#storm of secrets and sorrow

[booksandfantasies]

I've never ordered one of those super special edition books before but I decided to treat myself and I ordered the Fae Crate editions of Rain of Shadows and Endings and Storm of Secrets and Sorrow by Melissa K. Roerich (Legacy series). Now, when I ordered these books (months ago), it said that they were expected to ship out late August/ early September. It is now almost November and they still haven't shipped which is such a bummer because I was hoping to have them before the third book comes out. Maybe I'm being a bit impatient but I feel like it's not unreasonable to expect the books to be shipped by now. It's two months past the original expected date. I don't think I would be as upset if I didn't already pay for the books and they weren't cheap. Again I've never ordered from any of these types of places so I didn't know what to expect. I'm used to pre-ordering books ahead of time and not being charged until they ship out but also the books typically arrive less than a week after the release date. These better be the prettiest books I own and better be worth the wait because the wait has been long and frustrating.

[ybklix]

KINKTOBER! ⁺˚⋆｡✧

˚‧｡⋆ SKZ ‘24, the masterlist:

⁺˚⋆｡✧ ° ₊ ☆⋆｡°‧★

OT8 INTRO: LUST

synopsis: Lee Minho plans a little getaway with his closest friends, their wives, and you, his girlfriend and most adored and prized possession, right after he intentionally reads your private diary and leaves him wandering with your writing about something particular.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

☾ BANG CHAN ☽˚.⋆

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

synopsis: As part of a college assignment, you interview a peculiar doctor about his success and long career, but then he starts telling you about the odd and unbelievable lifestyle he used to lead that got him there, claiming to be something you find funny at first, but then you get caught up in the details, causing tension and questioning reality. pairing: vampire!chrisbahng x inexperiencedfem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦇 ✧˚.🔮 cw: corruption kink, breeding, choking, +more...

☾ LEE KNOW ☽˚.⋆

somebody’s watching me

synopsis: Meeting a mysterious and secretive man thrills every part of you, but unknowingly, he watches you from his window on a lonely night, not realizing that it will ignite a new behavior in him. pairing: lee minho x camgirl!femreader ★ ₊ .˙⊹.🕯️˚˖ cw: voyeurism, sex toys, perv tendencies, +more...

☾ CHANGBIN ☽˚.⋆

like lovers do

synopsis: Your new boss is quite interesting, so the night lends itself to a few drinks and the discovery of never-before-explored bodies in such an inappropriate but magnetic act. pairing: ceo!seochangbin x fem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦇 ✧˚.🔮 cw: deepthroat, dom/sub tendencies, sir kink, +more...

☾ HYUNJIN ☽˚.⋆

ART DECO

synopsis: An eccentric and peculiar artist, whose art is well known for its captivating and erotic method, is fascinated by you, who naively thought you just accepted a small job for him. pairing: dom!hyunjin x sub!femreader ★ ₊ .˙⊹.🕯️˚˖ cw: shibari ropeplay, bdsm, +more...

☾ HAN ☽˚.⋆

MIDNIGHT SHADOWS october 18th

synopsis: After discovering his wife's infidelity, a sorrowful man seeks fun and solace on a peculiar and dark night, whose twisted games of fate lead him to meet you, in such a strange way, in what seems to be a forbidden place where he shouldn't be. pairing: han jisung x fem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦇 ✧˚.🔮 cw: amaurophilia, facefucking, impact play, +more...

☾ FELIX ☽˚.⋆

nocturnal whispers october 21st

synopsis: On a long and tedious night, you and your boyfriend decide to spend some time, openly trying new things. pairing: lee felix x fem!femreader ★ ₊ .˙⊹.🕯️˚˖ cw: roleplay, sex toys, dreg kink, +more...

☾ SEUNGMIN ☽˚.⋆

unspoken storm october 25th

synopsis: On an unfortunate night of heavy rain you find yourself stuck without being able to move forward, until a kind man sees you and offers to give you lodging until the rain stops but he turns out to be your teacher; once being alone leads you to get to know each other better in such a specific way, exploring dangerous territories and forbidden fantasies. pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦇 ✧˚.🔮 cw: spanking, corruption kink, +more...

☾ I.N. ☽˚.⋆

hotel california october 28th

synopsis: A young and naive Jeongin stays for a few days in a mysterious hotel with a certain strange vibe out of necessity but decides to stay after meeting you and in a way, until he has you, but everyone around him seems to keep secrets. pairing: rockstar!yangjeongin x fem!reader ★ ₊ .˙⊹.🕯️˚˖ cw: roleplay, chocking, +more...

⁺˚⋆｡✧ ° ₊ ☆⋆｡°‧★

OT8: Season of the witch october 31st

⁺˚⋆｡✧ ° ₊ ☆⋆｡°‧★ ⁺˚⋆｡✧ ° ₊ ☆⋆｡°‧★

INTERLUDES🕸️

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

BAHNG CHAN

⟶ pretty when you cry

⟶ in the night

⟶ teacher’s pet

⟶ dollhouse

⟶ playground

⟶ big bad wolf

⟶ be my daddy

⟶ sweater weather

⟶ little red riding hood

⟶ enjoy the ride

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

LEE MINHO

⟶ the uninvited

⟶ sad girl

⟶ behind closed doors

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

SEO CHANGBIN

⟶ asylum

⟶ onsen

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

HWANG HYUNJIN

⟶ lost muse ₊

⟶ ultraviolence

⟶ night time, my time

⟶ allure

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

HAN JISUNG

⟶ doll parts

⟶ don’t talk to strangers

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

LEE FELIX

⟶ trick or treat!

⟶ sinner

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

KIM SEUNGMIN

⟶ illicit affairs

⟶ veil of innocence

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

YANG JEONGIN

⟶ a little death

⟶ gods & monsters

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

OT8 / fem!reader x specific members:

⟶ LIAR (ot8)

⟶ burning desire (ot8 - 3 part series)

⟶ fight club (chan & minho)

⟶ I put a spell on you (han, felix, seungmin)

⟶ intruders (han & felix)

🎃 ̊ ̟ ꒷ ꒦ 🦇 ꒦ ꒷ ̟ ̊ 🎃

happy fall and spooky season⭒✧˖°.🕷 ๋࣭ ⭑✮₊ ⊹

playlist (i'm still working on it)

[betweenstorms]

Part One of Where We Part (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Before he was Ghost, he was Simon Riley.

A quiet boy with eyes too old for his young face, always watching, always listening, always alone.

You had known him for as long as you could remember.

He was the lanky boy next door, the one with too much burden in his eyes, the one who never talked about the bruises or the shouting that came from his house at night. Even as kids, there was something about him that set him apart, something that made you want to protect him, even though he never let you. But you’d always notice the new bruises on his arms, the way his hazel eyes would darken whenever Tommy, his younger brother dragged him into trouble and the way he seemed to flinch at loud noises, at sudden movements.

Tommy Riley was loud, rude, and as wild as a storm untethered.

He was a real troublemaker, you never trusted his cruel grin and his rude words, never felt safe near the sharp edges of his temper. He thrived on chaos, a force of destruction that couldn’t be tamed, while Simon stood in his shadow, as if he existed solely as an apology—for his brother’s recklessness, for his family’s dysfunctionality and even for his own existence.

You were the neighbour’s only child, the one who never quite understood why Simon kept so much distance between you.

Something about him tugged at you—a quiet pull that made you want to reach into the cold and offer him the warmth of your world. You felt a strange protectiveness over him, as if it was your duty as someone older than him, some unspoken responsibility you carried without question. Through your school years, you kept watch over him, whether he knew it or not. When the students mocked him you were there, standing up for him, silencing the cruel whispers, even when it cost you friendships. The rumours about the Rileys circled like vultures, but you shut them down, defending a boy who never asked for it, who seemed more annoyed by your efforts than grateful.

You weren’t friends, after all, not really.

He never showed any sign that he wanted your help. But still, you couldn’t stop yourself. Something deep inside told you it was the right thing to do, even if Simon would never see it.

However, your parents, like most of the neighbourhood, kept their distance from the Rileys. It wasn’t something openly discussed, only whispered behind cupped hands at the local market, murmured in the pews of the church, or exchanged in knowing glances at school gates. Yet those looks exchanged between the adults made it clear—people didn’t want to get involved. The Rileys were trouble, everyone said, and it was best to leave them to their own devices.

You were forbidden from playing with Simon or Tommy, even though they were the only children near your age on the street.

It was an unspoken rule, one you didn’t quite understand as a kid but followed anyway, wishing things could be different. You were young then, far too young and innocent to grasp the weight of the shadows that lingered in the Riley household.

You didn’t know why Mr. Riley’s shouts echoed through the night, why Mrs. Riley wore bruises like secret confessions beneath her smile, why Simon’s silence felt heavy, like a wound too deep to heal. Their world felt so different from yours, a place of suffering you couldn’t quite touch. But as the years slipped by, as childhood faded into adolescence, the picture began to sharpen. With it, your protectiveness over Simon deepened, as the reality of what his father was doing became impossible to ignore. Understanding bloomed where innocence once was, and with it, the weight of knowing.

You couldn’t fathom how your parents, with their kind hearts and warm smiles, could do nothing.

How they could turn their backs on Mrs. Riley, her frail form draped in sorrow, and her two children, who so clearly needed help. You didn’t understand why they never returned Mrs. Riley’s weak greetings, why they closed themselves off from her suffering. It baffled you how they could step over Tommy, sprawled on their porch, drunk or worse, as if he were just another mess to be swept away.

But what haunted you most was their indifference to Simon—the boy your age, thin as a whisper, burdened with bruises no child should carry. How could they look at him and not see? How could they not feel the silent plea in his eyes? Where was their empathy for a child, for a boy who wore his misery like a second skin?

Oh, Simon.

His hazel eyes stayed with you, always, like shadows that linger long after the sun sets. There was something far too ancient in them, like he’d seen too much for someone who hadn’t yet grown into his own skin. They held a weariness that made you wonder what horrors had carved their marks so deeply into him. The whispers followed him everywhere, rumours circling like vultures over carrion. You didn’t know where they came from, Tommy’s careless tongue, or maybe the other nosy students who relished the cruelty of gossip, but they stained everything, leaving you wondering what was real.

You heard that Mr. Riley brought all kinds of dangerous animals into their home, taunting Simon with them, forcing him to kiss a snake, like it was some twisted game, some kind of sick power move. And then there were the stories of his father dragging him to those grim concerts, where violence blurred into spectacle.

They said he’d made Simon laugh at the overdose of a prostitute, made him witness things no child should ever see. You didn’t know if it was all true, but it didn’t matter. The shadow of those stories lingered over him, heavy and unshakable, and you could see it in the way the boy carried himself, in the haunted quiet of his presence.

There was a summer day, thick with heat and sorrow, that still clung to you like a forgotten song.

You had just turned nineteen that July, on the cusp of leaving behind the life you knew, ready to escape to the vastness of London and its promise of university, independence, and everything adulthood might hold. It was one of those warm, languid August evenings, where the sky blushed pink and gold, and the air was alive with the buzz of cicadas and the scent of overripe grass. You were out with your dear friends from high school, celebrating the end of an era. There was laughter, careless and sweet, the kind that only comes after a few too many drinks. A can of cheap beer was cradled in your hand as you leaned back in the passenger seat of your friend’s car, music pulsing around you like a heartbeat as you drove aimlessly through the familiar streets of your suburban neighbourhood.

The night felt like a farewell, a last taste of youth before everything shifted into the unknown. You giggled at something absurd, head dizzy and spinning, when suddenly, through the haze of the moment, you saw him.

Simon Riley.

There was something achingly bittersweet in seeing him there, swallowed by the dusk, his figure hunched as always.

Something inside you shifted, a strange ache that mingled with the buzz of the celebration—a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow that you couldn’t quite place. The guilt of childhoods lived on parallel tracks, always near, but never close enough.

Maybe it was the booze loosening your thoughts, making everything softer and hazier, or maybe it was the looming departure that made everything feel both fleeting and too permanent at once.

“Slow down,” you blurted out, your voice almost drowned out by the music. Your friend gave you a puzzled look, but complied, easing the car to a crawl. 

Simon walked on, dull eyes cast down like he had grown used to the world pretending not to see him.

“Riley,” you called out, your voice weak and unsure. “Fancy a ride?”

Your friends hissed, their voices sharp with confusion and disbelief. “What are you doin’?” one of them asked, eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Girl, you’re mental!” another laughed, but their words were just background noise to you.

Your gaze stayed locked on Simon Riley, unwavering, even as embarrassment burned at the back of your neck.

For a moment, it felt as though time stretched impossibly thin, the space between you and him suspended in something fragile and delicate. And then, slowly, Simon stopped.

His hazel eyes caught yours beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.

He furrowed his brows when he recognized you, the corners of his lips tightening in that way that told you he was already annoyed.

You flashed him a drunken smile, but it was crooked, empty, a weak imitation of your usual confidence. You leaned your chin on your palm, trying to ignore the sudden flood of emotions rising in your chest. You studied him, trying to find traces of the boy you once knew under the young man he’d become.

“So?” You asked, feeling exposed, a little too vulnerable under his gaze. Embarrassment and sadness twined together like vines around your ribs, squeezing tightly.

Simon’s response was cold, clipped, dismissive. “Don’t need a ride.”

His voice was deeper, rougher than you remembered, gruff with the weight of years that had passed since you last spoke. Had it really been that long? Long enough that you had forgotten what he even sounded like?

“Oh, you sure? We're headin’ that way anyway,” you hummed, trying to keep your tone light, though something in you was desperate, like this fleeting encounter needed to mean more than it did. But Simon just scoffed, a sound that cut through the night like a blade.

He turned away, resuming his walk down the pavement.

Your friends erupted into giggles, snickering at the awkwardness of the situation, their teasing only deepening the strange ache in your chest. But you tuned them out. With a sigh, you made up your mind. Fueled by guilt, nostalgia, and a bit of reckless drunkenness, you reached for the door handle.

“See y'all tomorrow,” you muttered, stepping out of the car before any of them could protest. One of your friends called, but you didn’t look back and didn't offer any explanation.

Without another thought, you hurried after Simon, your footsteps quickening as if you could somehow close the long years of distance in a single stride.

He didn’t stop for you.

He didn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you caught up, breathing rapidly, walking beside him. Meanwhile, the car pulled away, loud music fading into the distance, leaving you two in suffocating silence. His head was bent low, gaze fixed on the cracked pavement beneath his feet, but you kept your eyes on him—on his broad shoulders that seemed too tense compared to yours.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you spoke.

The night pressed down on you, the air too warm for comfort. Your face was flushed, whether from the alcohol coursing through your veins or the embarrassment of trailing after Simon, you couldn’t be sure. Each step felt heavier than the last, the awkwardness between you building with every inch you walked together, the distance between you palpable even though you two were side by side.

It was hard to keep your balance, the world around you tilting ever so slightly with each step. You stumbled once, your foot catching the edge of the pavement, and cursed under your breath as you regained your footing. You could have sworn you heard Simon sigh, a quiet, annoyed sound, barely more than a breath, but it stung nonetheless.

“So,” you chuckled awkwardly, desperate to fill the growing silence. Your voice sounded too loud, too false against the quiet of the neighbourhood. “Workin’ late, huh? Mum told me you got a job at the butcher’s. The one near the market, right?”

Simon didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed ahead. For a fleeting second, you thought that he might ignore you entirely. But then, in that low, gravelly tone, he muttered, “Yeah. S’what I do.”

His response was clipped, offering no room for conversation, but you pressed on, ignoring the tension tightening around you like a noose. “Must be rough, that. The long shifts, I mean. Can’t be easy workin’ with knives and saws all day.”

Simon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlights.

“It pays the bills,” he muttered, his voice flat. There was no hint of the boy you once knew, just a hardened young man who had learned long ago not to rely on anyone.

The conversation died again, leaving only the sound of your footsteps against the pavement. You swallowed hard, guilt rising again like a tide, mingling with the familiar ache of melancholy that always seemed to creep in when you thought of him.

Simon Riley had always been on the edge of your life, a shadow lingering just out of reach. You had never really known him, not truly. He was a figure cast in half-light, always present but never close enough to collide with. You had always watched him from afar, tried to stand up for him when the world became too cruel, but what had any of it meant? He never asked for your help, never even hinted that he needed it. So why bother now?

Simon hadn’t asked for your company—he never had.

And now, standing next to him, you felt that distance more acutely than ever. His silence was loud, louder than anything he could have said, and it left you feeling small, foolish.

The streetlights cast long shadows over the cracked pavement, the distant hum of the city the only sound filling the void. The warm summer night, which had felt so light and carefree only moments ago, now seemed oppressive, weighing down on your shoulders like an invisible burden. Before you could open your mouth to say something uncomfortable again, Simon’s voice cut through the air, sharp and laced with irritation.

“You don’t need to do this.”

You blinked, the alcohol making your thoughts slow to catch up. “Do what?”

Simon glanced at you, his hazel eyes dark and distant, a flicker of something hard lingering just beneath the surface.

“This,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Pity. Guilt. Or whatever it is that’s makin’ you follow me right now.”

Pity? Guilt? That wasn’t what this was—was it? No, of course not. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him he was wrong, that you weren’t here out of some misguided sense of obligation. But the look on his face stopped you. It was a look of exhaustion, of someone who had heard this all before, someone who had learned not to trust the intentions of others.

“I’m not—” you started, your voice shaky, but he cut you off again.

“I know you’re leavin’,” Simon murmured, his tone dry, as if stating an obvious fact. “Heard your folks talkin’ about it. You’re off to London, right? So, whatever this is, don’t bother.”

The embarrassment burned hot and heavy in your chest, spreading to your cheeks and ears.

“Look, I’m not tryin’ to—” you began again, your voice softer, almost pleading.

Simon shook his head, his expression hardening. “Don’t. I don’t need your bloody charity, alright? I mean it. I don’t need your… whatever the fuck this is.”

The words struck you like a fist to the chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

You halted in your tracks, and to your surprise, he did the same. The space between you felt heavier now, like it carried the weight of all the years that had passed, thick with everything unsaid. You bit down on your lower lip, your gaze lifting slowly, hesitantly, to meet his.

He towered over you now, though once you’d been the taller one. Despite the age gap, the few years between you, despite the fact that you were older than him, Simon seemed like someone who had long since outgrown you, both physically and mentally.

Funny, how time had stretched and twisted between you both, long enough to turn everything unfamiliar. It had been so long, too long, hadn’t it? Since you’d last spoken to him properly. Long enough that you couldn’t quite place when the shift had happened, when Simon had become a stranger to you, a distant figure in your memory rather than the boy next door.

“I don’t wanna leave like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze to your feet, your voice barely louder than the rustle of leaves in the warm night air. Your hands itched with nervous energy, and you scratched your elbow awkwardly, trying to anchor yourself. “I know we weren’t exactly friends, but that doesn’t mean I never cared. About you, I mean. And I—” you paused, the words tangling on your tongue, too clumsy, too inadequate for the heaviness in your chest. “But you’re right. It doesn’t matter now.”

Simon sighed again.

He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at the corners of his eyes like he was too tired for this, too tired for you. The way he looked at you, it was like you were the one out of place, like he was the older one, the wiser one. There was something in his gaze that cut deeper than any words ever could, something that said he didn’t know what to do with you. Not now, not then, maybe not ever.

For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared, as if deciding whether it was even worth responding.

“The only advice I can give you,” he said, each word deliberate, like he was choosing them with care, “is to live your life. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. And if we’re lucky, we’ll never have to think about each other ever again.”

The deadpan delivery should’ve stung, should’ve hurt more than it did, instead, you found yourself chuckling softly, soft and bitter at the same time. The absurdity of it, of this whole encounter, made you want to cry and laugh in equal measure. Somehow, he’d managed to diffuse the tension in the most Simon way possible.

But still, it felt like it had always been there, hadn’t it? Unsaid words, missed chances, a history that never was.

You looked up at him, your lips twitching into a small, fragile smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Is that your idea of a pep talk?” you said, trying to make light of the ache that had settled deep in your bones.

Simon tilted his head slightly, watching you with those unreadable hazel eyes. “Not really my strong suit, is it?” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

“No, not at all.”

He looked at you, his eyes still guarded, as though he was searching for something in your expression that he couldn’t quite find. Yet he didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. Didn’t return the smile either. Instead, he shrugged with a kind of finality that made your heart sink.

Simon nodded towards the road ahead.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

The offer was simple, but it carried an underlying meaning, like it was both a farewell and an acknowledgment that, despite everything, you had once meant something to him, even if only in passing.

There was something about his detachment, his unwillingness to engage with the past, that hurt more than you expected. Maybe you had wanted some closure, some understanding from him, a sign that what you felt wasn’t one-sided all these years. But Simon wasn’t offering that. He wasn’t offering anything at all.

You didn’t argue.

You didn’t even protest that you were fine on your own, that you didn’t need his protection. Instead, you forced a weak smile onto your face and started walking, hoping the darkness would hide the tears pricking at your eyes. The sound of your footsteps seemed louder now, echoing against the stillness of the night, as if you were both walking away from something you couldn’t quite name.

“Y’know, not too long ago, I used to walk you home after church on Sundays. When your mum went to the market. Remember?”

Simon didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but then he hummed, a low, almost noncommittal sound. He wasn’t the boy who needed walking home anymore, and you weren’t the one who could offer him safety.

The walk was silent. But what had you expected? That he’d thank you for some half-hearted attempt at connection after all these years? That he’d open up, that there would be a cathartic moment where you’d both acknowledge the traumatic childhood you shared with him and walk away with some semblance of peace?

Still, it was strange, walking side by side with someone who felt like a stranger, yet also someone you had known your entire life.

The short walk to your parents' house felt longer than it should have. As you approached the familiar gate, the scent of roses hit you, your mother’s prized bush blooming full and red next to the fence.

Simon stopped just outside your childhood home, as if some invisible boundary had been set between him and you. His eyes glanced at the rose bush, then back at you, his expression unreadable, that same distant mask he had worn for years.

“Thanks for walkin’ me home,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though you weren’t sure why you felt the need to lower it. It wasn’t likely that your parents would be waiting behind the curtains, watching this uncomfortable farewell.

They never cared much for Simon anyway.

His face was unreadable, shadowed by the dim light that illuminated the porch, but you could see his hazel eyes flicker as they scanned your features, taking you in like he was committing this moment to memory. And for a fleeting second, it was as if you weren’t standing on the cusp of goodbye, as if you were still those two awkward kids, stuck in a world neither of you could quite escape.

You did the same. Your eyes traced the sharp lines of his face, his sandy blonde hair, his broad shoulders, the faint stubble along his jawline that he hadn’t had when you last saw him. There was something fragile about this moment, a shared understanding that neither of you would speak of, but it was there all the same.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before you could let the fear of rejection stop you, you took a step forward and wrapped your arms around him. The contact was sudden, your body instinctively pulling him into a hug that neither of you expected.

It was an impulsive decision, a desperate, clumsy attempt to offer some comfort, to bridge the gap between the boy you once knew and the man standing before you. You pulled him into you, your blushed face pressing against his hard chest. For a heartbeat, he froze, stiff beneath your touch, and you immediately regretted it.

You didn’t know why you did it.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lingering guilt, the sense that you had never done enough, never said enough. But as soon as you felt the warmth of his body against yours, the solidness of him, you realised your mistake. This wasn’t the kind of goodbye Simon wanted. You pulled away quickly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart racing.

“Take care, Si,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t dare look at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you turned on your heel, practically fleeing up the path to your front door, leaving him standing there beneath the roses—roses that were as red as your cheeks, blooming in the quiet of the night.

[rafestify]

Strange — Rafe Cameron

Rafe Cameron x JJ Maybank x Pogue!Reader

Summary : Pogue!Reader looks back on her complicated relationship with Rafe, full of love and pain, as she decides to move on and explore a new connection with JJ after confronting Rafe at the Boneyard, realizing that love can change from one stage to another without fanfare.

Warning : none just angst (english is not my first language)

A/N : this is a pretty short one and it's based on strange by celeste :)

I tried for you,

Tried to see through all the smoke and dirt,

It wouldn't move,

What could I do?

Being with Rafe was perfect. Growing up as a Pogue, I never imagined the life I had with him—the fancy dinners, the expensive dresses, the world of luxury that I’d only ever dreamed of. But the best part? Rafe wasn’t the monster everyone warned me about. He was gentle, patient, and shockingly soft around me. It surprised everyone. He made sure I was okay, left sweet notes on the bedside table whenever he left early, and canceled plans with Topper and Kelce anytime I asked to spend time together. He never said no.

But Rafe was obsessed with getting the cross. He wanted to prove himself to his father so badly that it started to consume him. And that’s when everything fell apart. Two months passed—no texts, no calls. Nothing. It was like he had disappeared. I did everything I could to reach out, but there was no response. Life blurred on, and before I knew it, JJ was there. It started innocently—him venting about his confusion with Kiara, me listening like I always did. But those conversations turned into something more, and soon, we were walking hand in hand along the beach. I tried not to fall for him—my best friend—but Rafe's absence made it all too easy. After two months without love or affection, JJ filled the void.

I touch your head

To pull your thoughts into my hand,

But now I can't

“Rafe, what’s wrong?” I asked softly as I stepped into his room, my heart sinking at the sight of him hunched over on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands. Seeing him like this shattered me in ways I couldn’t explain—this wasn’t the Rafe I knew, the one who always seemed so unbreakable. My voice trembled as I knelt beside him, desperate to reach him. “Why can’t he just be proud of me for once? I’ve done everything, and still—nothing. Not even a thank you,” he choked out, lifting his head, his bloodshot eyes searching mine, pleading for something I couldn’t give. I used to be the one who held him in moments like this, whispering reassurances, calming his storms. But now, who would comfort the poor boy?

Say isn't it strange?

Isn't it strange?

I am still me

You are still you

In the same place

The Boneyard had always been my favorite, a chaotic mix of laughter, music, and the salty sea breeze that felt like freedom. Rafe never understood; he’d scoff at the idea of beach parties, insisting we could have better nights at fancy restaurants. But deep down, I knew there was a part of him that loved the carefree nights, the way we would sink into our own little world while the chaos swirled around us. We’d find our spot in the shadows, just the two of us, cocooned in a bubble of laughter and whispered secrets as the music pulsed around us like a heartbeat. But this time was different. The air was heavy with tension, and as I looked around, I could feel the distance between us stretching like an endless ocean, the once vibrant colors of the Boneyard dimming into shades of gray without him by my side.

Me, JJ, and Kiara were talking about saving turtles when I saw him. Tall, muscular, a buzz cut—someone I didn’t recognize at first. But when he turned around, my breath hitched in my throat. It was him. Rafe Cameron. His icy blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the world fell away, leaving just the unbearable weight of his regret. I could see the guilt and sorrow etched into his gaze, but it didn’t change the ache in my chest, the months of silence and abandonment that had already broken me. He looked like he wanted to say something, to fix it, but I couldn’t bear to wait for words that wouldn’t heal what was already lost. "Slow down," JJ’s voice cut through, concern in his eyes as I choked on my beer. "Sorry—" I mumbled, excusing myself as I tried to get away, my mind racing. I fumbled with my phone, desperately trying to call Sarah, but she didn’t answer.

Then, I walked straight into someone—into him.

"Oh my god, I’m sor—" I started, but then I looked up, and there they were—those piercing blue eyes, once my refuge, now a reminder of everything that had shattered between us. The familiar warmth they used to hold was gone, replaced by an intensity that sent a chill through my body. In that split second, every buried emotion surged back, hitting me like a tidal wave I wasn’t ready for.

"Y/N," Rafe said softly, gripping my arm.

"No. Just… no. I don’t need your excuses or apologies, okay? I don’t need an explanation. Save it for yourself," I said, yanking my arm free.

"Just let me explain—" he pleaded, his voice breaking.

"Am I not being clear enough?" I snapped. "Here, let me make it clear, we’re done. We’re breaking up. Right here, right now. Got it?" I forced the words out, watching the shock flood his face. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came.

I walked away quickly, not looking back. I couldn’t.

Isn't it strange

How people can change,

From strangers to friends,

Friends into lovers,

And strangers again?

Rafe stood frozen, watching her walk away, each step widening the distance between them, not just physically, but emotionally. The girl who once held his heart had just ripped it out, right in front of him. And he had no one to blame but himself. He had chased glory, validation from his father, only to lose the one thing that made him feel real. And now it was too late.

But for Y/N, it wasn’t just about Rafe anymore. JJ had stepped in when Rafe disappeared, had been there when she needed someone most. His presence had become something she didn’t know she could rely on. As she returned to JJ and the Pogues, her eyes caught Rafe’s one last time, but there was nothing left to say. Rafe had made his choice, and so had she.

"Are you okay?" JJ asked, noticing the shift in her mood as she sat back down next to him.

"Yeah," she said with a small smile, her hand instinctively reaching for his. "I think I am."

And in that moment, as the waves crashed in the distance and the music played on, Y/N knew that chapter with Rafe had closed. JJ wasn’t a rebound; he was the beginning of something new, something she hadn’t even realized she needed.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!🎀( ﾟ∀ﾟ)人(ﾟ∀ﾟ )

[thehusbandoden]

Just Let me Explain -Husband!Loid Forger x Wife!Reader

A/n: I'm not sure how good this is, feel free to let me know! <3

General info:

Genre: angst, slight comfort at the end \\ wc: 2,711 \\ posted: 03/14/24 \\ unclear ending

Summary:

You find out about Loid's mission.. how he was using you- and Anya.. that's what set you off the most. What hurt you the most.

Warnings!: a lot of angst, being used, misunderstanding, miscommunication, crying, confrontation, being ignored, ignoring, partner refusing to let go of you (briefly), Loid's mission, mentions of an orphanage, mention of an orphan, fear of putting a child back into an orphanage (briefly), mentions of a nightmare, child crying (briefly). I think that's all? Lmk if I miss any! <3

You lived the dream life. You were married to the love of your life, you had a darling young girl you’ve adopted, and you were loved by your small family unconditionally.  

Or... so you thought. That all changed when you found out your husband’s secret. A spy... he was sent on a mission to get married and have a child. Your entire relationship... was it all a lie? 

Tears stream down your face as you process the information time and time again. All of it... was for some mission of his? Did he ever even love you? You weren’t even sure at this point.  

You were currently curled in a ball on the bathroom floor, your back pressed against the door. The man in question spoke to you softly on the other side, asking for you to open the door and let him explain. You don’t respond, continuing to drown in your sorrow.  

Every minute that crawled by felt like an hour. Loid kept calling to you, his voice filling with more concern as you continued to stay silent.  

“Y/n... please... open the door. Let me explain, you’re worrying me.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Loid. I’m done with these mind games.” You whisper, your voice hoarse with sorrow. 

“Y/n... I-I don’t know what to say to that. Please... open the door.” 

“Why? So you can lie to me more? So you can gaslight me? So I can melt into your eyes and go back to believing that everything is okay?”  

“Y/n... please.”  

“No, Loid. I’m done. I’m so done with letting you control me by playing with my feelings. It was all a lie... wasn’t it.”  

Loid hesitates, his voice faltering as he attempts to fix the mess he made.  

“And Anya? She’s a part of your sick game too, isn’t she?” You mutter, your tears drying against your skin. Your sorrow was slowly growing into acceptance.  

“She is a part of my mission, yes.” He whispers.  

You let out a low chuckle filled with bitterness. “And what? What happens once your mission is finished? Do you leave? Stay with us? End us? End *me* now that I know?”  

“No, I wouldn’t ever kil-” his voice falters once more. 

You let out a low laugh that expressed your pain perfectly. “You’re a pathetic excuse as a father. I used to think you were so good to Anya. That you were the perfect father for her- but you plan on *leaving* both of us. Or do you plan on making it worse!? Are you going to end me and leave her in that run-down orphanage again!?” You snap, standing up. 

You feel your acceptance turning into anger as you throw the bathroom door open, glaring up at the man you once called yours.  

“Y/n I-”  

“Why Loid!? Why do you plan on ruining our lives?!”  

“Y/n it’s not that simple.” He sighs, moving aside to give you a path. You take it, storming out of the bathroom. You pace around the living room and kitchen.  

“Don’t give me that. You played friends until you captured my heart, gave me a flimsy love confession-” he flinched “-and then slid an *engagement* ring on my finger for some stupid mission!?”  

He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t give him the chance to speak. “What about Anya!?” You yell, shoving a finger into his chest. Your anger boiled over at the thought of your precious little girl. She’s been through several homes already; she can’t go back to that horrid orphanage.  

“I-” 

“Are you going to leave us!? Kill me and leave her as an orphan again!? Tell me, Loid!” You demand, staring into his eyes. You used to think you would never treat him like this no matter how angry you got... but the thought of your baby losing another family threw out all self-control.  

“You know me better than that, y/n.” Loid sighs.  

“I don’t Loid. I used to think that you were a good man that worked hard to support his family, but I was wrong. All you are is a selfish pig who cares about nothing but himself.” You spit.  

Loid’s eyebrow twitches. You don’t notice. 

“Anya deserves better than this, Loid! Were you really planning on leaving us alone once your mission is finished!? Were you going to give us a goodbye or were you going to just leave!?”  

He still doesn’t say anything. Your anger slowly boils over, every second he ignores you adding another drop into the already over-filled cup of self-restraint. “I... do not know what I was going to do.”  

Another drop falls, spilling the rage over. You pull yourself away, so you don’t physically lash out. “I can’t believe I loved you!? I can’t believe that I trusted you, Loid! Was it all fake!?”  

Loid doesn’t respond.  

“Was it fake!” You repeat, trembling with rage and hurt. “Answer me!”  

Loid has an unreadable expression on his face as he looks into your eyes. “Yes, it was fake...” his eyes twinge with something you can’t read. Shrugging it off, you desperately try to hold yourself together.  

“So every time you said you loved me back. It was all a lie?”  

“Yes...”  

“Every time you told *Anya* you loved her back. It was a lie!?”  

An unreadable look in his eye makes your lip tremble. “Yes...”  

“So, you were planning on leaving us? All along?”  

“Stop asking questions, it’s annoying.” His gaze hardens.  

“Loi-”  

“I said, stop asking questions.” He glares down at you. “I do not love you, nor Anya. Either keep quiet and continue to help with my mission, or you will no longer be needed.” 

You feel something crack deep inside you. You try to hold yourself together as your hands shake uncontrollably. “I hate you.” You whisper. Loid flinched, watching you walk to the guest room. You close the door, locking it behind you.  

Once the door closes, you break down once more. Falling to the floor as your body is wracked with sobs.  

~~ 

Hours pass by before you come out again. Loid was sitting on the couch, reading a book. You would have smiled at the simplicity earlier this morning, but now all you feel is numb. You slip a pair of slippers on, grabbing your keys.  

“Where are you going?” Loid speaks up, his gorgeous blue eyes finding yours. You turn away, refusing to maintain eye contact.  

You don’t respond, walking out the door. Loid lets out a long sigh but doesn’t follow you.  

~~ 

“A-and then Sy-on boy made fun of Becky! I didn’t punch him though mama! I smiled like you said!”  

“Good job baby.” You mumble, a plastic smile on your face. The words of your precious girl weren’t registering in your head, you were too focused on the fact that your husband- ex-husband? You don’t even know anymore- is really planning on leaving both you and Anya when his mission is over. 

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, you see Anya close to tears. You immediately go into protective mode, your eyes hardening as you pull over. “Anya what happened sweetie? Did something happen at school? Are you being bullied? Did someone hurt you??” You bite your bottom lip to confine your rage, the metallic taste of blood staining your tongue.  

“N-no mama! Nothing happened at school!” Anya sniffled, trying to contain her tears.  

“What is it baby? You can tell me, I’m your mama.” You coo, rubbing her hair gently, pressing a comforting kiss to her forehead.  

“I-I u h... umm...” Anya starts to sweat, looking around the car. 

“Shhh it’s okay baby. You can tell me.” 

“B-Bond ate my peanuts!” Anya blurts out, showing you an empty bag of peanuts. There was no sign of damage from your family dog, she must have just forgotten that she ate them, which happens frequently.  

“Oh baby, it’s okay. We can buy more, alright? Next time tell mama what the problem is so we can fix it, m’kay?”  

“Yes mama.”  

“That’s my smart girl.” You kiss her forehead once more, savoring the relationship you have with her. You’ve always wanted to be a mother, and Anya fulfilled that desire. You were hoping you and Loid could have a few of your own one day, but that’s not going to happen... 

You make sure Anya is buckled before moving back to your own seat, strapping your seat belt on before pulling back onto the road. 

~~~ 

“Daddy! Look at what mama got me!” Anya squeals in excitement, bursting through the front door. She runs into the kitchen where Loid was pacing, embracing his legs. He flinches at the sudden entrance, but gives the girl a small smile, leaning down to her level. 

You walk in afterwards, shutting and locking the door. “Anya, don’t forget to change!” You call, placing a few grocery bags on the kitchen counter.  

“Yes mama!” She calls, pouting up at Loid. 

He chuckles, leaning down to ruffle her hair. “Go listen to your mother, Anya. And don’t let her see you with your shoes on the carpet, alright?” He smiles, an amused twinkle in his eye.  

You would have melted at the scene... if you didn’t know.  

Loid catches your gaze, causing you to frown. Even though he’s planning on completely ruining not only your life, but Anya’s he looks so... relaxed. 

You open your mouth to say something, when you notice it. 

His eyes... were red. Your frown deepens... you’ve only seen Loid cry once, and he never mentioned it when you did.  

~ 

It was before Anya, in the first few months of your marriage. You had woken up in the middle of the night to see him whimpering in his sleep.  

He whimpered “mom” and “dad” several times, tears slipping down his cheeks as he cried for anyone to help him. You gently woke him out of his nightmare, pulling him to your chest. He was shocked from the whiplash of being in such a traumatizing past one moment to being in your arms the next.  

He let you cradle him to your chest, his head comfortingly resting on your breasts. You stroked his hair, murmuring soft words of comfort to him, letting him recover from the terrifying dream.  

You laid with him for several hours before falling back asleep yourself. You don’t know how long he held onto you, but he was up the next time you woke up. He hasn’t mentioned it, and he probably never will.  

~ 

Words catch in the back of your throat. Before you’re able to formulate anything, Anya catches your attention. You look back at your red-eyed husband once more before turning to your little girl.  

“Anya, what have I told you about taking your shoes straight away?” You gently scold, lifting her off of the carpet.  

“Sorry mama!” Anya’s cute pout makes your heart melt, causing you to grow even softer. You sigh, placing her down in the entrance of the home. 

“Just take them off now and do better next time, alright?”  

“Yes mama!” Her giggle was worth the stress. You smile fondly at your baby girl, watching her take her shoes off.  

“Y/n.” Loid whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his head in your neck. You stiffen, clenching your jaw.  

“Let go of me.” You whisper, biting your lip.  

“Y/n, let me talk.”  

“Let go of me.” 

“Y/n-” his voice cracks. 

You pull away, walking over to Anya. Loid’s voice cracks again. You don’t turn to look at him. If you looked at his guilt-ridden face for too long, you would break. 

~~ 

Later that night. You were silently washing the dishes after Anya went to bed, your expression unreadable. Loid was in the living room, watching you work. He sighed, running a hand through his blonde locks. “Y/n?” He murmured.  

You don’t respond, your eyebrow twitching in irritation. Loid let out a strained sigh, standing up. He takes a step towards you, hesitating.  

“Y/n, please don’t ignore me...”  

You don’t say anything, biting your lip to maintain a calm composure... well as calm as you’re able to be. 

“Y/n.” His voice grew sharper as he steps into the dimly lit kitchen, his voice full of frustration and a hint of something you can’t understand.  

You continue to ignore him, causing him to let out another sigh, longer this time. “Y/n please.” He steps closer.  

Your fingers dig into your palms as you continue to ignore him. Your shoulders tremble from intense emotion, tears bubbling in the corners of your eyes.  

“Y/n...” he whispers, gently wrapping his arms around your waist. He gently takes your hands, intertwining your fingers so your nails dug into his hands instead of your own. You lift the pressure, not wanting to hurt him.  

“Let go of me.” You whisper, your voice trembling.  

“Y/n, just let me explain.” He whispered in your ear. Your breath hitched at his warm breath on your skin, wanting to give in to his comfort and break down in his arms. You get a hold of yourself, stiffening in his hold.  

“I don’t want to hear you explain.”  

“Y/n-”  

“Loid. Let go of me.”  

“Baby. Baby listen.” He whispers, shaking as he holds you close to his chest. You gasp softly, tears slipping down your cheeks. Loid has rarely used pet names for you, telling you that he thought it was childish and would much rather call you by name. You didn’t mind it, but it did make you feel so loved when you heard any pet name from his lips.  

“My love, it’s not what it looks like. Let me explain. Let me earn your trust back, just please... Please don’t leave. Don’t take my beloved away, don’t take our baby girl.” He sniffled, causing you to stiffen.  

Was he... about to cry...? 

You don’t protest any further, letting him talk. He hesitates at first, holding you tighter as he buries his face in your neck. “You’re right. This started as a mission. I was tasked to get a wife and child, enroll the child in Eden Academy, and get information on a man that is a great risk to us. It *started* as nothing but a mission, without any feelings attached.” Loid muttered, sounding exhausted and... ashamed?  

“Y-you don’t love me? Or Anya?” Your voice cracked with inexpressible hurt.  

“No! No baby I do. I love you; I love you to the moon and back. I love you more than myself- more than anyone, anything! And Anya too! I would do anything for my girls.” Loid quickly protests, holding you tighter, like he was afraid of letting you go; like you would disappear if he ever let you out of his hold. 

“B-but you said...”  

Loid spins you around, looking you dead in the eye as he fondly cradles your face, his thumbs gently wiping your tears away. “In the beginning, it was all for my mission. I’ll be dead honest y/n. When I met you, when we dated, I had zero feelings for you. But that changed. I fell in love with you-” his voice cracks, tears streaming down his own cheeks, “-I saw you for you saw how much you loved me, how perfect you are... that love confession was real. My love for Anya is real. And I would rather be gruesomely killed than ever let anything happen to my girls. I would- nor could never leave either of you. You are my world, and I cannot live without you.”  

Your tears quickened as you stared into the eyes of your husband, truth and overwhelming guilt swimming in their deep blue depths. You choke on a response, tears dripping off your chin.  

“Shhhh it’s okay baby.” He whispers, pulling you to his chest. He caresses your head, leaning his lips against your forehead. He kisses your forehead slowly and lovingly, adding another and another to the pile as you break down in his warm, comforting arms.  

“I promise baby. I would never leave you. I could never leave you. You are my world, my universe, my everything. I am nothing without you and our little girl. Our beautiful little girl.” He whispers, kissing your tears away.  

As you sob into his chest, he gently and lovingly dries off your hands before lifting you into his strong arms. He carries you to bed, cradling you to his chest as he lays down, cooing comforting words.  

You peacefully fall asleep in his arms, your face buried in his chest as you sob, listening to his soothing words as he slowly strokes your head and back.  

~~~~~

Loid's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here<3

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! <33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen || Masterlist

This masterlist is solely focused on Aegon Targaryen, all written as xreader pieces without any specific physical descriptions.

All works have warnings stated before but please read at your own risk!

— ALL ONESHOTS BELOW ->

Fan favourites: 🌟 My favourites: 💓

The King's Obsession 🌟💓

• Sexual content (smut!)

She is the singular focus of his attention, the only person who matters to him and she knows it. One night, she expertly uses her charms and his infatuation to orchestrate an encounter that ends in pure bliss for her, fully exploiting his devotion to her advantage.

Tethering Ties 🌟

• Sexual content (oral f!receiving), violence, mild language

Betrothed by the King's decree to repair a fractured royal lineage, neither finds joy in their union. Tensions flare at dinner, resulting in a violent altercation that leaves her injured. Aegon chooses an unconventional way to apologise, his mouth between her legs.

In Her Embrace 🌟

• Sexual content (smut!)

Aegon can only seem to find consolation and loyalty in his wife, who fiercely defends him against the world's cruelty. He clings to her like a lifeline, craving the affection and comfort she uniquely provides, both through her words and through her body.

Lessons 🌟💓

• Sexual content (smut!!), strong language

Aegon's High Valyrian lessons take a tempting turn when his wife, sensing his frustration, offers an irresistible incentive, for every correct answer, another piece of her clothing falls away, turning language practice into an enticing game of lust.

The Ties That Bind 🌟💓

• Violence (slight), mild language

Standing united as a formidable power couple, they defend each other's flaws and virtues with unwavering loyalty. Even when a tense evening exposes deep-seated rivalries, their actions reveal just how far they are willing to go for one another.

No Control

• Sexual content (smut!!), Infidelity

Two souls entwined in their respective marriages, bound by societal expectations yet unable to resist each other, play a dangerous game of seduction and longing, where every stolen moment becomes a battleground of desire, guilt and risk.

Treachery Among Dragons

• Violence (injury?)

In a dramatic clash of dragons and family loyalties, Aegon and his wife face betrayal from within. In the fiery chaos, hidden confessions, devastating secrets and cruel rivalries come to light, culminating in a heart-wrenching plea that could alter the course of their family's future.

A Night on Silk Street 🌟💓

• Sexual content (smut!), mild language

 It was well known that Aegon Targaryen had a preferred brothel worker and he made no secret of his appreciation for her. His gratitude was as generous as it was lavish, reflecting his clear favour. Truly, Aegon the Magnanimous, they say.

Debt Owed 🌟

• Violence, infanticide, pregnancy complications (very slight)

A marriage, once feared as duty, blossoms into love. Tragedy strikes shattering their bliss when ruthless debt collectors demand a terrible price, leaving them adrift in a sea of sorrow. Now, haunted by loss, they cling to fragments of hope amidst shattered dreams.

To Pay the Price

• Violence (kinda?)

As the kingdom unravels in chaos, the queen is forced to pay the price that pushes Aegon, her husband, to the brink of fury. She finds comfort only in his arms, where his protective embrace is the last refuge from the storm threatening to tear their world apart.

Cradle of Love 🌟

• None

Heavily pregnant and tormented with late-night cravings and hormonal swings, the queen finds comfort in her husband Aegon, whose unwavering love and support provide a comforting anchor as they navigate the trials of impending parenthood.

Conquered

• None

In a court steeped in intrigue, Aegon becomes obsessed with a naive lady-in-waiting. Unaware of his manipulative intentions, she is drawn to his allure, sparking a dangerous dance of desire and power that challenges her innocence and forces her to confront her true desires.

For works involving other characters from House of the Dragon, please check out my House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

[comfortless]

got a startling number or requests for this, so here’s a part two for captured mercenary! König x noblewoman! reader..!

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. medieval au, dubious consent, slightly rough smut, abduction.

On the twelfth day, you finally understand how to punish König.

The nightly incidents have grown more frequent, sometimes thrice before the sun rises. Even once when you had caught his eye from across the yard whilst he bathed in the pond. A heavy hand had curled around his manhood with the most obscene words you had ever heard a man speak spilling from his panting mouth.

You merely stared like an innocent fawn in the face of a starved hunter then, but as the day passed a deep sorrow seemed to take root, one that should have been left well enough alone. König is not an animal, but… he is an unwed brute whose very appearance had most of the servant girls running for their quarters with their hands shoved protectively into the laps of their skirts.

He’s lonely. You had reasoned that must be why he’s so hellbent on torturing you to tears, to harass you with that leaking, throbbing pillar between his thighs. His insults have come to a stop. The man you took in for a pouch of copper is more of a pity than a terror at all.

With the sleepless nights beginning to weigh down on you, puppeting yourself day by day grows to be the most awful task. He’s always lurking close: it’s what he’s here for. König’s eyes never stray from you.

It’s getting to him, too.

The midwife, of course, shyly told you that a lady of your status should hold fast to her maidenhood until the eve of her wedding. But… once the dutiful words had been spilled, she immediately followed them with laughter, explaining that some men just needed to be subjugated, hinting that that was possibly the solution to what has you so downtrodden.

You couldn’t help yourself, not when he glanced up at you in the midst of training, his sightless mimicry of an opponent made up of wood already felled and settled into the dust at his feet. You could always feign your innocence, accuse him of imagining things should he say a word. Though, you’re guilty, just as guilty as him as you reveal your body to him where you sat perched upon the window sill.

The fluttering, innocent fabric of your gown is pulled from your shoulders and pushed down your hips to pool upon the floor. The laces of your corset are hastily untied to follow down. The underdress is all but torn away when you notice the way he halts in place, jaw tightening and eyes going wide.

Like the most malevolent of nymphs, you don’t offer him a taste when he comes storming into the castle chasing that glint of hope. You wind yourself through the halls, fully clothed as he huffs and growls just beyond your shoulder of how it is cruel and dangerous to tease a man.

Something about the way he boasts of doing so much for you to receive so little in turn conjures laughter from your throat. It is not often you’re able to treat a man this way, and even less often have you learned a thing about war, but you’ve certainly turned the tables in this ridiculous battle.

Those warnings of his fall entirely on deaf ears.

Then comes the night you no longer sense him positioned beyond your door. You sleep uninterrupted and warm, safely tucked between layers of cloth and down. The comfort of not being stirred awake by clamoring and grunting jolts you up with worry, because by this time it’s unnatural.

The peace of the night is heavy; the castle is entirely silent, no heavy soles meeting stone floors or hushed voices whispering secrets. There are crickets chirping beyond your window where a cool breeze drifts in to flutter curtains, but not a sound otherwise.

You push past your own apprehension to try the door, to seek him out with your innocent fretting, only to find that past that wooden barrier no one is stood guard.

A torch is lit and stationed upon the wall in König’s place, and the looming darkness further down the blackened hall feels so inexplicably ominous that your courage is diminished the second you place you find your footing over the threshold of the door and step out to have it envelope you in full.

König is not the only thing that would swallow you whole if you allowed it.

The realization dawns on you with each fragile step upon cool stone. He’s left you to fend for yourself, likely run off to have his fill of brothel girls and find a new band to strike you and any other pompous noble down. Your castle and your servants would all be ash come the dawn if he so chose… but it isn’t that thought that fills your heart with dread whilst you make your way out of these silent walls.

There’s a clamor coming from the stables when night air brushes over your face, the breeze pushing your hair into your eyes. You’ve heard the sound many a times when one is preparing to ride, the gathering of a saddle whilst the horses press their hooves to earth and watch on in preparation. There are no chores to be done elsewhere, and no servant would be given permission to leave the safety of the walls this late into the night.

König is leaving, abandoning you and his duties.

That’s what bothers you more than the thought of some awful demise.

You can’t place why it even matters. He’s been nothing short of a terror since the day he stepped foot in this place. He doesn’t bring your heart any soothing, only leaves it in wreckage and strikes up a wetness between your thighs. The man is not special, only cruel and ugly, sharp and bloodied like the swords he looks upon with far more passion than he’s ever given to you. Yet, the thought of being without him is haunting.

The walk across the yard feels as though it takes an age. You refuse to cry before him again, have those callused fingers wipe away your tears, but the scowl you force is only as daunting as the look of a forlorn puppy. You can’t find it within you to hate him, even when you try in earnest.

Your hand grasps at the wall of the stable as you peer inside to find the very scene from your imaginings. A horse is readied with as many supplies as it can carry, sacks of what you assume to be stolen food and weaponry hastily fastened to its sides. König is there, of course, shushing the animal with feed as the gate shuts behind him.

He would wait it out here until the night deepens and there would be no chance of anyone coming to stop him, all others preoccupied with their dreaming. As much as you would have preferred to find the sense to return to your own mattress and wait for the sun, your steps lead you inside instead. To him.

“What are you doing?” Your hiss is meek, hushed, and you know you sound more the part of a scorned wife than any authority at all. Your eyes don’t even meet his, cast down to the loose hay at your feet blanketing the dirt floor.

The man only sounds elated at the sight of you, at the idea of being caught amidst his further wicked behavior as he explains to you exactly what you already know. He does not shy away from approaching you, either. You only realize then you’re still dressed for bed without a weapon, just this loose, white gown and a betrayed stare. You’re no threat to someone like this, if anyone at all.

“You want me to stay?,” he hisses right back, taking liberty over your state to draw a hand up to your face, tilt your chin up so your eyes do finally meet his. The sadness remains in his eyes, deeper than you could even fathom, but accompanying it now is a crying madness.

Subjugate, you remind yourself when your lips press to a line. You could play the part of someone braver, bring him to his knees with words and promises up until morning where he would assuredly receive a good lashing.

The hand on your chin crawls down to your neck, thumb petting your pulse with even strokes.

“You can make me,” he continues through your bitter silence. The smirk upon his face is not charming, only cruel again; likely the same look he would give to the void each time he has heard you unravel at the mere thought of him.

You separate yourself from him with a wounded glare, barely keeping yourself together at the thought of finally allowing this brute to unite with your being in such a way. The reasonings as to why you should not are a blur now, reeled back by a more demanding series of thoughts. A secret you could keep, just as long as…

“You really will? If I allow you to…”

“Ja,” König answers simply, gives you a firm nod as to further express his answer. The truth of it was, he finds you dumb. After many months being here, you’ve picked up on a few words of his mother tongue and still he seems to think of you as a simple woman. “Zeig mir deine pflaume.”

You think you may even look the part of some naïve, overly trusting creature when your gown falls to your ankles to rest of the hay covered floor.

The man does not kiss you, only weighs your breasts in his hands, squishes them and paws at their plushness until his breathing grows heavy. He’s grown hard beneath his tunic already, without so much as a moan or a touch from you, but with his eyes locked onto what lies between your trembling legs and the flesh in his hands you almost feel a swell of pride.

His face dips to press into your chest, an eager tongue snaking out to wet you… everywhere. Perhaps he isn’t the most experienced with women, perhaps he’s only sampled what the brothels had to offer.

There’s no care for your pleasure here, only a tentative exchange made clear by the way he gropes at you with such force and tugs your nipple between his teeth as shallow pants and low whimpers leave your parted lips. The bites grow in intensity until you bring your hands to his scarred face to shove him away, only then does he relent back to feverish licks.

A hand trails down to your hip, all too eager in its exploration. There’s no warning when he tests your willingness, pets at your cunt like a well-loved pet. And damn it all — you are wet, as much as you would like to be frigid and resentful here, your body sings for him with soft whines instead of birdsong and dew over the petals of your own flower. He hums appreciatively while suckling at your tit, pushes a finger into your slit so suddenly your body jolts forward to grasp at his shoulders for purchase.

“Not here…” You try to reason with him. There are beds in the castle and walls so thick not a soul would hear. You didn’t need to be fucked in a stable like a breeding mare, it’s unbecoming for both of you.

Not that König even had the sense to listen. You’ve placed a hearty offering at the altar of a starved god, and he would be a fool to allow room to have it snatched away.

The response he gives you is not in words. It’s with a sudden spin that leaves you grasping at the gate of an empty stall, your back to him. You’ve never felt quite so vulnerable, never so horribly heartbroken when this beast chooses to take you from behind instead of nice and slow, in a bed that smells of lavender and incense.

There’s a soft rustling as he pulls his cock free from his garments, his head pressed to where your shoulder and neck join where he whispers what you imagine to be pure filth in his mother tongue, takes in your scent with panting breaths. The fat tip of his cock is diligently rubbed against you in hasty strokes, gathering your wetness until you feel yourself beginning to quiver.

Any chance to turn back is ripped out of your grasp the second he loses patience and begins to feed your drooling cunt each girthy inch. The hands that directed your face with most of your interactions are now cinched firmly against your waist. The sounds that leave him now are unlike any you’ve heard prior; a hand as hard and rough as his could never quite feel the same as what you’ve blessed him with.

“You feel…” He halts momentarily when he’s stuffed himself into you entirely, listening to each soft sound that’s pulled from your lips as you shake around him, for him. He doesn’t need to speak, really… you feel it too, the immediate heat and immaculate bliss of being joined in such a way. You’ve seen that horrid, thick thing countless times but to imagine it would feel so heavenly inside…

“Fick mich… so tight…”

His fucking becomes rampant when you cast him a look over your shoulder, one of utter rapture. Any patience he feigned is lost, because his cock spears you open again and again at a pace that jolts you in place and has your nails splintering the wood in your grasp. The teeth that pulled and bit at your nipples sink into your shoulder to keep those foul words contained, but does little to stifle the desperate groans and keening whines. The sounds of impact join him, filling up the shush of the night air.

Though you try to keep yourself contained, when a hand rises to squeeze at your breast and pinch your nipple between two coarse digits, any hope of biting your tongue is snuffed out. The sounds of your pleasure only add to his derangement; his thrusts become almost unbearable as he fills you with the length of his cock, pulls out to where his tip snags at your entrance only to fully bury himself again in quick repetition.

You don’t even come before he grows sloppy. Each stroke comes less intent, shifting from too fast or far too slow. It’s maddening, the way he sinks in to press his balls to your clit, already drenched in your essence, like a proper lover only to pump you like a common whore following.

He announces his impending orgasm to you in a grunt before sinking his teeth into your neck. Your hand detaches from the gate to slip between your thighs where König immediately grips your wrist as directs each movement as you circle your clit. There’s no tact or beauty here. He forces you to set a rough pace, desperate to feel you squeeze around his cock before he fucks his seed into you; the brute grows impatient and bats your hand away entirely as he pinches and flicks at the nub until you sob, because as torturous as it is, it works.

You’re brought to an abrupt end, eyes squeezed shut and jaw tightening as your hips jolt to meet his palm and your cunt pulls him in to pulse. He laps languidly at your neck while he gives you only a few stilted thrusts before the entire affair comes to an end. König doesn’t have near enough sense to keep himself contained, how no curious servant was pried from their bed by the pleasured bellow he lets out then is remarkable.

The man who fucks his palm near thrice a day still manages to fill your cunt to bursting with his seed. It slips down your thigh when he pulls away from you, tugs at your cheek to take in the view with a satisfied grunt that makes you want to recoil from him in a fit of misery. Maybe even love, because you find yourself so regrettably content now that you wouldn’t even mind sleeping in this sour smelling stable if only he would keep an arm around you…

König’s thoughts are elsewhere. He adjusts himself back into his clothes and pulls your gown from the floor to present it back to you. There’s no romance, only a subtle hint of something more than disinterest when he flashes you an almost boyish grin while you straighten yourself out as best you can.

A warm bath followed by a pillow beneath your head would be nice, but instead this romp blesses you with more dread.

The horse König had so diligently prepared is led out of its stall, and you… You’re hardly given a moment to react before you’re seated on the saddle by a pair of thick arms, the owner of which follows suit while you shoot him an uneasy glance. The question of where he’s taking you is only met with a palm curled over your mouth and an affectionate peck to your temple. You’ve no intention of being thrown off a horse or further tempting fate, even if it seems the easier route than whatever this proves to be.

“My lady wants to stay with me..,” he purrs as the reins are forced into your hands. That same hand slips down to push up your gown again and pivot your ass to rest over his crotch. “So she will come with me, hm?”

The cock finds its way inside of you again as the horse takes quiet, metered steps. Your eyes grow wet with tears unshed, and your protestations are muffled by that grip over the lower half of your face. König seems almost sympathetic even with the transparency of his renewed arousal throbbing inside of you; his hand falls free from your mouth as the horse carries you both past the threshold of the gate, replaced instead by a kiss both fiery and soothing.

You sulk and demand he return you home, to the safety of that stone nest, only to be shushed each time by a sweet press of his mouth to yours, your cheek when you will yourself to turn away. His free hand pets at your side, your breast, any where he can touch to calm your trembling. It doesn’t help… much, but your heart does seem to soften amidst the confusion and bereavement.

“I will take you home,” he mutters as he toys with your clit again, beckoning you to grind back against him. Your head lolls back again his shoulder, dazed and shaky from both his touch and his horrible deceit.

Home. Back to whatever pit of sulfur and grime he came from to drag you back down into it with him.

“… I’ll take care of you, little dove.”

It’s a shame this gentle side of him only decided upon showing its face when the roles reversed in his favor. Prisoner or wife, you meld against him wholly, sigh your pleasure as he whisks you away.

[ravensliterature]

Sentinels' Siege

A/N: Yeah, it has definitely been a minute. Saw the new X-Men 97 show and got inspired. Please enjoy this!

pairing: Magneto (Erik) x GN!Reader

warnings: Character death

w/c: 784

Prompt: The reader here has forcefield powers. The sentinel is attaching Genosha and the reader saves Erik at the expense of their own life.

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

In the heart of Genosha, amidst the ruins of a once-thriving nation, the sentinel's ominous presence cast a shadow over the land. Its metallic form, a symbol of oppression and fear, loomed tall against the crimson sky, its mechanical eyes scanning the desolate landscape with ruthless efficiency. But amidst the chaos and fear, you stood as a beacon of hope, your powers of forcefield manipulation shielding not only Magneto but also civilians of Genosha from the sentinel's relentless assault.

Two spheres of energy shimmered in the air, each pulsating with the strength of your will. One enveloped Magneto, the other surrounded you and the civilians seeking refuge within your protective embrace. It was a delicate balance, maintaining both shields amidst the onslaught of the sentinel's attacks, but you refused to falter, driven by the unwavering resolve to protect those you loved at any cost.

As the sentinel unleashed its barrage of energy blasts, your forcefields flickered and crackled with energy, absorbing the brunt of the attacks. Beside you, Magneto watched in awe and gratitude, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of your unwavering determination. But beneath the surface, there was a surge of panic within him as he witnessed your struggle to maintain both shields.

He reached out to you, his voice a plea amidst the chaos. "Y/N, my love, you mustn't—"

But his words were lost in the cacophony of battle as your forcefields strained to their limits. With each passing moment, the pressure mounted, threatening to break through your defenses and claim you all.

Flashbacks of your time together flooded your mind, each memory a bittersweet reminder of the bond you shared. You remembered the first time he had entrusted you with his secrets, the way his eyes softened as he spoke of a future where mutants could live without fear. You remembered the stolen moments of tenderness, the quiet nights spent gazing at the stars, finding solace in each other's company amidst the turmoil of their world.

But amidst the memories, there was the harsh reality of the present—the sentinel's relentless assault threatening to overwhelm your defenses. Your forcefields flickered and waned under the strain, cracks forming along their surfaces as they struggled to hold back the tide of destruction. Yet still, you refused to yield, your determination unyielding even in the face of insurmountable odds.

Magneto watched in silent anguish as you stood as the bulwark against the storm, his heart heavy with the weight of your sacrifice. He reached out, his hands grasping at empty air as you fell, the light fading from your eyes even as his world plunged into darkness.

In that final moment, as the sentinel loomed over Genosha victorious, Magneto could only cling to the memories of the love you shared—a love that had been both his greatest strength and his deepest sorrow. But though you were gone, your spirit would forever be etched in his heart, a guiding light in the darkness that now enveloped him.

And as he gazed upon the devastated landscape of Genosha, a vow ignited within him—a vow to carry on the fight in your honor, to ensure that your sacrifice would not be in vain. For in giving your life to protect others, you had shown him the true meaning of heroism—a selflessness that transcended even death itself.

But amidst the chaos and despair, there was one final moment of connection—a silent exchange of love that echoed across the battlefield. As the sentinel's onslaught reached its crescendo, engulfing you in a blinding blaze of light, you locked eyes with Magneto one last time.

In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around them fading into insignificance as you mouthed the words that echoed the depths of your soul, "I love you."

Though no sound escaped your lips, the sentiment rang loud and clear in the silence of the battlefield. It was a declaration of devotion, a testament to the bond that had transcended the trials and tribulations they had faced together.

Magneto's heart clenched with a mixture of grief and gratitude as he returned your gaze, his own eyes brimming with unshed tears. And as the light consumed you, engulfing you in its brilliant embrace, he could only watch in silent agony as your form disappeared amidst the chaos.

But though your physical presence had been extinguished, your love would forever burn bright within his heart, a beacon of hope in the darkness that now enveloped him. And as he stood amidst the ruins of Genosha, a solitary figure against the backdrop of devastation, he vowed to carry on your legacy—a legacy of love, sacrifice, and unwavering strength in the face of adversity.

[bestedoesmeow]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing: carlos sainz jr & fiance!reader

request: Carlos x reader trying to have a baby, but after some failure, during the summer break with all of his family in Mallorca they got the big news (baby Carlos is comingg). After a year they come back to the summer house, as a parents, dealing with baby Carlos, with his sister and his mother🥹 (can you make this angst at the begging)

The summer sun hung low over the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue across the picturesque landscape of Mallorca. Carlos and you stood by the balcony, gazing out at the tranquil waves below. The sea breeze ruffled your hair, a gentle reminder of the passage of time.

It had been a journey of hope and heartache, a story that had begun with dreams of parenthood. But those dreams had been met with silence, punctuated by the bitter sting of failure. The two of you had weathered the storm, your love growing stronger with each setback. Yet, the emptiness lingered, a void that seemed insurmountable.

Amidst the laughter of Carlos' family echoing through the summer house, your heart ached in secret. His sister's children played by the shore, their innocent giggles a painful reminder of what you longed for.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and pinks, you found yourselves alone on the balcony. Carlos turned to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination.

"We can't keep letting this consume us," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability. "I want this more than anything, but I also want us to be okay, no matter what."

You nodded, tears glistening in your eyes. "I know. It's just... hard, Carlos."

"I know, mi amor," he said, wrapping his arms around you. "But let's make a promise, right here, right now. We won't let this define us. We'll find happiness in each other, in the love we share."

"I thought this summer would be different," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion.

Carlos nodded, unable to find the words to comfort you. His own frustration and sadness mirrored yours. You've had dreamed of starting a family together, and yet, fate seemed to conspire against you almost like it hated you, it hated you were together and happy.

That summer indeed was different. When you woke up one day to check the situation, the test result was different from the other times, and you wondered if you were still dreaming or if it was a cruel joke played on you and Carlos. The test was positive - two lines on it. You didn't know what to do or how to react.

"Carlos, can you come here for a second?" you called out, beckoning your fiancé to join you.

Your fiancé made his way into the bathroom of your room, his eyes still sleepy with morning hair. You didn't want to wake him up, but you had to, you really had to. You didn't say anything, leaving him even more curious, standing there in his boxers with sleepy eyes.

"Is everything okay, querida? Are you okay? Did you get your period? You know it's okay, we've talked about this," he said, not expecting the situation to be different from the other times.

"No, Carlos—"

"Did you hurt yourself? ¿Estás bien?"

"No, Carlos, look—" You said, showing him the test you had been holding in your hand for the past five minutes he was there. His eyes wandered on the test for more than 10 seconds, maybe as if he was trying to comprehend the situation or trying to understand if he was seeing it correctly.

"You're pregnant, querida? When did you take this? Oh, I can't believe it," he said. His sleepy eyes widened with the news. His hands were placed at the sides of your waist while you were sitting on the bathroom sink, looking at the test with a beautiful smile.

"I took it this morning. I hadn't thought that I'd be actually pregnant this time," you said with obvious disbelief. His hands covered your torso while you were sitting on the sink, wiggling your feet happily.

"You've been wanting it from the bottom of your heart, mi corazón. We've been wanting it actually," he said, cupping your cheeks to leave a happy and relieved kiss on your lips after a long time. Your hands cupped his freshly shaved cheeks, breathing slowly.

"I am so happy, Carlos," you said, your thumbs drawing circles on his cheeks slowly.

"Me too, querida, me too."

Sainzs took the news more excited than ever, actually Reyes did even cry while hugging at you. Then she admitted it in the dinner, she was so happy for the baby but she was happier for you, she hated to see you sad, she loved your energy the most.

The next summer, the visit to Mallorca was quite different from the other times. Your baby boy, Antonio, was cradled in your husband's arms - you and Carlos had decided to get married just after you received the news. As you entered the house, big smiles and even happy tears greeted you. Reyes kissed your cheeks once again to show how proud she was of you, and how strong you had been. Carlos's father took his grandchildren, who was named after his recently passed away father, in his arms and placed a good luck kiss on Antonio's forehead before whispering the words.

''Bienvenido a nuestra familia, Antonio.''

Carlos tightened his hold on your waist before leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

''I am so proud of you, querida. Te amo.''

''It wouldn't be possible if it weren't for you, Carlos. Te amo, forever.''

[frostdayz]

its you in my dreams i find

Aegon x reader (f! reader)

Genre: angst (mwuahahahha I will die on this hill but angst is so much better than fluff)

summary: Aegon is betrothed to his sister but his heart belongs to someone else. With his wedding only mere seconds away he goes to find you just to see your face one last time. (time jump included)

wrds: 2.63k

note: I saw this one quote on twitter and I just had to use it. Anyways so this has 3ish parts? The story + aegon and readers pov when they see each other again I made them different so it can also be little stand-alones! Enjoy :)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Today, Aegon would wed his sister, cementing alliances and securing the Targaryen bloodline. The air was filled with the sounds of celebration, but my heart felt heavy with sorrow.

I slipped away from the festivities, making my way through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle. My feet carried me to a secluded chamber where Aegon and I had often met in secret, away from the prying eyes of the court. It was here that we could be ourselves, if only for a brief moment.

When I entered, he was already there, his regal attire a stark contrast to the vulnerable expression on his face. He looked up as I approached, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and pain.

"Y/N," he breathed, closing the distance between us. He took my hands in his, holding them tightly as if he could anchor himself to me in the storm of his duty.

"My love," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He nodded, his grip tightening. "I know. But before I walk down that aisle, I needed to see you. I need to remind myself of what truly matters."

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked up at him. "You do not have to do this. We could run away, leave this place behind."

He shook his head, a sad smile playing on his lips. "You know I cannot. My duty to my family and the realm binds me. But my heart... my heart belongs to you."

I choked back a sob, the reality of our situation crashing down on me.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear. "You are mine, Y/N. In every way that matters, you are mine. This marriage is a formality, a duty. But my love for you is real, and it will never be changed."

I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes to savor the warmth of his hands. "I can't bear the thought of you with her. Your sister is kind but I cannot fathom the thought you bedding another woman."

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I won't be. Not in the way you fear. My heart, my soul, they are yours. Always."

For a moment, we stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, finding solace in the closeness that would soon be taken from us. The world outside could not touch us here, in this stolen moment of love and loss.

"I have known you since we were children," Aegon murmured, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. "You are a part of me, Y/N. This throne compares not to you or this out of body feeling I have when your eyes meet mine. What we have is something people look for all their lives.

I clung to him, my heart breaking with the knowledge that this might be our last meeting. "Promise me you'll never forget."

He pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes with an intensity that took my breath away. "I promise. You will forever be tethered to me and I to you."

The sound of distant bells reached our ears, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin. Our time was running out.

"I have to go," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But know this, Y/N: When I lay me down for bed, you're always on my mind; and when I close my eyes and sleep, it's you in dreams I find."

With one last lingering kiss, he turned and left the chamber, leaving me alone with my sorrow. I watched him go, my heart shattering with every step he took.

As I made my way back to the shadows, I clung to his words, finding strength in the love we shared. We were star-crossed lovers, bound by fate and duty, but our love was a flame that could not be extinguished.

And though the path ahead was filled with heartache, I knew that as long as I held onto his promise, I could endure anything. Aegon might be bound by duty, but his heart was mine, and that knowledge would sustain me through the darkest of days.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Readers pov:

Years had passed since I last saw Aegon. The world had moved on, and so had I, or so I told myself. Life in King's Landing was unpredictable, but I had found my place in it, working at a modest inn and living a life free from the court politics and royal intrigues.

One evening, as I laughed with a kind man who had become a close friend, I felt an inexplicable pull. The inn was bustling with activity, filled with the noise of patrons enjoying their evening, but suddenly, it felt as if everything had quieted. I glanced towards the entrance, and there he was.

His presence was unmistakable, even after all these years. He stood in the doorway, his fine clothes setting him apart from the crowd. But it wasn't just his appearance that drew my attention; it was the look in his eyes. A mixture of surprise, longing, and sadness.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Memories flooded back—our secret meetings, the stolen kisses, the whispered promises. All of it came rushing back in a torrent of emotion that left me breathless. But as I looked at him, I realized something had changed. He was still Aegon, but there was a heaviness about him now, a burden that he carried with every step.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The noise of the inn faded into the background, and all I could see was him. But then I remembered where we were, who we were. He was a king now, married to his sister, bound by duty and responsibility. And I was a part of his past, a chapter that had ended long ago.

I forced a smile, turning back to my friend, trying to push the memories aside. I laughed at some sill story he has told 100 times, though I didn't hear the words. I could still feel Aegon's gaze on me, a tangible weight that pressed down on my heart.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him take a step forward, as if he intended to come over. My breath caught in my throat, a part of me yearning for him to close the distance, to bridge the years that had kept us apart. But then he stopped. I saw the conflict in his eyes, the war between his heart and his sense of faithfulness to the crown.

He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of his crown pressed down even harder. He watched me for a moment longer, his eyes reflecting a world of unspoken words and lost dreams. Then, with a final, lingering look, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.

I felt a tear slip down my cheek as I watched him go, my heart aching with a mixture of love and resignation. Aegon had chosen his path, and I had chosen mine. Our lives had diverged, and though our love had been real and deep, it was now a memory, a beautiful, bittersweet memory.

My friend noticed my silence and gave me a concerned look. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

I wiped away the tear, offering him a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just... lost in thought for a moment."

He nodded, accepting my answer without pressing further. As the evening wore on, I tried to push thoughts of Aegon aside, focusing on the present, on the life I had built for myself. But deep down, I knew that a part of me would always belong to him, just as a part of him belonged to me.

And though our love had been strong, it was now a whisper in the wind, a memory that would forever linger in the corners of my heart.

And so, I laughed and smiled with my friend, cherishing the moments of joy and companionship that life had given me. But every now and then, when I lay down for bed and closed my eyes, it was Aegon I saw in my dreams, a reminder of a love that could never be, yet would never fade.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Aegon's pov:

I often found myself lost in thoughts of Y/N, the woman who had stolen my heart and whose absence left an unfillable void. The memory of her was a constant companion, a nostalgic reminder of what could never be.

The day had started like any other, filled with the mundane and the ceremonious. My friends, eager to lift my spirits, convinced me to join them for a walk through the streets of King’s Landing. The bustle of the city was a welcome distraction from the confines of the Red Keep and the duties that awaited me there.

We strolled through the market, the vibrant colors and the mingling scents of spices and roasted meats filling the air. The sound of laughter and chatter was a stark contrast to the solemnity of the court. As we turned a corner, my heart suddenly lurched in my chest.

There she was, Y/N, standing at a vendor’s stall, examining a piece of fabric with a smile on her face. She looked radiant, more beautiful than I remembered. Time had been kind to her, and seeing her now, happy and carefree, was both a joy and a knife to my heart.

She was not alone. Beside her stood a man, laughing at something she had said. The sight of them together was a sword to the heart. I felt a surge of jealousy and sorrow, emotions I had no right to feel. She had moved on, found happiness in a new life, and I was a mere shadow in the new world she made for herself.

My friends continued their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me. I watched as the man leaned in closer to Y/N, his hand resting on her arm. She laughed again, the sound a melody I had longed to hear for so long. But it was not meant for me anymore.

I knew I should turn away, leave her to her happiness, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. Every fiber of my being wanted to rush to her, to hold her and tell her that I had never stopped loving her. But what right did I have to disrupt her life? She deserved happiness, and if this man could give her that, then who was I to interfere?

“When I lay me down for bed, you're always on my mind; and when I close my eyes and sleep, it's you in dreams I find,” I murmured under my breath, a silent reminder of the words I spoke to the woman I love from the last moment we met.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to step back, to let go. My friends were moving on, and I needed to follow. But as we walked away, I couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Y/N was still laughing, her eyes shining with a light that had once been reserved for me.

As painful as it was, seeing her happy was a balm to my soul. Knowing that she had found joy, even without me, gave me a strange sense of peace. Our love had been real, and it would always be a part of me, but it was time to let her go.

Back in the confines of the Red Keep, I found myself standing on the balcony, staring out over the city. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the rooftops. I thought of Y/N, somewhere out there, living her life, and I whispered a silent prayer for her happiness.

“I will always love you, Y/N,” I said softly to the wind. “But I’m glad you’ve found your own path.” A soft smile lingering on my lips.

As the first stars appeared in the twilight sky, I made my way back inside. Y/N would always be in my heart, a cherished memory, and knowing she was happy was enough to carry me through the darkest of days.

[booksandfantasies]

I'm so sad. I went to start rereading Storm of Secrets and Shadows and I was so excited because I bought the physical book since I enjoyed reading it so much. I opened my book and the first few pages started falling out. It's a brand new book and a bunch of the pages aren't attached properly but I bought the book months ago and just got around to rereading it to prepare for the new book so there's nothing I can do about it now. I'm so bummed because I'm actually a bit afraid to read it from the paperback now because what if more pages start falling out. I'm happy I can still read the ebook but it is so disappointing. At least three pages are not attached at all and the others seem to be barely holding on.

[novaursa]

hello

Can I have a fem!twin sister Jace, Where she always knew that Hardin was her father and she really loved him, but Daemon kinda take her as her heir and daughter.

She got engaged to Aemond but after Lucerys death they cancel it and during the war she don’t know what side choose. She really love her « husband » but her loyalty goes to the black (maybe because of daemon)

She ride Cannibal and goes to the battle of rooks rest but Aemond and Vhagar can’t attack her.

Idk how you can end it but I’m sure you can do it 🫶🏼♥️

Cursed in Flames

- Summary: You face Aemond at Rook’s Rest. And Dance of the Dragons is never the same again.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 3 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The news reaches you like a shadow across the sea, darkening the horizon of your mind with its terrible weight. You are standing on the cliffs of Dragonstone, watching the waves crash against the rocks far below, when you hear Daemon's footsteps approach. The air is filled with the scent of salt and storm, and the sky above is a heavy gray, mirroring the turmoil in your heart.

You do not turn to look at him immediately, sensing the gravity of what he is about to say. You have always known Daemon’s stride—deliberate, commanding, yet with a subtle grace that betrays his Targaryen blood. It is the same stride he had when he came to you as a child, kneeling before you and whispering tales of dragonfire and ancient Valyria, the stories that shaped your dreams and nightmares alike. But this time, there is something else, a tension in his movements that you have rarely seen, a tension that makes your heart clench in your chest.

"Your brother," Daemon begins, his voice as cold as the wind that whips around you, "is dead."

The words slice through you, sharper than any blade, and you feel the ground beneath you sway as though it, too, has been struck. For a moment, the world stops. The roaring of the waves, the howling of the wind, all of it fades into a deafening silence that drowns you. The image of Luke—sweet, gentle Luke—flashes before your eyes. His bright smile, his laughter that could fill even the darkest of days with light, now extinguished.

You finally turn to Daemon, your eyes wide with disbelief, as if willing him to say it is a mistake, a cruel jest. But Daemon’s face is set in stone, his violet eyes hard and unreadable.

"Aemond," he continues, his voice dropping to a low growl, "killed him. Vhagar devoured Arrax. There was nothing left."

A gasp escapes your lips, and your knees threaten to buckle. The storm inside you breaks free, a torrent of emotions—grief, rage, betrayal—rushing through you all at once. You clutch your chest, as if trying to hold your heart together, but it is no use. The pieces are already shattered, scattered to the winds.

"Aemond," you whisper, the name a curse and a lament all at once. The man you were once betrothed to, the man who had once held your hand in a secret alcove of the Red Keep, who had once whispered words of love and promises of the future—he is now a stranger, a monster. How could he? The question rings in your mind, but there is no answer, only the hollow echo of your heartbreak.

Daemon watches you carefully, his expression unyielding. He has never been one for softness, not even with you, his niece whom he raised as his own daughter. But there is something in his gaze now, a flicker of something almost akin to sorrow. He steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip is firm, steadying.

"This engagement is null," he states, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Aemond is no longer your betrothed. He is an enemy of our house, an enemy of yours."

You nod, though your mind is barely able to comprehend the words. The engagement had meant something once, a bridge between the two branches of your family, a hope for peace. But that hope has been dashed upon the rocks like a ship in a storm. There is nothing left but the wreckage.

"He was once... everything to me," you confess, your voice trembling. "How could he do this, Daemon? How could he kill Luke?"

Daemon's eyes narrow, a flash of fire in their depths. "Aemond is a creature of rage and pride, blinded by the lust for power and vengeance. He cares for nothing but his own glory, his own twisted sense of honor. Whatever feelings you thought he had for you, whatever feelings you had for him, they are ash now."

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the sob that threatens to escape. But it is futile. The tears spill over, hot and bitter. Daemon pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms a cage of protection and power. He has never been one to coddle you, but in this moment, he offers you the only comfort he knows how to give—his strength, his presence.

"We will make them pay, all of them," Daemon murmurs into your hair, his voice dark with promise. "For Luke, for our family. This war will not end until the debt is paid in full."

You nod against his chest, the pain in your heart hardening into something colder, sharper. Aemond’s face lingers in your mind, the way he looked at you when you were children, the way his eyes darkened with something more when you were older. But that is all it is now—a memory, a ghost of a past that no longer exists.

You pull back from Daemon, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. Your heart still aches, but there is a new resolve in you, a determination to survive this, to fight for your family, for Luke.

“I will not forget,” you say quietly, your voice steady now. “But I will not let it destroy me, either.”

Daemon nods, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “Good. We Targaryens are made of fire and blood. Remember that.”

As you stand there, the wind whipping through your hair, you let the words sink in. Fire and blood. That is what you are, what you have always been. The storm may rage on, but you will not be broken by it.

Cannibal’s distant roar echoes through the skies, and you lift your chin, feeling the fire within you begin to burn anew. Aemond may have taken Luke, but he has not taken your will, your strength. You will rise from these ashes, stronger than before. And when the time comes, you will face him—Aemond, the man who was once your betrothed, now your enemy—and you will show him what it truly means to be a Targaryen.

The wind bites at your face as Cannibal’s wings slice through the cold air. You’ve always felt most alive in these moments—when you are at one with the beast beneath you, the two of you merging into a single entity of power and purpose. You are no longer just the daughter of Princess Rhaenyra and the secret of Harwin Strong; you are a force of nature, the rider of the wildest and most feared of dragons. Cannibal roars, a sound that shakes the sky, and you cannot help but feel a grim satisfaction as you see Rook’s Rest below, knowing what is about to unfold.

Aemond Targaryen waits, hidden in the clouds atop Vhagar, the ancient dragon’s formidable presence a weight on the horizon. Aegon is beside him, perched on Sunfyre, whose golden scales glitter like a false promise in the pale daylight. They expect Melys, Rhaenys's scarlet queen, but what they get is something far more dangerous. Something personal.

Your heart beats a war drum’s rhythm in your chest as you approach, hidden by the sun behind you. They don’t see you coming, not at first. And when they do, it’s not Aegon who reacts but Aemond—his shock visible even from the distance. You can imagine his single eye widening, his lips parting in disbelief.

"It cannot be…" he breathes, low enough that only Vhagar might hear him. His thoughts spin in confusion and regret, the memories of what you once were to him clashing with the reality of the battle about to unfold. He’d thought you were lost to him, that the broken engagement was a final, irreparable severing of your fates. But now, here you are, as fierce and untamable as the dragon you ride.

Cole signals Aegon, and the elder brother does not hesitate. Aegon gives Sunfyre his head, and the golden dragon surges forward with all the arrogance and bravado his rider commands. The roar that splits the sky is not just from the dragon, but from Aegon himself, taunting, dismissive.

"Come to burn, have you?" Aegon shouts over the wind. "You’ll find this fire too hot!"

But you don’t respond with words. Cannibal lets loose a torrent of flame, a blackened blaze that reeks of burnt flesh and bones long devoured. The sky darkens with the ash of it, and Aegon’s confidence flickers like a candle in a storm. You feel the heat radiating off your dragon, the primal joy of the hunt thrumming through your bond.

Aemond watches, frozen in place. "Aegon, no!" he shouts, but his voice is swallowed by the roar of dragons and the rush of wind. He can only watch as the two dragons clash.

Cannibal is a creature of nightmares, his blackened scales absorbing the light, making him seem as though he is forged from shadow itself. He dives at Sunfyre with feral speed, his jaws snapping inches from Aegon’s arm. Sunfyre counters with a blast of flame, but Cannibal’s agility is unmatched. He twists in the air, dodging the fire as if it were a mere inconvenience.

Sunfyre is beautiful, a dragon that could have inspired a thousand songs. But beauty is no match for brutality. Cannibal rips into Sunfyre with a savagery that leaves you breathless, his claws tearing through the golden dragon’s wing, nearly severing it from his body. Aegon’s scream echoes in the heavens as he struggles to keep control, the pain of his dragon searing through their bond.

"Aegon!" Aemond roars again, urging Vhagar to move, but his dragon hesitates, sensing his rider’s turmoil. Vhagar is the mightiest of dragons, older than the rest, her wisdom far beyond Aemond’s years. She feels his conflict, the war inside him, and it makes her pause.

You see Aemond’s struggle, the way his grip tightens on Vhagar’s reins, the way his gaze locks onto you even as his brother is mauled in the sky. For a moment, you wonder if he will join the fray, if he will strike you down as he did Luke. But then his eye meets yours, and you see something unexpected—fear, not of you, but for you. The realization sends a cold shiver down your spine, but you don’t have time to dwell on it.

Cannibal snaps his jaws around Sunfyre’s neck, dragging the dragon down toward the ground. They crash through the trees, Sunfyre’s scream a thing of agony as he thrashes, desperately trying to free himself from the relentless assault. Cannibal’s fire ignites the forest below, turning the world into a hellscape of flame and shadow. Sunfyre’s golden scales are marred with blood and soot, his body a broken thing beneath the ferocity of your dragon.

Aemond watches in horror, his mind torn between duty and something far more dangerous—his heart. "Vhagar," he murmurs, "we have to stop this…"

But Vhagar, ancient and wise, does not attack. She circles above, watching, waiting. She feels the bond between her rider and the girl who should have been his wife, and she knows this is a battle not just of dragons, but of souls.

Finally, with a roar that shakes the heavens, Vhagar descends. Her massive form blots out the sun as she lands, the earth trembling beneath her weight. She crashes into Cannibal with all the force of a falling star, but she does not strike to kill. Instead, she pins Cannibal beneath her, her jaws snapping inches from his throat. The wild dragon thrashes, but Vhagar’s strength is unmatched. She holds him there, a warning, not a death sentence.

You feel Cannibal’s fury, his frustration, but also his grudging respect for the older dragon. The battle is over, for now. You sense Aemond’s hesitation, the war raging within him as he prepares to dismount.

But he doesn’t move, not yet. He looks down at you, at the girl he once loved, the girl he might still love, and his world tilts on its axis.

For the first time since the Dance began, Aemond Targaryen does not know what to do. And as Vhagar holds Cannibal pinned beneath her, you both realize that this battle was never just about dragons.

It was always about you.

And it always will be.

The ground rushes up to meet you as you leap from Cannibal’s saddle. The impact is brutal, a shockwave of pain that ripples through your body as you hit the earth with a resounding thud. The air is forced from your lungs, and for a terrifying moment, you can’t breathe. You gasp, struggling to draw in even a sliver of air, your vision darkening at the edges. But you force yourself to move, to push through the pain. You cannot afford to be weak now, not with him approaching.

Aemond’s boots crunch on the scorched ground as he strides toward you, his expression unreadable. You see him through a haze of pain, your vision slowly clearing as your breath comes in ragged gasps. Instinctively, you push yourself up, your muscles screaming in protest, but you will not be caught helpless. Not by him. 

Before you can fully regain your footing, Aemond’s arms are around you, capturing you in a firm, unyielding embrace. His chest presses against your back, his grip like iron as you struggle against him. The more you thrash, the tighter his hold becomes, but he doesn’t hurt you. His voice, when it comes, is a low, soothing murmur in High Valyrian, a language that wraps around you like a soft cloak.

"Beloved, be still in my arms," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Calm down." 

The words are tender, almost loving, and they cut through your panic like a knife. His grip doesn’t loosen, but it no longer feels like a prison. Instead, it’s a strange comfort, his presence grounding you as your breath slowly returns to normal. The fight drains from your limbs, leaving only the exhaustion and the ache of what’s just happened.

When you finally stop resisting, Aemond’s grip eases, and he gently turns you to face him. You expect anger, fury even, for what you’ve done to his brother. But as you look into his eye, you find something else entirely—uncertainty. He stares at you as if you’re a puzzle he cannot solve, his usual confidence shaken.

"Aegon…" His voice is rougher now, tinged with something that almost sounds like regret. "You just struck down the King."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of what they mean. Aegon Targaryen, the King, your uncle—his blood is on your hands now, as much as Cannibal’s. But you feel no guilt, only a cold, burning anger that flares to life at Aemond’s accusation.

"Like you killed Luke," you snap back, your voice laced with venom. The shadow of your father, Daemon, looms large in that moment, his defiance, his unyielding spirit echoing in your words. "You think I care for your brother’s crown when you stole my brother’s life?"

Aemond’s lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile forming as he watches you, admiring the fire in your eyes. It’s as though he expected this from you, and it pleases him to see you still have that flame burning within. He takes a step closer, his expression softening into something dangerously close to affection.

"Always so fierce," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a tone that is meant for you alone. "Just as I remember. Just as you’ve always been."

You can’t decide whether to move away or to stay rooted to the spot. His presence is overwhelming, intoxicating, and despite everything, a part of you aches for the connection you once shared. Before the bloodshed, before the war tore you apart. But the uncertainty gnaws at you, and you remain still as he reaches out, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Even now, I find myself drawn to you," he admits, his tone almost wistful. "Your strength, your fire... It’s what made me want you then, and what makes me want you now."

His words lull you, and despite yourself, you feel the tension in your body begin to ease. There is something in his voice, something genuine, that pulls at the frayed edges of your heart. But before you can fully comprehend what is happening, a shout cuts through the moment.

"My Prince!" Ser Criston Cole’s voice is sharp, commanding as he approaches. His armor is still bloodied from the skirmish, his face set in a stern mask. "Seize her! She is an enemy, a traitor to the crown!"

Aemond stiffens, the tender moment evaporating like mist in the sun. He turns to face Cole, his expression darkening as he steps protectively in front of you. 

"I will do no such thing," Aemond says coldly, his voice hard as steel. "She is mine."

Cole looks shocked, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Prince Aemond, this is treason. The girl—"

"Is to be my wife," Aemond cuts him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We will wed in the tradition of Old Valyria. She will be my queen."

Cole’s face pales, his eyes darting between you and Aemond as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. "This is madness," he insists, his voice rising with urgency. "The council will never accept it. The people—"

"The people," Aemond snaps, his patience wearing thin, "will accept what I tell them to accept. And if they do not, they will burn for their defiance. As will anyone who dares stand between me and her."

The threat is clear, and Cole flinches, realizing the seriousness in Aemond’s tone. He knows better than to challenge a dragon when its fire is so close to the surface. But still, he tries once more, his voice lowering in an attempt to reason with his prince.

"Think of the consequences, my prince," Cole urges, almost pleading now. "This could tear the realm apart."

Aemond’s gaze never wavers as he replies, his voice chillingly calm. "The realm is already torn apart. If it must burn, then it will burn with us as its rulers."

You watch the exchange with a mix of awe and dread. Aemond’s declaration sends a shiver down your spine, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. He’s serious—deadly serious. And in that moment, you realize there’s no escaping the path that has been set for you.

Aemond turns back to you, his expression softening once more as he reaches out to take your hand. His grip is firm, but not forceful, as though he’s offering you a choice, even if you both know that choice was taken from you the moment you leapt from Cannibal’s saddle.

"Come," he says softly, his voice a stark contrast to the fury he directed at Cole. "Let us finish what was started so long ago."

You look up into his eye, searching for some hint of deception, some sign that this is all a cruel trick. But all you find is resolve—and something else, something that looks very much like hope.

Before you can answer, Vhagar releases Cannibal, the great dragon rising from her position with a low, rumbling growl. Cannibal stirs, but he does not attack. Instead, he rises slowly, his eyes locked on Vhagar as he acknowledges her strength, if not her dominance. There’s a truce in the air, fragile as gossamer, but for now, it holds.

Aemond squeezes your hand, his gaze never leaving yours. "Together," he murmurs, his voice filled with a dangerous promise. "As it was always meant to be."

And as you stand there, caught between what was and what will be, you realize that there is no turning back. Not for you, not for Aemond, not for the realm. The dance is far from over, and now, it will be danced to a different tune—a tune of fire and blood, of love and hate, of destiny and defiance.

And you will dance it with him, until the very end.

[its-avalon-08]

Can you do one where max verstappen x leclerc!sister reader? set this after austria 2019. y/n refuses to talk to max, and max refuses to talk to y/n. both angry for their own reasons. charles hates seeing them so distant so he goes and sorts it out even though he is still furious at max.

Thanks!

to hell with him (mv1, cl16! as a brother)

the champagne showers at the red bull ring were a stark contrast to the storm brewing between you and max. two years. two years of laughter, whispered secrets in motorhomes, stolen kisses under starlit skies, all culminating in this icy silence. the roar of the austrian national anthem barely registered as you stared at the podium, charles' jubilant face mocking your shattered heart.

max's reckless move on leclerc in the final lap had cost him the win and ignited a firestorm within you. the frustration, the fear, the betrayal – a cocktail of emotions that left you speechless. max, on the other hand, was fuming. he'd taken the risk for the win, a win that could have closed the gap in the championship. your disapproval felt like another blow, a rejection that added insult to injury.

charles, ever the mediator, couldn't bear the tension any longer. after the podium celebrations, he found you drowning your sorrows – non-alcoholic champagne, of course – in the red bull hospitality area. "y/n," he started cautiously, "we need to talk."

you sighed, the dam threatening to burst. "not now, charles. please."

he persisted, his monegasque accent soft yet firm. "it's breaking him too, you know."

you scoffed. "right, because it's all about him."

his words hung heavy in the air. a flicker of doubt ignited within you. could he be right? but before you could process it, max entered, a dark cloud following him. he scanned the room, his gaze landing on you.

across the room, charles, his own disappointment at a missed podium simmering, couldn't bear the tension any longer. he stormed over, his gaze hard. "this is ridiculous," he declared, voice taut. "talk to each other."

max, surrounded by team personnel, barely glanced up. "nothing to say."

you choked back a retort, the sting of betrayal raw in your throat. charles, seeing the storm brewing in your eyes, turned to max, his voice low, fierce. "that wasn't racing, max. you almost took me out. don't you get it?"

max flinched at the mention of your name, but his jaw remained clenched. "it was a racing incident, charles. end of story."

the tension crackled. you stood abruptly, tears blurring your vision, and stormed out, the echo of cheers hollow in your ears. hurt morphed into anger. you stormed out of the room, the cool night air doing little to soothe your burning cheeks. tears, stinging and hot, welled up in your eyes blurring the path ahead.

meanwhile, max had been drowning his frustration, not in champagne, but in self-recrimination. he replayed the race a thousand times in his mind, each time cringing at his recklessness. but most of all, he saw your tear-filled eyes, a sight that twisted his gut with regret. he had been so focused on his own disappointment, he hadn't seen the hurt etched in your face.

bursting out , he scanned the darkness, his heart pounding with a newfound urgency. he found you on a small bridge overlooking the track, the city lights twinkling below. you were facing away from him, your shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

he walked up slowly, his voice rough with remorse. "y/n," he called out.

you stiffened at the sound, but didn't turn. he stood beside you, a heavy silence settling between you both. finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he confessed, "i was an idiot. i took a stupid risk and… and i scared you. seeing you cry… that hurt more than anything."

you still refused to meet his gaze. finally, a choked sob escaped your lips.

the sound tore through max's defenses. he closed the remaining space and took a cautious step closer. seeing the tear tracks staining your cheeks, the vulnerability etched on your face, a wave of regret washed over him. he knelt before you, his voice laced with remorse. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i didn't think it through. thinking of losing...it clouded my judgment."

slowly, you turned towards him. the anger that had burned bright in your eyes had softened, replaced by a deep hurt. "it scared me, max," you whispered. "the thought of losing you...of losing charles..."

max reached for your hand, his touch gentle. "i know," he murmured. "i never meant to put either of you at risk. especially you."

he held your gaze, and in his eyes, you saw a depth of emotion you hadn't witnessed before, an apology that went beyond words.

the road to forgiveness wouldn't be easy, but in that moment, a flicker of hope ignited. the roar of the engines outside might drown out some conversations, but the one between you and max had just begun. and for the first time since that reckless move on the track, a tiny corner of your heart dared to believe.

[maopll]

Hi, I saw your 1k event, congrats btw ^^!

I can't decide between 05 and 06 with Wrio 😭, but I go with 06 Voicelines about you with Wriothesley

VOICELINES ABOUT YOU —

⋆·˚ many voicelines about you for wriothesley because he can't stop talking about you (and tea) and the traveller can't really seem to pull lovesick wrio out of his daydream about you ... poor paimon

note: sfw work & gender neutral reader.

— WHEN THE SUN SHINES

"After many days of rain, feeling the bright rays of the sun is truly what a person needs. Needless to say, this also calls for a picnic or perhaps a tea party ? Whichever you prefer but... tea party is suggested since it is also what me and my lover, both prefer, they makes great tea ones to die for ahem."

— WHEN IT'S WINDY

"My beloved oftentimes opens the window of our house up here in Court of Fontaine when the gentle breeze blows. It has them humming and in a lively mood but when the breeze turns into a storm, they get even more ecstatic because of the thought of the free bulle fruits that fall from the trees. sigh I have to admit that the thought of free bulle fruits do sound quite enticing so we both embark to the nearest tree to pick them up and enjoy them with tea."

— WHEN IT'S MORNING

"Good morning traveller, hm? I look lively today? haha perhaps it's because I was graced by an angel's face the first thing when I woke up in the morning? not that I would tell you but you're quite smart enough to know who it is."

— WHEN IT'S NIGHT

"Incase you are having trouble sleeping at night, feel free to give either me or my partner a call. We will give you a big supply of tea that helps you sleep at night. I would suggest tasting their brew because more often than not, when I was in the earlier years of bring a Warden in the fortress, their tea helped me get adequate amount of rest."

— WHEN IT RAINS

"Take an umbrella lest you get wet, Traveller. I hope my lover has also taken one ... hmm... perhaps can you go and check on them? take another one with you. Oh, me? don't worry, a mere rain won't get me sick in bed"

— WHEN IT SNOWS

"What are your plans now since it's snowing? There are quite a lot of things you can try now that you are here in Fontaine. Although there aren't many lakes here that freeze over, due to the sake of our friendship, I will tell you where to go looking for the frosted lake. It's a secret! Don't go telling others... especially you, Paimon. Me and my darling both visit this place and it has become a haven for us now."

— ABOUT US

"We have been together ever since they started keeping me company from when I was still a prisoner. We have spent days and memories, happiness and sorrows, and vows and promises with eachother. They have undoubtedly scored a precious place in my heart that is reserved only for them."

[alyrasturnz]

im so tireddddd of matt being the broken one and y/n being the comforting one

pls create a fic about this “how can you love someone like me” “how can i not love someone like you?” but like y/n is the broken one with a really bad and dark past and really hesitant and js has her walls up

make it a short blurb pls! just the argument and nothing more ty

HOW CAN YOU LOVE SOMEONE LIKE ME?

❐ summary » two souls clash with raw emotion. y/n, weighed down by past scars and self-doubt, questions their worthiness of love. matt sees beyond the flaws, recognizing the true beauty within.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » slight angst but mainly fluff and matt comforting reader

❐ a/n && w/c » hey bae! hope this was short enough and what you wanted • 1.12k

you find yourself in a room where the shadows seem to whisper secrets, the air heavy with the weight of unsaid thoughts. matt moves restlessly, his agitation almost tangible. with a voice that quivers, caught between anger and sorrow, you finally break the silence, "how can you love someone like me?"

he stops dead in his tracks, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of disbelief that seems to pierce through your very soul. "how can i not love someone like you?" he retorts, his voice rising slightly with an edge of desperation. "you think you're unworthy, but you don't see what i see. you're everything to me."

"you don't understand," you murmur, shaking your head slowly, as if trying to dislodge the weight of your thoughts. "i'm flawed, broken in ways you can't even begin to fathom."

"everyone is flawed," he counters, taking a deliberate step closer. "but that doesn't make you any less deserving of love. you think your imperfections push me away, but they pull me in even more. they make you real, they make you human."

"i don't want to be a burden," you whisper, your voice trembling as tears well up in your eyes. "i don't want you to look back and regret choosing to be with me."

he reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "i could never regret loving you," he murmurs, his eyes full of earnestness. "you make me better, you challenge me, you make me feel alive. don't you see? loving you isn't a choice; it's a necessity."

you pull away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield your heart. "but what if i can't give you what you need?" you whisper, your voice fragile. "what if i'm not enough?"

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, a gesture heavy with contemplation. "you are enough, more than enough," he says softly. "love isn't about perfection; it's about acceptance, growth, and understanding. we can face any storm together, as long as we have each other."

"it's not that simple," you argue, your voice cracking as you wrap your arms around yourself even tighter. "there are things about me that you don't know," you continue, your eyes darting away to avoid his gaze, "things that could change everything."

"then tell me," he pleads, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that seems to pierce through your very soul. "let me in. let me love you, all of you, even the parts you think are unlovable."

you take a deep breath, the weight of your fears pressing down on you like an anchor dragging you down. “i’m scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the vulnerability of your confession.

"i'm scared too," he confesses, his voice softening like a gentle breeze. "but i'd rather face that fear with you than live without you. please, let me love you, every part, even the shadows you hide."

you look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love that radiates from him like a beacon in the dark. it's a love that you feel unworthy of, yet desperately crave. slowly, you nod, allowing yourself to believe, if only for a fleeting moment, that maybe, just maybe, you are deserving of his love.

"you don't know what you're asking," you say, your voice wavering like a fragile leaf in the wind. "loving me means accepting all my scars, my past, my mistakes, and the shadows that linger in my soul."

"i want to know everything," he insists, his grip on your shoulders firm but gentle, like an anchor in a storm. "i want to share your burdens, lighten your load. that's what love is about, isn't it? intertwining our souls, even in the darkest times?"

"but what if you can't handle it?" you challenge, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt, like a lighthouse scanning the horizon. "what if my past is too much for you, an abyss too deep to fathom?"

"then we'll face it together," he replies without hesitation, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce determination. he takes a deep breath, his grip on your shoulders tightening slightly as if to anchor you both in this moment. "i'm not afraid of your past. i'm more afraid of losing you because you think you're not worthy of love. you're my world, and i'm willing to fight for you."

you feel a tear slip down your cheek, tracing a path of vulnerability, and he wipes it away with a tenderness that feels almost sacred. "i don't deserve you," you whisper, your voice breaking like a fragile porcelain vase, revealing the depths of your insecurities.

"you deserve happiness and love just as much as anyone else," he says softly, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. "and i'm here to give you that, if you'll let me," he continues, his voice a gentle promise, echoing with sincerity and unwavering devotion.

"i don't know if i can," you admit, your heart aching with the weight of your insecurities, like a heavy fog that refuses to lift. "i don't know if i can be what you need," you continue, your voice trembling, each word a fragile confession of your deepest fears.

"you already are," he reassures you, his eyes filled with unwavering love, like a lighthouse guiding you through a storm. "you are everything i need and more. please, don't shut me out. let me prove to you that we can make this work," he implores, his voice a symphony of sincerity and hope, resonating deep within your soul.

you take a deep breath, feeling the walls you've built around your heart begin to crumble like ancient ruins succumbing to time. "okay," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i'll try. but you have to promise me something."

"anything," he says, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze a steadfast anchor in the turbulent sea of your emotions.

"promise me that you'll be patient," you say, your voice trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. "promise me that you won't give up on me, even when things get tough," you continue, each word a delicate plea woven with vulnerability and hope.

"i promise," he vows, pulling you into his arms with a tenderness that speaks volumes. "i'll never give up on you," he murmurs, his words a solemn oath, resonating with unwavering commitment.

as you stand there, wrapped in his embrace, you feel a glimmer of hope, like a faint star piercing through the night sky. maybe, just maybe, you can learn to love yourself the way he loves you. and in that moment, you realize that perhaps you are worthy of love after all, like a hidden treasure finally unearthed.

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[delicatebarness]

the hard launch

Pairing: Actor!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky have been secretly dating for a few years, and it's finally time to tell the world.

Warnings: Fluff.

Word Count: 725

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A/N: I love them. - Please feel free to leave feedback, you know I love hearing your opinions. - B

Tags: @princesscore-angel | @msanimeotaku181

Everything Tags: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

The world knew James ‘Bucky’ Barnes as the brooding, captivating actor who brought characters like The Winter Soldier, to life on the big screen. However, the world didn't know that the man behind the character had been holding a secret close to his heart.

To that same world, you were known as the singer-songwriter whose voice melted hearts with lyrics that spoke of hidden sorrows and forbidden love. Your latest album has taken the world by storm. It climbed to the top of the charts, with each song more poignant than the last. Yet, behind your public persona, you lived a secret life: one shared with Bucky Barnes.

You had met Bucky at a charity event– a glitzy Hollywood soirées, filled with flashes toward fake smiles and whispers behind champagne flutes. You had agreed to perform your latest single, your voice called to Bucky like a siren’s call. The pair of you talked, laughed, and exchanged numbers as a professional courtesy. However, as the weeks turned into months, your text messages turned into late-night FaceTime calls, which shortly turned into stolen weekends away.

The relationship was a guarded secret, known only to a select trustworthy few. There were suspicions, of course, throughout the tabloids and your respected fanbases. As things between you and Bucky grew more serious, paparazzi photos of Bucky slipping out of your apartment at odd hours, and mentions of his eyes lit up when your songs played in the background of interviews. 

But, neither one of you confirmed anything, you relished in the intimacy of your private world. 

That was until, your new single, “End of the Line” was about to be released. A heartfelt ballad about a secret love, cherishing stolen moments, and the bittersweet beauty of hiding. You suggested to Bucky that should star in the music video, but at first, he hesitated. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked you, his brow furrowing as he held your gaze. “This is a big step.” 

Taking his hand, your fingers interlocking with his. “I am, Buck. We’ve been hiding for so long. I want the world to see our love. Plus, the song is ours, it’s about us. Who else could bring it to life the way you can?” 

The way your passion for music mirrored his own for acting, he saw the fire in your eyes. And, he agreed. 

~

Directed by a close friend to you both, who already knew your secret, the shoot was an exercise in restraint and release. Set in a secluded cabin, surrounded by nature, the scenes were tender. They were filled with longing glances and gentle touches. Your real emotions poured into your performances, the chemistry you shared with Bucky was undeniable and electrifying. The camera captured your unspoken love as you danced in the moonlight, and shared whispered secrets.

During one intimate scene, he whispered, “Are you nervous about how they’ll react?” 

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “A little, but we’ve come this far together. No matter what happens, we’ll still have us.” 

He brushed a strand of hair from your face as he smiled down at you. “Till the end of the line.” You echoed his words softly back to him. 

~

Shockwaves were sent through your fanbases when the video was released. The cinematography was stunning and raw, unfiltered emotion haunted the song. Your secret was out, and it captivated the world. Instead of the scandal you had feared, the response was overwhelmingly positive. 

Fans and critics alike praised the authenticity of your love and the bravery you both had shown by sharing something incredibly personal to the world. 

~

The ‘hard launch’ was a success, and as you stood on stage at your next concert, you sang the song live to a crowd for the first time. The crowd erupted in applause as Bucky appeared on stage behind you. Turning in confusion, your voice trembled slightly with emotion as the love of your life ran toward you. 

The second he reached you, he took your face in his hands and pulled you into a kiss. Right there in front of thousands, sealing your love in the spotlight. He whispered against your lips, “I love you, till the end of the line.” you smiled, repeating the words back to him as tears of joy streamed down your face. 

---

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