#worst physical panic and anxiety attack.

[theballadoftimburton]

the way my body processes sorrow is weird

starting to calm down from an hour long panic attack and 3 hour long anxiety attack (shook FURIOUSLY i tell you)

oh whoops, nevermind, here! don’t eat for hours, lose your appetite, and feel like you have a fever. on top of all of that, you’re freezing cold. have fun, lee!

like thanks a lot mindset i can’t ever pull a break, can i??

[valewritessss]

I feel like I came out of the womb with raging anxiety

[thatwitchrevan]

I got my migraines and my depression both from my parents, it's my anxiety that makes my stomach pain worse and keeps me from sleeping, I've had days and weeks that the stress has been so bad it physically broke me, I live in a cycle where I'm too tired too sick too in pain to do things that make me happy and then become too sad and burnt out to fix any of it.

There's a time and place to remind physically abled people with mental illness that they can still be ableist. Anyone can be ableist whatever type of disability they themselves have. But mental illness and physical disability are not two separate spheres. Mentally ill people are very very frequently comorbid with physical disabilities and even those who normally aren't do suffer physical complications from their mental illness which is itself a disability.

If you're tired of able bodied people or people who appear able bodied mistreating or ignoring physically disabled people I understand and you're right to be. But if you just want to edge them out of conversations and shared experiences then I can't sympathize with that.

[sunfairiess]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

tropes: 3rd person narration | soft boy jj | best friends to lovers | comfort | fluff

synopsis: reader’s battling against anxiety, and during one of her anxiety attacks jj’s there to help her.

warnings: heavy depiction of anxiety, anxiety attack.

wc: 2.1k

writing this as someone who suffers from anxiety and deals with it on her own, was really emotional; if you find yourself in this position too, please don’t be afraid to ask for help. mental health matters <3

song rec: breathin - ariana grande ♡

everyone fights their own monsters, some are physically visible, others are perceived. some people have to fight against their families, some against their friends. but one of the biggest and worst challenges, was to fight against your own head.

everyone is tormented by their own monsters. hers is called anxiety, the beast who had ruined her life.

at school, her grades started to drop because she was just so tired all the time she couldn’t even bring herself to open the textbook; half of the foods she used to love were cut out of her daily routine because she would get constant heartburn and stomach problems to the point where she wasn’t able to consume a full meal for days.

when it came to sleeping, she couldn’t fall asleep because her mind was always racing with awful thoughts. what if i don’t wake up tomorrow? do my friends hate me because i didn’t go out with them today? is my heart supposed to beat so fast? my back is hurting, is this a health condition? am i going to be alone forever? usually she would go on for hours, reaching three or four in the morning, until she either cried herself to sleep or she almost passed out because of how tired she was.

going out of the house became hard. she became afraid of taking public transportation because what if someone tried to rob her or kidnap her. she couldn’t take long walks anymore because what if something happens and i’m alone. she even had to stop going to parties because she couldn’t stand big and loud crowds of people anymore.

her mental pain became physical: constantly having back problems, her chest and throat always felt too tight to breathe, her body tingling out of nowhere all the time.

it would’ve been a lie to say all of this didn’t reflected onto her relationship with others; she never told anyone about her own problems, not that they could help anyway. so when she started to hang out less with her friends, she always had to lie. i’m grounded, i can’t go out. sorry, i have too much homework to do. i have the flu, i can’t come. my dad needs my help, i’ll come next time. eventually though, she would run out of excuses, and that’s how she ended up for the first time in a month at the château, surrounded by her best friends.

“girl, we haven’t see you in forever, i almost forgot your face.” kiara joked, nudging her a bit with her elbow.

“i know, i’m so sorry guys. past month has been crazy.” which wasn’t a lie per se, she had spent the last weeks having constant anxiety and panic attacks. in the morning, in the afternoon, at night. and every single time she felt like she was about to die, the impending fear of doom creeping inside her. it really started to become unbearable, to the point where she didn’t even notice how many days would go by.

“well you’re here now, that’s what matters.” pope chimed in, giving her a smile. somehow that made her feel a little bit more lighter, knowing that her friends didn’t actually hated her. anxiety made her overthink every little detail of her life.

even though she tried to appear relaxed the whole night, she still felt like she was being chocked by an imaginary hand, pressing harder every time she breathed. she was grateful that none of her friends noticed the stiffness in her body, it would’ve been to hard to explain everything.

at least she thought no one noticed. jj noticed, he always did. he would observe every little detail about her. and from the moment she stepped into the château he hadn’t been able to keep his gaze off of her, not even for a second. he missed her. he hadn’t seen her in weeks and he had become restless. day and night he would think about her, what she was doing, if she missed him, if she too dreamed about him like he did about her. that’s how it felt being in love with your best friend.

jj knew something was up with her. she was always full of joy and energy, but bow it seemed like she had lost her spark. he knew there was something wrong, especially when he saw her fidgeting with her rings, gazing anxiously around her. he knew something was wrong when she got up, excusing herself from the conversation, and almost running to the bathroom.

following her wasn’t probably too good of an idea, but jj was impulsive, so he did it anyway. amen to that, he would’ve dealt with the consequences later, like his confused friends asking him what the heck was going on.

as he entered the bathroom, she was sat on the toilet. her face so pale you would think she was about to pass out.

he sees her as she stares into the wall, her eyes fixed in front of her, full of fear. he notices as she bring her right hand to her throat, sliding slowly down her chest and pressing hard. he hears her breathing going faster and heavier, like she couldn’t catch a full breath. her hands shaking as she tries to ground herself and not slip into the arms of her anxiety.

jj had no idea of what an anxiety attack looked like, he had been fortunate enough to never had one, but he always thought they had to feel awful for whoever got them. but seeing her, his sweet little sunshine, shaking all over the place and being surrounded by a cloud of darkness around her, made his heart break into a thousand millions pieces. he wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how to do it in the right way. he just wanted to do something, and so he did.

“sunshine, hey. baby, look at me. c’mon lemme see your pretty eyes.” he kneeled in front of her, placing both of his hands on her knees and gently rubbing his thumbs against them.

everything was spinning around her, thoughts racing with all the emotions she bottled up and all the fears she always had. she couldn’t stop them, it felt like she was going to be swallowed up by a black vortex. but then she heard his voice, it was like hearing an angel talking. her gaze slowly shifted from the white wall to his eyes, his gorgeous blue eyes, usually shining like stars when they looked at her, but now they were the depiction of concern. she felt a sharp feeling of guiltiness running through her your veins, because the last thing she wanted was to make him sad.

“that’s it, baby. you are so pretty, my pretty girl.” he gave her a soft smile, slowly moving his hands from her knees to her thighs. he wanted to pull her close and hug her, but one time— and thank god for him and the one time jj actually listened to what he said— pope told him that when people had anxiety or panic attacks, most of the time they didn’t wanted to be touched. so, instead of being the usual impulsive jj he was with everyone, he took baby steps with her, not wanting to scare her or make her even more anxious.

her breath was slowly calming down, but the aching in your chest and the lump in her throat were still there, still feeling like she was going to suffocate any moment now, but jj pulled her out of her thoughts again.

“alright pretty girl, i need you to do something for me, ‘kay? i need you to take deep breaths with me, i know it’s hard but i’m here. you’re safe, i won’t let anything happen to you. breathe with me, baby.” his voice was so sweet and gentle, she actually thought she was going to cry because of how soft he was speaking to her and how he was trying to handle the situation. she nodded slightly, following his example as he took one deep breath and then exhaled. one deep breath and exhaled. inhale and exhale. and they went on, and on, until the tension she felt before started to leave her body, making her shoulders and back relax and her hands stop shaking.

jj didn’t say anything this time, he just looked as she regained consciousness of her surroundings. even though the attack was gone, it usually took hours before she could actually calm down completely. it was hard and she always handled them alone, but this time having him with her felt like a blessing from heaven.

feeling like she had just been pulled out of a dark hole, she launched herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. he let out a sigh as soon as he felt her flesh touch his own, his arms reaching for her hips and his face buried deep into the crook of her neck. they stayed like this for a almost twenty minutes. he only pulled her in tighter, not wanting to let go of her because he knew as long as she was into his arms, she was safe.

30 minutes later they were laying next to each other in the hammock, her head resting on his chest, the sound of his heart beating calming her, like a lullaby. his hands were both placed on her back, rubbing small circles against the thin fabric of her shirt.

jj really didn’t want to break the peacefulness that surrounded them, but he had to ask her why she never told him anything. he felt like he was failing at being her best friend. “why did you never tell me?” his voice was low, sounding almost like a whisper.

“i- i don’t know. i didn’t want to bother anyone, didn’t want to be a burden.” jj stopped moving his hands on her back, instantly lifting his head to look at her.

“okay, know that i’m not mad, but, firstly, i’m not anyone. i’m your best friend, you would never be a burden to me.” his hands moved to her cheeks, lifting her face. “i’ve been through hell and back these past weeks. not seeing you, not talking to you for more than 5 minutes on the phone, not touching you. it nearly killed me, y/n. i was always on the edge of a breakdown, constantly snapping at everyone because i didn’t know how you were doing. were you safe? were you alright? not knowing made me go insane.”

he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. he was pouring his heart out, which he never do, but he just felt like he had to do it now. “and i’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, that’s the last thing i want. i just wish for you to know how much you mean to me. you’re the most important person in my life, you’re my best friend, my ride or die, my partner in crime. you- you’re my first love, and hopefully you’ll be my last one too.”

her eyes went wide at his words, and honestly she thought she heard him wrong. “jj, what- what are you saying?”

“i know the night wasn’t perfect, but please just lemme say this now because i don’t know when i’ll get the same courage again. i love you, y/n. i love everything about you. i love that weird sound you make when you laugh too much, i love how your eyes shine when you’re talking about things you like, i love how after surfing your hair become all curly. hell, i love even the things you do that should piss me off, like when you throw away my joint because i’ve been smoking too much or when you scream at me because i got in a fight with some kooks again. i love you so much it physically hurts.”

her eyes were watery now, tears threatening to coming out in flows. she didn’t know what to say. because seriously, what do you say to someone who sees you as the most incredible human being, when you can’t even love a quarter of yourself?

you say nothing. but you can do something.

that’s why, in the quietness of the night, under the stars and while she was feeling at peace for the first time in weeks, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against it.

she wasn’t magically healed, she still had things to deal with. but now, she wasn’t on her own anymore.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (cunnilingus, piv, choking, degradation, slight sadism), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: again the high valyrian is internet translated so lol. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. might make another poll for next chapter stay tuned. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat

Taking you to the hidden stream was simultaneously the best and worst decision Erryk's ever made in his life. The look of you was holy. His intense focus on your form was to ensure your safety, but, by the gods, it felt sinful to behold your dark hair and light fabric ebbing in the water.

He had hoped a swim would lift your spirits, just as flower picking did, but he did not know it would draw such a tempest out of you. It was as though you were reborn. You plunged into the water and shed all your inhibitions. Your voice became brighter, as did your eyes. You were flooded with more than a dozen memories of you and your twin swimming in the river near your home in Oldtown, and you recounted all of them so excitedly to Erryk.

"Oh!' you exclaim, flipping in the water to get to your feet. You point to something behind your ward, making him turn around. In that split second, you hold in your laughter and grab something from the mossy rocks. Innocently, you say, "that reminds me of something."

Erryk turns back to you, brows knit in confusion. When you you make your way towards him, he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze. The shift you were swimming in was stuck flush on your body, leaving little to his imagination. He was glad to have the foresight to bring you a change of clothes and a towel, and, my, was the pattern on the said towel so very interesting.

"What is a frogs favorite game?" you ask so suddenly.

Erryk turns to you, brows furrowing, "pardon?"

"Tell me the frogs' favorite game, ser," you repeat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Frogs favored game?" he repeats slowly, realizing now that your expression was mockingly innocent. He hums, "I cannot say I-"

"HOPSCOTCH!"

A frog comes leaping into Erryk's face, nearly causing him to topple as he dodges it. He's so flabbergasted by the turn of events, he calls out your name in offence. He is doubly offended by your laughter. His eyes go wide as you hunch forward, leaning on your knees.

"Villain," your ward mutters, scoffing far too many times.

You can barely catch your breath. You fan your face, "frog-ive me."

Erryk's face only contorts further.

"I could not-" you gasp for air, "could not help it."

In truth, if it was any other who did such a childish thing, he'd have shoved them in the water. Alas, you appeared only more beauteous as you made him a fool.

"Forgive me," you repeat in more serious manner, "Gwayne used to scare me this way often. I wished only to know how it felt, and now..." you giggle, "I can't say I blame my brother for constantly pulling tricks on me."

He huffs and shakes his head, "well. I'm glad to have pleased you, my ever-so-kind princess."

You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."

Erryk shakes his head, "no. Truly. I am glad to see you in such a state."

You fidget with your fingers as a shiver runs down your spine.

He is quick to unravel your towel. He places it on your shoulders, "perhaps we should go back. The sunset is nigh."

You nod, taking your change of clothes from him next.

He turns around offering you your privacy. It takes a while, but you manage to dress yourself. Once you had your shoes on, you dry your hair with your towel and take his arm, "would you please lace up my dress?"

He nods, avoiding your gaze as he feels his face burn. He quickly laces you up then you return to the Keep.

You both had been laughing, up until you made it past the castle gates, promptly being silenced by the loud shout, "PRINCESS!"

Arryk runs over, charging for his brother. Their steel plates collide as Arryk yanks his twin, "where in gods name did you take her?"

Erryk furrows his brows, "we visited a stream-"

"The Keep is in disarray!" Arryk grits his teeth, hissing under his breath, "everyone's looking for her. Everyone."

You watch the twins huddle close and bicker. As it escalates, you try try to come between them, "Arryk. I was the one who asked him to take me outside the keep."

Arryk does not hear you at first, dead set on arguing with his twin. When you repeat your words the second time however, he turns to you, face softening a fraction. He knits his brows turning back to this brother, whispering something that makes Erryk turn to you with wide eyes, "fuck."

"Why?" you look at them in concern, "what it is?"

Arryk opens his mouth, but Erryk grabs his arm and says, "wait."

"There's no other way to say it," Arryk snaps, ripping his arm out his grip.

"Say what?" you knit your brows.

Arryk turns back to you, then lowers his gaze, "the queen... the queen has passed."

Your jaw drops. Your eyes widen. Your hand immediately covers your mouth. The three of you do not speak for a prolonged moment.

You feel your stomach roll, "w-what happened?"

"She could not deliver the babe herself. The maesters... had to intervene."

Intervene? You could not possibly understand what that could mean, and you find that you do not want to. You shake your head, "and her babe? Is- is her babe well at least?"

Arryk clenches his jaw, "she sired a prince named Baelon... he apparently grows weaker by the hour."

You feel bile rise up your throat.

"Your father and your siblings have been looking for you since news broke."

You shake your head, and gather your skirts.

"As has the prince."

Your face twitches at the thought. You do not delay and make your way inside the Keep.

As you tread the halls, you think about what the queen told you just mere hours ago. There is a sharp twinge in your belly as simultaneously remember how Aemma told you to go cheer for Daemon at the tourney and realize you will never hear a word from her ever again. The thought washes over you like water on the beach, sobering but thankfully not overwhelming.

You hadn't realized you had your head bowed until you hear your name called. You still as you look up, the twins halt behind you.

Otto marches over, brows and jaw tight as ever, "where in gods name have you been?"

You straighten your back as he stops before you, "I-"

"Your wards are double," he turns to the kingsguards, "and doubly useless, it seems."

"Father," you step into his line of sight, "do relieve your rage on them."

Your father turns back to you, expression softening a fraction at your referral. You had not called him father since your argument in the maester's office. He looks at you— takes a good look at you and your sad eyes, your knit brows, your frowning lips. Your hair was darker than it was normally, and as he reaches out for it, he found it was, in fact, damp, "where have you been?"

"I..." you gulp and take a deep breath, "went swimming."

He releases your hair, tilting his head, "with whom? Gwayne has gone."

You pull your head back, "G-Gwayne's gone?"

"The tourney is over. The road is long. He has no reason to stay," Otto says.

Your brows tighten as you shake your head, "he... he didn't... wait for me?"

Otto watches your lips quiver. He watches your nose twitch. When your chest begins to visibly rise and fall, he shakes his head, "what did I tell you?"

You stare blankly at him.

He takes your hands, "what is it I always tell you?"

You clench your jaw and huff through your nostrils, "do not waste your tears on things you cannot change."

Otto rubs your knuckles as he shakes his head again. He gives the Cargyll brothers a look before walking off with you. They make sure to keep their distance before following after.

You turn to your father as he links your arm into his. You are certain, with how he cannot look at you, that he means to tell you something grave. You look front and mimic his demeanor— distant, cold. You are his daughter, face and temperance.

"You enjoyed your swim at least?" he starts, "you are calm?"

You gulp, mentally preparing yourself for what will surely come next. Your voice still falters though, "ye-s."

Otto nods, still not turning to you, "many has occurred since your marriage to Daemon. You admitted you did not consummate your marriage on your wedding night and I was deeply concerned you would fail your duties in producing heirs, especially if your husband was not interested in you."

Your jaw clenches.

"But with the apparent... change of heart your husband has shown, you should know I've had the maesters closely monitor your state."

You knit your brows at that, "you mean my affliction?"

He speaks your name slowly before continuing, "as of yesterday, they have confirmed to me that you are with child."

You whip your head to him and pull away.

Otto does not look at you with the same sense of urgency.

"W-what?"

He sees the fear on your features. He offers a solemn expression and takes your cheeks when your eyes water, "this is good. You should delight, not tremble."

You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.

"The Queen is dead. Go to your husband and comfort him with this news."

Your mouth goes dry and your father wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. He your name softly. Your sad face looks the exact same it did when his wife died. My baby is having a baby. He frowns and pulls away.

You try to take his hand, but he slips away.

"See her off," the Hand instructs your wards.

Erryk is quick to go to your side, whereas Arryk stares at the back of Otto's head, his lips curling as he did.

"Princess," Erryk says, cautiously reaching your arm.

You turn to him with wide eyes before scratching your tears away, "I-"

"Perhaps you should sit down first."

You pull away from him before he can touch you. The action makes Erryk pull back, an unsavory sensation spreading in his mouth and belly.

"I want to- I—" you take a breath, "I need to find-" you shake your head and begin speeding down the hall.

You were nearly about to break into a sprint, and your wards had to jog up to your side to keep up with you. You don't really know where you're going, but you're getting there, fast.

"Princess, please, slow down," one says.

You can feel your breath and your pulse in your ears.

"Princess."

You find yourself in the halls near one of the gate of the keep. The only reason why you stop is because you hear the voice of your twin. Your breath catches as you lurch towards the window. Gwayne was laughing with one of the guards, already on his horse. Your brows furrow, he couldn't possibly be well enough to be riding on horseback.

You realize quickly this is your last opportunity to go be with your brother, to pull him into an embrace, to worry on him, to tell him your worries, to kiss him goodbye. You know you have to act now and swiftly, but you cannot seem to move.

Your mind is heavy as you think about how your brother is set to leave regardless of your desire to keep close; he said it himself, his place can never be at your side. Though he is the only person who've ever relied on, you know now— you rub your belly, that can no longer be the case. There is only one person you can rely on now... yourself.

It is painful to pull away from the window, but you do, clenching your hands into fists before walking away.

You don't really walk away however, because then, you're frozen in place at the sight of your husband standing a few paces away from you, "Daemon."

He stares at you wordlessly.

You walk towards him, careful as you drag your feet.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw, "he's leaving any moment now."

You nod, "I know."

"Go to him," he says softly.

"I-"

"Go to him!" he snaps.

You stiffen at his expression. You were adept with anger but he did not look angry. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sense of his restless figure.

Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.

"If it is your command, I shall obey."

He chuckles dryly, pacing around his spot. He wipes his mouth then charges over, stopping just in front of you. He scoffs when you do not flinch, in disbelief of your constitution. His nostrils flare, "you know my feelings towards your twin."

You slowly shrug, "then you'll be glad to know I came looking for you."

Daemon does not move.

"You know how I feel about my brother..." you mutter, "but..." you lower your gaze, "I'm coming to terms with the fact I can no longer rely on him... it will be better this way."

It takes a moment, but Daemon chuckles. When you look up and his smirk fades. Your beady eyes make it hard to find satisfaction. "So, you will not go to him?" he asks.

You stare.

"You do not want to go to him?"

Your lips part.

He raises his brows.

"I... I do."

Anger rises up his belly, but as if on cue, the sound of horses and carriages moving is heard. You clench your jaw and lower you gaze to prevent yourself from looking back at the window. The prince cannot seem to win, for he should be pleased you did not see your brother off, and yet your sadness leaves sour jealousy in his mouth— he was your husband.

The Cargyll twins look upon you both, appalled by the cruelty of the prince to keep you here as Gwayne leaves for good. Erryk in particular feels restless, unable to stop shifting and fidgeting with his scabbard.

"Shall... shall we go?" you mutter, slowly looking up.

Daemon watches you place a hand on his bicep. He responds only by following you after giving your wards a dismissive look.

The brothers turn to each other, each as unwilling as the other to leave you, but they do anyway.

Daemon is acutely aware of the warmth of your cheek against his arm as you tread down the halls. When, you arrive at your marriage chambers, Daemon opens the door and you notice the bandage wrapped around his hand. He struggles because of this. Once you're inside, you take his arm, eyes trained on his injury, "what happened to your hand?"

Daemon's eyes are fixed on the line between your brows.

"Did you break it?" you turn to him with furrowed eyes.

He pulls away slowly. He wants to know what you'd do next.

"Did you wrap it yourself? It's badly done."

He faintly snorts, "it's on my right hand."

"I'll do it for you," you say, walking towards the vanity.

Daemon follows, watching you procure scissors and vials and other things. You turn to him, motioning to the chair. He sits down, gaze fixed upon you as you take his arm again.

Your eyes are focused on undoing his wrap, "tell me if it hurts,"

His are fixed on your focused expression, "you should sit down."

"I'm fine."

"I want you to sit down," he uses his other hand to grab your wrist.

You stop and turn to him. You turn to the chair across the room but Daemon prevents you from doing so and simply spreads legs, pulling you between his thighs. Quickly, you are sat on his lap and tense look at him. He offers you his injured hand again as his other goes around you, clinging to your hip. He pulls you in, leaning his head against yours to say, "it's a cut, by the way."

You furrow your brows at his admission. You allow yourself a moment to relax before continuing your task. You find it is, in fact, a cut, deep and ugly, "did your lance splinter very badly?"

"No."

You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,

"This is glass."

"Glass?" you brow raise, "how did you hurt your hand with glass?"

Daemon licks his lips as he looks at yours. He shrugs, "I broke a bottle."

You pull your head back, "on accident?"

"On purpose," he tilts his head.

You huff and start cleaning his wound, "was the violence in the tourney insufficient?"

He chuckles through his nostrils, "I did not fucking win."

You smear balm on his wound. You do not reply.

It makes him clench his jaw, "and you..."

"..."

"You were not there."

You do not tear your gaze from his injury.

He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"

You lift your gaze then raise brow at him, "you did not want me there. Do you not recall how you cursed at me?"

Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.

You continue wrapping up his hand.

"Well, you were being a bitch," he snaps.

"Why?"

His brows furrow.

"Why was I being a bitch?"

"..."

You spare him a quick glace.

He pulls his head back, "... what?"

"Did I not do my duty?" you turn to him, face blank, "I followed you, congratulated you, inquired of your injuries. I submitted to your desires. Where did I err?" You ask in earnest, "what do you want from me?"

His face contorts. Now that he was faced with such an opportunity, he finds himself unable to speak. What did he want from you?

You wait for him to reply. You prepare yourself for preposterous requirements but you are met only his silence. In that moment, you remember he was just a man. Many a man enjoyed making women suffer. You gulp, thinking about your father.

Perhaps your father was lying. Perhaps he wants you to believe you are with child to get even. After all, Daemon never... finished in you. How then could you be with child?

You secure the binding on his hand, "it is finished."

Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.

"How do you feel?"

He feels a strong urge to shake you... to pull you close.

"My deepest sympathies for the death of your cousin."

He freezes. Right. The queen was dead. He lowers his gaze.

You frown and reach for his cheek. You second guess however and bring your palm to his shoulder instead, "I am here for you, my prince."

His eyes meet yours.

"I am here to care and comfort you."

He leans back, taken by the thought.

You drink in his demeanor, the softness in his eyes, the tension that falls of his shoulders. You release a breath, "if that is what you desire, speak plainly, and do not repel me. Do not ask me to leave if, in fact, you want me to stay."

His throat tightens. He feels like he is ensnared in a bear trap. He rips at his collar, "I... I have other injuries." He pushes you off and paces around as he undoes his top. It is a struggle for him, but he cannot stop or stay still, "cuts and bruises."

You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.

"I don't-"

"Daemon."

He stills.

You come in front of him and undo his top yourself. You drop it mindlessly, and once he is bare, he feels conscious under your scrutiny for some reason. You brush your fingers on his ribs, making goosebumps form on his skin. He can't say that that has ever happened to him before. You notice and rub his arms, eyes locked on his torso.

He feels himself getting hard.

"Did you tend to these yourself as well?" you brush over a cut on his hip.

Oh. You were still examining him. He only hums in response.

You frown, "did no maester come to your tent?"

"I..." he starts.

You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.

"...wanted you to come to my tent."

You come to his side. He finds the frown on your face. You take a moment before saying, "you tended to your wounds well at least."

"I want you."

You nod, "I will tend to you—"

Daemon takes your nape, lowering his head to kiss your lips. It takes a moment for you to relax, and his belly burns at the sound you make when you do. Your hands come to his sides and your nails graze faintly into his flesh.

He pushes you back until your laid on the bed beneath him. His kisses trail down your skin as he works to get you naked. He kisses your shoulder, then your sternum. He makes sure to lick your breast and leave a mark on your rib before peppering kisses down your belly.

Your breath grows heavy when he lingers by your womb, sucking kisses on your skin. Your throat tightens think of your father's words again. It makes you tense, and Daemon feels it. Of course, he doesn't know about your conversation with Otto, and thinks your tension comes from your self-consciousness.

You lift your head, pulling a pillow beneath it, and look down at your husband. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, "Daemon."

He hums, nipping your flesh in response.

You try to sit up, "D-Daemon, I-"

He shushes you, pushing down on your hip bone. He looks up at you, muttering something in High Valyrian.

"Please, Daemon, wait-"

"Be still," he says, violet eyes hooded, "do I not take care of you?"

Your breath hitches as he sinks down.

"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"

"I- that's not-"

"Do you or do you not?"

"I... I do—"

You are not able to speak after he buries his face between your thighs. You are reduced to breathy cries and a twisting spine. Daemon, though he continues to hold you down, relishes every second of it and feasts more ardently. He sighs, securing your thighs on his shoulders, nudging his face deeper into you, his nose brushing against your pearl.

He relishes how quickly your wetness builds, and soon, he feels your arousal dribbling down his chin. He moans, nails biting crescent moons into your skin. Your belly rises and falls in sync with the crescendo of your mewls. At this point, both your hands are tangled into his hair, and your pulling and scratching only further inspires his tongue.

You call out his name, screwing your eyes shut as you throw your head back and arch your body. Quickly, your belly tightens and you sequentially dig your heels into his shoulder blades. He squeezes your thighs enough to make them bruise, and yet the pain is what pushes you into orgasm, garnering a lewd and loud sound from your mouth.

Daemon hums, lifting his face just enough to see yours as he brings you to peak. He moans at your expression, grinding his hips into the cushion, desperate for friction.

Your body trembles, unable to settle as his burning mouth persists on your molten mound. You begin to squeak and he catches the moment you open your eyes to look at him all teary. It drives him mad. With a deep inhale, he pulls away, wiping his chin before he undoes his breeches.

You relax and catch your breath, hands dropping to your sides.

Daemon watches you, your trembling legs glistening with the pleasure he's drawn out. He can feel himself throbbing in his pants. You watch as he hastily frees himself. Though your head was hazy and your body was tried, your belly burned at sight of the sticky liquid dripping down your husband's neck.

"Fuck, Daemon," you reach for his belly. You trace his defined muscles with your finger tips. He snatches your hands when he finally pushes his pants down.

You squeak when he pushes you to your side, one hand on your shoulder, another hiking your leg up by the knee. You whine as he folds you into the sheets just before sliding his hardened cock in your wet cunt.

He hisses, leaning down to your neck. His words are hot against your skin, but you understand nothing.

Whatever tenderness he had before was gone, now he was just fucking you like a rabid animal. Daemon could not help himself, he loved how supple and pliable you were, and twists you into a form that keeps you prone. When the bed begins to creak because of his thrusts, he holds you down where your neck and collarbone meet. He puts enough pressure to restrict your breathing, but not enough to choke out your pretty noises.

At some point, he decides your leg is getting in the way and pushes you flat on your chest. He then gathers you by the hip, hiking you up enough to fuck you nicely from behind.

His thrusts are more intense now. You scream into the cushion as you find your elbows. Before you can prop yourself up though, he's pinning you down by the shoulder, saying something in High Valyrian again.

"D-Daemon," you whine, left cheek smushed against your pillow. You could feel your next climax building quickly.

He responds by rubbing your clit, drawing tears and another scream out of you because of your sensitivity.

You feel yourself helplessly clenching and unclenching around him, absolutely boneless under his vigorous intrusion. You could feel your knees slipping but Daemon's grip on you would not see you move from your position. Your toes curl. Saliva drips out your open mouth.

"Māzigon va, riña," he snorts, "sepār mirrī angotan tolī." Come on, girl. Just a little bit more."

You do not understand, so you only whine out, "Daemon."

Daemon growls and rubs one side of your ass, "you're doing so good for me."

He spanks you, but that's not what makes your eyes open.

"Milk my cock with your tight cunny, come slut."

You begin to grit your teeth.

"I want to see my seed dripping down your thighs," he groans, mind unable to focus on anything but the hot, wet slapping of your skin.

It's unsurprising that you come first, as Daemon always assures you do to underscore his control and dominance over you. He yelps out a sharp fuck, nearly coming in your cunt because of how your body seizes up around him. Your orgasm overwhelming, yet your eyes water for more than this reason. His words make you aware your husband sees you nothing more as a vessel for pleasure, and your pleasure is regretfully cut short because of how sharply he pulls out, his load spraying on your already dripping labia and pubic hair.

He strokes himself a few times, feeling his cock twitch in his hand as he watches your mixed come trickle down your legs. He sighs, "fuck," then scoops the cream in two fingers, plunging it in and out your still spasming cunt.

You squeal when he finger fucks you, body unable to remain upright. You are grateful he loses interest rather quickly and crumble into the bed as he stands.

You watch him walk over to the drawer, where he then pours himself some wine. You gulp, remembering your dream from last night. It sobers you out your high. You clench your jaw and roll over to clean yourself up. You head to your vanity and wipe yourself down, grabbing your robe was you do.

Daemon, whose thirst was now quenched, turns back to you with a towel. He is confused to see you standing. He watches you flip your hair behind you, pulling it out of your robe, which you then secure around yourself. He knits his brows as he walks over, "what are you doing?"

You turn to him, sitting on the vanity chair, "getting ready for bed."

Daemon stares, and you take his prolonged silence as an indication to proceed with your nightly routine.

The prince squeezes the damp towel in his hand as he watches you brush your hair. You catch his stillness from the mirror and turn back to him, "oh."

You drop your brush and take the towel from him, "I'll help you clean up."

Normally, he enjoyed this, but right now, he can't. He is offended when you begin to pick up his clothes, so much that he scoffs, "the fuck are you doing?"

You halt midway picking up his trousers. You stand and turn to the closet, "ah. Did you want new clothes?"

He pulls his head back, no longer offended, but hurt, "you want me to leave?"

You are caught off guard by his question. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. You could not identify his expression, so you did not know if you tell him the truth. You would not survive being berated after confessing you wanted to sleep with him. You dodge the answer altogether, "weren't you leaving anyway?"

Daemon's cheeks tense. He huffs, stepping forward, yanking his clothes out of your hands, "no."

You are bewildered by his actions, for to you, his actions are sudden. You are petrified in fear, which is why you instinctively begin to apologize, "f-forgive me, I-I-"

His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.

"I-" you motion with a hand, "- you always leave."

His clenches his jaw, "do you want me to leave?"

"I—" your throat tightens and soon you can no longer look at him. You want to beg him to stay, but you recall how you did that with your father, and your mother, and your brother— begging does not make people stay. You whisper, "I... I'm terrified."

When you lift your gaze, Daemon shirks and decided to dress. He gulps as he pulls his trousers up, turning back to you. He clenches his fist before reaching out for you.

Your heart races as he takes your hand.

"You've served me well. If you are terrified... I'll leave you."

You whimper when he pulls away, holding him tighter than he did before your hands part. Your lips quiver. He knits his brows. You shake your head, "I- I... I do not want you to go."

He is taken off guard by how you suddenly embrace him.

"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."

He turned to stone. He cannot seem to move at all but your arms are determined to stay around him. You begin to weep against his skin and he can feel your breath grow ragged. Only then does he manage to return your affection.

He brushes your dark hair away from your face and cradles you against him.

"Daemon."

He leans into you, enough to be able to brush his cheek against yours, "kesan umbagon." I will stay.

You sniffle then sigh. After a while, you ask, "what does that mean?"

"I will stay."

You sigh again, pulling away to look at him. You offer him a sad smile, "thank you."

He frowns, wiping your tears.

When you go back to bed, you offer him space in case you've made him uncomfortable. He stares at you, awaiting your embrace. You are mere inches apart but it feels like yards and yards.

"Good night, husband," you say before turning over.

He chuckles dryly, staring at your dark hair. He turns to the ceiling, "good night."

[demonpiratehuntress]

anxious

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - you're very anxious and prone to panic attacks, and your boyfriend seems to forget that after a bad mission.

warnings - a little bit of angst, mean and kind of toxic Ace, hurt/comfort, panic attack triggers (or at least they are for my anxiety, idk about you guys but a warning anyway), implied but not confirmed cheating (Ace)

You were just trying to be thoughtful.

You hadn't known his mission had gone so sour.

It was a harmless surprise, and you hadn't known that he felt so strongly about it.

"SURPRISE!"

His expression went from anger, to shock, and back to anger in the span of ten seconds as he realised what was happening. One look at the decorations and the cake confirmed it.

"(Name), what is this?" Ace's hard gaze turned on you.

You shrunk back a little ,not used to being on the receiving end of that look, "You never celebrate your birthday, so I wanted-"

"There's a reason I don't!" He raised his voice, making you flinch.

"I-I'm sorry-" You started, panic flooding your body. "I didn't-"

"Think? No, you didn't," he cut you off harshly. "If you were thinking, you would have asked me first!" Small flames flickered on several parts of his body as he stepped closer, glaring menacingly.

At the first sign of your body trembling, Marco stepped between the two of you, "Ace, stop."

You felt humiliated. The rest of the crew had seen everything, and your face burned with embarrassment. You shook slightly, the panic growing until you became unsteady and stumbled, catching yourself on the wall.

You turned and fled, hot tears streaming down your face.

You barely made it into the room before you couldn't take it anymore, your entire frame shaking so violently you couldn't keep your balance. You fell to your hands and knees, unable to breathe as you sobbed.

Someone came in behind you, and you made out a figure trying to help you up, but you couldn't tell who it was before you passed out.

-

You woke up in your bed, but with an empty spot beside you. You frowned deeply - Ace hadn't slept here with you last night. He was never that upset with you, he always craved your touch regardless.

You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You felt horrible, not just emotionally but physically too. Still, you got up to get ready.

Your first action was to find Marco, because if Ace hadn't come back last night then it must have been the doctor who put you in your bed. Which you were grateful for, but embarrassed about.

"(Name)! How are you feeling?" He offered you a warm smile when you eventually found him.

"Better," you admitted, "But..."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not you who needs to apologise," you sighed. "But anyway, thank you for helping me last night. Have you seen Ace?" The moment you saw Marco's expression, your anxiety returned. "What?"

"(Name)..." He sighed. "I shouldn't tell you."

"Why?" But even as you asked, unease gnawed at you slowly and made you uncertain you wanted to know the answer.

Before Marco could answer, someone's shout from outside made you freeze up.

"Ace, there you are! Finally made it back from the bar? With all those pretty women that were surrounding you, we feared the worst!"

It was a harmless joke to the crewmate who'd spoken, but those words crushed whatever hope you were holding onto that you could talk to Ace about what happened.

Marco quickly went to close the door, "You can stay here if you'd prefer not to see him." He eyed your trembling hands, then added, "I think it would be best if I go talk to him."

All you could do was nod, before you had to force yourself to sit down. The anxiety you felt increased tenfold, making your head spin. The dizziness worsened, to the point that you felt as if you were going to faint again. You tried breathing in and out deeply, but that failed and the tears came before you could stop them.

How could one small issue, that could have been talked through rationally, cause this much hurt?

When you eventually ran out of tears and stopped shaking, you decided you'd had enough. Ignoring Marco's suggestion to stay there, you left his room and left the ship, going onto the island it was docked at.

Acting as if you didn't hear the confused calls and shouts of your concerned crewmates behind you.

A hand closed around your wrist before you could get too far, and without thinking you swivelled around and punched your assailant square in the nose.

Ace let go and stumbled back, a surprised and pained grunt leaving his lips as he covered his sore appendage, "I deserve that."

"What do you want?" You asked emotionlessly, arms crossed.

"To apologise," he looked up at you, guilt clear in his eyes. Hurt and panic joined it when he reached for you again but you flinched away from him. A first.

"For insulting me or for going to be with other girls on your birthday?" You snapped, crossing your arms.

His guilt worsened, "I...both."

"This is the worst apology I've ever heard."

"Look, I'm sorry," he pleaded, "I'm really, really sorry. You didn't make me upset, you never do. I was just...the mission went bad, and I barely got out of there and I was just so frustrated that I couldn't see or think straight. And I ended up hurting the person I love the most because of it." He stepped closer slowly, shoulders sagging in relief when you didn't move away. "I know it's not an excuse, and I feel so, so horrible for being the cause of a panic attack...But please let me make it up to you, I want to celebrate my birthday with you. You're the reason I want to celebrate it now. Please..."

The sincerity of his words and the pain in his eyes were enough to convince you that he was truly sorry. You sighed, finally letting your guard back down and taking his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I forgive you, just...don't do it again. If you do I will throw you into the ocean."

His eyes lit up and he engulfed you in the tightest of hugs, "Deal!"

He sucked up to you hard the following few days, doing anything and everything you asked. He knew the crew took advantage of that and asked you to tell him to do certain things, but he never protested because he knew he had a lot to make up for.

He brought you breakfast in bed, forcing himself to wake up earlier than he would usually just to get you food for when you woke up. He made the bed and cleaned the room, organised your clothes and attended to you every need.

Because the thing about Ace is that he cares deeply, and loves even deeper. If he hurts someone he loves more than anything, he doesn't forgive himself easily and he grovels, hard. Even if you've already forgiven him.

But that's what you loved most about him, his passion for and commitment to the ones he loves.

[satorusugurugurl]

Til’ the Day that I Die

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: (PLEASE READ) mentions of anxiety, serious stalking, panic attacks, language, mentions of knives, some upsetting mentions of unauthorized photographs

Word Count: 4,457

A/N: Here’s the long awaited part two!! Oof this wrote itself!! 😈

Part One Part Three Part Four

“So yeah, that whole conversation you listen to with me telling my manager to tag the hospital in my video because that hospital inspired this song! It was a public service announcement, a reminder to help those who can’t help themselves!” You were fuming with anger at this bodyguard making some cold assumptions about you. One thing you wanted to do was use your stance in the public eye for good. God, you couldn’t stand assholes like him! Dicks who presumed they know everything and anything about you! “And another thing—!”

The next words didn’t have a chance to leave your mouth as the doors to the elevator opened to your apartment. The automatic lights you were so accustomed to being on were now off, which sent shivers down your spine, your sixth sense alerting you that something was wrong. Toji, the one facing forward, could see into your apartment, and he moved it before you even had a chance to look inside. When you asked him what was wrong, he remained silent, only shaking his head as the elevator doors shot and began ascending down.

That had been thirty minutes ago, and the once silent lobby was now bustling with police cars and passersby. They all stopped to take in the scene that was unfolding. Their peering eyes and camera flashes didn’t bother you in the slightest; that was something you were used to. It was not knowing what had happened in your apartment that set your anxiety off.

Toji's sighed and kept his eyes focused solely on you as a sleek black car pulled up to the police line. He recognized your managers hurrying out of the car and rushing towards you. Geto was the first to reach you, grabbing your shoulders, his eyes scanning you for injuries. Gojo was only a few feet behind his husband, sitting on the curb next to you, his arm draping over your shoulders as you visibly relaxed at their presence. Toji had unfortunately been in this line of work for a fairly long time and had seen his fair amount of lowlife managers, but with your manager's empathetic actions, your bodyguard knew you had lucked out with a great team.

So maybe he shouldn’t have judged you so quickly.

“What happened? Are you okay?!”

“We would’ve been here sooner, but traffic was a bitch.”

You took a deep breath, reaching up to touch Suguru's hand, which rested on one of your shoulders. “I’m okay; I don’t know if I could say the same about my apartment, though.” your friends shared a look that clearly communicated words without speaking.

“But you’re not physically hurt?” Satoru asked in a smooth, almost relaxed tone.

“No, I'm okay.”

“Oh, thank fuck, we thought it was worse.”

Something inside Toi’s chest snapped as he whirled around. “Worse?” he questioned, a black brow twitching. “This is one of the worst-case scenarios!” he stomped his suit, straining against his broad muscles as he pointed back toward the apartment building. “This bastard got into her apartment building undetected and was in her personal space for who knows how long.” You watched as Satoru removed his arm from around you, holding his hands up in front of him.

“I-I just thought it was good because she wasn’t hurt!”

“You’re lucky she wasn’t hurt! If she had been in the apartment when this asshole was there, you might not be looking at a fucked up breaking and something. How did you put it? Worse!”

Toji’s actions from the instant he saw your apartment to when you both were calling the police had gone from cocky, lazy full of attitude bodyguard to full-on protective mode. His eyes were constantly roaming around. If anyone approached you, he stood in front of you, making sure he listened to any questions they asked, or if they tried to hand you something, he looked at it first before deeming it safe for you to look at. This man standing before you had made a complete change, and you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel safe. This was the first time since the appearance of your stalker that you felt like you might be okay.

“Fucked up break-in?” Your dark-haired manager questioned his dark eyes, glancing in your direction, drawing you out of the thoughts that you had been distracting yourself with. “Just how bad was it?”

You swallowed at your slightly dry throat. “I-I don’t know.” you could feel the weight of their gaze crushing you.

“You don't know?”

“I wouldn’t allow her to see it,” Toji added in for you, sensing the growing stress in your chest. “ I refuse to let her see what’s inside.”

You fought against the rise of nausea that washed over you as Satoru and Suguru gave you concerned deluxe. You weren’t sure what thoughts were whirling around inside their hands, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know. Even though you were certain those thoughts revolved around what could have happened inside your apartment.

You didn’t want to know what he had seen that had him in such an alert state. The fact that he had covered your eyes, refusing to allow you to see what he had, didn’t leave you curious or eager to discover what happened, but you knew God. You knew it was going to be something you would have to see. Because you were out of your anxiety medication, and there were a few things in your apartment you wanted to retrieve, and there were certain things you didn’t want anyone else looking for.

“I-I’m going to see; I need to see it.” Your voice was barely audible, but whether it was because of his height and skills as a bodyguard or the fact that he was an earshot, you weren’t sure, but around, staring down at you as if you had just verbally insulted him, his mother, and his ancestors. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

“There’s no way you just said that,” Toji swore before crouching in front of you as Suguru stood up, giving you space. “Please tell me my ears are still ringing from your concert, and I didn’t hear you say you need to see the state of your apartment. There is no way you just told me that; you can’t be that stupid.”

“Okay, for starters, I’m not stupid.” you snapped, eyes narrowing at the larger man before you. “I have to grab a few things that are in there.”

“I’ll grab them for you.” Toji barked back, glaring daggers into your eyes.

“I don't want you digging through my stuff.”

Through his head back with a laugh, his eyebrows furrowing together before he leaned closer towards you, closing the distance. “Sweetheart, I hate to break this, but somebody already has gone through all of your stuff.” his words struck you like hail in a raging storm with the terrifying reminder that someone had been in your home going through your things. But you didn’t appreciate the attitude he had behind his tone.

“Fuck you.” the words that left your mouth were like venom, but they seemed not to affect him. “I need to get some stuff. I don’t care what the state of my apartments is in.”

“Oh, trust me, you won’t like it. So no, you’re not going up there.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No—”

“She needs to grab more of her medication.” Suguru finally snapped in, putting a stop to the bickering. “That’s why she needs to go up there.” the look you gave your friend didn’t phase him. “My girls give me nastier than that, so keep it up. It doesn’t bother me. I want to get you out of here as soon as possible, but bickering isn’t moving along.”

So you took medication for the anxiety you Toji could see etched into your features earlier. His navy blue eyes glance down at your hands, watching your index and middle fingers twitch. You were fighting off one, and if it was this bad, you were most definitely going to need your medication. That still didn’t mean Toji was so keen on taking you upstairs.

“I can grab it for you. He said in a much softer tone that he would often use with Megumi. “Can you tell me where they are?”

“It’s upstairs in my closet.” Before Toji could even question why you would keep it there, you sighed. “Inside my safe—” You ignored the look he gave you, and you stood up instead. “I have people coming in all the time, and I don’t need anyone telling the paparazzi I have terrible anxiety. People do about anything and everything to have five minutes of fame.”

Toji shook his head, standing with you. “And I’m going to assume you’re not gonna tell me the code?” You just gave him the sweetest smile you could muster, one that was often reserved for the paparazzi.

“Seeing that you need my thumb to open it, I would rather keep it attached to my hand. I’m going to have to go with you.”

Toji did not like this. He didn’t want you to see the horrors that awaited you on the third floor of the building. He also knew that he was limited to options at this point. You were stubborn, stubborn as he was, and there was no point in fighting with you—not when you needed to go upstairs to open your safe. With a reluctant sigh, Toji motioned back towards the building.

“Let's fucking go; Geto’s right. We need to think about getting you out of here as soon as possible.”

You tried to keep a calm face, especially since you were already on the verge of a panic attack, and the flashing from the cameras didn’t help. The last thing you needed for this story to go public. You could see the headlines already! ‘New Rising Popstar Has a Stalker?!’ Or ‘New Popular Popstar Home Vandaliszed!’ Plus, if you were to slip up and let your mask slip, revealing the anxiety-ridden girl underneath, that would give anyone who knew you an opportunity to run to the press with information regarding your performance anxiety. Anyone would rush at the chance to spill the beans about how you put on a persona, and you weren’t the person that everyone believed you to be.

That sounded about as entertaining as this whole fiasco has been. So it was better for you to keep a straight face and head to your apartment. Suguru and Toji, the sooner you leave, the better.

Your managers had insisted on coming with you both up to your floor; that way, they could help you pack some bags and collect the things you may miss in the state of panic. You would most likely find yourself when you look inside the apartment. You would have to make a mental note to get an extra prescription to keep with your managers or keep your child home or somewhere else that wasn’t in a safe in your apartment that was supposed to be guarded around the clock but had somehow broken into. Unfortunately, you would have to consider doing this; it was like adding another cog to the clock, which was your busy life.

As you rode the elevator up to your apartment, thoughts of what to do and how to do it, plotting, planning, and preparing, were at the forefront of your mind. Thinking of stupid, mundane things to add to your already busy life had been the perfect distraction you needed. Otherwise, your mind would’ve been reeling with different scenarios or visions of how you pictured your apartment.

Was it trashed, spray painted on the walls, or did they go through your underwear drawer and throw them all over the place after doing terrible things with them? Were your beta fish still alive? Had your stalker destroyed all the books you had collected over the years? There were countless possibilities of what had occurred within those walls, and each time you came up with the scenario, you thought back to Toji’s reaction. You weren’t sure if the things you were thinking about were enough to start a man of his physique and demeanor.

The only thing you were sure of was that whatever awaited you was enough to make you never want to return.

The dinging from the elevator sounded as you reached your floor. You took a deep breath, lifting your head, only to come face-to-face with your bodyguard's chest. Your eyes roamed up the tight button shirt to his face, where he looked down at you with a weary look.

“It’s not a pretty sight. I’ve never seen anything like this before. So if it gets too much for you to handle or if you can’t handle it, you tell me, I’ll cover your eyes, and we’ll head straight to your closet, okay?”

“It’s that bad?” You asked, not knowing if you wanted the answer.

“Yes.”

You had made it a point that you needed to come up here and see what this had done to your home. If you were to turn around and decide you didn’t need the meds that would keep you calm and your mind clear, you most likely would’ve already turned around and begged to be brought back to the lobby. But as hard as you wished and dreamed that would be the case, you were close to losing it. You could feel the anxiety creeping up, wrapping its tendril fingers into your chest, constricting your airway. If you didn’t take your meds fast, you were going to break down, and that wasn’t going to speed up the process of getting you away from the apartment any faster.

‘They’re the best.’

Nanako had assured you just hours before. You needed to have faith in the bodyguard your managers, some of your closest friends, had picked out for you. Inhaling deeply through your nose, you shut your eyes tight before nodding your head once; you needed to go through with this, and if it became too much to handle or if you found yourselves spiraling down the drain oven anxiety attack, you could tell Toji. Assuring you he would be there for you gave you the strength to look into his eyes.

“I understand; if it becomes too much for me to handle, I’ll tell you, I promise.”

There was a glint in your eyes, one full of determination that Toji wasn’t expecting to see. But behind that determination, he could still see your finger shaking despite you doing your absolute best to try and conceal it. While he didn’t know much about you, you were pretty easy to read, and he couldn’t have been more about you with his first assumption. And he was glad about that. Because you would have to be strong to live with the sight you were about to see.

With a deep breath, Toji stepped to the side, allowing you to see your apartment for the first time in days. But it hardly looked like your apartment. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth as you stepped back further into the elevator.

How was this the same place you called home?

Thousands of pictures hung from the fifteen-foot ceiling on fluorescent red strings. From the back of the elevator, you could see that the pictures hanging from the strings were all photos of you. Pictures of you at your shows, sipping coffee at a café, shopping with your face mask on, covering your mouth and nose. There were photos of you and your family eating at a restaurant together—pictures of you at the gym working out, grocery shopping, stepping into your shower, naked.

But the pictures weren’t even the worst part. Your couch had been overturned and looked as though someone had a hunting knife to the cushions, carving in the initial of your first name, followed by a large X and an M. Red hearts had been scribbled all over your walls and floor, coffee table, couch, recliner. You could only hope that it was paint and not blood. But the piece of resistance was the mannequin facing the elevator entrance, dressed in one of your lacey undergarment sets—a wig sat on top of the mannequin head that resembled your hair type and color to the tea. But the mannequin didn’t have a face. Instead, a camera with a crevice where the face would usually be. And around its neck hung a piece of paper, with ‘I See You!” Written in the same red substance that covered your walls.

“Holy fuck.” Satoru whispered, overlooking the state of your once beautiful apartment. “I-I don’t even know what to say.”

“Is that still recording?” Suguru asked, glaring at the dummy. “Why haven’t the polic—”

“We’re working on dusting for fingerprints at the current moment.” A calm, soothing voice announced from further inside. Somehow, you had harnessed the strength to step inside the apartment, not wanting to be held down by the chains of disbelief and shock. “Please make sure not to touch anything if you can.”

You saw a man in a finely tailored suit approaching your group when you looked up. He wore white gloves on his hands and held a notebook. The detective was handsome, with well-trimmed blonde hair and a tie fastened perfectly. The man standing before you took care of himself, and from his body language, you could tell that he took his job very seriously.

“Hey, Nanami.” Toji greeted.

“Zen’in, good to see—”

“Nah, I go by Fushiguro. Took my wife's last name.”

“Ah, apologies, I hadn't realized.”

A certain amusement seemed to swell in your chest as you glanced between the two men. You didn't realize your bodyguard was married. He didn't have a wedding band on, and from his harsh tongue, you weren't sure if he had much experience talking to someone, but it seemed like you were wrong.

While you were trying to imagine what Toji’s wife looked like, honey-brown eyes clashed with your far-off gaze, snapping you back to reality. “And what can I help you with? We’re still investigating and looking through the security footage. So, as of right now, I sadly have no information for you.” As quickly as those words left Nanami, Toji jumped in.

“We just wanted to grab some things from her safe and some clothes. Then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Nanami pulled his phone out to make sure his fellow officers and detectives were done with your room. Waiting for a response felt like sinking into water, and the photos that hung around you were like the current pulling you further under the surface. Seeing yourself in those pictures doing mundane tasks felt so dirty and wrong. You felt violated in ways that your heart had your heart squeezing.

“Fuckin’, is that our office building at the entrance to our house?” Satoru‘s disbelief pulled you back to the surface.

“Yeah, it is,” Suguru confirmed, looking at the photo his husband was motioning to.

Thoughts of their girls flashed through your mind, and it wasn’t just them. Your concern for all your friends and family twisted your stomach into knots of dread. Your stalker had been everywhere you usually went, from the photos hanging around you. Your schedule, habits, and favorite places to go had been documented and hung from your ceiling. In a way, it conveys what the mannequin just outside the elevator said. ‘I See You.’

This person has been watching you for God knows how long, and since they know pretty much everything you do to everyone you talk to, he leaves you feeling dirty and clean. You want to do nothing more than jump into the shower and scrub your skin raw to rid yourself of the film you felt wrapping around your body. You want to clean yourself of the fear, pain, and harsh reality that you had inadvertently put the people you loved in danger.

If your stalker went to such extreme lengths when it came to vandalizing your apartment, just how far would they go if your loved ones were to try to prevent him from drawing closer to you? Would they take further actions to harm you and everyone you loved? Dealing with a stalker was something you hadn’t anticipated happening—something you didn’t want to happen. Yet here you were, stuck with the unknown reality of what would fall upon you and the people you cared for.

“Hey.” the warmth of a hand gently grabbed your wrist and made a soft gesture. “Did you hear that?”

No, you haven’t heard anything but your thoughts. They had been buzzing so loudly, like an agitated hive of hornets. “Uhm, no, I’m sorry I didn’t.” Instead of annoyance or irritation, Toji gave you a gentle smile.

“Nanami said we can grab a few of your things.” Knowing that you would be able to get a hold of your medication relieved the tension in your spine. That brief relief allowed you to hurry up the stairs, fighting against the harsh, crushing reality you had found yourself in.

The second story of your apartment was in the same status as the first floor. Red hearts covered the walls and floor. Books from your office have been thrown around, but thankfully, they were still intact, and more photos hung from the ceiling. Your bedroom was a total mess. Clothes have been thrown around. The bed had been messed up. It seems the stalker had taken the same hunting next to your mattress. So you’ll have to buy a new one and sheets, fearing what might have happened to your once clean bed. Seeing the state your room was left in, your stomach was doing flips.

Unlike the main living area and office, your bedroom and bathroom are more intimate. Knowing someone was inside made your skin crawl with fear. It was wrong on so many levels, leaving you feeling claustrophobic. But you didn’t have time to process the loaded motions fully.

You rushed to the closet, opened the safe, and collected your medication while Suguru and Satoru packed a bag for you with some seemingly untouched clothes. Toji kept his guard up, not faulty, even though detectives and officers surrounded you. Seeing him so alert still left you feeling safe, even if this was one of the worst nights of your entire life.

But thankfully, the four of you were fast, and before you knew it, you were heading back down to the main lobby. The prospect of escaping the nightmare had you relax as you followed your managers to their car. You were so happy you were finally getting out of there. The crowd of spectators had grown, and it would only be a matter of time before someone took a photo of you by accident.

“Alright, let's get you back to the house.” Suguru opened the door to the backseat for you, and you were about to crawl in when Toji reached out, preventing you from moving. “Fushiguro, we need to get going—”

“She can't go there.”

“Uhm, yes, she can,” Satoru added, walking to the driver's side. “And if we don't get her out of her, there's a risk she could get recognized, and this isn't the publicity she needs.”

Toji seemed to ignore the words leaving your PR manager's mouth. “She was photographed at your office and home, right?” Silence grows between the four of you; the only sound is the growing crowd. “If she's not here, he can check for her at the gym or her parents’ house.” Toji shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Any place that was photographed is compromised. She's not safe at any of those places.” The truth of his words crushed you, leaving you feeling weak in the legs as you tried to think of anywhere you could stay.

“So what? We book her a hotel?”

“No, it's too risky, not secure enough.”

“This is ridiculous. I have a security system. She’ll be fine at our house.”

“As her bodyguard, I highly disagree.”

“As her friend, I assure you she’ll be safe with us.” Invisible streaks of lightning flashed between Satoru and Toji, the tension and testosterone growing between them.

You tightened your grip on your bag, gnawing at your bottom lip. “He’s right. I can't stay with you guys.” Suguru frowned, shaking his head as he gently grabbed your free hand. His lips parted to speak, but you quickly shook your head. “I can't put you and the girls at risk.” Satoru looked as though he was seconds away from throwing you into the car himself as you took a step back. “I-I can't put any of you at risk. You saw my couch and my bed; this person is dangerous.” The silence was nearly palpable, meaning they knew you were right.

“Okay—? So what the fuck are you going to do? It's not like you have a lot of choices! You can't stay here or in a hotel.”

“She’ll stay with me,” Toji announced, taking your bag from you.

You blinked once, your jaw dropping open before you shut it. “Huh?” You had misheard him; there was no way he said that.

“I said you can stay with me.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

Til’ the Day Tag List: (AGE MUST BE IN BIO MDNI)

@justagirl-with-aphone @flowerpot113 @elitesanjisimp @fandomtrash5092

[lotusunique]

The Engagement pt.3

Armando Aretas x Black Fem! Reader

Hey guys I know this took a little while to come out but like I said, nothing but the best for my readers!

With that being said, this has strong themes of toxic relationships and major smut! Enjoy 🌺💋

I also wanna give credit to @zari-0115 she helped me write the smut scene so W to her! She’s the best

You knew he’d be here. You were told he’d be here. You just didn’t realize how much it would actually hurt. You didn’t realize the air would start thinning around you when you saw his new girlfriend wrapped around him looking like they were the happiest couple on earth.

You feel a tight squeeze on your hand before realizing Armando was standing beside you.

“C’mon”,he says,taking your hand in his. You sift through the crowded party, hand in hand, before finally making it through the balconys sliding doors. You put your hands on your knees , and attempt to steady your breathing.

“Look up and count to ten”,Armando lifts your chin up before turning your head to look at the view in front of you. You stare out at the beautiful picture. The sunset and the ocean colliding in a way that’s so gorgeous with the pool infront of you glistening. It makes you wonder what you did to deserve to see this.

“One.Two.Three. Four. Five”, you start to count,feeling the tension and anxiety fade away. “There you go, inhala exhala”,he says rubbing your arms softly. “Thank you”,you smile up at him.

“What’s with the panic attack?”,Armando asks. “I don’t know. I saw my ex and my chest just started like caving in”, you explain trying not to let the tears hiding behind your eyes, out. You take a seat on the cool pavement

“That blonde tonto wit the bad hair cut?”, he asks with a disgusted look as he sits next to you.

“Unfortunately yes. I don’t even know why I dated him. But when someone manipulates your heart, it’s hard not to fall for the fake version of them”, you sigh.

“Oh look at me sounding like a Pinterest quote and shit”,you laugh. “What happened?”,he looks over to you. “Well he didn’t physically do anything to me. But i just realized it was like he was jealous of what I was doing with work and when I finally had my own place it was like he hated me for it.”,you start to explain.

Armando’s blood starts to boil the more you talk. “I don’t wanna talk your head off about old shit tho”,you shrug. “Im here to listen”,he says geniunely.

You give a slight nod,“It got to the point where he would ridicule me for everything and belittle me. And at some point I started believing he was right. And I got in this really low place..I wasn’t eating, couldn’t sleep, didn’t even show up to work for a week.”, you sigh getting war flashbacks from arguably the worst time of your life.

“Why did Kelly and Dorn invite him if he did all that to you?”,he asks. “They don’t know about anything that actually went down. They just know we didn’t work out. After everything I still wanted to protect his image.”,you say fidgeting with your finger tips .

Armando grabs your hand, “promise me something”. You raise an eyebrow. “Promise you’ll never let anyone give you anything less than what you deserve”. He looks into your eyes, waiting for you to promise.

“I promise”,you nod. “And don’t let that dickhead fuck this party up for you okay.”,he says rubbing the palm of your hand with his thumb.

“Thank you again Armando. Like for coming and helping me with all this.”,You look over at him. The world is calm for a moment and it seems like it’s only you and Armando.

“I don’t know if this is dumb to tell you or not. But Armando I think I -“

You’re cut off by Armando smashing his lips into yours. You lean into the kiss as he cups your face. You two get so deep into the kiss that at some point your back is on the pavement and he’s on top of you. Without coming up for air the two of you deepen the kiss. Within an instant Armando falls over into the pool, the splash getting you wet.

“Oh shit”,you let out a loud laugh. He resurfaces,wiping the water out of his eyes. “Oh this is funny to you?”,he smiles up at you. “Oh no of course not. It’s hillarious”, you cackle. “Yea yea now help me out”,he sticks his hand out for you. He grabs on hold of your hand before he smirks and pulls you in next to him.

You resurface in the water, “no the fuck you didnt”,you laugh. Everyone walks outside hearing the commotion. “What is going on here”,Kelly laughs.

“Um nothing”,you giggle. “Who cares just jump in”,Marcus says pushing past Mike to jump in the pool. “Man you better watch my suit,”, He says, dead serious by the look on his face.

The two of you climb out of the pool as everyone files back into the living room. You make your way to you guys’s room as your wet clothes cling to your bodies. “You wanna shower first?”, you ask turning to him. “Nah ladies first”, he smirks over at you . You head into the bathroom,starting up the shower, getting the temperature just right. You loved the build of the bathroom. There was a huge see through shower with beautiful deep brown brick walls and a huge granite sink.

You peek your head out the bathroom seeing Armando snatch off the wet t-shirt. It’s not like he didn’t look amazing with the shirt on but got damn if he didn’t look just as good with it off.

You get into the shower feeling the warm water and bubbles up your skin. A wide smirk spreads across your face as a bright idea pops into your head. “Hey Armando can you hand me my towel I left it on the bed”,You call out.

“Yea sure”,he says putting the towel over his shoulder and walking into the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He walks in with his hand over his eyes. “Why don’t you move your hand and put them somewhere else”,you smile. He slowly removes his hand before looking upon your body and stepping into the shower with you.

He places soft kisses on your neck, tracing his hands up and down your skin. You let out soft moans as he scoops you up, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

In this moment you two were the only things that matter. He looks up at you, “Are you sure you wanna do this”,he looks into your deep brown eyes.

“Yes, I want you”,you say as a wide smile appears across your face. He smiles before kissing you so passionately.

He immediately starts fast, pounding into you with your back against the tile wall. He slides in you going deeper, until he hits your cervix causing you to yell out in pleasure.

Armando carries you to the bed, your legs still wrapped around his waist, before laying you down, towering over you he places soft kisses on your boobs, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. He enters two fingers into you causing you to arch yourself upwards with every touch. Your toes curl as he massages your clit. Just when you’re close to finishing Armando removes his fingers. You look down at him, your eyes meeting his, you all but beg for him to give you your release. He smiles up at you mischievously while taking his fingers and putting it up to his mouth to taste you.

He then lifts you up and turns you over like you weigh nothing. He slips himself inside of you and pounds in and out repeatedly. You grab hold of the pillows to keep yourself up right, squirming at each jolt you can hardly keep your ass up. “Hold on Mi Amor” he says instructing you not to finish just yet. Right when he feels you pulsing under him he slips himself out… yet again. “Why are you teasing me?” You whine. Armando doesn’t answer he just flips you over and begins to go down on you, alternating between his tongue and fingers devouring you while he pleasures your nipples with his other hand. He finally lets you release not soon after he enters you again for him to then be finished.

The two of you plop down onto the soft satin sheets, heavy breathing and giggling in between. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that”,You smile over at him. “I’ve been waiting for that since the day I met you”,He says cupping the side of your face.

“You getting soft on me Aretas?”,you laugh. “You know ain’t shit bout me soft Mama”,He looks over at you with a sarcastic smirk. “Call me mama again and we gon have to may have to go run it back ”,You say before climbing on top of him, a mischievous smile across your face. “Let’s do it then mama”,he smirks up at you.

[luuknowsbetter]

Daylight. bucky barnes x reader

Plot: You had a bad day, and you come home sad and Bucky comforts you.

trope: Bucky barnes x F!reader

warnings; mentions of panic/anxiety attacks, low self-esteem and very fluff,with a bit of angst

I enter to the apartment, tired, sad and having a panic attack. Maybe this is not as i expected, no, today definitely did not go as planned. So i cross the door and Bucky appears from the kitchen,appearing with a smile when he hears that you are finally home, but it automatically fades when he sees you with a red face, a red nose and tears in your eyes. He quickly leaves everything on the kitchen counter to run up to me, and holds my face in his big hands while he looks at me worried, looking for any physical injury.

"What´s wrong doll..?"

he asks while he examines my face carefully, his icy blue eyes look at you with worry, one of his hands moves to the back of your neck and brings me closer to his chest, while his other hand is resting on my hip, making sure you are fine

"It happens that…I'm not enough anymore" I explain while crying trying to wipe away the tears with my hand

Bucky's grip around you becomes tighter at your words, he really can't believe that you are saying this

"What makes you say that sweetheart, you are more than enough. You are so..so so much more than enough, I don't want to hear you say that crap again, you are more than enough, you can do everything you put your mind to, doll, you ..are enough. And you deserve everything in the world"

"No, but…" I sob again, as i try to stop myself from crying "I'm not…good enough at what I loved to do before…I'm not pretty enough, nor smart enough, nor thin enough…"

He frowns at my words, grabbing my face firmly but being gentle at the same time, forcing me to look into his eyes

"Don't you dare say things like that. Don't say you're not good enough. You are good enough. You are a goddamn intelligent genius, you are so smart, you are the prettiest woman I have ever seen, and your body is...God..." He looks at my body from top to bottom, with a loving and somewhat lustful look, while he bites his lip and speaks again. "You have no idea what it makes me want to do with you everytime I see you, doll…"

I sigh, letting out a sob, while the tears continue to come out uncontrollably

"Why do I have the need to be perfect all the damn time? It's like… like there's a voice in my head that demands that I always be better now." I think I'm a mess and he keeps repeating my mistakes over and over again…" I let out a sob as my voice breaks, and Bucky strokes my back gently, trying to calm me down "And I can't even try to stop that voice and believe me I'd like to, believe me. But I can't…I feel…helpless"

Bucky just listens to you speak. Every word breaks his heart further. He can't understand why you believe those things. He holds you close to him again, one hand on the back of your head while the other strokes my back, his hand moving up and down, in a comforting, protective manner

"Darling..listen to me..you are not helpless, and you're not a mess, and you don't have to be perfect all the time. Don't listen to whatever that voice is telling you, darling, it´s not true, okay? you´re the most beautiful, talented, intelligent and capable woman I have ever met. and I love you, doll, I mean it. You are the best thing I have ever had, without you…without you I would not have been able to get up after everything that happened to me, you were with me and you helped me and supported me even in my worst moments, so, doll, I I'll help now…" Bucky says calmly, but you can tell he's serious, he gives your hand a light squeeze and smiles lovingly at you as he looks into your eyes.

"So darling, why don't we go take a relaxing bath while I prepare dinner and watch your favorite movies snuggled up on the couch?" He asks as he helps you up from the floor, and you walk towards the stairs to get to the bathroom. You smile at him, completely in love with him.

A couple of minutes later, you leave the bathroom, now calmer and wearing comfortable clothes, you head towards the living room silently, and there he is, juggling a couple of snacks, the TV control, tea and a couple of blankets to You, you realize how much trouble they took to arrange everything in the most beautiful way possible, the small table in front of the sofa has the pizza already cut in the middle, a couple of thin glasses with some wine already poured, and obviously, Alpine asleep on the couch. You smile and walk over to him to help him with the things.

"Hey" the soldier says with a small smile, once he sees you enter, you grab a couple of things and help him get everything perfect for movie night. And once everything is ready, he smiles at you again and leaves a small kiss on your temple, you both snuggle up on the couch and start eating and drinking while watching a Scary movie marathon.

An hour later, you had finished eating and were curled up on the couch with Alpine next to you. "How do you feel, doll?" your boyfriend asks softly, as he tilts his head a little to look at you and realize that you had fallen asleep in his arms, he smiles unconsciously like a teenager in love, and decides to take you to bed in his arms, after all, you were very tired after such a tiring day. Once in the room, Bucky changes his clothes and lies down behind you, snuggling up next to you again.

"Today was terrible, but you made this a beautiful moment, thank you for that my love, I love you" You murmur, still somewhat asleep. Bucky smiles and leaves a light kiss on your cheek, but not before whispering a small "You're the best, doll. I love you too" and with that, you both fall fast asleep.

HELLOOOOOOOOO

im bacckkkk. but no smut for today, today wass fluff 🤌🤌

i hope you guys liked itt and sorry if this was a bit different but I had something personal today, which made my mental health and self-esteem do this 📉📉 so i wrote this

[cielie-voss]

Breathe with me.

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Anxiety strikes at the worst times, and tonight - out with Eddie Munson for the long-awaited premiere of Return of the Jedi - is no exception. But Eddie, with his calm presence, has a way of making everything feel manageable - even the chaos in your mind.

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attacks, Depictions of physical symptoms related to anxiety

Wordcount: 996

Taglist: @violettsoul @princesssunderworld

Masterlist

The line for the theater seemed to stretch on forever, people bustling around, excited chatter filling the air. You glanced up at the marquee, the words "Star Wars: The Return of the Jedi" shining in bold lights.

Eddie’s been talking about this movie for weeks. It’s been all about The Force this, lightsabers that. And he was practically buzzing with energy now that you were finally here, ready to see it together, his arm slung over your shoulder as you both joined the line for tickets.

But while Eddie’s enthusiasm was infectious, you were struggling to match it. The closer you got to the front of the line, the more your chest tightened, your heartbeat a quickened staccato.

"I swear, if they mess up Han Solo's storyline, I'm never forgiving George Lucas," he said, his voice animated and carefree.

You were trying to hold it together, trying to focus on Eddie’s voice as he animatedly talked about the upcoming film, but everything was starting to blur and the sounds around you became distorted, like they were coming from far away. The noise, the people, it's all crashing over you. The world felt too close, too loud, simply too much.

His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing with concern after a few moments, noticing the shift in your posture. “Hey…” His voice was soft, and he tilted his head to catch your gaze. “You okay?”

You couldn’t respond, not really, all you could do was squeeze his hand tighter as anxiety took hold, creeping up like a shadow you couldn't escape. The familiar claws of anxiety started to grip you. Your breath hitched, shallow and uneven, the weight on your chest made it feel like the air wasn't reaching your lungs.

His warm brown eyes kept darting to you, watching as your breathing quickened, your hands fidgeting by your sides. Eddie shifted, gently, he took your hands in his, his rough fingers curling around yours. He moved closer, shielding you from the crowd with his body.

The ground beneath you seemed to tilt and your grip around his hand tightened. But Eddie didn’t seem fazed. He never did. Instead, he gave you a soft, reassuring smile, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on the back of your hands.

“I’ve got you, alright?” Eddie said, his voice low, soothing. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a sign that you’re still there, still with him.

“We’re gonna try something, okay? You trust me?” His voice was calm, soothing, as though he’d done this a thousand times before. He slowly guided your hands to rest on his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath your palms. You could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Feel that? That’s me breathing, nice and slow. Can you match it?”

You tried. You really did. But it’s hard to concentrate with everything spinning out of control in your head. Eddie’s hands tightened ever so slightly around yours, his eyes never leaving yours as you got frustrated, your breaths were still ragged and uneven, as if you forgot how to breathe.

And then, he started to hum. A low, deep sound that reverberated through his chest, through your hands. It was like nothing you had expected, the sound resonating not just in his body, but in yours too, like the hum was reaching into the core of you, shaking the anxiety loose.

There was something about the way he looked at you, so sure that you could do this, that made you feel safe and grounded, even in the midst of one of those nasty panic attacks. You focused on the hum vibrating beneath your hands, on the rise and fall of his chest. Slowly, tentatively, you hummed with him, your voice joining his. You matched his rhythm, inhaling deeply as you focused on the vibration in your hands, the calming tone of his hum that drowned out the chaos around you. He kept humming, his gaze locked with yours, his thumbs still tracing slow, soothing patterns on your skin. The two of you created a soft, harmonious vibration that seemed to drown out the noise of the world around you

But in the chaos of your mind, where the waves of everything around kept violently crushing down on you, threatening to drown you, Eddie and his soothing hum felt like an anchor and the tightness in your chest began to ease. The world didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. The panic that had been clawing at the edges of your mind began to slip away, bit by bit, like the tide receding from the shore. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you were able to take a full, deep breath without the tightness in your chest.

“There she is,” he whispered, eyes crinkling with pride. He gave your hands one more squeeze before gently lowering them from his chest. His grin widened, more mischievous now, the Eddie you knew and loved. “We’re gonna kick anxiety’s ass, one hum at a time.”

With the edge of your anxiety dulled, the crowd no longer felt as suffocating, and you found yourself breathing easier, with Eddie by your side. The panic was still there, lurking at the edges, but it was no longer overwhelming. It was manageable. He made it manageable, everything about him was grounding.

As you finally reached the ticket counter, Eddie turned to you with a wide grin. “So, ready to take on the galaxy?”

With him by your side, the answer was easy. You nodded, feeling more at ease than you had all night. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

And as you followed him, you couldn’t help but feel that, no matter what battles lay ahead - whether in a galaxy far, far away or inside your own mind - Eddie would always be there, humming beside you, keeping you steady.

[volturiprincess]

Rain

Demetri Volturi x human mate reader

Summary: Reader gets overwhelmed with stress and he's there to support her Warnings: mentions of an anxiety attack, but mostly fluff A/N: Omg someone stop me😁, another one-shot post?? I had to write this because as I was taking my breaks I would work on this, its not proofread but the idea of Demetri calling the reader Spanish nicknames is a must have but throw rainy weather into the topic and muah *chefs kiss*. Enjoy and there will be a second A/N in the end. A little translation for my non-Spanish speakers: Mi cariño: dear or darling Mi vida: My life Princessa: princess Mi amado hermoso: My beautiful lover

(I cant believe it took me a while to write a Demetri one-shot)

I burst through our shared room in a panic state and I saw my lovely mate on his special chair. Before I could even react he was already wrapping his arms around me and cuddling me into his chest. I felt the build up tears I was holding back cascade down my cheeks. Demetri was rubbing my back in comfort and I heard him mumble

“Mi cariño, let it all out, I know you need this”

I sure did need this, all of today I was working on a project for a class and I ended up deleting about half of it and couldn't recover it at all. I always threw my computer out the window but instead I stared at the blank page that was staring back at me with what I could assume was mockery. I did manage to remember a good amount of what I had done and it's back to how it is, but I spent a while in a state of shock and denial.

Suddenly I felt myself shaking physically, my heart increase in palpitation and worst of all I could feel my breath becoming shorter. Demetri picked up right away that I was dealing with an anxiety attack and he guided me toward the balcony to the fresh air and the light rain. 

“Mi vida, look its raining, you love the rain, hey look at how pretty it looks”

I turn my head to be able to face the scenery instead of his very well built chest to see how soft and calming it is currently. I told Demetri before that I love the rain, it's my personal safe haven other than his arms. I felt my trembling and shaking diminished slightly, my heart rate started to slow down to a more reasonable way but my breathing was still a problem.

I felt him tilt my head up so I was looking at him and my breath for a minute hitch, he looked breathtaking right now. There were small droplets of rain running down his face which caused his hair to stick to his forehead and his eyes were full of adoration. He looked beautiful at that moment, well he always looks beautiful, I heard him one time arguing with Felix and he ended the conversation with “Dont hate me because im beautiful”. 

I smiled at the memory and soon enough he had a look of curiosity with a matching smile

“What's got you smiling like that princessa?”

“I was just think about your statement to end an argument with Felix, the don't hate because i'm beautiful”

His laughter filled the gloomy atmosphere that the rain created, his laugh sounding like music to my ears. One of his hands started to caress my cheek gently, his coldness immediately sending a small shiver down my spine but also somehow started to steady my breathing.

“Look at you princessa, your doing so good in breathing, such a good girl”

I blush at the praise which he never fails to miss, he knows what praises from him does to me, many thoughts come to mind but I push them away for now since I am still recovering from the earlier events.

“Do you want to talk about it/”

“My computer decided to throw me a whole 360 today”

“A whole 360? Im sorry cariño, but you need to explain that to me”

I giggled at his dumbfounded look, it's always fun to be able to still catch a vampire as old as him off guard with my modern language “Right forgot your like a million years old, I was working on a project today for one of my classes on my computer and I accidentally deleted like half of it but like I barely started it so it was no big deal because I remember what I had so far but it was just so frustrating you know”

He continued to caress my cheek as he nods along to my explanation 

“And it just so stressful in thinking I have so much to do still before this week ends and I feel like I have done what I needed to do but its not enough still and and—”

He placed his finger on my lips to silence me and I tiled my head to the side from curiosity, this is new. His signature smirk spread onto his face at my reaction

“Sorry love, but you started to spiral into chaos and as much as adore to hear you ramble, I started to feel stress myself from your stress”

I looked down in embarrassment but he tilted my head up once again 

“Hey don't be embarrassed cara, it's good for you to talk about what stresses you out, better out and in you know?”

“Your right metri”

“Now care to have a dance with me in the rain then?”

Whining at his request, even if that has secretly been a dream of mine to do “Demi you know i'm not even a good dancer, heck I don't even know how to”

“But that's the fun part princessa, I can teach you and we will be dancing in your favorite type of weather”

“Fair point”

As the rain intensified slightly, he guided my moves with such elegance that I almost felt like I myself am an expert to begin with. The rain at that moment was not a bother, my main focus was my casanova of a vampire that I call mi amado hermoso.

A/N: You know I don't know why I haven't added any Spanish nicknames to my writings, but I will in future (I feel like Demetri would just know all of the most romantic languages). I know I mentioned this in my Alec one-shot but I am working on a Caius one, its a work in progress indeed maybe in the end of this week I might have part one done, who knows?

[not-wholly-unheroic]

Some headcanons surrounding Disney Hook’s mental health…or lack thereof…

He has night terrors almost every night. He puts off going to bed for as long as he can to avoid it even when he’s exhausted and often wakes up screaming several hours before sunrise. A good night of uninterrupted sleep might be four hours if he’s extremely lucky.

Because he knows he often wakes up screaming and emotionally fragile and because he knows that it will likely wake up others in the vicinity, he is extremely self-conscious about sleeping near others, especially those he doesn’t know well. While he can’t totally avoid it on the ship, when he has the option of sleeping farther away from everyone else (like when they are camping out on the island), he intentionally sets up a space as far away from all the others as possible.

He doesn’t like sleeping in total darkness and always keeps a lamp burning. He was afraid of the dark as a child and now, having experienced the suffocating blackness of the inside of the crocodile, he absolutely cannot stand total darkness.

The ticking phobia gets worse over time. At first, it’s only the one specific clock that the crocodile has that bothers him, but as the traumatic experiences pile up and then the octopus comes along, it gets increasingly more and more difficult for him to be around anything that even remotely resembles the sound—all clocks, metronomes, even just a rhythmic clapping or tapping noise. Within seconds, he can feel his chest tighten, his legs go limp, and he starts struggling to breathe…which reminds him of the lack of air inside the crocodile or underwater…which makes it even more difficult to breathe. Eventually, it gets to the point where he just freezes up entirely and can’t move until the sound goes away.

He wasn’t afraid of his own blood until after losing the hand. There was just…so MUCH of it… Now, even a small cut makes him a little woozy. With larger injuries, he has to sit down as soon as he notices it to keep from passing out.

Post-redemption arc, the thought of his past violence sometimes makes him physically ill.

He wears the same coat and other general ensemble all the time because it offers the comfort of familiarity. He used to wear other colors and switch things up but it actually makes him anxious now to do anything different because he’s had so many good clothes ruined by the crocodile and he doesn’t want to find a new favorite just to have it destroyed. So he just has a bunch of identical items in his wardrobe.

The coat itself is a comfort item. When it’s on, he feels more confident. When he takes it off, he’s often feeling more vulnerable. Smee has picked up on this and figured out it’s a good indicator of gauging his emotional state.

Smoking is his way of dealing with anxiety. It forces him to slow his breathing down and the nicotine helps calm him down. Cigars and tea are his go-to coping mechanisms when he’s coming out of a stressful experience.

He’s prone to some serious depressive episodes. During the worst of them, Smee has to make sure he doesn’t have any weapons around to harm himself…including the claw. He has been known to cut himself (despite his discomfort surrounding his own blood) when he doesn’t have any other weapons and is having an especially difficult time.

He has an extremely deep-seated fear of rejection and abandonment. It’s why it takes him so long to let anyone—even Smee—really get close to him…because once he lets himself care about someone, he’s terrified of losing them. The thought of being alone and forgotten is even more terrifying than the thought of the crocodile.

Touch is grounding for him when he’s having a panic attack. Even just a hand on his arm helps but often he instinctively wants to cling to whoever happens to be closest when he’s struggling. He will straight-up drag Smee into a tight hug. Fortunately, Mr. Smee doesn’t mind and just hangs on for as long as he needs it.

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Haunted - BAU team.

Summary: A particularly difficult case leaves you with death haunting your vision.

Warnings: General criminal minds issues, mentions of: weapons, suicide, injuries, explosion, fire, imagined death, anxiety attack, panic attack, anger, angst, crying, grounding exercises, exhaustion and fatigue, praise, pet names,

Pairing: BAU team x reader (Platonic/ Otherwise).

Word count: 2,011.

Having anxiety was no secret. I never was the best at hiding it and the team were well aware of how bad it could be but I handled myself when I needed to. I had tried to hide it from the moment I met them but I'd never shown how debilitating it was at the worst times.

The case we had been greeted with this morning was an active shooter and we all barely got out alive. Through having to split up and me losing my partner in the flurry of bodies, we were lucky to make it home. There was no doubt we could all do our jobs properly, we were well versed in our line of work but the horror of losing them was at the forefront of my mind the entire time, haunting me through the case as my mind ran rampant with what-ifs. I should have known it was useless trying to hide my thoughts around a team of the most prolific profilers but god did I try.

We surveyed the building, kitted in vests and guns, deducing this would be his endgame and we were right. Prentiss had my six and we worked seamlessly to scout our section of the building. But he caught us off guard with his final move. We profiled him as narcissistic, arrogant, someone who wanted everyone to know his name but never as a suicidal maniac.

The profile had been right, up until it wasn't, until we recognised some of the floor tiles were fitted with timed pressure bombs. The whole building was a ticking time bomb and we didn't know how long we had until it blew. Our communication lines with each other screeched with shouted warnings of the issue and on three we all ran to the closest exit. Emily and I were the closest to the exit, and the rest of the team spread out further into the death trap.

My chest heaved as I ran as fast as I could, pushing Emily out of the door before she could argue, the pair of us skidding to a stop at a safer distance as the bombs blew the building to pieces and flames engulfed the remaining structure.

The feeling that flooded my body as flames licked at the sky was indescribable, throwing me straight into a rational panic. Frantically, I scrambled towards the building, dodging falling smouldering debris in search of my team, my family, begging for them to be alive. Arms snaked around my waist and yanked me back, my eyes wide as I tried to read Emily's words over the blaze, shattering and sirens. At least she was thinking straight. My heart and stomach were in my throat, tears blurring my vision as I gave up fighting her grip. Penelope's voice was the first thing that filtered through the racket, tears evident in her voice as she begged us to answer, for us all to be safe but I couldn't find my Voice.

My knees practically buckled beneath me as Rossi's voice cracked in my ear followed by the remainder of the team, confirming everyone was present and accounted for. We all got away with bumps and scratches, a sprained wrist or ankle from jumping the building but otherwise unscathed, at least physically.

The day played on repeat in my head as I stood in my office back at the BAU, fake scenarios trampling through my vivid imagination as I watched the team through my blinds. Even David and Aaron were out of their offices, relief clear on their faces as they laughed and joked together. Every so often, they would look over at my window and I would make out I was busy, knowing if I joined them I would bring the mood down and my body would shut down. They had seen bad days, they had experienced their own bad days but they hadn't witnessed me at my worst and I wasn't sure I wanted them to.

My knees trembled as I walked around my desk, sinking into the plushness of my chair but it brought me no relief. Often, I used my job as a way of coping or pushing things away so nobody would see me break but today that method was far too little for what I was feeling. An hour dragged by in a concoction of sweating hands, shaking limbs and the occasional faint laughter from my team. No matter how I tried to drown the world out, I just felt worse, each moment getting more unbearable.

"Jesus Christ," I grated out through clenched teeth, holding my hands behind my head as my chest tightened. "What am I doing?" The question seemed mocking in the silence as I ran my fingers over my face to gather myself. Steadying myself, I took a deep breath and towards the door, White-knuckling my files before exiting my office and walking along the catwalk to Aaron's. Eyes instantly locked onto me, following my steps as I fought to regulate my breathing as rapid breathing created spikes of pain in my chest and head. I let out a silent plea in my head for the world to swallow me up, grappling with my image to stay composed.

A shaky hand rose to swing open the door, stumbling slightly towards his desk as tears began to take my vision. The files all but fell from my hands as I doubled over, my hands gripping the edge of the desk as I poorly attempted the breathing techniques Spencer had told me about but instead, black spots danced across my vision. It didn't take long for the team to notice my blunder as the sound of footsteps filled my ears, curiosity and worry permeating the air.

I didn't move from my leaning position as they filed in, closing the door and blinds as I struggled to control the broken and ragged breaths that squeezed from my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry, not to break as they watched.

Not here. Not now.

The flare of pain in my chest shocked me as my hand slapped to my chest in panic, palpitations knocking my heartbeat off course. Images of their mangled bodies flooded my mind, each of them lying motionless at horrifying angles in the rubble of the building. The sight of my family lying dead in the dirt as though they were raggedy dolls caused bile to rise in my throat as I glared at the floor.

"Y/N," Emily's voice rang in my ears, her dead lips moving in time. "What do you need?" Scalding tears streamed down my face as I let out a cynical laugh. Why would she ask me that when she was the one lying ripped apart and covered in dirt and soot? What I needed was the least of my worries. Being caged in my own head scared me more than anything and anger quickly rose as I shook the bars, wanting to escape, wanting to move. What I would give to laugh and joke with them in this moment. And yet I knew it was in my head, knew that Emily wasn't really dead but my own brain refused to acknowledge it.

The anger quickly boiled over, becoming unbearable, as I launched an empty glass from Hotch's desk at the wall, sobs clawing from my throat as I dug my nails into the wood in an attempt to ground myself. I tried to filter the facts into my mind; I was safe, my team were alive and trying to get my attention, the world was locked out leaving us in the soft light of the office and I needed help. God, I needed help dealing with this, I couldn't do this one alone.

"Y/N, let's get you sat down." My head shook, betraying me as I let go of the desk, trying to straighten up. The action was instantly regrettable as my head screamed at me and my legs collapsed under me. I gritted my teeth in pain as my head throbbed, joined by pain radiating through my spine and butt. Wonderful, just to add to my plate, I was now ridiculously embarrassed. Heartwrenching sobs worked up in my throat and escaped, leaving me pained and vulnerable to my whole team who were scrambling around me, making sure I wasn't hurt.

My body was unexpectantly hauled into a pair of arms, fight or flight kicking in as I tried to escape them, the room filling with breathless whimpers and wet gasps from my cries. My eyes were tight as vices and the burn of their eyes simmered through me, witnessing my weakness. I loathed that they were seeing me like this, especially at work.

"We've got you, Y/N, We're here." I tried to focus on David's softened voice, gripping his arms as they held me, back resting against his chest. I felt a shift as someone knelt beside us and my eyes shot open, more tears forced from them as the blurry image of Spencer came into a wavering focus. Gentle fingers rested against the pulse point on my wrist as my body vibrated with effortful breaths. I stared up at the tiled ceiling, teeth chattering as I let the pains in my lungs and head run their course. The rest of the team has taken up space in the office, on the sofa, office chairs and even the floor. They'd made such an effort to make me comforted with just analysing the space around us and making themselves fit into it rather than towering over me and making it feel worse.

"Remember the breathing techniques I told you about, stay in the room with us." I nodded shakily, watching with haunted eyes as Spencer's hand circled my other wrist and placed it on his chest in an attempt to have me breathe with him. David's steady, strong heartbeat thumped against my back and I sunk into the feeling of them as JJ's hand came to rest on my ankle. The heat of it burned my cold, clammy skin as slowly but surely my breaths came easier, my eyes cleared of spotted vision and the tingling feeling in my hands and feet subsided. My breathing was still a little unsettled, hiccups emerging between small sobs as my team, my family, encouraged me.

"You're doing so well," Penelope's voice was gentle and sweet, similar to how you would speak to a scared child and the irony stung a little. "You want some water?" I nodded, scrubbing at my face only for silent tears to replace erased ones. A brightly coloured bottle was thrust gently into my eyes and I gratefully took it, gulping down the liquid to soothe the sear in my throat. Shivers began to run down my spine as I calmed down, teeth chattering as the chill overtook and my eyes geared up more as Aaron removed his suit jacket, wrapping it over me as a comforting blanket. My body was trembling as though my blood sugar had plummeted and fatigue set in quickly as all the energy drained from my body and I slumped bonelessly against the older agent.

"Hey baby doll, you got through it, you're okay." I took a deep breath, a small smile twitching on my face as Derek praised me. "We're proud of you."

My eyes began to flutter as I fought to keep them open, gentle murmurs of voices filling the space as the room settled down. Aaron and David's voices registered in a low, soothing hum, barely registering through my exhaustion. Time seemed to dawdle by until I was carefully lifted into strong, warm arms, carrying me across the space and laying me down softly on the sofa. I hummed a thank you as a blanket was draped over me along with the suit jacket and my head nestled down into Emily's lap as the smell of Penelope's lavender laundry detergent wafted from the blanket, lulling me to sleep alongside the gentle nails grazing my scalp.

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 5 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Five: Witness The Wreckage Of My Life

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: Hi there! Tbh I thought no one would read this fic lol that’s why it’s been in the backburner for monthssssss. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Hurt by Sleeping At Last

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MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS 

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — EARLY MORNING

The faint chirping of birds drifted into your consciousness before you felt it—fingertips brushing gently along your arm, tracing the curve of your skin with a soft, languid motion. A slow inhale filled your lungs as your eyes fluttered open, the room around you coming into focus. The unfamiliar surroundings of Oberyn Martell’s chambers. 

Your breath hitched, and your body stiffened as realization dawned on you. Oberyn’s body was warm and close beside you, his arm draped loosely over your waist. Panic seized your chest, thoughts racing faster than you could process them. You quickly glanced down. Your nightgown was still on, but that didn’t stop the rush of anxiety building in your throat.

Did we…? Oh gods, what did I do?

Oberyn stirred beside you, his dark eyes opening lazily as a slow grin spread across his lips. He didn’t move away, though his hand continued its lazy tracing of your skin. “You treat it as if sleeping with me would be the worst thing in the world,” he chuckled, his voice deep and teasing. “Many people line up for the privilege of getting into bed with me.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart pounding still. “Oberyn—” you started, your voice strained with embarrassment, but then you paused, the tension rising again as you remembered who you were. A servant. And here you were, lying in the bed of a prince.

Your stomach twisted with guilt as you quickly tried to sit up, but Oberyn’s arm tightened around your waist, preventing your escape. “I… I shouldn’t be here,” you stammered, fumbling with the covers as you tried to get out of bed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Stop,” Oberyn said, his voice gentle but firm, his hold on you unwavering. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart raced faster, your mind protesting even as your body relaxed against his touch. “I shouldn’t be calling you by your name,” you said, the propriety drilled into you for years clawing its way to the surface.

Oberyn chuckled again, his grip remaining strong as he turned you slightly so you could meet his gaze. “We are far past proper,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a playful smile. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

You stared at him, your cheeks burning with the mix of emotions swirling inside you. The absurdity of the situation, the intimacy, the way he seemed so unbothered while you could hardly keep your composure.

And then it happened—a laugh bubbled up from your chest, unbidden and uncontrollable. The sound escaped your lips before you could stop it, surprising even yourself. It was a laugh that hadn’t surfaced in years, a genuine, melodic sound that filled the space between you and Oberyn like music.

He stilled, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at you, captivated. There was something in his gaze you hadn’t seen before—something soft, something tender. He let out a low hum, as if savoring the moment. “You should laugh more often,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in years.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks again, this time not from embarrassment, but from the way his words lingered in the air. Oberyn’s smile softened, and his hand moved up to gently cup your cheek. “I’d kill armies of a thousand men to hear that laugh again.”

His words were spoken with such conviction that for a moment, you almost believed he would. The truth of his promise hung in the air, pulling at something deep inside you. But you quickly smothered that feeling, pushing it down before it could surface.

“I don’t think Ellaria would be so pleased to hear such a statement from you, your grace,” you said, forcing a teasing tone into your voice, hoping to deflect some of the tension. 

A smirk tugged at Oberyn’s lips as he pinched your side playfully, making you squirm under his touch. “You’re using titles again,” he said, his aquiline nose brushing against yours, a soft, teasing gesture that made your breath hitch. “We’ve already discussed this—no ‘grace,’ no ‘proper.’” His eyes gleamed mischievously. “And Ellaria? She knows. She’s out enjoying herself at the brothels right now, likely tangled with a lover of her own. We have an understanding.”

His words were casual, delivered with a smile, but they landed like a stone in your chest. Your heart sank, a dull ache forming where only moments before there had been warmth. Of course, Ellaria knew. Of course, they both had other lovers. That’s how it always was with people like him, free and untethered. You were just another fleeting moment.

You swallowed the sudden rush of feelings and buried them deep, plastering on a faint smile to hide the sting. “Of course,” you said, your voice steady despite the tightness in your throat. “You both live quite... freely.”

Oberyn’s eyes flickered, his smile softening as if he sensed the shift in you. His hand moved from your waist to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Don’t misunderstand,” he said quietly. “I take many lovers, yes. But none like you.”

Oberyn’s words lingered in the air, pulling at you with a subtle, intoxicating pressure. The way he so effortlessly drew you into his orbit—without even a kiss exchanged between you—made it hard to remember where you stood. His lips grazed your forehead again, soft and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. For just a moment, you let yourself forget the distance between your lives, the dangers lurking in every corner of King’s Landing.

But you didn’t dwell on the meaning of his words, or the fact that he had practically claimed you as his without any physical bond. It felt dangerous, even foolish, to hold on to such fleeting warmth in a world that offered little safety.

Oberyn pulled away, giving you a long, lingering squeeze before he stood, his movements unhurried as he dressed in the dim morning light. His tunic draped over his broad shoulders, his belt fastened with the casual elegance only someone like him could manage. You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist as you watched him, torn between the urge to stay hidden in the folds of the night and the reality of the day ahead.

"I have a meeting with the Small Council," Oberyn said, fastening his leather bracers with nimble fingers. His tone was light, almost conversational, but there was something in his eyes that made you feel as though he was gauging your every response. "I suppose you'll be coming too, to be nearby? Or do you want me to tell you what I've learned later?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, teasingly. “And how will you find me later to tell me such important news?”

He paused in the middle of tying his belt, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I have my ways.” He rounded the bed, leaning down as his lips pressed against your forehead once more, this time with a lingering softness that made your heart stutter. "Remember the day of Joffrey’s wedding?" he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I found you setting up by the Sept, looking flustered as ever." 

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the memory, the sight of him approaching you on that fateful day etched in your mind. You bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide, your face betraying you anyway.

Oberyn chuckled as he straightened, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "You were adorable then. You still are," he said, stepping back toward the door. "I’ve asked for breakfast to be left by the door. Help yourself to whatever you like. You must have been tired; you didn’t even notice when I brought it in while you were still sleeping."

Your heart gave a small flutter as he moved to the door, giving you one last look before pulling it open. “Be sure to eat,” he added, his voice softer now, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

And just like that, the room felt empty again, save for the fading scent of him and the quiet remnants of your own thoughts, still spinning from the morning's encounter. 

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

The day had taken on a surreal quality since you’d left Oberyn’s chambers. The fact that nothing happened, and yet everything had changed, weighed on you. You had snuck out, slipping back into your long-sleeved servant gown as though it could shield you from the memory of the man whose side you now found yourself on. A part of you felt guilty, as though you’d crossed a line, even though no line had truly been crossed.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you busied yourself with the day’s tasks, the monotonous routine serving as a distraction. Cleaning, fetching, ensuring every corner of the Red Keep was prepared for the endless parade of courtiers and nobles. Your mind was on everything but the day’s duties. It was hard to ignore the shift within you—the knowledge that Oberyn was on your side. That he believed in your quest for justice, or perhaps vengeance. It was a dangerous alliance, but one that filled you with a strange sense of hope.

The sun had begun its slow descent when you found yourself alone in a secluded hallway, carrying a basket of linens. You were just about to return to your duties when you heard a soft clink, followed by another. Glancing toward the window, you spotted Oberyn, standing in the courtyard below, tossing pebbles at the window with a mischievous grin. His eyes sparkled with amusement when your gaze met his.

For a heartbeat, panic seized you—what if someone saw? But the corridor was deserted, and no guards or servants were in sight. Oberyn motioned for you to join him, his grin widening as you hesitated.

Setting down the basket, you quickly made your way outside to the gardens where he waited. His presence seemed to fill the space, larger than life as always. The scent of freshly bloomed flowers hung in the air, and the sound of the fountains provided a soothing backdrop to the moment.

“I didn’t expect you to be so bold,” you said, handing him a small loaf of bread and some fruit you’d tucked away earlier.

Oberyn accepted the food with a wink. “I promised I’d find you later, didn’t I?” He tore off a piece of bread and took a bite. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you than dealing with the Small Council any longer.”

Your curiosity piqued, you glanced at him as you both strolled through the gardens. “What happened in the meeting?”

He took a deep breath, stretching his arms before speaking. “A lot of posturing and little else. They discussed the trial, of course, but also news from the east. Daenerys Targaryen is in Meereen now, ruling as queen. Tywin thinks the dragons won’t be a problem, but he’s too proud to see the threat for what it is.”

“Dragons?” you asked, handing him a piece of fruit. “Do you really think they could pose a threat to the throne?”

Oberyn gave a half-shrug, though his eyes were serious. “Dragons haven’t won a war in centuries, but Daenerys has an army—Unsullied, sellswords, and advisors who are no fools. Tywin’s dismissing her, but the girl is no simpleton.”

His casual mention of dragons and armies made your heart race. The idea of such power was overwhelming, but Oberyn seemed unfazed by it. He continued recounting the meeting, filling in every detail as though it were simply gossip from a tavern, not the strategic planning of the most powerful people in Westeros.

"They even discussed the Hound," he added, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Apparently, he's out there somewhere, swearing at the crown and slaughtering men. Tywin's offering a hundred silver stags for his head now."

You couldn’t help but smile at Oberyn’s nonchalance. “And what about you? Did you offer your expert opinion?”

He grinned, recalling the way he had brought up the Unsullied with the council. “I told them how impressive the Unsullied are in battle. Less so in the bedroom, though.”

Your eyes widened in shock, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. “You didn’t…”

“Oh, I did,” he replied, his smile growing wider. "Tywin wasn’t amused. But Varys—he found it interesting. We had a chat afterward. He’s a strange one, isn’t he?"

“Varys? I wouldn’t know,” you said with a shrug. “He doesn’t speak to people like me.”

Oberyn’s gaze softened. “You’d be surprised. He listens more than you think. Just like I do.”

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, you sat down on a stone bench, enjoying the quiet moment with him. Oberyn leaned against a tree, looking at you with that same intensity you had grown used to.

"Thank you for the food," he said, his voice lower now, almost intimate. "I thought about bringing something for you, but I didn’t know what you’d like."

You smiled, the tension of the day melting away in his presence. “I’m not picky.”

His expression turned playful again as he tossed the last piece of bread into his mouth. "Good. Because I intend to share more meals with you. That is, if you don’t mind.”

The warmth in his eyes was undeniable, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel—contentment. For just this moment, here with Oberyn, you felt at peace.

“You know those moments? Those moments when you’re allowed to like someone? If those moments mean that you’re alive, then how many days do you think I have really lived?” Your voice was soft, nearly swallowed by the rustling of leaves in the nearby garden. Yet, Oberyn heard every word, his gaze unwavering.

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression shifting to something unreadable, a mix of intrigue and concern. His silence invited you to continue, and so you did, despite the heaviness settling in your chest.

You knew how this would end. It was already written in the stars, in the fates that controlled your path. Oberyn would return to Dorne, back to Ellaria, to his daughters, to his life—a life you could never be part of. And you would stay behind, here in King's Landing, with only the memory of this fleeting peace. 

It was bittersweet, knowing you could never truly have him. Yet, the happiness you felt now was real. So real, it almost hurt.

You glance down, watching as the breeze played with the fabric of your dress, the cool air brushing your skin. You’d known from the start that this was temporary. That whatever spark had ignited between you would burn out as quickly as it had begun. And when that time came, you would let it.

Because you would be happy. Finally. You wish to be happy enough that you could die. You want to be happy just by that much.

All of this wouldn’t last, just as this peace would slip through your fingers like sand. The realization settled within you, hollow and aching, but you knew it was the truth. 

Oberyn, unaware of your internal turmoil, reached out, his thumb grazing your jaw, bringing your attention back to him. His touch was warm, grounding you in the present. You looked up at him, the faintest smile playing on your lips, and for once, you let yourself exist in the moment—here, in his embrace, even though you knew it wouldn't last forever.

“You are living now,” he finally murmured, his voice a low, steady hum. “And sometimes, that is enough.”

KING'S LANDING, THE IRON THRONE ROOM – DAY

The trial felt like the closing of a noose, tightening with each step Tyrion Lannister took as he entered the room. For a moment, your breath caught. The Iron Throne room was oppressive today, the tension palpable, thick in the air like the pressure of a storm ready to break. You stood to the side, far enough from the public but close enough to feel the malice that filled the room. 

Tyrion’s face was a mask of calm, though you knew it was a facade. He had always been on trial—his whole life judged for what he couldn’t change. His height, his sharp tongue, his wit that often cut too deeply. The crowd barely concealed their disdain for him, whispers rippling through the chamber like the hiss of a snake.

A door creaked open, and Jaime Lannister entered with Tyrion, the Kingslayer leading his brother to what felt like his doom. Tyrion walked with slow, deliberate steps down the aisle, his chains clinking softly against the stone. 

“Kingslayer!” someone jeered from the crowd, and your heart clenched. How easy it was for them to shout from the shadows. Tyrion’s every move was watched, every breath a crime in their eyes. A part of you pitied him—not for the crimes they claimed he committed, but for the life he had been forced to endure. 

As Tyrion was led to the accused dais, his wrists freed, you cast a glance toward the Iron Throne. Tommen Baratheon sat there, looking far too small for the burden that had been thrust upon him. His grandfather, Tywin Lannister, loomed at his side, a figure of calculated power. To the right of the throne stood Oberyn Martell and Mace Tyrell, both set to judge this farce of a trial.

Tommen rose from his seat, signaling for all to stand. The room echoed with the shuffle of robes and armor as everyone complied, including Margaery, Loras, and Cersei, their faces masks of feigned grace.

"I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of my Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do hereby recuse myself from this trial." His voice wavered, though he tried to sound regal. "Tywin of the House Lannister, Hand of the King, Protector of the Realm, will sit as judge in my stead. And with him Prince Oberyn of the House Martell and Lord Mace of the House Tyrell. And if found guilty... may the gods punish the accused."

Tommen quickly descended from the dais, walking past both Tyrion and Jaime without a second glance. The crowd stirred, uneasy, as Oberyn and Mace Tyrell took their places beside Tywin. Your eyes lingered on Oberyn for a moment—his expression unreadable, though you knew him better. He would play the game today, but his thoughts, you suspected, were far from the politics at hand.

Tyrion stood alone, a figure dwarfed by the grandeur of the hall, but his defiance remained intact. You couldn’t help but admire it, though it would cost him dearly. He looked small, but he commanded the room with nothing more than his presence.

Tywin’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Tyrion of the House Lannister, you stand accused by the Queen Regent of regicide. Did you kill King Joffrey?”

Tyrion’s reply was immediate, almost bored. “No.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, but he remained calm. “Did your wife, the Lady Sansa?”

“Not that I know of,” Tyrion answered, his gaze unwavering.

“How would you say he died, then?” Tywin pressed, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Tyrion's lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Choked on his pigeon pie.”

A murmur of disbelief and irritation rippled through the room. Tyrion continued, unbothered by the multiple of the stares boring into him. "So you would blame the bakers?" Tywin's voice had a dangerous edge now, but Tyrion remained unfazed.

“Or the pigeons,” Tyrion added with a shrug. “Just leave me out of it.”

Tywin’s gaze turned to ice, his patience clearly wearing thin. “The crown may call its first witness.”

As the room shifted in anticipation, your gaze drifted to Oberyn once more. His expression remained unchanged, but you knew him well enough to sense the amusement lurking behind his eyes. This trial was nothing more than a performance, a game of thrones played on the backs of the innocent and guilty alike.

And you, standing in the shadows, couldn’t help but feel as though you too were being judged—not for crimes you committed, but for your mere existence in this cruel and twisted world.

The load of the accusations hung heavily in the air as Ser Meryn Trant took the stand, his voice dripping with self-righteousness as he recounted his version of events. You stood in the shadows, just beyond the throng of onlookers, your gaze flicking between Tyrion, ever defiant, and the cold, unyielding faces of the judges.

“Meryn Trant,” Oberyn had once called him, “a dog who serves cruelty.” Today was no different. His testimony was venomous, laden with exaggerations designed to paint Tyrion as a monster.

“Once we’d got King Joffrey safely away from the mob, the Imp rounded on him,” Trant declared, his voice rising for dramatic effect. “He slapped the king across the face and called him a vicious idiot and a fool. It wasn’t the first time the Imp threatened Joffrey. Right here in this throne room, he marched up those steps and called our king a halfwit. Compared His Grace to the Mad King and suggested he’d meet the same fate. And when I spoke in the king’s defense, he threatened to have me killed.”

You watched Tyrion’s eyes narrow, the tension building in the lines of his face. His hands twitched slightly, barely restrained as the lies continued to spill from Trant’s mouth. Then, Tyrion spoke, his voice sharp and cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Oh, why don’t you tell them what Joffrey was doing?” Tyrion's voice echoed through the hall, daring anyone to challenge him.

Tywin’s voice, cold as ice, immediately followed. “Silence.”

But Tyrion would not be silenced. His voice rose again, and this time, it was filled with fury, with the truth that no one else dared to speak aloud. “Pointing a loaded crossbow at Sansa Stark while you tore at her clothes and beat her.”

The room gasped collectively, whispers rippling through the crowd like wildfire. You could see the faces of the nobles twisting with confusion, some in disbelief, others in silent acknowledgment. The truth was an ugly thing, one they preferred to ignore.

Tywin’s command rang out, harsher now. “Silence! You will not speak unless called upon. You’re dismissed, Ser Meryn.”

As Trant exited, he shot Tyrion a venomous look, but you knew his words had left an impression. The seeds of doubt were planted, even if only a few dared to show it. 

The oppressive atmosphere in the throne room had only thickened when Grand Maester Pycelle took the stand, his droning voice listing off a litany of poisons that seemed to stretch on endlessly. You could barely suppress your irritation, the corners of your lips twitching in response. Across the room, Oberyn shared your sentiment, leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he interrupted the Grand Maester.

“I think you’ve made your point, Grand Maester,” Oberyn drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You have a lot of poison in your store.”

You couldn’t help but smirk too, admiring Oberyn's ability to undercut the tension with just a few words. His eyes flickered toward you, the smallest acknowledgment of your shared amusement.

“Had, Prince Oberyn,” Pycelle corrected, his tone defensive. “My stores were plundered.”

Tywin's attention sharpened, his eyes narrowing in on Pycelle like a predator locking onto its prey. “By whom?”

“By the accused, Tyrion Lannister, after he had me wrongfully imprisoned,” Pycelle declared, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd.

The room stirred again, unease rippling through the masses. Tyrion stood there, as composed as he could be under the circumstances, but you could see the frustration seeping into the lines of his face.

“Grand Maester,” Tywin’s voice commanded silence once more, “you examined King Joffrey’s corpse. Was it without question poison that killed him?”

Pycelle gave a solemn nod, as if delivering a final verdict. “Without question.”

The crowd reacted, a low murmur spreading like wildfire. Pycelle reached into his robes and produced a necklace, holding it up for all to see. The glint of the delicate chain caught your eye, and your heart dropped. It was Sansa’s necklace—the one she had worn the day of the wedding.

“This was found on the body of Dontos Hollard, the king’s fool,” Pycelle continued, his voice slow and deliberate. “He was last seen spiriting Sansa Stark, the wife of the accused, away from the feast. She wore this necklace the day of the wedding. Residue of a most rare and terrible poison was found inside.”

Tywin’s eyes darkened. “Was this one of the poisons stolen from your store?”

“It was,” Pycelle confirmed with a nod. “The Strangler. A poison few in the Seven Kingdoms possess. And used to strike down the most noble child the gods ever put on this good earth.”

The murmurs intensified, a wave of collective horror and fascination washing over the crowd. You could feel the tide turning, the accusations tightening like a noose around Tyrion’s neck. And yet, in that moment, as Pycelle’s words rang through the hall, you couldn’t help but wonder who in that room truly believed the lies being spun—and who was merely playing their part.

You stood to the side, concealed in the shadows, watching the spectacle unfold as Cersei Lannister took the stand. Her voice was calm, laced with venom, as she recounted her brother’s supposed threats.

"I will hurt you for this," Cersei declared, her voice cutting through the hushed murmurs of the crowd. "A day will come when you think you are safe and happy, and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth. And you will know the debt is paid."

Her words echoed in the vast hall, casting a chill over the proceedings. You couldn’t help but shudder at the coldness of her tone, the way she wielded those words like a weapon—sharpened and aimed directly at Tyrion.

Mace Tyrell, seated beside Tywin and Oberyn, leaned forward, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Your own brother said this to you?”

Cersei nodded, her face a mask of bitterness. “Shortly before the Battle of Blackwater Bay. I confronted him about his plans to put Joffrey on the front lines. As it turned out, when the attack came, Joff insisted on remaining at the battlements. He believed his presence would inspire the troops.”

Oberyn’s sharp gaze never left Cersei as he interjected, “Tyrion said, ‘And you will know the debt is paid.’ What debt?”

Cersei’s eyes flickered briefly, a flash of something darker beneath her calm demeanor. “I discovered he'd been keeping whores in the Tower of the Hand. I asked him to confine his salacious acts to the brothel, where such behavior belongs. He wasn’t pleased.”

From your vantage point, you saw Tyrion shake his head ever so slightly, a bitter smile curling his lips. It was a performance, all of it—a calculated attempt to paint him as the villain in her twisted tale. The truth, as always, was far more complicated.

Tywin Lannister, ever the stern patriarch, inclined his head. “Thank you, Your Grace, for the courage of your testimony.”

As Cersei stepped down from the stand, you could feel the tension ripple through the room. Her gaze lingered on Jaime for a fraction of a second, their unspoken connection palpable even amidst the disarray of the trial. You watched as their eyes locked, a silent exchange passing between them before she returned to her seat.

Varys, the ever-watchful spider, took the stand next. His presence always unnerved you—his calculating eyes saw too much, knew too much, and yet revealed nothing.

Mace Tyrell spoke first, leaning forward with an air of forced politeness. “Do you remember the precise nature of this threat?”

Varys’ expression remained neutral, his voice soft but clear. “I’m afraid I do, my lord. He said, ‘Perhaps you should speak more softly to me, then. Monsters are dangerous, and just now, kings are dying like flies.’”

A faint murmur spread through the crowd, the tonnage of Tyrion’s words settling in. The tension was palpable. You felt it in your bones, in the way the air seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment.

“And he said this to you at a meeting of the small council?” Mace pressed, as if drawing out the damning words would somehow ease his conscience.

“Yes,” Varys confirmed with a nod. “After we received word of Robb Stark’s death. He didn’t seem gladdened by the news. Perhaps his marriage to Sansa Stark had made him more sympathetic to the northern cause.”

You stood still, listening as the crowd shifted, their whispers swirling around you. Every accusation, every witness testimony felt like another nail in Tyrion’s coffin. The trial was nothing more than a spectacle, a farce to mask the truth, and everyone in the room knew it. But no one would dare say it aloud.

Tywin’s voice rang out once more, commanding the attention of the hall. “You’re excused, Lord Varys.”

Varys, ever the obedient servant, bowed his head and exited the stand with practiced grace. Tyrion’s eyes followed him, his expression a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

“Father,” Tyrion spoke suddenly, his voice laced with bitterness. “May I ask the witness one question?”

Tywin regarded him coldly. “One.”

Tyrion turned to face Varys, his voice steady but full of accusation. “You once said that without me, this city would have faced certain defeat. You said the histories would never mention me, but you would not forget. Have you forgotten, Lord Varys?”

Varys paused, his gaze unwavering as he responded. “Sadly, my lord, I never forget a thing.”

Tyrion’s face fell, and you could see the force of those words settle on his shoulders. Varys bowed once more and exited the room, his footsteps soft but echoing in the heavy silence that followed.

Tywin, Oberyn, and Mace Tyrell stood, their judgment hanging in the air like a guillotine about to fall. Tywin's voice was cold and final. “We will adjourn for now. Toll the bells in an hour’s time.”

“Clear the court!” the guard called, and the crowd began to disperse, a mass of nobility and onlookers eager to gossip about the day’s events.

You remained where you stood, off to the side, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the scene unfold. The tension in the room had affected you more than you realized. Unconsciously, your fingers had drifted to your arms, scratching at the scars you had long tried to forget. Only when you felt the dampness of blood seeping through the sleeve of your gown did you stop, the pain a reminder of just how fragile control could be.

Across the room, Jaime and Cersei exchanged another glance, their eyes filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. The Lannisters had built their empire on secrets and lies, and it seemed their legacy was unraveling before your eyes.

As the last of the crowd filed out, you looked toward Tyrion. He sat there, dejected and weary, his once sharp gaze dull with the knowledge of how this trial would end. For all his wit and cunning, he was still a pawn in his father’s scheme—a scheme that only seemed to grow bloodier with each passing day.

And you, too, were trapped in this  labyrinth of power and betrayal. The scars on your arms ached, a constant reminder of the past, but also of the future that awaited you in this city of ashes.

Suddenly, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you out of your daze and through a concealed passage near the edge of the hall. You barely registered the movement until you found yourself in a dim, hidden alcove, the noise of the trial muffled behind the thick stone walls.

Oberyn.

His presence alone was enough to make your heart race, but now, standing this close, away from prying eyes, his gaze burned with intensity. He looked down at you, his lips curving into that familiar smirk, though there was a seriousness in his eyes.

“Spend the afternoon with me,” he murmured, his voice deep, pulling at the knot of tension in your chest. You shook your head, flustered.

“Oberyn, people will see… they’ll talk.”

“Let them,” he said, his tone unconcerned as if the entire court could collapse and he would stand unbothered. “What do I care for their whispers? I care only for you, here and now.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, his words unsettling something within you. “If this is all really that important to you, then…” Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes, the boldness of your next words surprising even you. “Then let’s try being romantic.”

His expression shifted, softening as a genuine smile spread across his face. He tugged you deeper into the room, where a small table had been set, food and wine waiting as if he had planned it all along. You sat down, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for a cup of water, needing something to calm the storm of emotions that had begun to churn inside you.

Oberyn, ever perceptive, reached across the table, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your sleeve. You hadn’t even noticed, but his sharp eyes caught the faint stain of blood. His brow furrowed in concern.

“What is this?” he asked softly, lifting your arm gently.

“It’s nothing,” you replied quickly, trying to pull away, but his grip remained firm, his thumb stroking the fabric as if he could soothe away the pain beneath it. “I didn’t even notice—just an old wound.”

His gaze darkened, a rare flicker of something dangerous crossing his features. “Old or new, it matters. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

You laughed nervously, trying to shake off his concern. “I’ve had worse, trust me.”

But Oberyn wasn’t convinced. He leaned closer, his voice low and filled with something deeper than just care. “You’ve bled for this city, for people who don’t deserve you. I won’t let it happen again.”

You swallowed hard, the intensity of his words lingering in the air between you. This was more than just a fleeting moment of tenderness; it was a promise. But promises in King’s Landing were as fragile as the alliances that held the court together. And yet, here, in this quiet room, with Oberyn’s eyes locked on yours, you dared to believe in it—just for a moment.

The silence between you and Oberyn stretched, heavy and thick, as you paced the narrow room. You couldn’t look at him, not when the consequence of your question pressed so deeply into your chest. The words tumbled out, quiet at first but gaining strength with each step you took.

“When you first saw me—before you ever noticed my scars—you didn’t even flinch. You didn’t question what I’ve done, what I’ve had to endure.” You paused, your back to him, fingers tracing the rough stone of the wall. “Why? Why do you trust me so blindly? Why would you do anything for me? What makes you so sure?”

The air felt charged, thick with unspoken truths. You waited, breath caught in your throat, as Oberyn’s gaze bore into you from across the room.

“I’ve told you before,” he began, his voice deep and smooth, like the rich wine of Dorne. “What I feel for you is far more than blind trust. I lived through a season of darkness, of violence. And then I saw you.” His words were measured, each syllable drawn out as if he wanted you to feel them in your bones. “I realized—this woman, you—you are my salvation.”

The words struck you harder than you anticipated, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him, meeting his eyes, searching for the flicker of madness or arrogance you had grown used to in the courts of King’s Landing. But instead, you saw only the stark truth.

“At some point,” he continued, rising to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, “one must choose the kind of person they wish to become. I’ve chosen to be your partner in crime. To stand at your side, no matter what may come. It suits me well.”

You took a step toward him, disbelief twisting in your chest. “And what of the others? The whispers… people say you’re mad.”

A smirk danced across his lips as he moved closer, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features. “Let them say what they will,” he said, his voice rich with the confidence that had always surrounded him like armor. “I plan to live as I choose—even if that means living like a madman.”

He stopped just before you, his hand reaching for yours, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Let me be mad, so long as it is with you.”

Your breath faltered, caught in the pull of Oberyn’s unwavering gaze. His eyes, dark as the shadows that danced around you, held a promise—one made without words, sealed in the silence between you. Here, in this hidden alcove of King’s Landing, where secrets whispered through every crack in the stone, Oberyn’s reckless devotion felt like the only anchor in a world built on lies and betrayal. The madness that clung to him, the very thing whispered about in the halls of the Red Keep, was the only thing that felt real.

Then, the bell tolled.

The low, resounding chime cut through the stillness, a reminder of the trial that awaited, of the deadly games unfolding beyond this hidden moment. The Iron Throne beckoned. 

“We should go,” you whispered, the significance of duty settling back onto your shoulders like a familiar cloak. Yet even as the words left your lips, part of you wanted to remain in this stolen fragment of time, where nothing but the two of you existed.

Oberyn’s hand lingered at your wrist a moment longer, his thumb brushing against your skin, as if reluctant to let you slip away. “Then let us go,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “but remember, this madness is ours.”

You nodded, heart heavy with the knowledge of what awaited you both beyond the walls of this room. Together, you stepped out of the shadows and into the labyrinth of power, where every step felt like a descent into the unknown. As you made your way back to the Iron Throne room, the cold walls of the Red Keep felt more oppressive, the air thick with anticipation and unseen eyes.

The crowd had already begun to file back in, and you could feel the tension rise with every step closer to the throne. Oberyn’s presence beside you was like a shield, his gaze steady, even as the treacherous court awaited the next act in this cruel play.

With a deep breath, you entered the chamber, the Iron Throne looming ahead, cold and sharp like the future that awaited. You could still feel the heaviness of Oberyn's promise, unspoken yet burning in your chest, as you took your place beside him once more.

The Iron Throne room was heavy with the scent of judgment, the air thick with the oppressive weight of expectation as you stood off to the side, watching the proceedings with a mix of dread and fascination. The crowd stirred as Tywin, Oberyn, and Mace Tyrell entered, their mere presence enough to command the attention of all in attendance. You, too, were drawn into their orbit, though your vantage point remained deliberately shadowed, a place where you could observe without being seen.

Your eyes flickered toward Jaime and Tyrion as they shared a brief, wordless exchange before Tyrion nodded. The crowd, tense and whispering, settled as Jaime took his position to the side, ever the loyal guard even now. Tywin’s voice cut through the stillness.

“The crown may call its next witness.”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, and the moment Tyrion turned, his face drained of all composure. Shae. She stepped into view, her posture small, head bowed as if already defeated, but her presence sent a ripple of shock through the room.

Tywin’s voice rang out again, cold and unyielding. “State your name.”

“Shae,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tywin’s question came sharp and unforgiving, “Do you swear by all the gods that your testimony will be true and honest?”

“I swear it.”

You stood still, feeling the tension rise within you as much as it did in Tyrion. Shae, once his secret, now stood against him. What did Tywin have over her? Why betray him now, in front of so many?

“Do you know this man?” Tywin asked, motioning toward Tyrion.

Shae’s eyes flicked to Tyrion, but they were empty, drained of any warmth you might’ve once seen. “Yes. Tyrion Lannister.”

“And how do you know him?”

“I was handmaiden to his wife, Lady Sansa,” she replied. The formality of her words felt rehearsed, distant.

The next question felt like a blade being sharpened, preparing for the killing blow. “This man stands accused of murdering King Joffrey. What do you know of this?”

“I know that he's guilty,” Shae said, her voice louder now, cutting through the hall. The crowd gasped, and you felt your heart lurch.

“They planned it together—he and Sansa,” she continued, and the room erupted with murmurs of disbelief.

Tywin’s booming command of “Silence!” quelled the noise, but inside, you felt the storm brewing. Tyrion’s face was a mask of disbelief, shock twisting his features. You could barely hold your breath, the lies Shae spun as deadly as poison.

“She wanted revenge for her family, and Tyrion was happy to help. He hated Joffrey, the Queen, and even you, my lord.” Her voice dripped with venom, each word a calculated dagger.

You clenched your fists, anger rising within you. You knew these words were false, spun from fear or manipulation. Shae’s lies poisoned the truth, but they were crafted to strike where it would hurt Tyrion the most.

Oberyn, standing near Tywin, raised a brow and asked, his voice cutting through the tension, “How could you possibly know all of this? Why would he reveal such plans to his wife's maid?”

Shae’s voice hardened as she responded, “I wasn't just her maid. I was his whore.”

The murmurs rose again. You could hear the gasps from those seated nearby. The shame, the betrayal, it was all laid bare. Your heart sank with the weight of it, feeling as though the very air around you thickened with judgment. Oberyn, never one to let a moment of discomfort pass without seizing it, looked at Shae but then glanced subtly toward you, a glimmer of mischief in his eye. His lips curled into a small smirk as he asked, “And did you?” His voice was laced with innuendo. “Did you fuck him like it was his last night in this world?”

Your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the brazenness of his words. Even now, in the midst of this trial, Oberyn’s audacity remained unshaken. He winked at you, and you felt a flicker of surprise, but also something else—a recognition that even in confusion, Oberyn’s attention was always sharp, always focused. You shook your head slightly, hiding the faintest hint of amusement at his lack of propriety.

Shae’s reply came in a voice void of emotion, “I did everything he wanted.”

The crowd erupted once more, laughing at the salacious details. You, however, felt no humor. This wasn’t the truth; it was a distortion meant to strip Tyrion of his dignity, to paint him as something monstrous when you knew better. As Shae’s words continued, painting Tyrion as possessive and cruel, you couldn’t help but feel disgust twist within you. This city, this court—it thrived on the downfall of others.

When Tyrion finally spoke, his voice was filled with a raw, desperate kind of fury. “Shae, please don’t.”

But she continued, relentless, her words carving into him, stripping him of what little humanity he had left to claim in the eyes of those around him. Every word she uttered was another stone thrown, and Tyrion, for all his wit, could do nothing but watch.

As the crowd clamored, you stood, feeling your own heart beating in time with the tension in the room. Tyrion’s next words came like a battle cry, an admission of truth wrapped in bitterness.

“Father, I wish to confess. I wish... to confess.”

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation. The entire room held its breath as Tywin’s voice echoed in response, “You wish to confess?”

Tyrion, no longer defeated but filled with a fire you hadn’t seen in him before, turned toward the crowd, his voice rising. “I saved you. I saved this city and all your worthless lives. I should have let Stannis kill you all!”

The shock rippled through the room, but you could see the righteousness in his anger. His truth, raw and ugly, spilled out for all to hear, and you felt every word cut through the falsity of the trial.

When Tywin asked if he had anything to say in his defense, Tyrion’s response sent a chill through you. “I did not do it. I did not kill Joffrey, but I wish that I had.”

You smirked at the irony of it all, your eyes flicking to Tywin. The calm, calculated facade he wore was slipping, even if only slightly. The cracks in his control were beginning to show. Tyrion’s words, his defiance, had shifted the balance, if only for a moment. You looked at the man who had ordered the death of Princess Elia Martell and thought, You stand on ruins now, Tywin. The walls you’ve built will crumble, and when they do, you will stand alone in the dark.

As Tyrion demanded, “ I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder. And I know I'll get no justice here. So I will let the gods decide my fate. I demand a trial by combat!” The room exploded in chaos, but you stood there, breathless, knowing that this was only the beginning. Tywin’s grip on power was faltering, and you couldn’t help but wonder which one of you would ignite the final spark that brought his empire crashing down.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen

[johnnycakesswitch]

Do you have any anxious!Ponyboy headcanons??

Omg absolutely 😁

• Ponyboy was always an anxious kid, but it got a lot worse after his parents died. He would have those awful nightmares and sometimes really bad ones would cause a panic attack. Soda sleeping with him helped that a lot though

• one thing that helps calm him a lot is reading, so if Johnny notices that Pony’s been really stressed or anxious lately, he’ll ask Ponyboy to read out loud to him because he knows it’ll give him something to focus on and it usually settles his nerves a little

• he hates being anxious so much because it not only stresses him out a lot, but it has such a physical affect on his body. He doesn’t get a lot of sleep, head and stomachaches become so frequent, and he never has an appetite when he’s feeling so much anxiety like this. If it’s really bad, he’ll even throw up sometimes because it’s just so much and his body doesn’t know what to do

• some big triggers for his anxiety to spike are when he’s overwhelmed or if his mind starts to make up these crazy scenarios of something terrible happening. Finals week at school is always a bad time for everyone. Pony is just miserable because he stresses himself out so bad and the others feel awful not knowing how to help him. If Darry or Soda are ever home late from work without calling, he assumes the worst. If he goes a few days without seeing Johnny or Dally, he’s just sure that something terrible happened.

• after the church fire and Johnny and Dally dying, Pony goes through the worst bout of anxiety he’s ever had. He doesn’t want to go to school because he’s afraid if he leaves, something will happen to someone else and he won’t get to say goodbye. He couldn’t eat and was sick so often to the point that he lost weight and Darry and Soda were so concerned that they took him to the doctor and Pony was prescribed anxiety medication. It took a little while to even out, but once it did, things started getting better and everyone was relieved

• when Pony is feeling really anxious, all he really wants is to be comforted, but he never knows that’s what he wants. If he’s stressing over school, he won’t want to stop studying and doing work until someone coaxes him out of it and starts taking care of him. If he believes that something has happened to someone, he’s almost inconsolable until he’s absolutely sure that the person is okay, only then he’s able to relax

• Darry and Soda have done their best to find ways to comfort their baby brother. Darry is good at verbal comfort. He’s the best person when it comes to reassurance because he says things in a way that Pony actually believes him. Darry telling him that everything is alright and everyone is safe is very grounding to Pony. If that’s the type of comfort Pony needs, Darry’s got it. Soda is good at physical comfort. If his baby brother is hurting, Soda will hold him until it’s all better. It breaks his heart to see Pony so upset and anxious, so he’ll do whatever he can to help. He can feel when Pony is so tense with stress, especially in bed at night, so he’ll hug him and rub his stomach to try and settle him down, which almost always works. If Ponyboy is anxious to the point of feeling sick, Soda is who he wants. Most of the time, a combination of both of his brothers is good enough to calm him down a lot

That’s all I can think of for now! I have a fic idea about Pony being super stressed and anxious over school that I’m gonna try to work on this weekend too. Thank you for the ask!!

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

we will once again be projecting our mental illness onto an Outsiders Character this time Ponyboy suffers from hypochondria. Thank you

this is definitely one of my fav ponyboy hcs of all time!!

for starters, pony's always been a hypochondriac

even when he was super little, he'd lose his mind over every cough and sniffle he got

"MOM IM DYING!!!!" "pony you sneezed one time you're okay"

it definitely didn't help that he was constantly around soda. soda has the most sensitive stomach ever and was like constantly throwing up or bringing home illnesses from school and the playground and shit. so like every other week soda would be throwing up and now suddenly pony thinks he's sick too (he's not) and he like SWEARS that he has the flu (he is literally perfectly fine)

plus all of the coddling and spoiling from his whole family made ponyboy 10 times more dramatic, so whenever he told someone he was sick and they started cuddling him he'd immediately feel a million times more sick

as pony got older it only got worse and worse. every little cough or stomach bug made him anxious for days, and his whole family would have to reassure him that he was okay

after his parents died, pony's anxiety started to grow in literally form - his nightmares got worse, his zoning out got worse, and his hypochondria got worse

the first time he gets sick after his parents die, pony has one of the worst panic attacks of his life. he had just learned about stomach illnesses in science class, and after just losing his parents, he's sure that he's come down with something bad enough to kill him too. it takes a couple of days of comfort and reassurance from darry and soda to convince him that everything's okay

but what REALLY makes it worse is after the events of the book. pony's lungs aren't as good as they used to be after nearly drowning, along with inhaling all of the smoke in the church. when his cough doesn't go away after a few days after everything happens, pony gets so worked up about lung cancer that darry has to take him to the doctor to convince him that he's just taking a little time to get better

however, the doctor tells darry and pony that all of the physical trauma pony went through (near drowning, inhaling smoke, arm catching fire, concussion) that he's going to have some very long-lasting systems like a persistent cough and more frequent zoning out

it was really hard for pony to come to terms with this; he constantly had to remind himself that the doctor said it was normal, and that he wasn't coming down with anything really bad

also sidenote pony was NOT happy about staying in that church. every five seconds he was like "johnny what if we get sick in here? johnny what if i scratch my hand on something and get tetanus? johnny what if this water isn't clean and it makes us really sick what if we get dysentery?" he was battling in that damn church

it doesn't help that he reads such old books where like. the plague was a common thing. this boy has such a vivid imagination and he's quite naive and will believe he has something that hasn't been around in ages

"darry i feel really really sick i think i have the black plague :(" "pony." "no darry really i have it for sure!" "pony the black plague went away years ago." "WELL IT'S BACK DARRY I AND I HAVE IT I SWEAR!!!"