said, his tone laced with disbelief.

“Alex,” she replied coolly, tightening her grip on Minho’s hand.

Minho, ever the opportunist, pulled her closer, slipping an arm around her waist. “Hey, man,” he said casually. “You doing okay?”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “Fine. You two are…together?”

“Yep,” Minho said, smirking. “Crazy, right? Guess we were meant to be.”

Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Well, we should get going. See you around.”

As they walked away, she glanced back to see Alex watching them, his expression unreadable.

“You’re welcome,” Minho whispered, clearly pleased with himself.

“For what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For making your ex jealous, obviously,” he said. “Did you see his face? Priceless.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Y/N muttered, but she couldn’t deny that it felt oddly satisfying.

Later that evening, after their “date” was officially over, Y/N found herself sitting on the steps of her dorm, reflecting on the day.

To her surprise, Minho appeared, holding two cans of soda.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Thought you might want a drink,” he said, handing her a can.

She took it, eyeing him suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, sitting down beside her. “I’m just being nice. Shocking, I know.”

Y/N snorted. “You, nice? That’s a first.”

“Hey, I can be nice when I want to be,” he said, opening his can.

They sat in silence for a moment, the awkwardness of the day fading into something almost comfortable.

“Do you think this is actually going to work?” Y/N asked finally.

Minho glanced at her, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah, I do. But only if we’re both all in.”

“All in,” she repeated, nodding slowly. “Okay.”

He smirked, his usual cockiness returning. “Just don’t fall for me, darling.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen.”

But as she looked at him, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just made a promise she couldn’t keep.

[nikkisheep]

To Be Alone With You (Part Two)

Anthony Bridgerton x Sharma!reader

Series Summary: Let's see, dear readers, where this journey of betrayal, lust, passion, and love take our viscount and Miss Sharma as they find their ways back to each other.

Warnings: Angst, kinda betrayal, guilty reader, proposal, sexual tension, reader stumbles upon Edmund Bridgerton's grave, Smut (oral F)

Summary: After the night of passion that was of you and the Viscount on the dock, Anthony is hit with the realization that he still planned on marrying Edwina.

Tag list: @faatxma

"I dare ask, Brother, what has gotten you to smile so much this fine morning?" Colin asked with a smirk gracing his face.

"I just happen to be in a good mood from the lovely night of sleep that I received last night." Anthony said with yet another smile.

"Could it be that our brother is actually in love with Miss Edwina now?" Benedict teased.

Anthony looked at Benedict and his smile faded at the mention of Edwina. She is a kind girl, just not who Anthony wants. At this, the Sharma sisters hurdle down the stairs in a fit of laughter as you were carrying a bucket of water and chasing your sisters down the stairs in hopes of soaking them. Instead, you slipped on your dress and Anthony raced to catch you before you had hit the floor. The other siblings including Anthony's watched as you let go of the bucket as it soars through the air and you land in Anthony's strong arms. You look at him and go to speak but the water bucket comes crashing down on the two of you, soaking you both completely. The bucket landed on Anthony's head and all you heard was a groan.

"My lord," You say as you shyfully lift the bucket off his head and his dark eyes peek under and make eye contact with you. His hair was ruined and your lady's maids were going to be upset that their hard work went to nothing because of how wet your hair was. You give him a light smile and just as you were getting one in return, Colin cleared his throat.

"Well, Miss Sharma, I am quite impressed with your entrances that you have been making." He smiled.

"I do try," You smile and give a bit of a bow.

"Please, Lord Bridgerton, do not think that we are always like this," Kate tried to reason, hoping that he wasn't mad.

"Miss Kate, you are quite fine. Nothing to worry about. I actually enjoyed the refreshing shower," Anthony laughed, a smile reaching his eyes when he looked at you rather than your sisters. His intended.

----

Another walk in the gardens, you take in the flowers. You didn't realize how long you were in the garden and where the path was taking you. You walk under a large tree and see something that looks like a headstone. You look around and then continue on your walk to the headstone.

"Edmund Bridgerton, Loving Father and Husband," You read on the stone and figured that this had to the man that Anthony always looked up to. This was his father.

You looked down at the flowers in your hands and then bent down to your knees and placed the flowers at the grave site. You were in the middle of a prayer when you heard footsteps. You stand up quickly and then turn to the sound. It was Lady Bridgerton.

"Viscountess-" you started. She lifted a hand to shush you.

"Please call me Violet, dear." She smiled sadly when she looked at the grave.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know and I-I-I wanted to pay my respects to him," You say with a smile.

"This is Edmund. He is my husband. Well, was my husband," The older woman smiled with a sad smile.

"You loved him very much. I can tell. I wish I could have met him," You try to make her feel better.

"Have I told you yet about how much Anthony looks after this family?" She asked.

You shook your head.

"He has been there for all of us after Edmund passed. He was only 18 at the time. God, the stress that fell onto that poor boy. He was holding Edmund when he died and...and I think that was the day that my little boy died. When Edmund left, so did a piece of my son." She said with tears.

"Why are you telling me this?" You ask kindly. You thought she would be telling Edwina.

"Miss Sharma, when Anthony says that he is going to do something, he does it. He says he is going to marry your sister so I wanted you to know that she is in good hands. Anthony is the best of my sons to marry her because there is nothing more important to Anthony than his word." Violet said, taking your hand.

"Violet, he loves her?" You ask with a tremble in your voice.

"I fear so and I have seen the way you look at my son." You looked up with confusion.

"Viscountess...Violet, I'm not understanding what you are talking about. I don't look at Anthony in any way."

"I saw you in the hallway earlier today," She said with a sad smile.

"Tha....That was an accident." You sputter out.

"Darling, I'm not talking about your situation or position. I'm talking about the look in your eyes. It's exactly how I used to look at Edmund." She pat your hand and then stood up to invite you back to the house. You followed her with your heart heavy and mind clouded.

---

Dinner was prepared and you were seated to the left from Anthony who was seated at the head of the table. You couldn't keep a smile when you looked at him because you saw how your sister looked at him. Like he hung the stars in the sky. Your stomach hurt with guilt of what had transpired between you last night.

"And Miss Sharma, I was wondering if you would like to maybe be a model for my paintings," Benedict said with a hopeful look in his eyes.

You smiled at the brother and nod.

"Of course, I have always wanted to be a model and to have my face and body drawn for me," You laugh a little and Benedict smiled and then blushed at you.

Kate smirked at you as she watched you interact with Benedict. You finished your drink and stood up. You turned to leave and kissed Benedict on the cheek. You smile at Violet and she smiled back. You left the room and that made Anthony fuming. Yes, he was supposed to marry your sister but he didn't want her. He wanted you.

Anthony excused himself from the table to follow you. He ran after you and he grabbed your elbow to keep you from going all the way up the stairs.

"Follow me," He said, pulling you down the stairs to his office and closing the door behind you.

"Yes, my lord?" You ask.

"I have been looking for you all day. God...being away from you has been driving me crazy," He says before moving to kiss your shoulder that was exposed. Your head falls back in bliss as you feel his lips ghost your sensitive skin that has only been touched by him.

"My lord-"

"Anthony, darling."

"But my lord, we need to stop." You moan out the last part when he sucks hard on your sweet spot.

"Call me by my name, Miss Sharma. My name is Anthony," He growls into your ear before picking you up and laying you down on his desk, papers sticking to your sweat-layered back.

You look down to see Anthony move under your dress. You start pulling the fabric over your stomach so that you could see his hair and you smile when he kissed your hand that was pulling at the fabric.

"My lord, we should stop. You are to be...married." Your back arched as his tongue made contact to your secret area that he was just last night and you moaned out his name as he ate you like a starved man. He dipped his tongue inside of you and your hand shoots to his hair and pulls harshly and he moans against your body.

"Anthony, oh god.'' You cry out as his finger starts to poke at your entrance and you were overcome by pleasure to even think about Edwina or Kate or what the mother of the man in between your gracious legs had said when her son is tasting you like this.

"Fuck, sweet girl. You taste divine," He groans against your pussy as he pumps in a finger before adding another. Your walls clamped tightly to his fingers and his mouth moved to your clit and starts to suck at it as his tongue flicks out to run over the sensitive bud there.

You reach up and grab a hold of your own breast as he ravages you in the best way. He starts curling his fingers to hook at that sweet, sweet pleasurable spot that laid deep inside you and you felt the coil in your stomach start to tighten to a painful blissful way as he looks up at you with deep, dark eyes that were blown with lust and you let go just at his stare alone.

"Cum for me, let me feel you. That's it. Be a good girl and let go for me. Let me taste you," He moans against you as he feels you gush around his fingers and onto his awaiting tongue. He drinks everything you have to offer until you have to push him away due to the over stimulation that happens due to his constant assault to your sensitive nerves.

He kisses up your body again and fixes your dress. You lean into his kisses and he whispers about how much he loves you before he helps clean you up. You hold onto him and he carefully takes you back to your room. You sigh because you know that you have to tell him that you couldn't keep doing this because he wants to marry your sister.

"My lord," You start.

"Anthony," He says.

"My lord," You try to continue.

"Why won't you call me Anthony unless we are private like we just were?" He said with a sad look in his eyes.

"Because you are not mine, my lord." You sigh before closing the door in his face.

---

The following day, you were walking with your family as everyone was ready to leave and head back to London. You were sad but as soon as you saw Anthony walking to you, a smile crossed your face.

"My lord," You give a bow.

"Miss Sharma," You think he was talking to you but when you turn to his voice again, he was on one knee in front of your sister.

"Miss Edwina, I think this has been a long time coming and I would love to have the honor of making you my wife," Anthony said before you let out a gasp as he opened the ring box. It was his mother's. Edmund had given it to her and now he was giving it to Edwina.

Edwina gave a yes and kissed Anthony's cheek. Not knowing that his face was just between your legs last night and the night before. She will never know and you would sit in silence. You watched the happy couple and Kate hug them both and your mother was so happy. You smile to the couple and make eye contact with Anthony. All was said in those few seconds.

"I still want you."