#your honor I love them both so much they both deserve the whole world I WANT THEM BOTH TO BE HAPPY AGAINNN

[novaursa]

To Win a Princess (the war)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You. 

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the king is dead

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @your-favorite-god

The news came in the form of a shaken raven, its wings tattered from the storm it had flown through to reach Casterly Rock. The missive it carried was brief, but the words scrawled in haste burned into your mind as you read them.

Luke is dead. Storm’s End. Aemond. Vhagar.

The parchment fell from your hands, fluttering to the stone floor like a fallen leaf. You couldn’t breathe, the weight of the words crushing your chest as tears welled in your eyes. The room seemed to blur around you, and the faint sound of your youngest daughter’s voice pulled you back to the present.

“Mama?” Alysanne’s soft, trembling voice brought you out of your haze. She stood in the doorway, her wide violet eyes filled with concern. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t speak. Instead, you opened your arms, and she rushed into them, burying her face against your shoulder. She was only nine, far too young to bear the grief that now settled over her small frame as you clutched her tightly.

“It’s Luke,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gone, my sweet girl.”

Her body stiffened, and then she began to sob, her small hands clutching at your gown as if holding on to you would keep the world from crumbling further. “No,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Not Luke. He… he promised he’d visit soon. He said we’d play again.”

You stroked her hair, your tears falling freely as you tried to soothe her. “I know,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I know, my love. He was so brave, so kind. He loved you so much.”

Alysanne pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face looking up at you. “What happened, Mama? Why is he gone?”

Before you could answer, the door opened again, and Tyland entered. His usually composed face was tight with grief, his green eyes filled with sorrow as they flicked from you to Alysanne. He moved quickly, kneeling beside you and pulling both of you into his arms.

“Luke is gone,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Aemond… Vhagar… it was Storm’s End.”

Tyland’s arms tightened around you, his face grim. “I heard,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with pain. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

Alysanne’s sobs continued, muffled against his chest as he held her close. “Why would Aemond do this?” she cried, her small voice filled with heartbreak. “He was our cousin. Why would he hurt Luke?”

Tyland’s jaw tightened, his voice low but gentle as he answered. “Sometimes, people let anger and hatred consume them. Aemond made a terrible choice, one he can never take back.”

“It’s not fair,” Alysanne whimpered, her tears soaking into Tyland’s tunic. “Luke didn’t deserve this. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, he didn’t,” you agreed, your voice trembling as you stroked her hair. “Luke was innocent, Alysanne. He was kind and brave and so full of life. None of this is fair.”

Tyland pulled back slightly, cupping Alysanne’s tear-streaked face with one hand. “But you know what Luke would want?” he asked gently, waiting until she looked at him. “He’d want you to remember him with love, to be strong and kind like he was. That’s how we honor him.”

Alysanne sniffled, her little hands wiping at her red, swollen eyes. “I’ll try,” she whispered. “But I miss him so much already.”

“We all do,��� you said, pulling her close again. “But we’ll carry him with us in our hearts, always.”

You fell silent for a moment, your thoughts shifting to Rhaenyra. The grief that threatened to consume you must have already swallowed her whole. She had lost their father, her strength in the shadows, and now her son—her sweet Luke. “Rhaenyra,” you whispered, your voice breaking with sorrow. “How is she to bear this?”

Tyland’s gaze softened, his hand finding yours as he pulled you closer. “She’s stronger than most, Y/N. But no one should have to endure what she has.”

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you shook your head. “She’s lost so much, Tyland. And for what? A crown that will only bring more death? I fear this will destroy her.”

Tyland’s voice was quiet but steady as he replied, “We’ll support her. Whatever she needs, we’ll be there. But you mustn’t let your fear consume you. The children need you, and so does she.”

You nodded, though the ache in your heart remained. “I’ll write to her,” you said, your voice trembling. “She needs to know she’s not alone.”

“She knows,” Tyland assured you. “But hearing it from you will remind her. She’ll find strength in that, just as I find strength in you.”

For a long moment, the three of you stayed there, clinging to each other as the weight of Luke’s loss settled over you. The grief was raw, a wound that would never fully heal, but in the warmth of Tyland’s embrace and Alysanne’s quiet sniffles, you found a flicker of resolve. Rhaenyra might be far away, but you would do whatever it took to support her—even from a distance.

The storm raged on outside, the winds howling as if the gods themselves mourned the loss of the boy who had once brought so much light to your family. And though the world seemed darker now, you vowed to carry that light forward—for Luke, for Rhaenyra, and for the family you still had to protect.

The skies over Casterly Rock darkened as the blood-red shadow of Caraxes descended from the heavens. His serpentine form was unmistakable, his wings slicing through the air with powerful strokes as he let out a guttural roar that echoed off the cliffs. The fortress below erupted in commotion as soldiers and servants rushed to secure the grounds, their nerves frayed at the arrival of the fearsome dragon.

You stood at one of the balconies overlooking the landing courtyard, your children gathered around you, their gazes alight with a mixture of awe and trepidation. Loren and Rhaelle exchanged a glance, the silent bond of twins evident as they seemed to assess the situation in unison.

“It’s him,” Loren murmured, gripping the edge of the stone railing. “Prince Daemon.”

“And Caraxes,” Rhaelle added, her voice tinged with nervous excitement. “There is no other dragon like that.”

You placed a steadying hand on Rhaelle’s shoulder, your gaze fixed on the landing courtyard below. “Stay here,” you instructed your children, your voice firm but calm. “Your father and I will handle this.”

Tyland was already descending the steps to meet the arriving prince, his golden hair gleaming in the afternoon light. His stride was purposeful, but you could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. The animosity between him and Daemon had never truly faded, and this meeting was bound to be fraught with old wounds and new challenges.

Caraxes landed with a resounding thud, his wings folding neatly against his body as he let out another low, rumbling growl. Daemon dismounted with practiced ease, his silver hair tousled by the wind, his dark armor glinting with a faint crimson hue. He strode forward with the confidence of a man who expected the world to bow before him, his sharp gaze sweeping over the gathered Lannister soldiers before settling on Tyland.

“Lord Tyland,” Daemon greeted, his voice smooth but laced with an edge. “Or should I say, the lion who stole my prize?”

Tyland’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he inclined his head with measured civility. “Prince Daemon. You honor us with your presence.”

Daemon’s smirk widened, his violet eyes gleaming with amusement as he stepped closer. “I wasn’t aware your family had taken to hosting dragons. Or was that your wife’s doing?”

Tyland met his gaze evenly, refusing to rise to the bait. “The dragons are here to protect my family and our lands. You’ll find Casterly Rock has much to offer—both in loyalty and strength.”

“Loyalty,” Daemon repeated, his smirk fading as he stopped a mere step away. “A word I’d not readily associate with the Lannisters.”

Tyland’s eyes narrowed, but his tone remained calm. “House Lannister has always acted in the interest of its people and its allies. I trust you’re here to discuss how we can further those interests.”

Before Daemon could respond, you descended the stairs, your gown billowing behind you as you approached. His gaze flicked to you, and for a moment, the tension in his posture eased.

“Y/N,” Daemon greeted, his tone softer but still tinged with something unspoken. “It’s been some time.”

“It has,” you replied, your voice steady as you came to stand beside Tyland. “Welcome to Casterly Rock, Uncle. I trust your journey was uneventful?”

He chuckled, the sound low and amused. “As uneventful as a flight on Caraxes can be. I see your family is thriving.” His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary before shifting back to Tyland. “Though I imagine your husband doesn’t think much of my arrival.”

Tyland’s hand brushed yours briefly, a subtle show of unity. “The Westerlands have a role to play in this war,” he said evenly. “If you’re here to discuss strategy, you’ll find us more than willing to listen.”

Daemon’s smirk returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Strategy, yes. And perhaps a reminder of where loyalty truly lies.”

“Loyalty lies with my sister,” you interjected firmly, your voice cutting through the charged air. “And you’ll find no wavering here, Daemon.”

For a moment, the three of you stood in a silence, the weight of history and unspoken words pressing heavily around you. Finally, Daemon inclined his head slightly, though his smirk never wavered.

“Very well,” he said, his tone light but edged with steel. “Let’s see what the lions of Casterly Rock have to offer the realm.”

Tyland gestured toward the keep, his expression impassive. “Shall we discuss this further in private?”

Daemon didn’t answer immediately, his gaze flicking back to you. “Lead the way,” he said finally, his smirk widening as he fell into step beside you and Tyland.

Jason Lannister sat at the head of the polished oak table, his golden cloak draped casually over his chair. His expression was guarded, his fingers drumming against the armrest as he listened to Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Daemon stood at the far end of the table, his presence commanding as his sharp violet eyes scanned the room. He wore his dark armor, a faint glimmer of crimson catching the firelight, and his posture spoke of urgency restrained only by necessity. Beside him, Tyland sat, his demeanor calm but watchful, while you remained at his side, your expression neutral as you observed the exchange.

“The Riverlands are key,” Daemon began, his voice low but brimming with conviction. “If we secure Harrenhal, we cut off Aegon’s forces from the North. The Riverlords will rally to Rhaenyra’s cause if they see we have the strength to protect them.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Harrenhal,” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “A cursed ruin surrounded by swamps and ghosts. And you want me to march my men there?”

Daemon’s smirk mirrored Jason’s, though his eyes darkened. “A cursed ruin that commands a strategic position. If you march with me, we secure the Riverlands and bring more lords to our side. Aegon won’t stand a chance.”

Jason let out a humorless laugh, gesturing around him. “You think it’s that simple, Targaryen? Marching an army isn’t just a matter of pointing and walking. It requires provisions, planning, and trust. You’ve brought dragons, yes, but you’ve also brought war to my gates. You’ll have to offer more than vague promises of alliances to convince me.”

Tyland leaned forward, his green eyes fixed on his brother. “Jason, securing Harrenhal isn’t just about the Riverlands. It’s about showing strength. If we let Aegon’s forces control the heart of the realm, it will weaken our position everywhere.”

Jason scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Easy for you to say, Tyland. You’re not the one who’ll have to explain to our bannermen why they’re marching toward a swamp to fight a war that should’ve stayed in the Crownlands.”

“Because it won’t stay there,” you interjected, your voice calm but firm. “This war will touch every corner of Westeros, Jason. The Westerlands may seem secure now, but if we do nothing, we’ll find ourselves surrounded by enemies. Supporting Rhaenyra isn’t just about family—it’s about ensuring our survival.”

Daemon tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to you with something like approval. “Your sister-in-law speaks sense, Jason. Perhaps you should listen.”

Jason shot Daemon a sharp look, his jaw tightening. “Don’t think flattery will sway me, Prince. I’m not so easily charmed.”

“Good,” Daemon replied, his smirk returning. “Because I’m not here to charm you. I’m here to remind you of the stakes. If Aegon wins, what do you think happens to the Westerlands? Do you think Otto Hightower will forget Tyland’s ‘insubordination’? Do you think they’ll let your family’s dragons remain unchecked?”

Jason’s fingers stopped drumming, his expression hardening as he considered Daemon’s words. The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the question hanging heavily in the air.

“And what guarantee do I have that Rhaenyra will honor our sacrifices?” Jason asked finally, his tone measured. “If I commit my forces, I need to know it’s not for nothing.”

Daemon stepped closer, his violet eyes narrowing. “You’ll have my word, and Rhaenyra’s. And when this war is over, you’ll have the gratitude of the Queen and the future of your House secured.”

Jason met Daemon’s gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. “Your word is worth little to me, Daemon. But my brother and his family—” He glanced at you and Tyland briefly before continuing, “—they have put their faith in you. That carries weight.”

Tyland’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his voice remained cautious as he said, “Jason, we need this alliance. The Riverlands are a stepping stone, not just for Rhaenyra, but for the safety of the Westerlands.”

Jason sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Fine. I’ll march with you to Harrenhal. But I expect results, Daemon. No reckless gambits, no half-baked plans. If my men are risking their lives, I want guarantees.”

Daemon’s smirk widened, though it carried a sharper edge. “You’ll have them. Harrenhal will be ours, Jason. And when it is, you’ll see the wisdom in this choice.”

Jason grunted, reaching for his goblet and raising it slightly. “To wisdom, then. And to victory, I hope.”

Daemon inclined his head, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “To victory.”

As Jason drank deeply, you exchanged a glance with Tyland, the faintest flicker of relief passing between you. The decision had been made, but the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty. For now, however, you could only hope that this alliance would bring the strength needed to weather the storm.

The faint glow of torches flickered against the stone walls of Casterly Rock’s lower courtyard as Loren approached Prince Daemon Targaryen. The evening was cool, the breeze carrying the faint scent of salt from the nearby cliffs. Daemon stood near the edge of the training grounds, inspecting the hilt of Dark Sister as the moonlight glinted off its polished blade.

Loren hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, but his resolve hardened. The young lion stepped forward, his boots crunching softly on the gravel, drawing Daemon’s attention.

Daemon turned his head, his violet eyes narrowing slightly as he spotted the boy. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk. “Well, this is unexpected,” he drawled, sheathing Dark Sister with a practiced motion. “What brings you here, young Lannister? Shouldn’t you be in bed, dreaming of glory?”

Loren squared his shoulders, his hair catching the faint light. He looked every inch a Lannister—proud, determined, and unyielding. “I came to speak with you, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Did you now? And what does the lion cub wish to discuss with the Rogue Prince?”

“I want to join the war,” Loren said, his voice steady but filled with youthful determination. “I want to fight.”

Daemon’s smirk widened, his amusement evident as he stepped closer, studying the boy intently. “Do you, now? And does your mother know you’re here, making such bold declarations?”

Loren hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly. “Not yet,” he admitted, his tone defiant. “But I’ll tell her. She’ll understand.”

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head. “Will she? Y/N is many things, but a fool is not one of them. She knows the cost of war better than you ever could.”

“I’m not a child,” Loren shot back, his cheeks flushing. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

Daemon tilted his head, his smirk fading slightly as he regarded the boy. “Old enough to wield a sword, perhaps. But war isn’t just about swords, boy. It’s about blood, loss, and sacrifices you can’t begin to imagine. Do you truly understand what you’re asking for?”

“I understand enough,” Loren said firmly, his gaze unwavering. “Luke is dead. Aemond killed him. I can’t sit here while others fight for justice. I want to do my part.”

Daemon’s expression grew darker at the mention of Luke, the faintest flicker of grief passing over his face before it was replaced by his usual cool demeanor. He studied Loren for a long moment, his sharp gaze piercing.

“You’re brave,” Daemon said finally, his voice low and measured. “But bravery alone doesn’t win wars. Tell me, Loren, why should I let you march with us? What makes you think you’re ready for this?”

Loren lifted his chin, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Because I’ve trained for this my whole life. My father taught me strategy, and I’ve been learning to fight since I could hold a sword. I’m ready, Prince Daemon.”

“Are you?” Daemon asked, stepping closer until he towered over the boy. “Because the battlefield doesn’t care about your training or your name. When you’re staring down an enemy twice your size, when you see your friends fall beside you—will you still be ready then?”

Loren didn’t falter, his gaze steady despite the weight of Daemon’s words. “Yes,” he said simply. “Because I’m fighting for something that matters.”

Daemon regarded him in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re your mother’s son, all right. Stubborn as a mule and twice as bold.”

Loren’s lips twitched into a faint smile at the comment, but his resolve didn’t waver. “Does that mean you’ll let me join?”

Daemon exhaled sharply, running a hand through his silver hair. “Not yet,” he said, his tone firm. “I’ll speak to your mother first. If she agrees, I’ll consider it. But don’t get your hopes up, boy. Y/N has a sharper tongue than I do, and I don’t envy the conversation you’ll have when she finds out you came to me.”

Loren’s confidence faltered slightly at that, but he nodded. “Thank you, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon smirked again, his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister. “Don’t thank me yet. And next time, try not to sneak around like a thief. It’s unbecoming of a Lannister.”

As Loren turned to leave, Daemon called after him, his voice laced with amusement. “And tell your dragon to stay out of trouble. We’ll need him in one piece.”

Loren glanced back, his cheeks flushing slightly as he nodded. “Yes, my prince.”

Daemon watched the boy disappear into the shadows, his smirk fading as his expression grew thoughtful. The lion cub had fire, no doubt about that. But fire alone wasn’t enough to survive the inferno of war.

The solar was quiet, the soft crackle of the hearth filling the space as you sat at the writing desk, your quill moving steadily over parchment. The warmth of the fire and the scent of ink should have been calming, but your mind was far from settled. The anxiety in Casterly Rock had been high since Daemon’s arrival, his presence stirring emotions and memories you had long tried to bury.

The knock on the door was firm but not aggressive, breaking your focus. You set the quill down, glancing toward the door. “Enter,” you called, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

Daemon stepped inside, his frame silhouetted by the light from the hall. His silver hair shimmered in the firelight, and his violet eyes were sharp as they locked onto yours. He closed the door behind him, the faint creak of the hinges the only sound as he took a step forward.

“Daemon,” you greeted, your tone guarded but polite. “To what do I owe this visit?”

He smirked faintly, though there was a weight behind it. “You always were direct, niece. It’s one of the things I admired about you.”

You leaned back in your chair, folding your hands neatly in your lap. “And yet, you’ve come to speak with me, not my husband. That’s rarely a good sign.”

His smirk widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Tyland has his uses, but this… this is a matter that concerns you more directly.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you nodded toward a chair by the hearth. “Sit, then. Let’s not waste time.”

Daemon strode across the room, his movements deliberate and controlled. He settled into the chair, resting an arm on the armrest and studying you for a moment before he spoke.

“It’s about Loren,” he said, his tone quieter than you expected. “Your son approached me earlier.”

Your heart sank slightly, though you kept your expression neutral. “What did he say?”

Daemon’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “He wants to join the war. He’s eager to fight, to prove himself. I told him I’d speak to you before making any decisions.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening slightly on your lap. “Loren is brave, but he’s still a boy. He doesn’t understand what war truly means.”

“Perhaps not,” Daemon agreed, leaning forward slightly. “But he has fire in him, Y/N. The kind that could make a difference on the battlefield.”

You narrowed your eyes, your voice sharpening. “And what happens when that fire is snuffed out, Daemon? He’s my son. I won’t risk him for your ambitions.”

Daemon’s smirk faded, replaced by a seriousness that was rare for him. “This isn’t just about my ambitions. It’s about Rhaenyra’s claim, about the future of the realm. If Aegon wins, the Westerlands won’t be safe—your family won’t be safe. You know that.”

You stood, crossing the room to stand near the hearth. The flickering flames reflected in your eyes as you turned back to him. “I know what’s at stake, but I’ve already given everything to this war. My children are my line in the sand, Daemon.”

He rose from his chair, his gaze steady as he approached you. “I understand your fear, Y/N. Truly, I do. But this war isn’t something we can sit out. It’s coming for all of us, whether we want it to or not.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you crackling like the fire behind you. Finally, you sighed, your voice softer. “You said this wasn’t just about Loren. What else is on your mind, Daemon?”

His expression shifted, a flicker of something unguarded crossing his face. “You’ve always been perceptive,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Perhaps too perceptive for your own good.”

“Daemon,” you warned, your tone firm. “Don’t play games with me.”

He stopped just a step away, his gaze locked onto yours. “I came here because I needed to see you,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “Not as a prince or a general, but as the man I was before all of this.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you held his gaze. “And who was that man, Daemon? Because I don’t think I’ve known him for a very long time.”

His lips twisted into a faint, rueful smile. “Perhaps not. But that doesn’t change what I feel—or what I’ve always felt.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly. “Daemon, whatever you think you feel—”

“I’m not asking for anything,” he interrupted, his voice sharper. “I know where you stand, Y/N. I know who you chose. But that doesn’t erase the past, and it doesn’t stop me from caring.”

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words. The weight of his confession hung heavily in the air, mingling with the memories you had worked so hard to suppress. Finally, you exhaled, your voice steady but strained. “You care, Daemon? Then respect my choices. Respect my family.”

He inclined his head slightly, his smirk returning but softer this time. “As you wish, niece. But don’t expect me to stop watching over you. Or your son.”

With that, he turned and strode toward the door, his boots echoing against the stone floor. As the door closed behind him, you sank into the chair by the hearth, your mind racing. Daemon had always been a force of nature—unpredictable, relentless, and utterly unyielding. And while his words left you unsettled, you couldn’t deny the truth in them. The storm of war was coming, and whether you liked it or not, your family was already caught in its path.

[pechadream]

♡ very quick doodle ♡

My ass did NOT survive mizu5 holy SHIT

(Mizu5 dialogue spoilers under cut!)

Never even really drew anything for pjsk but I immediately drew Mizuki and Ena right after reading this- the power of mizu5 I guess-

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

thinking about how special it would feel to have leo valdez’s love. you'd be the only one to break through his walls and see his true self. you'd be the only one he trusts to see him cry, to be there for him at his lowest points. he'd only let you hold him, let you see him at his most vulnerable and let you pick him back up. you're different from everyone else because he knows you won't judge him. all of his insecurities are safe with you.

leo's love is late-night stargazing, when the world is just the two of you. telling you about all of his dreams, his fears, his deepest desires. wiping away his tears even as he tries to hide them by working away at his new projects. deep, genuine laughs as he holds you, eyes so in love. whispered promises and proclamations of love that he's only comfortable sharing at three in the morning. warm hugs whenever you feel lonely, and a cheesy joke to make you laugh. a cozy fireplace in the wintertime, or whenever you feel lost and tired.

leo hits on a lot of people, but he's so used to rejection he doesn't know how to react when he finds someone who loves him back. he initially steps away, isolates himself because he's sure you'll leave him--there's so many people better than him, why would you stay? you deserve so much more. it takes dedication and endurance from both of you as you take small and big leaps of faith together. but the end result is magical, straight out of a fairy tale. leo throws his whole heart and soul into loving you, and the words he once hesitated to say come easy now. the first time he says "I love you", you have no doubt that it's the most heartfelt, vulnerable thing that has ever come out of his mouth.

leo valdez doesn't fall in love often, but when he does, he falls hard. he can't believe he finally has someone to share his heart with, and he would be honored if you could share your heart with him too.

in short? I need a leo valdez.

[writingwithciara]

Best Friend For Life ~Auston Matthews~

summary: y/n's best friend stephanie is getting married to the best guy in the world. aka mitch marner. she is the maid of honor but the best man tends to get on her nerves whenever they're together.

word count: 3.7k

pairing: auston matthews x reader, mitch marner x stephanie lachance

notes: so i was listening to a song the other day and for some reason, i immediately thought of mitch and his wife [friends to lovers sorta]

masterlist

"promise not to get mad at me?" was the first thing stephanie said as she walked through the door of the apartment she shared with her best friend. y/n looked up from her computer with a raised eyebrow.

"what did you do?"

"how do you feel about hockey games?"

"can't stand them. why? what did you do?" she repeated, getting up from her chair and walking over to her best friend.

"we're going to the toronto game tonight."

"and i repeat. what did you do?"

"i was at the coffee shop and i ran into this really cute guy. we talked for hours and he's so sweet. asked me to go on a date with him after his game tonight."

"oh that's great. congratulations."

"but there's a catch."

"oh god. what do i have to do?"

"his best friend is single and so are you so i figured you could tag along since his friend is going to be there too."

"give me one good reason i should, steph." y/n walked into the kitchen to make her lunch. stephanie followed her quickly and clasped her hands together.

"please come with me. i think this guy might be the one. like, for real this time."

"you're lucky i love you and believe you deserve the best."

"does that mean you'll come to the game and the date?"

"let's just see how the game goes first."

"yay. we need to dress really good." steph smirked and dragged y/n into her closet, the lunch completely forgotten.

that night, y/n met mitch and was amazed at how good he treated stephanie, even though they had only met each other a few hours earlier. his best friend, however, was not as great. he did try, but it was easy to tell that he didn't want to be there.

and it only got worse from there.

over time, they both developed a mutual disinterest in each other.

and here they were, a few years later, helping their two best friends plan a wedding.

it was very obvious from the beginning that mitch and stephanie were meant to be together so it was no surprise to anyone when mitch approached y/n to ask for her help with the proposal. he had already gotten her parents approval but he knew that her best friends approval meant a whole lot to her too. he respected their relationship and treated them both well.

the only thing that mitch did that y;/n didn't like was asking stephanie to move in with him. it left y/n alone in their apartment and it felt weird. mitch had suggested that auston move in, in place f stephanie, but y/n quickly shot that idea down. she would rather live alone than live with auston.

as the two girls sat in the kitchen of mitch's house, zeus was resting his head on y/n's lap. she stroked his ear and listened to the plans stephanie wanted for the wedding.

"i'm really honored you chose me to be your maid of honor. but do i have to dance with the best man?"

"i know you and auston despise each other but it's a tradition in my family that the best man and maid of honor share the dance after the married couples first dance."

"i know." y/n sighed. "i'll do it but i won't be happy about it."

"oh thank god. mitch and i were worried we'd have to break tradition."

"i would never allow that." y/n smiled and stood up. zeus tilted his head slightly and gave her a look. "maybe i should dance with zeus instead. he's so much cuter and he actually likes me."

"that would be cute, but it's-"

"tradition. yeah i know." y/n smiled. "how did auston react when mitch told him?"

"i think he's telling him after practice today," stephanie checked her phone. "which should be over right about now."

"i hope he has the same reaction."

over at the arena, mitch and auston were the last two out of the locker room. mitch sent stephanie a text and looked over at auston.

"hey, there's something i need to tell you about the wedding."

"what is it?"

"after steph and i have our first dance, there's a tradition in her family that follows that. the best man and the maid of honor have to dance together too."

"meaning i have to dance with y/n? seriously?""

"sorry man but it's tradition. you can put aside your hatred for one night, can't you?"

"i can promise to try but i can't promise a success."

"that's good enough for me." mitch chuckled and got to his car. "you coming over for dinner? the girls are making meatloaf."

"yeah sure. why not?" auston got in his car and followed mitch to his house. he completely ignored the fact that y/n was going to be there.

the next few days were spent learning how to dance properly. auston and y/n barely made it through without killing each other, but at least they were ready for the big day.

when it arrived, y/n and stephanie were in the room with the rest of the bridal party. the hairdresser finished the last touches on stephanie's hair and she turned around.

"so, how do i look?"

"you look like a princess. mitch is going to cry." y/n smiled and wiped a tear from her own eye. "gosh, you're so lucky. mitch is probably the last good guy on earth."

"he's the best." stephanie looked in the mirror and smiled. "i love him so much. i knew from the moment i met him that this day would happen."

"i knew too. he was the sweetest." y/n smiled. "if you guys ever have kids, that child is going to be blessed with the best genes ever."

"you and auston are good looking too. and if you guys ever get over yourselves and get together to have a child, it's going to be just as beautiful as you guys."

"we're never getting together."

"i want us to have babies around the same time so they can be best friends too."

"i can try to give you that wish. but it's not going to be with auston."

"okay. as long as i get a niece or nephew to love like crazy."

"i love you, steph." y/n pulled her best friend in for a hug before there was knock on the door. auston poked his head in and covered his eyes.

"you ladies ready?"

"auston, you can uncover your eyes." stephanie giggled and shook her head, shooting a look at y/n. "let's go."

one by one, the bridesmaids made their way to stand next to the groomsmen they were paired with. when y/n walked out with stephanie, auston couldn't keep his eyes from roaming y/n's body. the dress fit her so well and her hair was styled perfectly.

'is she not wearing any makeup? holy crap. i don't think i've ever seen her wear any. has she been this perfect the whole time?' he found himself thinking. he shook the thought from his head and took his spot next to her.

"damn, matthews. you really clean up well, don't you?" y/n nudged him with her elbow and he was suddenly at a loss for words. "what's the matter? cat got your tongue? no funny remark?"

"no. sorry." he let out a breath. "thank you for the compliment. you, um, look really good too."

"i know i do." y/n smirked. "but thank you. that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"it can't be." auston looked at her and ran through their history in his mind. "okay. maybe that's true. and i'm sorry for that."

"you are forgiven, matthews." y/n watched as the pairs in front of them made their way out to where they needed to be. she linked her arm up with auston's, wished stephanie good luck and followed the man outside. they stopped at the end of the aisle and went to their designated locations. "you look great, mitchy." she whispered to mitch before taking her spot.

the music started and everyone stood up. when stephanie and her dad walked out, y/n glanced over at mitch. she had only seen him cry twice before in the few years she had known him. this was the third time she had seen tears in his eyes. he tried to hide it but when he looked over at y/n, he smiled.

as the minister went through the normal ceremony, auston kept looking over at y/n. she was watching the interactions between stephanie and mitch so intently, wiping away a tear or two every few seconds. auston was in complete awe of her.

at the reception, stephanie and mitch had the traditional first dance and when that was over, auston was more than eager to make his way to the dance floor. he and y/n took their places and began to dance

as they moved to the music, y/n looked up at auston.

"have you been practicing on your free time?"

"no, i swear. maybe you just make me a better dancer." he shrugged and moved her around the dance floor effortlessly.

"what's gotten into you tonight, matthews?"

"i think it's all the love in the air." he smiled.

"never would've pegged you for a romantic guy. no offence."

"none taken. i didn't expect it from myself either honestly." he spun her around a few times and when the song ended, so did their moment.

everyone else came to the dance floor to do their thing and y/n walked to the table to sit for a minute. stephanie was sitting beside her with a smile.

"auston is so into you."

"no he's not."

"oh please. i heard what he said before the wedding started. he was genuinely complimenting you. there was no hint of lying in his voice."

"he claims it's the love being in the air. i don't know what else to tell you."

even as y/n spoke those words, she couldn't bring herself to believe them. maybe stephanie was right and auston really was into her. she scanned the room and found him with mitch in the middle of the dance floor. they were having the time of their lives and y/n couldn't help but smile.

auston could feel someone watching him so when he looked up and locked eyes with y/n, he winked at her. she turned away shyly and sipped her drink. he thought it was cute.

y/n could feel her cheeks heating up and she hated it. she didn't like the way auston was suddenly making her feel. looking down at her now empty glass, she decided to blame it on the alcohol in her system, and as auston put it, the love in the air.

halfway through the reception, y/n was beginning to really feel the alcohol. the thing about that was it made her act differently and her voice of reason flew out the window whenever she drank.

as she downed her drink yet again, she found herself making her way to where auston was leaning against the wall. he noticed her approach him and he finished his drink.

"hey. what are you doing all alone over here? you should be having some fun. trying to pick up a girl or two." y/n giggled. why did it feel like her stomach was in knots?

"honestly, nobody here is really catching my eye." his eyes roamed the room before landing back on y/n. "might just call it a night."

"no don't." y/n sounded too eager to get him to stay so she backtracked her outburst. "i mean, it's your best friends wedding and you're the best man. you can't leave." y/n shyly looked down at her shoes.

"okay, i'll stay. but first, you gotta tell me why you hate me so much."

"what are you talking about? i hate you because on the night we met, you decided right away that you didn't like me."

"what gave you that impression?" he chuckled dryly.

"you were grumpy and it was very obvious you didn't want to be there. you put no effort into getting to know me. but i don't understand why you were grumpy. you scored the game winning goal in overtime, not to mention you had the only hat trick the entire game. that should've made you a little happier. you were so good that night. i remember telling steph 'wow. that matthews kid is really good.' like i was very impressed. and then we met and i thought you were really cute. but you had to ruin it by opening your mouth."

"you thought i was cute?"

"why do you hate me?"

"i don't. never did. i jsut really didn't want to be put on a blind double date. i hate blind dates."

"i hate them too. and i was only there as a favor to steph."

"i was only there for mitch. he was telling me during practice that he thought he met the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and he wanted me to meet her & make sure she wasn't a serial killer or crazy in anyway."

"and look at them now. kinda crazy how they both knew right away, huh?"

"yeah. but i think it's sweet." auston looked down at her and smiled. forgetting for a second that he hated her. "i'm really happy for them though. they're good for each other."

"i agree." y/n grabbed a glass off a passing waiters tray and drank half of it in one gulp.

"do you think you'll find the person you want to spend your life with?"

"i'd like to think i will & i'm hoping it's soon. but with my luck in love, it'll probably never happen." y/n sighed. "how about you? think you'll meet her soon?"

"honestly, i think i may have already met her."

oh. well that's good." y/n looked down at her feet. "wanna dance? reception's almost over and i feel like we should get at least one more dance in, just to make the newlyweds happy." she gestured to their right where mitch and steph were dancing. they waved and danced away.

"sure. what harm can it do?"

the two of them walked out onto the dance floor and just as they were getting into the beat of the song, it ended and a new slow song started. y/n froze and looked at auston. he grabbed her hands and placed them where they needed to be before he guided her across the dance floor.

they locked eyes and it suddenly felt like they were the only people around. to everyone but them, it was obvious there was an attraction between them.

when the song ended, y/n stayed with her arms around auston's neck as they swayed back and forth.

"so there's really nobody here that catches your eye?" y/n asked, bringing up part of their earlier conversation. she played with her thumbs behind his neck and one of them wrapped itself in a curl that was loose.

"actually, now that i've thought more about it, there may be one."

"wanna point her out? maybe i can talk you up to her."

"red dress, dark hair that's half up half down with curls, no makeup because she's literally perfect and doesn't need it. she's so perfect but she's dancing with the hottest guy here. i can't compete with that."

"one of those things describe steph. she's not wearing a red dress though, nor does she have dark hair. however, i am dancing with the hottest guy here."

"i know." auston smirked and twirled her around. when he pulled her back, he was holding her tighter. "you look so beautiful right now. and not just tonight. every night since the night i met you."

"auston, are you drunk?"

"maybe a little. but i'm coherent enough to know what i'm saying and i'm sober enough to tell you that i mean it."

"auston, please don't lie to me."

"why would i need to lie to you?" he looked down at her and y/n searched his eyes for a sign of him lying. there wasn't one. "i've always thought you were beautiful. gorgeous even. out of my league for sure. and i'm genuinely sorry that i never really said anything about it."

"please don't apologize. i wasn't exactly the nicest person to be around so that must've made it difficult for you."

"difficult, yes. but worth it? totally. 100% worth it."

"do you think that if mitch and steph hadn't dragged us both on that date that night, then maybe we would have a different history than the one we do?"

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, if they had invited us to a group thing instead and that's how we met, do you think that we could've been friends these last few years?"

"for sure." auston smiled. "and maybe, if we had been friends and i asked you on a proper date, you could've said yes."

"i think i would've." it was y/n's turn to smile. "but hey. we're both still young and have plenty of life left to live. why don't we go out tomorrow night?"

"that sounds like it could be fun." auston chuckled. "and just to be clear, it'll be just us, right? no one else."

"yes. just us."

"great. i'll pick you up at 8 then."

"it's a date." y/n smiled as auston spun her around.

the following night, y/n was getting ready for the date when stephanie facetimed her.

"oh, who you getting ready for?"

"believe it or not, i'm going on a date with auston."

"oh my god. finally!" mitch cheered from the other end of the phone. his face appeared on the screen and he was sporting a large smile. "i'm so tired of hearing him pine over you."

"you're exaggerating, mitchy." y/n shook her head. "how's the honeymoon you guys?"

"it's perfect. thanks for the suggestion." steph was back on the screen. "and thanks for agreeing to take care of zeus while we're gone."

"of course. i love zeus." y/n smiled and looked at the dog, whose head was resting on y/n's lap. "who's the bestest boy? you are. yes you are."

"have fun on your date, sweetie. make sure to tell me everything afterwards."

"always. see you guys later." y/n hung up the phone and finished doing her hair. "which dress should i wear zeus?" she held up a yellow dress and zeus tilted his head. she then held up a blue dress and he barked. "thank you, zeus." y/n changed quickly and looked at herself in the mirror. "what do you think?"

zeus barked and tilted his head.

"you're so cute." y/n grabbed her purse and walked to the door when she heard a knock. "okay, zeus. i'll be back in a few hours. there's plenty of food in your bowl and your treat ball is filled so you should be fine."

y/n opened the door and auston handed her a small bouquet of orange chrysanthemums, her favorite.

"how did you know?"

"i remember you telling mitch one day that you loved chrysanthemums and how your heart would be complete if someone ever gave you the orange ones specifically. i didn't know what the different colors meant but i did some research shortly after that night and i've wanted to give you a bouquet of orange ones ever since. delicate love, right?"

"yeah. exactly." she ventured into the kitchen to grab a vase and filled it with water. "i can't believe you even remembered that. i told him like 4 years ago."

"i know. um, you may not believe me but i had a list of all your favorite things. i don't have it now because i memorized it but i figured i'd let you know."

"auston, this is so uncharacteristic of you. but i appreciate the attentiveness. no guy has ever done anything like this for me before."

"i know. it's unfortunate but you deserve it. you deserve someone who is willing to treat you like a queen. someone who can't get you out of his head, even if he tried. because you are so perfect, it's crazy."

"auston?"

"hmm?"

"stop talking." y/n smiled and pecked his lips. "you are so sweet, matthews."

"hold on just a second." he kissed her again but this time it lasted longer than a simple peck. she wrapped her arms around his neck and his found a place resting gently on her waist. auston was the first to let go of the kiss but they were both smiling from ear to ear.

"no guy has ever kissed me like that before. wow." y/n smirked.

"well all the other guys have been really stupid. and i'm not ashamed to admit that i'm part of that list."

"you're also a lot smarter than all the other guys i've been interested in." y/n's hand reached up to rest against his cheek.

"has anyone ever told you how perfect you are?"

"you did last night while we were dancing." y/n smiled and looked into his eyes. "and for the record, you're pretty perfect too."

"does that mean we're....perfect together?"

"corny joke aside, i think we might be."

"good." he smirked and kissed her again. their date was pretty much forgotten at this point as y/n pulled him through her apartment and into the living room.

auston sat on the couch and held y/n's hips as she straddled him. she looked into his eyes and felt herself getting lost in them.

"just so you know, i never bring a guy home on the first date."

"i know. and technically, if you count the blind date when we met, this is technically our second date." he smirked in response.

"it was a disaster and i feel now that our relationship has crossed the friendship line, we should just forget about the night we met."

"deal." auston smiled and they sealed their deal with a kiss. several kisses to be exact.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @fearfam69691 @carolinalikesthings

[icequeenlila]

Context: They're walking back to their shared dorm.

"Don't you worry what people think when they see you with me?"

This time the pull inside his gut wasn't as bad, still Bradley couldn't find it in himself to look at Max.

"You know", Max said. "I'm amazed every time I remember you managed to make an entire campus believe you're this untouchable ego-king." He cocked his head, looking at Bradley with caring eyes. "When in reality, you have pretty much no self-esteem."

Bradley kicked a pebble on the floor.

"If you only ever interact with people on a shallow basis, it's pretty easy to pretend", Bradley said with a shrug. "And before you, the only person I ever actually talked to was Tank."

"Well, then I consider myself honored to be one of the few people allowed to see your real self", Max said and the smile on his lips was so fond that it left no doubt he actually meant it.

Bradley didn’t deserve him.

"And to put your mind to rest," Max said, his thumb running along Bradley's palm again, sending shivers through his traitorous body. "If it was possible I'd let the whole world know that I am dating Bradley Uppercrust the third, and that I'm so, so very happy about the fact."

Bradley felt that fragile thing inside his chest again. His cheeks burned and he didn't try to hide it. There was a lump building in his throat, and Bradley swallowed it down. If it was just Max, maybe he'd let his emotions run free, but there was just no way he'd let a single tear slip when he was outside, in bright daylight.

"I'm very happy too", he said and his voice was barely audible even to his own ears.

Max’ smile was booming. He looked at Bradley like he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

The thought alone made his heart swell with unbearable warmth. The thought that Braldey might be precious to Max.

"Wait", Max said, eyes growing big. "I have an idea."

He abruptly stopped on the sidewalk, almost making a guy on a skateboard bump into them.

"Yo, watch your step!"

Max completely ignored him, instead looking at Bradley with wide eyes and a smile that told him he was up to no good.

"Max?", he asked, his voice wary.

"Two flies with one strike", Max blurted.

"What?"

"You're worried people will judge me for being with you, and you're scared people will realize you're a complete softie for me."

Bradley frowned. "Well, I wouldn't say it like that- "

"I'll proof to you that I don't give a fuck about what people think and draw all attention from you." 

Max sounded more than excited now. Bradley was surprised he didn't see a tail wagging behind his back.

"Goof, I have no idea what you’re talking about", Bradley said, crossing his arms.

Max's smile only grew.

"See those people?", he asked.

They were close to the dorms now. There weren't as many people here as there had been by the main building, but it was the middle of the day and most students were on their way to lectures.

"I do", Bradley said, still lost on what Max was trying to tell him. "What about them?"

There was now a full-on grin on Max' face. "People won't even think of painting you the love-sick one when they see that I'm far worse."

"Wha- "

But it clicked.

If possible, Max’ grin grew even wider.

"Goof", Bradley warned. "Don't do something you'll regre- "

"Hey, everyone!", Max yelled, spinning around with his arms spread wide open.

Pretty much everyone within earshot turned at the sound of his booming voice. He was their golden boy after all.

"Max!", Bradley hissed, hiding half of his face behind one hand.

People even stopped on both sides of the sidewalk to listen to what Max had to say, smiles on their lips and curiosity in their eyes.

"I'm dating Bradley Uppercrust!", Max yelled and Bradley's heart did a painful jump inside his chest. "I'm down bad and I'm super happy!"

People's eyes went wide, a universal murmur filling the campus street.

"No", Braldey said, turning on his heel and power walking away from him.

He felt his heart thundering inside his chest, a mix of adrenalin and euphoria setting his insides alight. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

He heard Max laughing behind him, and then warm fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Wait for me, Brad!", he called, giggling. "People will think I'm a liar."

"What are you doing!?", he hissed, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from rising.

"Telling everyone how down-bad for you I am", Max answered with the sun in his eyes.

"People will talk!" There was a quiver in his voice, he only barely contained the laughter bubbling up his chest.

"I sure hope they will", Max said, a giddy chuckle in his voice.

"You're mad", Bradley scolded, but no matter how hard he tried to contain it, he couldn't keep the giggle from his voice.

"Only because I wanna kiss you so bad right now", Max said with a dopey grin, his fingers pressing down around Bradley's hand.

Bradley blushed, almost stumbling as they walked towards the nearing dorms in hurried steps.

"You can kiss me all you want once we're back home again", Bradley said, almost feeling ashamed at his own boldness.

But no shame could fester inside his chest when Max looked at him like that. His warm brown eyes widened in surprise, his pupils slightly blown at Bradley's promise.

"Hurry up or I'll carry you", Max said, pulling Bradley along.

+

From chapter 10 of 'Good Luck, Babe!' on ao3.

[bradshawsbaby]

My Birthday Baby

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Summary: You always do everything in your power to make sure that Bradley’s birthday is as perfect and special as he is, but it’s much harder to do this year when you’re seven months pregnant with his baby.

Word Count: 5.7k

Author’s Note: I can’t believe it’s been over four months since I’ve written a proper story for the Bradshaws! That feels criminal! Naturally, I couldn’t let Bradley’s birthday pass by without some type of celebration!

Warnings: Pregnancy, implied sex, subtle innuendos, a dash of angst, and a whole lot of signature Bradshaw fluff.

Barring perhaps Christmas, today was one of your absolute favorite days out of the entire year.

To most people, June 27th might not be any particular cause for celebration, but to you, it was one of the most important days on the calendar. If you could, you’d turn it into a national holiday so that everyone could commemorate it. Why, some might ask? Because it was the day your incredible husband had entered the world, and Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw deserved to be honored and celebrated more than anyone else you knew.

For as long as he had been in your life, you had done everything in your power to make sure that each and every one of Bradley’s birthdays was as special as he was, and that he could feel just how loved he was.

“My mom always made a big deal out of my birthdays,” he had told you early on in your relationship, shrugging it off and blushing slightly, like he was almost a little embarrassed about it. “She used to tell me that the day I was born was the best day of her and my dad’s lives, so we had to celebrate big. After she passed, I kind of just pretended like it was any other day. Didn’t feel right celebrating with her and my dad both gone.”

It was then that you realized he wasn’t embarrassed about the big birthday parties his mom had thrown him—he missed them. Even though the two of you had only been dating for a few months, you were coming to know him like the back of your hand and you could pick up on the subtle clues that revealed how he was feeling. The pink hue to his cheeks and ears, the way he shrugged it off like it was no big deal and kept averting his gaze, the tightness in his jaw as he swallowed a few times—he was trying to mask the emotion his admission had dredged up.

“Your birthday is a special day,” you’d told him softly, reaching out and placing your hand over his, your fingertips lightly dancing across his knuckles. “And I think your parents would want you to celebrate that. I know that I want to celebrate it.”

He had just kissed you in response, burying his face in your neck to hide the fact that his dark eyes were wet.

But a few weeks later, when his first birthday as your boyfriend rolled around, you surprised him with tickets to a Padres game and you were certain that you had never seen a bigger smile on anyone’s face. The way he beamed at you, his eyes brimming with the love he never failed to shower upon you, would be engraved on your heart for the rest of your days, you were sure of it.

After that, every time June 27th rolled around, you made sure to make it the big celebration that Carole would have wanted. From weekend trips, to surprise parties, to special gifts that brought your big, tough fighter pilot to tears, nothing was too elaborate or too good for your Bradley.

“Thank you, honey,” he had whispered in your ear on his last birthday, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you held each other close. “Thank you for always making this day better than I could have dreamed.”

And this year was going to be the best yet. It might look a little different than previous years, but you were more determined than ever to shower your husband with all the love and affection that he so deserved.

Rolling over onto your back gingerly, you placed both hands on the rounded mound of your belly and smiled sleepily. A cursory glance at your alarm clock had revealed that it was a few minutes after six, the sun just barely starting to break through the morning clouds outside your bedroom window. Rubbing the underside of your bump tenderly, you felt a small kick and your smile grew wider.

“It’s Daddy’s birthday today, Baby B,” you whispered, poking your belly playfully. “Are you going to help me celebrate?”

As if in response, you felt another firm kick and you had to bite back a laugh to keep from waking up Bradley. At seven months pregnant, you could feel the baby kick all the time now and it always made your heart burst with excitement.

Bradley, knowing how much you always went all out for his birthdays, had been concerned this past week, wanting you to rest instead of tiring yourself out on his account.

“Honey, I mean it,” he’d told you just the other day, his large hand splayed across your belly as the two of you sat together on the couch. “Don’t overdo it this year. We can just have a nice dinner, a little cake, and that’s all I need. You and the baby are the greatest gifts I could ever get. Nothing’s going to top that anyway,” he grinned, kissing the tip of your nose and then dropping a kiss on your stomach.

You knew he was right, but that hadn’t stopped you from spending all day at the grocery store yesterday, picking up all the ingredients you needed for Bradley’s birthday dinner and homemade cake, or from staying up all night last night to prepare and pack a special birthday lunch for him to take to work today.

“Do you really have to go to work tomorrow?” you’d asked him as the two of you were preparing for bed last night. “It’s your birthday!”

Bradley just laughed, wrapping his arms around your swollen middle and pulling you towards him, your back pressed firmly against his broad chest. “Honey, it’s not like it’s a federal holiday,” he grinned, peppering your cheek with kisses. “Can you imagine Cyclone’s face if I requested a day off just because it’s my birthday?”

“It should be a holiday,” you grumbled, erupting into a fit of giggles as Bradley began nibbling playfully on your neck, his mustache tickling your skin.

“It’s still going to be a perfect day, because I have a perfect wife I’m coming home to, and she’s carrying our perfect baby,” Bradley smiled, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your face towards his so that he could drop a proper kiss on your lips. “Not to mention the perfect birthday cake my perfect wife is baking me,” he teased, pecking the corner of your mouth.

Bradley loved your baking, and every year he liked to request a different flavored cake for his birthday—”They’re all so good, I can’t choose just one favorite!” he’d told you. This year, he’d opted for a chocolate chip cake with vanilla frosting and a fudgy center. You’d made it once for a barbecue at Penny and Mav’s house and Bradley hadn’t been able to stop raving about it. You knew it was the number one thing he was most excited for this year.

“Mmm, really sucking up, aren’t we?” you teased, wiggling your hips against him with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I already have all the ingredients for your birthday cake.”

He groaned softly, kissing your collarbone as a sign of his appreciation. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Yes,” you smiled, snuggling up against him as the two of you fell asleep.

Now you were awake, your internal clock hardly ever allowing you to sleep in late these days. Turning your head on your pillow, you looked over at your husband, still fast asleep beside you—his alarm wasn’t set to go off for another forty-five minutes or so—and felt your heart flood with the warmth of an adoration that had only continued to grow since the moment you had first met him at The Hard Deck all those years ago.

His ruddy cheek was pressed against his pillow, his soft lips parted slightly as he breathed in and out, the soft whir of it a soothing sound. His dark hair, which had turned a shade of golden brown in the heat of the San Diego sun, was rumpled and messy and you had never felt more inclined to tangle your fingers in those tantalizing curls. With his eyes still firmly shut, his dark lashes were kissing the tops of his sunburned cheeks. You had to force back a laugh at the sight of his reddened skin. How many times had you scolded him for spraying sunscreen directly into his face like a madman? And yet, despite his best efforts, he somehow always managed to get burned to a crisp.

Still, he had never looked more handsome to you.

Rolling slowly onto your side, the added bulk of Baby B making you a bit more clumsy, you reached out and traced intricate patterns onto the bare skin of his back, shivering with pleasure at the feel of how warm his body was.

Letting out a soft and sleepy moan, Bradley slowly started to stir and you stilled your hand for a moment, your lips curving up into an affectionate smile. Admiring the way the morning light was cascading down his sunkissed skin, you couldn’t resist leaning forward and pressing delicate kisses to the delicious freckles that were scattered across his shoulders, always made darker after hours spent shirtless in the sun.

At the feel of your warm lips brushing against his back, Bradley stirred further, his dark eyes cracking open as he let out another soft groan, one of pleasure this time.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” you whispered against him, your lips continuing to trail kisses across his upper back as your fingers danced slowly down his side.

“Mmm, happy birthday to me,” Bradley grinned, his voice still raspy and hoarse from just waking up. The deep timbre of it sent shivers all the way down to your toes. He lifted his head slightly, his eyes blinking the last vestiges of sleep away. “What a way to start the day,” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you apologized, returning to your position on your back as your husband rose up on one elbow to gaze down at you, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

“No apologies necessary, honey,” he assured you, dipping his head low so that he could kiss you more thoroughly, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you knotted your fingers in his messy curls.

“You’ll have to get up and get ready for work soon,” you panted when he finally tore his lips away from yours and began sucking softly on your neck, his large, calloused hands slipping beneath the oversized T-shirt you’d worn to bed last night. You bit your lower lip in pleasure as you wrapped one leg around his, loving the way his body still found ways to meld to yours, even with your growing belly.

“Mmm, soon,” he murmured, nodding in agreement as he nipped gently at your collarbone. “But not yet,” he smirked, reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

Making love to your husband as the early morning light began breaking through the gossamer curtains of your bedroom window seemed like the perfect way to kick off his birthday celebration this year. Judging from the sated, blissful expression on his face as he collapsed on his back beside you, Bradey certainly thought so anyway.

“Damn, now I really am regretting not asking Cyclone for the day off,” Bradley laughed breathlessly, tugging you closer to his side and kissing you deeply.

“Told you so,” you smirked playfully, nudging his side as you kissed him in return. You sighed as you glanced over the alarm clock and saw that it was almost seven. “You should probably start getting in the shower. I’ll make you breakfast,” you told him, starting to rise up in bed.

“Uh-uh,” Bradley replied, shaking his head and stopping you in your tracks with an arm across your chest. “Forget breakfast. I’m not showering without you,” he grinned, climbing out of bed and scooping you up into his arms.

“But they say breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” you joked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bathroom.

“You’re the most important meal of the day,” he shot back with a mischievous wink, his face splitting into a huge grin.

You threw your head back laughing at that one, swatting at his chest with one hand. “What a line that was, Lieutenant,” you grinned.

“Did it work?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Only because it’s your birthday,” you giggled, leaning forward and kissing him sweetly.

After a shower that was certainly longer than Navy regulation, Bradley reluctantly got dressed while you hurried to the kitchen to make him some toast and a quick cup of coffee. Grabbing his lunch from the fridge, complete with the little handwritten note you’d tucked inside for him, you handed it all to him as he got ready to walk out the door.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, resting his hand on the back of your head as he pulled you in for a kiss. “This is already an amazing birthday, honey,” he added with a wink.

“It’s just getting started,” you smiled, smoothing down the collar of his uniform and giving him one more quick kiss. “Have a great day at work.”

Bradley nodded, giving you one last squeeze before juggling all his things and heading towards the door. “I promise I’ll be home as quickly as I can.”

“We’ll be here,” you told him, grinning as you rested your hand on your belly and felt another strong kick.

“Don’t let Mommy work herself too hard, Baby B!” Bradley called with a laugh, and then he was gone.

“Listen, I promise I’m not going to overdo it, but we have to make the day special for Daddy,” you whispered conspiratorially, looking down at your growing bump. When you felt a little nudge in response, you grinned. “See? I knew you’d understand.”

Changing into a pair of stretchy yoga pants and one of Bradley’s old T-shirts, you set about pulling out all the birthday decorations you’d secretly ordered to decorate the apartment with. From balloons to streamers to confetti to a large “Happy Birthday, Bradley!” banner, within a couple hours, you’d managed to make your home look like an advertisement for Party City.

“Whew,” you breathed out, pulling your hair back from your now sweaty neck and tying it up into a quick ponytail. You were breathing harder than expected after hanging everything up, and a quick rest on the couch seemed like a good idea. “You’re kind of heavy, you know that?” you teased affectionately, poking at your belly. “Mama used to be able to do all of this without breaking a sweat, but now I feel like I just ran a marathon. But you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide,” you laughed, massaging your stomach as you leaned back into the couch cushions with a sigh.

You didn’t have much time to relax, however. If you wanted everything to be ready for when Bradley got home from work, you had to start working on dinner and his cake now.

“Alright, Baby B, back to work we go,” you murmured, lifting yourself up off the couch with a soft groan and rubbing your lower back as you waddled into the kitchen. After trying for so long to get pregnant, you could honestly say that you loved and appreciated every moment of your pregnancy thus far, but you’d also be lying if you said that it wasn’t taking a lot out of you physically, especially as you headed into the final stretch.

It was also becoming harder and harder to wrap your head around the fact that this would be the last birthday you and Bradley celebrated together, just the two of you. Come next year, you’d have an almost one-year-old, which was still too crazy to think about. It would be wonderful, but different, which was why you wanted to make today so particularly special.

Now that all the decorations were up, you turned your attention towards dinner. Considering your oven was only so big, you had to manage your time wisely to ensure that both dinner and Bradley’s birthday cake would be ready in time. But you’d timed it all down to the last minute, so you were confident everything would be fine.

Since you were making Bradley’s birthday dinner yourself this year, you’d decided on the chicken pot pie that he loved so much. His mom had made it for him all the time when he was growing up, and you’d spent a long time trying to perfect Carole’s recipe until you got it just right. The day Bradley’s face had lit up and he’d told you that it tasted just like his mom’s was still one of the proudest moments of your life. In addition to the pot pie, you were also preparing a fresh garden salad, creamy mashed potatoes, and cornbread.

As all that was finishing baking, you pulled out the ingredients for Bradley’s chocolate chip cake and began mixing them together until the batter was thick and tasted like heaven—you could never resist stealing a little lick. Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, you moved back and forth between checking on the food and preparing the cake pans until you felt a bit dizzy. Once everything was settled, you told yourself, you’d take a quick rest.

At the sound of your phone buzzing on the counter, you turned and smiled when you saw that Phoenix was texting you a ton of pictures.

Don’t worry, we’re taking care of your boy until he can get home!

Your smile widened as you swiped through photo after photo of the little party the Dagger Squad had thrown for Bradley. The rec room on base was decked out with balloons and a small sign that looked like it had been written in Bob’s firm hand. Bradley was sitting in front of a cake that had come from his favorite bakery, everyone else gathered around him for a big group shot. There were also individual pictures of him with Mav, Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy, Bob, Coyote, Hangman, Hondo and some of the others. You even thought you spotted Cyclone in the back of one photo, a slice of cake in hand.

Amazing! Looks like you guys are having a great time! Thank you for organizing it!

Of course! He’s having a good day, but he can’t stop talking about getting home to you! You’re not overdoing it, are you?

Did Bradley tell you to ask me that?

Maybe. But the question still stands.

I’m fine. I’m going to take a break once dinner is ready and I get the cake started in the oven.

He’s lucky to have you! Talk to you soon!

A few minutes later, dinner was finished, the chicken pot pie and cornbread sitting on the counter to cool while you grabbed the pans full of cake batter and set them on your baking tray in the oven.

Rising up with a slight wince and a yawn, you held your back with one hand while cradling your belly with the other. “Okay, Baby B, time for a short nap while Daddy’s cake bakes,” you murmured, checking the oven one last time before making your way to the bedroom, where you promptly crawled under the covers and passed out.

You had thought for sure that you’d set a quick alarm on your phone before falling asleep, but evidently your exhausted brain had been playing tricks on you because you suddenly woke with a start when the smell of something burning hit your nostrils. Gasping, you shot up in bed and looked at the clock on your bedside table, horrified to see that you’d been asleep for over an hour.

“No, no, no,” you mumbled frantically, slipping out of bed as quickly as your cumbersome body would allow and hurrying to the kitchen, where the smell of burning grew worse, tendrils of smoke starting to drift out of the oven.

Clutching your face in your hands, you let out another gasp before shutting off the oven and hurrying to open all the windows in the apartment, terrified of setting off the smoke alarm. When you walked back into the kitchen, you opened the oven slowly, holding your breath as a ton of smoke was released into the room. As it cleared, you waved your hand back and forth in front of your face and were devastated to see the burnt remains of Bradley's birthday cake, crusted inside your baking pans, the top layer blackened from being left in the oven for more than double the amount of time it should have been.

“Oh, no,” you whimpered softly, feeling your eyes and throat burn with unshed tears as you grabbed a pair of oven mitts and reached for your ruined dessert, your heart plummeting inside your chest as you lifted it up for closer inspection. It was completely beyond salvaging.

You could fix this. There was still time. You could jump in the car, hurry to the store, pick up fresh ingredients, and—

The sound of the key turning in the lock made your heart sink even further as you stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, the remains of Bradley’s ruined birthday cake still in your hands.

“Honey, I’m home! I managed to get out a little early and—honey?!” You could hear the playful tone of Bradley’s voice quickly turn to panic as he clearly smelled the evidence of your disastrous mistake. A second later, he was running into the kitchen, eyes wide with worry. “Honey!” he exclaimed again, rushing to your side and checking you over until he was satisfied you were unharmed. “What happened?”

Your chin wobbled miserably and you couldn’t even look him in the eye as you held out the cake pan you were still grasping onto tightly. “I burned your birthday cake,” you confessed, your voice quaking as you fought to get the words out.

Bradley’s eyes softened and he reached out to cup your cheek gently, brushing his thumb against your skin. “Oh, baby, it’s alright,” he assured you, carefully prying the singed pan out of your hands and setting it down in the sink.

“No, it isn’t!” you burst out, suddenly breaking down in tears, your entire body trembling as you were wracked with sobs. “You were so excited about that cake! And it’s your birthday! I ruined your birthday!” You buried your face in your hands as you cried and turned away from him, so disappointed in yourself for having made such a stupid mistake.

“Hey! No, you didn’t!” Bradley insisted instantly, immediately coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. “You didn’t ruin anything, honey,” he cooed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and rocking you gently in his embrace.

When you just continued to cry, shaking your head as if to refute his words, he reached for your shoulders and turned you slowly until you were facing him, though you still wouldn’t look at him. “Hey,” he said again, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifting your face until you had no choice but to gaze into his eyes, so warm and compassionate as always. “You decorated this whole apartment for me,” he told you, indicating all the decorations you’d spent hours putting together. “You made me an amazing lunch and an incredible dinner from what I can tell,” he went on, pointing his chin in the direction of the counter where the chicken pot pie and cornbread were resting. “And are you forgetting this morning?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows in an attempt to make you laugh. “That alone made it my best birthday yet. How could you think that you ruined it?”

He was trying to make you feel better. Your sweet husband was always so quick to cheer you up whenever you were feeling down, even if it was over the silliest thing. But you still felt awful. He was so excited about his chocolate chip birthday cake. He’d been talking about it for days. Bradley never asked for anything on his birthday, but he had asked for that. And you’d completely ruined it.

“It was what you wanted,” you replied tearfully, your face crumbling as you began crying anew. “And today was supposed to be special!”

“It is special,” Bradley countered, attempting to thumb your tears away. But they were falling too fast at this point.

“No! It isn’t!” you cried, whirling away from him and hiding your face behind your hands once more.

Bradley sighed, watching you silently for a moment or two. As well as you knew him, and could read everything he did and said, he could do the same for you. And he knew the reason you were so upset wasn’t just about some cake getting burned.

Stepping closer to you, he rested his hands on your shoulders and waited until you lowered your hands slowly before murmuring gently, “Why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”

You let out a shaky breath and looked up at him with watery eyes, and you could practically hear his heart breaking as he gazed back at you.

“Oh, honey,” Bradley whispered, rubbing your back soothingly as he pulled out a chair at the small kitchen table and settled you down in it before crouching in front of you, his big hands resting warmly on your thighs. “What is it?”

“It’s your last birthday with just the two of us,” you told him slowly, feeling a bit silly as you voiced your thoughts aloud. “I just—I wanted it to be special. Next year, things are going to be so different.” You instinctively moved your hand to your rounded belly.

“Baby,” Bradley breathed out, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs slowly. “You’re right, things are going to be different. But it’ll be a good kind of different,” he comforted you, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You felt your face scrunch up as more tears started to fall. “I know,” you nodded, even as a few fat tears rolled down your cheeks and spilled onto your shirt. “God, I must sound so awful, like I don’t even want our baby around, after how long we spent—”

“I don’t think that at all,” he told you firmly, cutting you off before you could even finish your sentence. “I think you’re exhausted, and that you’ve been pushing yourself way too hard, that’s what I think.”

“I’m just—I’m scared,” you confessed quietly, your voice almost like a whisper, like it was some kind of shameful secret. “I love our baby more than anything, and I’m so excited that we’re starting a family together, but now that we’re getting close, it just feels like everything’s changing so quickly and there’s nothing I can do to control it.”

Bradley chuckled softly, reaching up to cup your face as he looked directly into your eyes. “Honey, there’s nothing in this life we can control. I know you hate to hear that because you love to take care of everything and everyone, but it’s the truth. It’s something I’ve learned over and over and over again. No matter what we do, no matter how tightly we hold onto things, we can’t control anything. We just have to enjoy this life, moment by moment, for what it is and hold onto all the good bits. Our life is beautiful now, and it’s going to be even more beautiful whenever Baby B decides to make his or her grand entrance,” he grinned, tenderly running a hand over your belly. “I know it’s scary. Trust me, I’m scared, too. But we’re in this together. Always.”

Smiling through your tears, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead against your husband’s, holding his precious face in your hands as if you were holding a priceless treasure. “How’d you get to be so smart, huh?” you asked softly, laughing as you pressed a light kiss to his lips.

Bradley smiled as well, resting his hands over yours. “Well, you know what they say. Another year older, another year wiser,” he teased.

Letting out a soft sigh, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled your nose against his, trying to soak in how grateful you were for this particular moment in time and for the gift of your husband’s life, which was what today was really all about. “I still feel terrible about your birthday cake,” you admitted, the corners of your mouth turning down slightly as you glanced over at the oven. “I just meant to take a short nap, but I must have forgotten to set an alarm, and when I woke up, I could smell it burning.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Bradley said seriously, stroking your cheek as if to ensure that you really were safe. “When I walked in and smelled that—well, you had me really scared there for a minute, honey.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling even worse that you’d worried him and then forced him to be the one to comfort you on his special day. “Your birthday is—”

“Honey, my birthday is just a day,” he told you, taking your hands in his and squeezing gently. “What makes it special is how loved you always make me feel. The decorations, the parties, the cake—they’re all amazing, sure, and I’m always so thankful for them, but they wouldn’t mean anything without all the love and the care you put into them. That’s what I love most about my birthday. Just getting to be with you. Everything else is icing on the cake.”

“Ugh, please, no cake references for a little while,” you murmured, your eyes glistening with tears at your husband’s words. Smiling, you leaned forward and kissed him, then laid your head on his shoulder. “I love you so much, Bradley Bradshaw. You deserve to be celebrated every single day. I would be so lost in this life without you.”

“Ditto, honey,” Bradley grinned, rising slowly and lifting you up with him. He smoothed your hair back from your face and dropped a loving kiss on your forehead. “You’ve given me the greatest gift anyone could ever give, just by loving me and walking through this life with me. Not to mention making me a dad,” he said softly, his own eyes glistening as he cradled your swollen stomach with one hand. “I love you more than words could ever describe.”

Wrapping your arms around each other, you and Bradley stood holding one another in the middle of the kitchen, swaying back and forth, for what felt like hours. Or maybe it was only seconds. Time didn’t seem to matter anymore. When you finally pulled back, Bradley smiled and kissed your tear-stained cheeks.

“Not to ruin this moment, but I think that chicken pot pie is starting to call my name,” he laughed, his stomach grumbling as if on cue.

Giggling, you nodded and stepped around him to grab the dinner you’d prepared. “Sit down and I’ll get it all ready,” you told him.

“Nope,” he shot back, stepping up beside you. “It’s my birthday, and I insist on serving you. You sit down and I’ll get everything ready.”

“But Bradley, I—”

“No arguing with the birthday boy,” he grinned, steering you towards the table.

Knowing it was no use arguing with him, stubborn man that he was, you just smiled and sat back as he laid out the chicken pot pie, salad, mashed potatoes, and cornbread. Thankfully, you’d already set the table earlier in the afternoon.

“Happy Birthday, my love,” you told him before the two of you dug into your meal.

“Thank you, baby. It’s been a great one,” he smiled.

You and Bradley enjoyed dinner, Bradley praising your cooking about a hundred times before the meal was through, and then hopped into the Bronco to make a quick trip to the grocery store, where you picked up some birthday cake flavored ice cream.

“This will have to do until I can make you that chocolate chip cake,” you told him ruefully, holding it up once the two of you got home.

“Sounds good to me,” Bradley replied, pulling two spoons out of the drawer with a wink.

Between the two of you, you ended up polishing off the container of ice cream before cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed. You had just finished stripping off your yoga pants and T-shirt when Bradley came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“You know,” he whispered, his mustache scraping against your skin as his lips began descending down your neck and across your shoulder. “The ice cream was great and all, but I kind of had another dessert in mind for tonight.”

You smiled as your head fell back against his shoulder, your body already feeling like putty in his hands. “Oh, yeah? Not the chocolate chip cake, you mean?” you asked teasingly.

“Uh-uh,” he mumbled, catching your sensitive skin lightly between his teeth as he nibbled his way back up to your ear. “Something even sweeter.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest as his hands began stroking your sides, and you turned your head to look up at him. “What a line that was, Lieutenant,” you smirked, echoing your words from that morning.

“Did it work?” he smirked in return, clearly catching on to what you were playing at.

“Only because it’s your birthday,” you beamed, giggling as he lifted you up into his arms and carefully laid you out on the bed.

Grinning mischievously, Bradley pulled his shirt over his head and climbed onto the bed a moment later, his arms on either side of you as he hovered over you and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Best birthday ever.”

[heartfullofleeches]

how about v with a very chill and sleepyhead reader? like they come back from work tired and just cuddle with v, they don't care how weird and scary v is, he doesn’t even have to threaten them about leaving the house because the first second they put their head on his chest they’re already asleep- And when they wake up they just want to keep their hands around him (like imagining a panda riding on your back and never wants to get down, they’re just like that)

I miss him and want something sweet with him 👉👈

(Feel these too could work together - ngl I'd love to see reader trying to wrangle v into having a somewhat regular sleeping schedule. dude needs it tbh.)

8:34

Four minutes later than estimated, but given traffic delays he's willing to let it slide - this time. V shuts off the tracker, and tosses his phone towards the bed as he stands. Your keys hit the coffee table and your shoes fly with a soft thud as you kick them off. He crawls into bed and under the blankets as you enter the room - snapping the bands that keep his pigtails in place and ruffling his hair as the light turns on. He hides his face in the pillow.

"I'm back..... oh, crap - were you sleeping?"

V rubs his fist against his eye. "Just resting my eyes... How was your day?"

"Really? Hope you don't mind if I join you then."

As if he'd ever. You climb over V to your side of the bed. He liked it when you slept in the corner as his body in the way made it more difficult for you to get away. You shrug your jacket off your shoulders, aided by V who throws it on the floor behind him as he yanks you down with him. His arms wrap defensively around your torso which you respond to by placing your head on his chest. He stills - heartbeat ten miles a minute on your ear. So demanding - but so sensitive to affection at the same time.

"To answer your question - my day was alright - the usual. Thanks you sending me lunch by the way. I know you mostly did it so I wouldn't go with Dave again, but it was sweet."

"First it's getting lunch, then it's the deep, "friendly" conversation while you're getting your meals, then he's bragging about how you have "so much in common" and next thing you know he's trying to get in your pants.... Is that manager of yours still messing with you?"

You stifle a laugh at his mocking pitch in voice. "Nah, they backed off after I said I was seeing someone - and got fired the next day, strangely. Honestly, V you worry too much. I come back home to you everyday, don't I? Besides if I bailed on you - I'd lose your comfy bed too."

Gaze soft - V squeezes your side at the implications you're only with him for his bed. You bark out a laugh. "It was a joke! Only reason I like it so much is cause you're here with me too. Promise you won't leave when I fall asleep to get back on the computer?"

"....no." He lies through his teeth, but his eyes grow as heavy as yours as you lazily trace your fingers along his collar. Like you, V couldn't fight the element of serenity when cuddle with you, and fell asleep almost as soon as you - kept awake by your body laying next to his. Comforted and secure around someone like him - he never understood why he was deserving of such an honor, but it was the one unfair treatment in his life he wouldn't complain about.

He was the whole reason you switched to the night shift in the first place. V stayed up for hours between gaming and watching you get ready for work at the crack of dawn - and later monitoring your whereabouts when the sleep deprivation and anxiety about letting you out in the world got the better of him. This way, you both got a sustainable amount of needed sleep and a partner to hold in that time. Your plan was already showing spectacular results as V found himself yawning at seven in the eve and resisting the urge to dive in bed until you came home.

"Hm, well as long as you're here now, I guess I'll let it slide." You lift your head, scooting up to kiss his jaw. "Goodnight, V."

His lips rest against your forehead, fingers raked through your hair as he pulls you closer - slinging a leg over yours. Staring at the wall behind you, V laments the loss of precious hours in his games - but relishes everything he gains by remaining at your side. The scent of your body wash, your soft breath fanning his neck. It feels so stupid to depend on the little things, but he couldn't rest or even think without you anymore. It's ridiculous to think.... how lucky he is to have you.

"Night, Y/n.....i love you."

"Hear that. Love you too, V"

"Damn it."

[xf-cases-solved]

i am aware that this is likely not a new take at all, and i'm not like, claiming it as mine, but i never had the chance to have this opinion (or hear other ppl have this opinion) on a public forum before, so i just want to take this opportunity to say to another person, possibly for the first time with the exception of mb my mother, who is no longer here to agree with me, that "existence" came out when i was 8 years old, i watched it live, and literally the day i watched it i remember thinking to myself "why did they have a boy named william? they should have had a girl named samantha. OF COURSE they should have had a girl named samantha," like it felt so obvious to me

and tho i couldn't rly articulate it this clearly at the time, my little muddy 8 year old thought process was that the entire story of the xfiles starts with samantha, right? mulder has his beliefs bc samantha was taken; he says so in the very first episode. the whole reason he even thinks aliens are real to begin with is bc of samantha. the person he spent his whole life searching for was samantha. he MET SCULLY bc of samantha. samantha is the thread that ties the whole story together, so then how beautiful--how narratively perfect--would it have been to tie THEIR story--their love story (bc xfiles is, at the end of the day, a love story, fight me) up with a bow, where the beginning starts with samantha getting lost, and then ends with samantha there in their arms, finally found, just in a different iteration. (instead of naming the baby after mulder's dad who he doesn't even like? or scully's dad. or scully's brother. or mulder's middle name, which is after his father ik, but still, why are there so many fucking williams??)

like, imagine it. rly sit there and take a moment to imagine how the end scene in "existence" would have gone if mulder had said, "what are you going to name her," and scully had said, "samantha"

not only does it get the "ding ding ding, you're the dad!" point across, but how fucking Touched would mulder have been to have the woman he loves--the PERSON he loves--more than anything on earth honor the sister who took up so much of his soul for so long? who always will take up part of his soul, just in a healthier way. it would be scully saying, "we know she's gone from this world now, but she's not gone from our hearts" emphasis on OUR hearts, bc mulder's pain is scully's pain; mulder's quests are scully's quests. she never met her sister-in-law (they're married, fight me), and will never have the chance, but by naming their child after her, she would be saying, "i love her anyway. i love her because you love her, and because anyone you love deserves my love as well, bc we are intertwined at our core. our fundamental values, our suffering, our joy, it is felt in us both concurrently, bc i am your person, and you are mine, and together we made a whole other person who is a literal representation of our combined selves, and we are going to call her SAMANTHA, bc that little girl you watched get stolen from you however many decades ago has been the pillar that has kept us going as a team for the last eight years"

or maybe it would have been even simpler than that. maybe she would just be saying, "your sister is IMPORTANT, mulder, even in death, and her memory isn't held only by you. it is unrelenting, and preserved forever in our child"

i wanted that scene. i wanted to feel the heaviness of mulder's grief mixed with his elation and gratitude and love. i appreciate william for who he was in the scheme of things, but that moment in the bedroom, with their baby between them, shouldn't have been lessened for me bc they chose a name that made me pause and go "his dad was named william? oh yeah! forgot about that guy, it's been a few YEARS since we saw much of him, and what we did see of him wasn't like... awesome. but sure, name your baby that ig, if you must"

that scene should have hit so much harder, and if that baby had been a samantha? it could have hit like nothing ever has, and for all the mishaps that show took after that (and there were MANY), i think the thing i will always have the most resentment for is the fact that i felt robbed of something that would have meant so much to me as a viewer who had followed their journey from the start (or, well, almost start. i was born the year it came out, so i didn't start watching until 1998, when my brain came online, but i'd seen the past stuff at least)

anyway! that's all to say, 8 year old me was salty as hell about that, and ykno what? she was RIGHT and should have been able to say it. but, again, 2001, 8 years old, not old enough to participate in fandom, so that thought has just festered and rotted away in my brain like a piece of old, putrid meat. but! finally i can give my 8 year old self some catharsis by letting her bitch and bitch and bitch to her heart's content about how "existence" should have been the series finale, and how that baby should have been a girl named samantha, and how i climbed onto that hill 23 years ago, and how i will die there with my heels dug down deep

ty, internet, for coming to my extremely overdue tedtalk. somewhere in the past there is a small child (who definitely shouldn't have been allowed to watch xfiles as young as she did, but what can you do?) finally has a weight off of her chest. it's just a tv show, and in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter, but also, it's a tv show that i grew up with in my formative and unfortunately very traumatic years, and it genuinely feels like a loved one who has always been there to comfort me, and so yeah, it doesn't "matter," but the truth is, it Matters so incredibly much

that's all

-diz

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

hi, hello! absolutely love your work, and wanted to request a scenario for sve i’ve been thinking about for a bit now. It’s sort of complicated and long, so i understand if not, but thank you for reading in the first place! :3 ♡

how would the sve adventurers with marlon, and mages with camilla, jadu, & magnus react to a farmer who is an actively wanted fugitive in the gotoro empire, and also wanted by the ferngill republic for crimes committed against figures in both governments? and when revealed why exactly they did these things, it’s because they were killing them due to said figures being corrupt and harming the people? perhaps even going as far as to get rid of any wizards or witches in the ferngill republic ministry of magic who do it solely for the fame or adventures in various guilds in the order of the knights of pythagoras who are in it for the money and not to protect people? how would they react to this farmer, who’s been right under their watch the whole time, actually turn out to be someone they’ve been trying to capture for years, and completely evading them? i’d imagine even more angst if they had already formed complex relationships and friendships with everyone, only to be a wanted criminal, despite their inherently good intentions.

Headcanon when people who had good motives to protect the world killed other people who were corrupted and bad by their standards?*looking in the direction of the Cult of The Lady With The Red Tail from RSV mod* Yeah, I've heard something about that...

I recommend that you, dear anon, familiarise yourself with the Ridgeside Village mod, because there are at least two marriage candidates out there who live in the same scenario. But anyway, thank you very much for your kind words 🥺 Enjoy some headcanons and have a great day! 💕

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Isaac knew there was something fishy about Farmer! His own gut was screaming that something was wrong with them, and, oh look, he was absolutely right. The very same promising young adventurer, whom almost everyone praised to the skies (and even Isaac himself almost fell into this trap, accepting the offer of friendship), turned out to be a rotten through and through criminal. Killing corrupt people? That's just fucking wonderful, how honorable they are! Isaac wonders who gave Farmer the right to decide the fate of people? Who gave them the right to be judge and executioner? Corrupt adventurers and mages are scumbags who deserve to be punished. But Farmer is no better than them. So Isaac will drag them to the justice, and use force if he has to.

Magnus now doesn't know what's worse: the fact that Farmer he trusted turned out to be a criminal wanted by the Ministry of Magic, or the fact that almost half of his friends and colleagues (some already killed) turned out to be criminals too. And criminals not of the level of "stole 10000g" from the budget, but responsible for some disasters caused by magic that contributed to hundreds of innocent lives. Does he believe Farmer? Of course he believes him, since the wizard managed to put the seal of truth on them. Which, however, doesn't mean Magnus agrees with their path of vigilant. And so when they both decide to deal with the remaining corrupt adventurers, Farmer will also have to recognize their responsibility for killing others. And no, they can't refuse. Because Magnus has managed to put another seal on them...

Camilla only smirked after Farmer's admission. "I know all that, dear. Otherwise you'd have been rotting behind bars in a dungeon long ago." Instead of trying to explain to the main witch of the Galdora Continent about how Farmer had managed to become a wanted man in the Gotoro Empire/Ferngill Republic, they have to listen to details from Camilla that even they didn't know. Turns out she's been covering them. All the time. Why? Because she is well aware of all the secrets of some of her "colleagues" who never got a deserved punishment. Farmer was the first to confront them openly, even at the cost of their reputation. So Camilla felt it was her duty to help them cleanse all "pests". Oh, and she strongly advises them not to tell anyone about what the two of them have just talked about.

Alesia didn't even realise how she'd pointed the bowstring at the Farmer. All this time the man who was killing adventurers was right under her nose.... The sniper didn't take Isaac's warning too seriously... She may not have the same keen sense for criminals like her friend, but Alesia's eagle eyes and skilful hands would definitely keep her from missing if they try to escape. Maybe Farmer's telling the truth. Either way, they're both going to go deal with Camilla, she's sure to get the truth out. In the meantime. Alesia advises Farmer not to make any sudden moves. Unless they want an arrow in the head. So far all the facts are against Farmer: their word vs. entire murder reports of high profile adventurers...

Jadu is at a complete loss. On the one hand, common sense tells him that the man before him is a dangerous criminal who has broken the laws not only in the Republic, but also in the Gotoro Empire, which is at war with it. Not a word of such a person can be trusted. On the other hand, all the adventurers, witches and wizards who had fallen by the Farmer's hand had indeed had rumours of venality and even involvement in dark deeds. But they were just rumours! What if the Farmer had made a mistake, and destroyed a completely innocent man, framed by someone else? That never occurred to them?! Jadu must get them to the Ministry because he doesn't believe a word they say. And don't underestimate him, he is after all, a battle mage as good as any.

Well... That explains a lot to Lance. And there's no need for Farmer to look at him so surprised. After all, the gallant adventurer is not lacking in intelligence and is a very shrewd man. Lance was conducting his own, if you will, investigation, but he did it as carefully and from a distance as possible, so as not to cross the wrong person. Because there were inconsistencies in official statements about past tragedies in Castle Village. Then came the murders of suspicious members of the Order of the Knights of Pythagoras, all the blame was on "criminal №1" (Farmer, as it turned out), and then.... Hmm, yes, now that makes sense. Lance will get Farmer to Camilla, let them tell her everything, and wait to see what others say at the general court. "They were criminals, Farmer. But you too need to answer for your crimes. Murder is no way to solve problems."

Marlon outwardly may seem to have reacted very calmly to the truth, but inside the one-eyed adventurer a storm of emotions raged. His apprentice, a new member of the Adventurer's Guild, is the very same wanted killer of monster hunters from other guilds and clans. His murdered colleagues, according to Farmer's words, were not noble protectors of human race, but cowards and corrupt bastards. But is that true? Should Farmer be believed at all? What should Marlon even believe now? He's angry, but quickly calms down so he doesn't accidentally make any hasty decisions in a fit of rage. "You're in deep shit, kid." That was all Marlon could say. Better get Gil and Magnus to solve this problem with Farmer.

[boundinparchment]

Genshin Fic Reccomendations

Here are some of my personal fic reccs. All links go to AO3. Some of these are from writers I've had the great honor to get to know. Others are ones I've stumbled across over the course of the last few years. All have a special place in my heart and I wanted to take the time in the final week of the year to lift up other writers!

This list is alphabetical by character (and skews heavily towards Dottore). Dividers are from saradika-graphics.

If you're on this list and want your tumblr tagged as well, let me know!

Alhaitham

The Brazen and the Cold - Rosengrata

Teen. Alhaitham/OC. Rosen always puts so much attention into the dynamic between the characters and making them feel immersed in the world, like they belong there. The bickering and the banter between Aisha and Althaitham is incredibly entertaining.

Magpie - Insult2Injury

Explicit. Alhaitham/Female Reader. In which you catch Alhaitham in a compromising position and offer some…assistance. Mind the tags.

Childe & Scaramouche

Love is a Dog From Hell - Maokitty

Mature. Childe/Female Reader, Scaramouche/Female Reader, mind the tags. Absolutely heart-breaking as only Mao knows how to cultivate. Immersive and grounded in the way reader is woven into the world of the Harbingers (and all the more painful for it). This fic is one of the only exceptions for either of these characters; thanks for hurting me in this way.

Diluc

Lady Lazarus - Unlockthelore

Diluc / OC, OC / OC. One of the first Genshin fics I ever read as a whole (pretty sure). The prose is so rich and descriptive, captivating right from the start. Go check out the author’s other fics + original works

Il Dottore

Take My Everything (It Was Always Yours) - Nightfrost

Mature. Il Dottore & The Tsaritsa. Like all stories on this list, it deserves far more attention than it gets. This was one of the first Dottore fics I read, back when little was available other than the manga and a few brave people were creating content based on that alone. The writing itself is beautiful, poetic in the way it portrays his rise to power and his dedication to the Tsaritsa despite his hatred for the gods. The warnings should be heeded (torture, descriptions of torture, monsterification, not a happy ending).

Moon Waltz - Yoshinori

General Audiences. Gender neutral reader/Dottore. An enjoyable mix of canon and headcanon, especially with the Segment lore thrown into the mix.

I’ll Break You - 12thFatui

Teen. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Beloved enemies to lovers with lots of world building. An indulgent favorite read.

Lungs Into Gills - Lestaire

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. The definitive Sharktorre fic. Need I go on? (I’m absolutely enabling you again if you ever do more with this).

Solar Flare - Lestaire

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. A Fontainian scientist finds herself in Snezhnaya as Dottore’s new assistant. Shenanigans and pining ensure. It’s been a treat to see this story develop! <3 I’m looking forward to the rest of it (and all of you should too!)

the capillaries in my eyes are bursting - LocalPlagueNurse

Mature. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Heavy family dysfunction and angst, in which Dottore’s wife grows tired of his nonsense and the man is too dense to realize until it’s too late.

Chemistry - Jessamine_Rose02

Not Rated. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Yandere, dark themes, unhealthy relationship. Whenever I’m in need of a dark yandere fic for Dottore, this one comes to mind.

He Hates You - Sweatandwoe

Explicit. Il Dottore/Reader. He just can’t stop thinking about you and has little self-control (and we love him for it)

Arrangement - Sherwood

Explicit. Il Dottore/Reader. Modern AU in which Dottore is a sugar daddy and both of you toe the boundaries. Mind the tags.

Motion Sickness - Chickenparm

General Audiences. Il Dottore/Reader. Zandik explores ancient technology. It doesn’t go as planned.

Eventide - Chickenparm

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Unrequited love, mild yandere themes, smut; mind the tags. Another fic in which the writing is just as captivating as the character interactions themselves. The dynamic is perfect and I love the reader character in this, who could easily be their own person.

A Seed of Doubt - Krokus

Explicit. Il Dottore/Lumine. Hurt/comfort, smut. BDSM and sub/dom relationship, in which Dottore is (of course) perceptive. Mind the tags.

Responsiveness - Krokus

Explicit. Il Dottore/Lumine. Smut, BDSM, sub/dom relationship, implied drugging. A little experiment to see how Lumine reacts to his touch (and more). Mind the tags.

Crackling of Fire and Lightning - harmonic_melody

General Audiences. Il Dottore/La Signora. Signora survives her duel with the Raiden Shogun but returns with a newfound fear of lightning. Emotional hurt/comfort, and as usual Dottore sucks at feelings.

More Than Routine - morikouyou

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Mind the tags; violence and noncon, generally a dark fic. Reader remembers Dottore from when he was Zandik, and finds herself a subject of his experiments.

Quid Pro Quo - Petrichorium

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. A deal with Dottore to help find a cure seals Reader’s fate. Jealous and repressed as only he can be, mixed with a Reader character who knows exactly how to get what she wants. Lives rent free in my head a lot.

Pale Flames Withering - Cassander

Explicit. Il Dottore/Pierro, Il Dottore’s Segments/Pierro. A beautiful relationship study in which both are bad with feelings, juggling immortality, and misinterpreting one another.

Kaveh

Even Exchange - Chickenparm

Explicit. Kaveh/Neutral Reader. Cute dynamic and a reader character that’s easy to believe exists within the universe; organic in their banter and interactions with Kaveh.

Scaramouche

Inauguration - Chickenparm

Explicit. Scaramouche/Female reader. Companion fic to Eventide. The only other exception for me regarding Scaramouche. Love the characterization! Scaramouche, so close to godhood, and yet so lonely, insecure; Reader, strong-willed and unbelieving. Themes are on-point, such a good balance to Dottore’s character in the other fic.

Xiao

Preta - Maokitty

Teen. Xiao/Gender neutral reader (if that’s wrong, correct me Mao; going by AO3 tags). Xianxia, with a lot of in-depth clarification and notes for those not familiar with the genre. I’ve been meaning to go back to this one, both for the prose and because I have a soft spot for the yaksha and adepti of Liyue.

Zhongli

Against All Odds Series - Rosengrata

Teen. Zhongli/Original Female Character. Hauteclaire struggles with her place as a Khaenri’ahn in a post-cataclysmic world; Zhongli is one of the few who understands the burden of a long life.

Stay Gold - Enegmatic

Mature. Zhongli/Female Reader. Reader comes from Fontaine and, upon looking for a new start, bumps right into Zhongli. Such good world-building and organic interactions, tension absolutely on point!

[pacifymebby]

Hi, first of all I really love your images about peaky blinders. I was wondering ( if you still take requests about peaky blinders) on how the peaky boys would react if you die in their arms and what the imeadiate aftermath is and mourning proces after. I whish you a very good day, with much love from Belgium

Hi! I'm sorry this has taken so long for me to get to!!!

Tommy

🌿 Probably secretly always thought this day would come, he's been haunted by the thought of you being hurt/killed for so long that now that its actually happening it doesn't quite seem real.

🌿 His ears are still ringing with the sound of the gunshots which tore through you, his whole world feels seperate and he's isolated. That echo from the gun is the only thing which tells him this is actually happening. In his dreams its always silent.

🌿 He'd appear calm on the outside, talking to you calm and steady voice, telling you everything was going to be alright, that he was going to take you to a doctor and then you'd be alright

🌿 But he's lying to you because he doesn't want you to be scared, and you know he's lying to you. When you reach up to him, your fingers grazing his lips your touch is so cold Tommy knows it will haunt him for the rest of his life.

🌿 He does his best to hold back the tears but he's literally watching the life drain from you

🌿 He feels himself going cold too, his own will to live being sucked from him as if the two of you shared the same heart. Lifes stopping for both of you.

🌿 He'd hold you until your were completely lifeless, he'd kiss you, stroke your hair, sooth you as best he could, keep promising you you were going to be alright, he'd tell you "don't be scared love, don't be scared you're alright now,"

🌿But the second you're gone that's when he'd come back to himself, the anger setting in. He'd place your body down carefully but quickly, fingers finding his gun in a heartbeat. The men who stole you away from him fled the scene imediately but Tommy won't rest until he's ripped everything they love from them, until he's put them through hell.

🌿Pol has to remind him (harshly) that when all this is over he'll regret not giving you the send of you deserve, fuck his revenge plans, you need to be put to rest properly or you'll come back to haunt him. Tommy knows you'll haunt him anyway.

🌿He'd be so sensitive and tempremental when it comes to your funeral, everyone will be treading on eggshells around him, trying not to upset him, but he'll only get pissed off that people are treating him like hes fragile...

🌿He'll struggle to say a few words for you, but he'll know he needs to, he'll force himself to... He's already started dreaming about you, thinking he hears your voice in the second before he falls asleep, and as he speaks he thinks he hears you again, laughing at him being emotional. But he's so strong, he's fiercly determined to do everything right for you. To honor you every day for the rest of his life.

🌿 Which is why he'll leave your funeral with his fingers on the trigger of his gun, he knows the real send off you deserve is vengeance, he's going to kill for you tonight.

🌿 He'd probably have everything meticulously planned, down to what he's going to say to your murderer before he kills them... But when it comes to it he'll be so overcome with emotion that he won't say any of it. He'll lose control, he'll kill ruthlessly, mercilessly, he'll torture them, cause them so much pain and then, just like that, without offering them the peace of knowing why, he'll wipe them all off the face of the earth.

🌿He'll avoid your grave for a long time after that, he'll try to ignore that you're gone. He'll try to block you out, but in the end it will only torture him and cause him more pain. In the end he'll walk out to your grave one day in the pissing rain, he'll fall onto his knees in the mud and dig his hands into the soil, he'll sink into the dirt and cry and beg god to let him die there with you.

🌿 But Tommys curse is that he must always go on living despite his sins, because of his sins, and he knows that every day for the rest of his life he'll feel you in his heart aching like a bruise. The unhealing wound.

Alfie

🐻 Never thought you'd be the one to die first. He always thought it would be you and him until the end of his days.. Because his days are numbered and you were so young!

🐻 But no. It was a fascist that did it, one of those trendy new political types thats read a couple books and thinks they're the new revolution. They broke into his house, on a mission to take down a famous jewish gangster, a criminal the city needed ridding off. But they didn't kill him. They killed you.

🐻 They shot at the bed whilst you were sleeping, and youd been sleeping on top of Alfie the way you always did. So the bullet had ripped through your back and lodged in your heart instead of his and youd not even had the chance to wake up, open your eyes and look at him one last time before your soul had left your body.

🐻 All he can do is lie there in shock, propped up on one elbow, your body bleeding, you blood flowing and soaked up by the bedsheets, warm and sticky and fucking haunting as it soaks Alfie's chest, matting the hair on his chest and arms as he holds onto your lifeless body.

🐻 He's just, too shocked, too stunned. He doesnt feel grief, doesn't feel rage, can't cry. All he can do is shoot the intruder dead, drop his gun to the floor, and look helplessly at Cyril who jumps up onto the bed and nuzzles into your body barking and howling, as distraught as Alfie.

🐻 For a long time he just sits there, holding you, stroking his hand through your hair. He didn't even get to say goodbye and its like the whole world just stopped, its like he can't move on from the second he heard that shot ring out.

🐻 His friends have to rally round him, try to help him through the difficult period. No ones ever really seen Alfie like this before - speechless - and theyre all a little uncertain. Even Tommy is unnerved. However Tommy ends up being his rock. He's lost the love of his life too, he knows how bleak, how cold the world is, how it never returns to the way it was.

🐻 After your funeral Alfie packs up and leaves the city, he has nothing to stay there for and everything reminds him of you. He takes cyril to Margate and together they walk along the beach Alfie always promised you you'd raise your children on. He spends a lot of time thinking what his life could have been.

🐻 He grows bitter as he grows older. When he overhears fascist talk in pubs or down the market he makes note of who and what they said. He keeps a list of all the people he'll kill just as soon as he can make it through a day without thinking of you and losing his breath.

🐻 Those days never come. You're always on his mind, at night he lies in bed and feels the weight of your body lifeless on top of him. He dreams the scene over and over again and wakes drenched in sweat, for a moment in the dark it feels like your blood and his own blood runs cold.

Arthur

🍂 He'd go ferral. He watches your throat get slit right in front of him, your blood spurting and soaking his face. The attacker who throws you to the ground doesn't have a chance to get away or lunge to kill Arthur next because Arthur his screaming bloody fucking murder. He's drenched in the blood of his love and his mind is nothing but white with rage, with pain.

🍂 In the immediate aftermath his grief is so powerful, so tightly gripping, that Arthur loses himself completely. When he attacks the man who killed you he rips him limb from lip, he punches him until his skull has been caved in, until there a little fractures of the mans skull lodged in his knuckles.

🍂 After that his memory is a blur, he remembers nothing of the destruction he caused, nothing of how he couldn't be tamed even by his brothers, even by Aunt Pol. There was nothing anyone could do, they just had to stand back and watch as he destroyed the room, smashed everything, tore the curtains down, broke glasses.

🍂 He nearly killed himself, but somewhere in the hours it took for his grief and rage to mellow into heartbreak, anguish, sorrow... He exhausted himself. He fell to his knees and keeled over onto his side, curled up foetal postion on the floor surrounded by all those broken things he destroyed.

🍂 He doesnt want to wash your blood away, it's the last of you he'll ever have and once its washed away you'll be gone. But he doesn't have the words to express that kind of pain.

🍂 He turns to heroin to numb the pain, Tommy uses it to tranquillise him at first, but then after the first time Arthur finds its the only way he can function. He's lost all hope and purpose. Without you his life lacks all meaning.

🍂 Aunt Pol and Ada wash your blood from him and Ada helps him prepare what he is going to say for you. She holds his hands when he speaks and she is strong so that he can crumble.

🍂 When they burn the vardo with you inside it he started screaming again, he tries to fight his way inside. He just wants to lie down beside your body and burn with you. Tommy and John have to fight him away from the flames.

🍂 But he's never the same and he never recovers and every day he regrets that he didn't fight harder to break into that burning wagon, scoop you up and hold you to his chest so that you could burn together eternally.

🍂 He tries to turn to god, tries to tell himself he'll be reunited with you in heaven one day, but this only tortures him further because he knows hes going to hell.

John

🌼 You got caught in the crossfire, the Italians stormed the house, machine gun fire to slaughter the whole family. You'd thrown yourself in front of the children and John hadn't been quick enough to pull you back.

🌼 So he's on his knees with you in his arms, the children hiding behind him, in tears, as he fights the italians off and shoots them down.

🌼 Hes crying, these silent tears streaking his face, but he's determined to kill the Italians and protect your babies before he succumbs to his grief.

🌼 He knows youre dying. He knows theres no hope, but he fights for his children's life and holds your head tight to his chest, reassuring you that everything will be fine, that youre brave, that he loves you so much, that the children are all alright, that everyones safe, he'll look after you all. All the while his heart is breaking and his mind is racing with the instinctual need to protect you and the babies from the enemy.

🌼 He gathers the children up in his arms, he doesn't want them to see you like this so he bundles them up in his coat and buries there faces in his shirt so they can't see. He calls his brother for help, calls Aunt Pol, says he needs someone to take care of the children.

🌼 He does cry, he clutches your body to his and sobs into your hair when he thinks the children are all inside and out of sight. He doesn't want them to see him crying and think their dad is weak. He feels like a child with tears streaming down his cheeks, he feels like he's failed you.

🌼 "I'm so sorry flower it should have been me, shoulda been there, shouldn't be you, you shouldn't be fuckin dead, shoulda been me!" He blames himself for not being the one to throw his life down for the children. He feels like he's let them down, he thinks kids need mothers more than they do fathers and now his haven't got one.

🌼 He feels he should be responsible for hurting the family that did this to his but he knows too that he has to stay alive for his children now, so when Tommy tells him to stand down, to let him and Arthur do it, John listens. He knows the only way he will ever feel less guilty for your death, is by being a good father to your babies.

🌼 He has to be strong for the children, when you're a parent, no matter how much you love your soulmate, you'll always love your children more, John feels this more than ever now as his instinct to protect and nurture the children becomes the only defence he has against his grief which threatens to consume him.

Bonnie

🍀 Is far too young to lose the love of his life, his first love no less. The woman he thought would be the only woman he'd ever love. He thought you'd carry his children, he thought the two of you would grow old together. He had all these plans, all these daydreams. You were the girl he was going out into the ring for, you were the girl he was doing Tommy Shelby's dirty work for. Everything he did in his life was for you.

🍀 He's always been so protective of you, always done his best to keep you away from Peaky business, but despite his efforts its Peaky Business that gets you killed.

🍀 It happens when he's away from the camp, some bad men from down south have been tipped off about your location, the two caravans belonging to you, Bonnie and his dad. Bonnie's away hunting when he hears the gun fire, and although he drops everything and runs as fast as his body can stand, to get back to you, to protect you, he's too late.

🍀 His father's killed most of the attackers and when Bonnie see's you keeled over on the ground he doesn't care if its safe, he just has to get to you.

🍀 He hears his father shout to warn him of another enemy but his head is clouded and he isn't thinking straight because now that he's beside you, with your head in his lap, he can see how bad it really is.

🍀 You've been stabbed multiple times in the belly and he knows there's no saving you. His hearts breaking, his worlds fading to grey but somewhere in the distance he can hear his fathers voice screaming to him with such an urgency. He hears gun fire, the snap rattling his skull and drawing him out of his grief stricken trance for long enough to realise that his father has just saved his life.

🍀 A man lies half dead at Bonnie's feet, his hands covered in blood, his shirt soaked with not just his own blood but yours too and Bonnie is sure that this is the man who ripped you away from him.

🍀 The man's begging for mercy, he's bleeding out slowly just like you, a sweat on his skin like there's a pained sweat on your paling forehead. He's begging Bonnie to put him out of his misery but Bonnie can barely stand to look at him.

🍀 Instead he focusses on you, holding you so close, feeling your blood stain his hands and arms, his shirt soaking you up, you're shaking, you're in so much pain and there's nothing he can do for you, except hold you, make you promises he can't keep. Lie to you.

🍀 "It's alright my little dove, I've got you now eh, your Bonnie's got you, you're gonna be alright, we'll take you to the Lee's, they've some good healers, the best, we'll have you on the mend in no time angel," he's holding back his tears because he doesn't want to scare you, he's forcing this smile for you as he kisses your forehead and your lips. He can feel your breath on his as he curls his body around yours, it's getting fainter and fainter with every second and he knows that soon you'll be at peace.

🍀 "I love you little dove, with all my heart, I love you..."

🍀 And when you finally pass he finishes that sentence, "and I'll never love again, never." And he means it. And he doesn't. He never moves on and he pretends not to notice the pitying looks, the sad rumours and whispers which follow him wherever he goes.

🍀 He holds so much anger about what happened, he never forgives himself for not being there. He convinces himself that if he had been with you that day things would have been different. It haunts him and hollows him out and the only relief he really feels is during his fights. The raw sting of a fist splitting his cheek or his lip. Feeling the dizzying ache of a sharp right hook to his ribs. He takes all his anger out on his opponents, but even the adrenaline of another victory isn't enough to light him up, and the once lackadaisical boy is haunted by your memory forever.

🍀 He thinks about the future he will never have, the babies you'll never carry, the children you'll never argue about naming. The wedding you'd have had but won't anymore. He can't stop thinking about everything he was so certain he would know one day, the happiness that you could have shared but won't now. He doesn't really believe he can grow old without you.

Isaiah

🐀 You perish in a house fire, one started by a rival gang who through a vodka bomb through the bedroom window. The house went up so quickly, the whole room ablaze and choked out with thick black smoke in what feels like seconds.

🐀 The two of you woke up already drugged by the toxins in the air and you fell onto the broken glass cutting yourself and crying out. Isaiah tried to get to you but a beam from the ceiling snapped, breaking the bed frame and then trapping your leg.

🐀 He fought despite being unable to see through the smoke, his lungs burning with every breath he spared himself. He shouted for you through the smoke and heard your cries, he thought you were crying for his help but you already knew you wouldn't free yourself from under that beam. You were shouting for him to leave you.

🐀 Of course Isaiah wouldn't have listened to you even if he had understood your screaming at him. Instead he crawled to you, tried with all his strength to shift the beam and free you. And perhaps he would have succeeded had Michael and John not burst through the door searching for you both, finding him and dragging him away as he shouted for you, refusing to let you go.

🐀 They had to fight him, trap his arms behind his back and pick him up, overpowering him and preventing him from killing himself trying to save you.

🐀 And he fucking hates them for it, he's so angry, he tries to fight his way back inside the building and John ends up pulling his gun on him, forcing him to give up

🐀 At which point he backs down, falls to his knees, coughing and crying, screaming into the cobblestones his whole body aching with the smoke inhalation and his grief. It's agony.

🐀 They have to take him to the hospital and they're genuinely concerned that if he doesn't get a grip on his grief, he's going to get himself thrown in the asylum. Michael has to grab him by the face, forehead to forehead "get a grip man, she's gone and nothing you do is going to bring her back, but if you get yourself locked up over her you'll never be able to cut the bastards who killed her!"

🐀 The promise of vengeance is the only thing that can focus him, draw him out of his mourning and steady him. He's breathing heavily, his heart racing, but he calms himself down, he does as Michael says. "You take deep fucking breaths and you do what the nurses tell you and you get fucking strong again yeah, physically, mentally..."

🐀 At your funeral he speaks and he struggles to hold it together but he does. He sheds a few tears and his hands shake but he stays strong.

🐀 He turns away from god, he argues with his father. If god exists why the fuck would he take a soul as pure as yours, why the fuck would he let you die. He wonders if it was done to punish him, he thinks he should have done more, should have been stronger, quicker, smarter.

🐀 He focusses all his energy on getting stronger, fighting harder, he spends a lot of time at the boxing gym training, he fights with Bonnie determined to build his strength so that he can be better. Its as if he thinks bettering himself will bring you back.

🐀 But in the end it only takes a couple drinks to dampen his resolve, to make him teary eyed. He cries a lot when he's drunk, cries to Bonnie or Michael, confesses he believes it was his fault. He needs his friends much more than he really knows.

Michael

☘️ He had that indestructible complex, an almost narcissistic belief that nothing bad could ever happen to him, which by extension meant nothing bad could ever happen to you either.

☘️ So when it does he can't believe it. He's too stunned to act fast, he sees the men with their guns, he hears the shot. He throws himself in front of you a moment too late and when he realises you've already been hit he can't believe it. He doesn't believe it.

☘️ He holds you close, shooting at the men until every last one of them is dying on the floor, bleeding out slowly just as you are.

☘️ He screams for help and when his mum bursts in she's sees you and realises that you're going to die. She tries to be calm, tries to reassure the two of you. She knows Michael won't accept the truth.

☘️ He gets angry when she moves slowly, calmly, only trying to ease your pain as you pass.

☘️ "You're not doing anything! Why aren't you fucking doing something?" and then he realises why, she gives him one look and he sees all the sorrow, the grief, and he understands, and his blood runs cold and he stops talking. He holds you, you're mumbling, trying to talk to him.

☘️ The tears are stinging in his eyes, they're blurring his vision and he gets angry with himself for crying, he wants to look at you, remember your face, he wants to hold you and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to offer you all the comfort and love left in him because he knows now that this is his last chance. But he can hardly get his words out and they're coming out choked. He sounds weak, he knows that if his cousins saw him like this they'd be ashamed of him. He can't even be strong for his girl when she's dying.

☘️ But he kisses you, presses his lips to your forehead and holds them there, mumbling a prayer.

☘️ "You're alright love, I love you, I know it hurts sweetheart, don't be scared alright, I'm... I'm here with you, I'm holding you, fuck... fuck I love you so much y/n,"

☘️ "Michael..." you manage, struggling through your own last words but desperate to get them out because he needs to know, you know he'll blame himself, you know he doesn't believe in himself enough to believe he can keep going without you, "you're going to be alright Michael, you're going to be alright..."

☘️ When you're gone he doesn't move, he just holds your lifeless body and cries, he feels shellshocked, he doesn't want to let go of you. And he doesn't, not emotionally, he holds you in his heart and on his mind for the rest of his life. He lies awake every night thinking of you, you were the first person he met who really believed in him.

☘️ Your last words to him feel so bitter, how could you say that to him, you must have known you were lying. How can he possibly be alright without you, he'll never feel anything close to happy again. You were his rock and without you he feels set adrift, helpless and hollow. He feels weak.

☘️ He blames himself for not being enough, for years he is angry and bitter, all this loathing for himself bubbling away and building inside him. He snaps at people, he's cruel, taking his grief out on anyone who provokes him.

☘️ He doesn't know how to heal and Polly fears he never will, she doesn't know how to help her son and doesn't think she ever will. She tries to steal him away from revenge but she can't. Michael is angry, vengeful, he wants to tear every man who associates with the gang responsible for you killing, limb from fucking limb.

☘️ And in the end its his drive to kill that gets him killed because he becomes so obsessed with his vengeance that he turns on everyone who tries to stop him. But he dies with a feeling of peace because as his life fades from him he hears your voice, hallucinates you holding his head in your lap, telling him he's going to be alright.

[313i]

i did the blorbo bingo with edling :3

ramble / explanations for my writing under cut!

for ling:

most fandom takes are incorrect: maybe it’s just me but ive seen a decent amount of people make ling out to be a pervert or just reduce him to a stupid silly character. ling yao is NOT A PERVERT! WHERE DID YOU GET THAT FROM! he would never even do HALF OF THE THINGS YOU GUYS ARE TALKING ABOUT!!!!!!!!!! and he is so far from just being a funny guy that makes the audience laugh. his motives and character as a whole are so incredibly strong and i’ve never been so fascinated with a character like ling yao. please give him more attention.

that also goes hand in hand w/ stop putting them in situations!!: he would not be looking up girls skirts or something 🙁 be kind to him i think he deserves the world also. the cast of fma consists of a bunch of 14-16 year olds who traveled across the world to fulfill what they feel is their destiny but they end up on a journey of pain and suffering instead. they are children they should be playing roblox and minecraft and brain rotting like me ……….. i need a 500 chapter fic of ling being happy and joyous and eating all the wonderful meat in amestris.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE NOT ENOUGH CANON / UNDERRATED: as much as i love greedling and understand the combo … i wish ling got more screentime alone separate from greed. he is really such an interesting and unique character with a banging design and sometimes i feel greed robbed him of his iconic features (his yellow jacket & sword) and people just forget that greedling exists because ling was strong enough to withstand the homunculus in his system + LING IS THE BODY!!! he is serving that facecard and body 24/7 because that’s all ling yao!!! i still do really like greedling because they have a lot of room for interaction but i feel like ling yao is one of the characters who is often forgotten when it comes to merch n whatnot. he’s not as much of a main character as ed of course but he is just forgotten!! he is really such a cool character i wish there was more of him everywhere

there’s probably a deep seated reason why i love him: yes. because he is me and i am him (not really). i just project onto him and he is just me at this point! i will forever be such a huge ling yao fan the first time i watched fmab i instantly got attached to him i am so happy he is alive. i hope being the king of the yao clan is treating him well though he didn’t look to happy in that one photo of him as emperor….. it’s a tough job so i get it man! i hope he explodes

for edling:

pretty privilege: they are both pretty. brotherhood art style is a bit inconsistent at times i feel but their designs are both so gorgeous (their colors complement one another!). and also the bloodhell episode. ling yao fighting envy with his cool sword and handsome face…. ed somehow still looking pretty despite all the traveling and fighting. they are pretty!!!

projection had entered the chat: well, yes! who doesn’t project onto their faves??? :p

don’t typically discuss irl because of fandom: more and more people nowadays seem to forget fma franchise as a whole 🙁 it makes me so sad because this series is so fire and i wish it would keep its popularity but it obviously makes sense that more relevant shows and animes will overtake its light. i’m also afraid most people don’t like edling (edling nation consists of like 10 people) so i just don’t really talk about fma irl at all! no one here has a Fullmetal heart..

everything else is just me wanting to bite them (lovingly) and stuff them in my pocket and hold them in the palm of my hands to show them off to the world. i do not actually want to plot their demise and i am not actively doing so. i would put them in a wood chipper in a loving manner

for ed:

has done nothing wrong: he’s innocent, your honor… everything he’s ever done has been for his family. he’s committed a huge taboo in the alchemy world by trying human transmutation but him and al just wanted their moms back. they were TOO YOUNG TO BE ORPHANS AND HAVE TO GROW UP WITHOUT THEIR MOTHERS LOVE! he ended up becoming a dog for the military but he had to do what he had to do to get closer to that philosopher stone… in 03 he did end up taking some lives too i think. he’s only 15 and never intended to Actually murder someone. seeing him after the greed scene is so incredibly heartbreaking. 03 and cos are such horrific renditions of fma (in a good way) and it makes me so sad to think that’s how he ended up??? he had so much hope as a little kid and was so full of life but by 18 he’s stranded from the last bit of family he knew and is left a depressed alcoholic who keeps losing people. edward elric has done nothing wrong..

there’s probably a deep seated reason why i love him: even from the outside HE IS SUCH A COOL CHARACTER. a character who canonical has prosthetic limbs is already so cool. knowing the story behind those limbs and his brother is so 🙁☹️☹️… his iconic red jacket!!! his LEATHER PANTS WITH HIS PLATFORM BOOTS? his striking gold eyes and bright blonde hair? how he wears his stupid pocket watch…. his dumbass belt… i love edward elric’s flamboyant style so much i’ve never seen a more bi-coded character ever. i love everything about his design and his personality is unlike most shonen anime protags and that adds to his charm. he is hot-headed and will bite your head off if you comment on his height or call him pipsqueak but he is still such a sharp and intelligent young man .. He is literally an Alchemy God…. he is so capable even at such a young age and carries himself so well because if i were him i would be breaking down crying every step of the way! he is dedicated and loyal to his cause of finding the philosophers stone to return their bodies back to normal and doesn’t even hinder once throughout the journey. he loves his brother dearly and it makes me so joyous to see a strong sibling relationship in this genre that isn’t Weird. Edward Elric is a fire character thank you for listening to my TedTalk

[greenerteacups]

Hello GT! I almost never comment on anything online, but (after binge-reading Lionheart in about three days) I'm overcome with a desperate need to confess that I've developed an enormous intellectual crush on you as an author. I've never been particularly drawn to Dramione as a pairing before now - or even the HP universe in general as more than a very casual fan - but after reading nearly 600 thousand of your words, I'd be craving more even if that number was 600 million. Thank you very much for sharing Lionheart with the world.

It's a rare pleasure to read something where an immense thoughtfulness shines through so brightly not simply in bits and pieces here and there, but consistently throughout every line and every subplot you stitch together. There are other works of fiction out there that I love, but very, very few of them have been carefully crafted enough to allow me as a reader to sit back and have unshakeable confidence in the depth of the author's vision. Everything you write, from the smallest descriptive details to the grander puzzle pieces tying together each book, is delivered with such intentionality. Sometimes when reading other fiction I'll find myself impatiently wondering "okay, fantastic build-up, but when are we getting to the *really good* part"; with you, every part is the good part. The oft-cited slow-burn mantra of "it's not the destination, it's the journey" doesn't even ring true for me with Lionheart - because in your capable hands, you hurl us straight at that destination with every chapter. All of this to say that my starstruck inner writer is currently pinning a hypothetical pin-up poster of you to my hypothetical writer-ly bedroom wall as someone to look up to.

One of my favourite aspects of your work is how utterly hilarious you are both in your character dialogue and your prose. You've made me laugh more than you've made me cry - and you're guilty of making me cry a lot, especially in Book Four. You balance us between hysterical (funny) and hysterical (dirty, raw feelings) without a trace of whiplash, quite often imparting both simultaneously. Is interweaving humour with Everything Else something that comes naturally to you while writing or is it a process you're consciously juggling?

I've brooded and preened over this message for entirely far too long, and it's not fair to you. Suffice it to say you're kinder than I deserve and this made me want to cry. Any and all pin-up posters of me should render me looking like a deer in headlights, as is the appropriate reaction to this kind of honor.

I'm especially delighted by the hysteria (plural)! In general, it's easier for me to write humor than it is for me to write drama. Not that either one is easy as such, but I think drama requires more architecture. You don't have to explain if a joke is funny; it just is funny, and the audience knows why the characters are laughing/amused/happy. In drama, you have to achieve a certain level of technical character work to set up the punch of a moment; there's stakes, plotting, resonance, etc., and then you have to actually deliver it in a way that isn't either flippant, ironic, or Narm. Basically, there are more axes of failure. And the stakes of a joke failing are pretty low, too: worst case, your audience is like "eh, not that funny" and they move on. If a dramatic moment fails, it can take the legs out from under a whole arc.

One of my tests for whether a moment is ripe for comedy is the question of what the comedy is doing. Is it a realistic reflection of the character's voice in that situation? And, perhaps more importantly: why am I feeling the need to put comedy in this scene? Do I want it because it's natural and tone-appropriate, or am I trying to disguise my own insecurity about the dramatic content of the scene? If the latter, I tend to cut. You can't write from fear, you know?

[thewhumpcaretaker]

✦ 𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐈𝐕: 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 ✦

Sources: One | Two | Three

Event Host: @wickblr

Summary: After faking his death at the duel, John has gone into hiding deep in the desert to preserve his peace. Sofia Al-Azwar begs him to come back to the everyday world...and confesses her love. This is my first time writing John x Sofia! I hope it seems like them...

CW: Kissing, and that's about it. It's just angst and fluff.

The air is perfectly still, and dry with oncoming winter. But here, it’s always dry. It’s the richness of burning wood that truly makes the moment feel like autumn.

Night is making its way down in a blue-black gradient, the lowering of a ceiling rather than a sky. There’s nothing but sand for so many miles. And everything has already happened. What future is there? The space feels eternal. An epilogue.

“John. How long will you wander alone out here?” Sofia’s fingers weave deeper into his hair. His head is in her lap, both of them staring into the campfire, and she’s just…petting him. He needs touch so badly, after some seven hundred lonely nights. It’s been two years now, since he faked his death. And Sofia is the only one who knows where he is.

He doesn’t answer for so long that she thinks he’s fallen asleep. Then, “Long as I live.”

In front of her crossed legs, Dog whimpers and licks John’s forehead. Then he moves off to curl up with Lerna and Orthus, the three of them forming a cozy, tangled pile on the other side of the flames.

Sofia shakes her head, even though John’s not looking at her. “You fought so hard to survive. Why don’t you fight the same way to get back to a normal life?”

“It’ll all just happen again. I’m tired, Sofia.” He sounds that way. His voice is even rougher than usual.

“Dog’s tired. He’s tired of getting sand in his paws every time we visit you. Come back to the hotel with me.” She knows it’s futile. They’ve had the conversation dozens of times. But every time, she says it anyway.

“Give it up.”

“You know I’m too stubborn for that. It’s how I survived: being too stubborn to give up on myself. You deserve the same persistence. Hell, you were so persistent for…well, for Helen’s sake.” What did she almost say there? For the sake of his friends? For her sake? She knows that’s not why. Sofia frowns deeply. “She wouldn’t want to see you living like this. It’s no way to honor her memory.”

That strikes a nerve. His voice has a little more edge to it this time. “She wanted me free. Out here I’m free.”

He’s pissing her off by this point. Her hand stops moving over his hair for a second. Let him feel the weight of what he’s doing. “You’re alone, John. I'm surprised you haven't lost your mind out here. This is solitary confinement. It's torture. Stop it.”

His answer is the same as ever. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.” As if he already knows his answer. But unconsciously, he curls closer against her body, hugging her knees.

The silence reigns again. Sofia leans down over his body, embracing his whole torso to give him as much contact as possible in the little time they have before she’s back in the world of struggling against the High Table, of day-to-day life. He should be there too. Anything, anything to reach him… “People love you. Living people.” It’s a second before she realizes what she’s said.

But he knows. Of course he knows. “…I love you too.” John shifts onto his back, where he can reach up and hold her in kind and god, it almost breaks her. She feels like she’s holding his body back from a motionless river, the waterless, unforgiving current of the dunes. A stagnation, instead of motion, but he could sink and drown in it just the same as water. She won’t let that happen to him. Let his life be a life, not just a haunted survival. Please…

His breath against her lips is proof that his head is still above the waves. And then they’re breathing into each other, biting at each other’s lips, stubble and teeth and refusal to let go, his hand tangled in her hair now too. They get primal so quickly, they understand each other’s vicious energy and bring it out of one another. Fists on each other’s backs, pulling each other closer. Sofia topples over, and now they’re laying side by side. She pulls his head back for a second by the hair, staring fiercely into his eyes. “It’s too dusty for sex out here. Come home with me and we’ll fuck on a nice plush rug in front of the fire.”

He just laughs, and kisses her again. Goddammit. Well. At least that wasn’t a no. Sofia settles against him, staring up at the stars and allowing herself the recklessness of hope.

Night has fallen entirely. The sun is dead beyond the black horizon. But a light still glows: the flicker of her campfire. It will come to him in a cycle of months instead of days, but it will always come back. There’s still light at the end of the world.

[lokigayforhela]

Power-Hungry

TW: None

Rating: PG  

WC: 4415

A/N: Well. We’ve finally made it to the final chapter of Power-Hungry. I cannot express how honored I am that so many of you have read this and loved the original idea enough to want more. Your support means the world to me. Maybe now that I’ve proven that I can still write a multi-chapter fic, I’ll revisit Tantamount and try to revive it and finish it. To those that have stuck with me while I was sitting on this chapter for two weeks tweaking it until I was satisfied with it, this one’s for you. I hope it was worth the wait.

Installment One

Installment Two

Installment Three

Installment Four

Installment Five

Tag List: @lakita-fisher

You woke slowly, a mind-numbing ache searing so deeply throughout both your body and your mind that you almost felt as though you could feel it in your very soul. You were vaguely aware of the sounds of more crashing and what sounded like some sort of blaster or maybe bombs going off, and you made yourself open your eyes, trying to gauge your surroundings a little better.

The room was filled with hazy smoke as you looked around, trying to figure out what had happened, and you were so out of sorts with everything that it took you a moment before you realized that you were alone in your head again.

The Mind Stone had lost its hold on you, and you weren’t sure how, but you were grateful for it. Though you could tell you weren’t out of the woods just yet, given the way that your head was reeling as though it were trying to make up for the fact that it was just your consciousness in there now and not full to the brim with Thanos and all the knowledge that the Stone had brought you. Almost as though your mind thought it was missing part of itself and was suddenly collapsing under the overwhelming pressure of solitude.

You weren’t able to dwell on what that meant for much longer, though, when a guttural scream from across the room brought you back to the present, and you looked across the rubble scattered across the floor to see Thanos locked in battle with none other than Hela.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t expected to see her. There had always remained a tiny little place somewhere in the back of your mind that had believed that Hela would find you and rescue you and bring you back to safety, even though you’d been certain that Hela had far more important things to worry about than you. And then there was the fact that she had had no idea where you were or how far you’d traveled since leaving Knowhere, and you hadn’t held much real hope, despite your wishful thinking.

And yet here she was, spiked helm atop her head and cape flowing behind her as she screamed, summoning sword after sword and sending it in Thanos’ direction while he dodged and tried to get in hits with his own double-sided sword. It was all you could do, to keep yourself upright as you watched them fight, or more accurately, as you watched Hela slam weapon after weapon at Thanos, who seemed to be losing his footing rather quickly, and you selfishly waited for Hela to deal one final, life-ending blow.

It came sooner than you expected, and there was a small part of you, the part that had been aware of how horrible it felt to have a presence like Thanos in your mind, that was a little surprised that Thanos could be taken down. Yet, all it took was Hela summoning a sword so massive that you weren’t sure how she managed to hold it on her own, let alone swing it over her head and bring it down with enough force to run Thanos clean through his throat, and as he gargled on his own blood, all you could do was watch dumbly, relishing in the fact that he was getting the comeuppance he deserved.

You were so focused on watching him die that you didn’t even hear Hela calling your name or see her running toward you until she was mere feet away. Subconsciously, you shied away, still feeling more than a little unsettled from the whole ordeal with the Mind Stone, and also worried about the fact that you weren’t sure you could handle having to recharge Hela at the moment.

And then you remembered that you couldn’t do that anymore.

That Thanos had taken that from you, too.

“…Y/N?” Hela came to a halt as soon as you drew back, standing as still as a statue as she looked at you. “Y/N? Can you hear me?”

You looked at her for a long moment as your brain continued to go haywire, jumping from one thought to the next to the next, one moment fearful that Thanos wasn’t really dead, the next moment grateful that Hela was back and had found you, and the next moment guilty, as you realized that you couldn’t be of any use to Hela, anymore, either.

You didn’t even realize how long you had been standing there in complete silence, staring at Hela, until she crouched down on one knee to be more at your level, brow furrowing as she took in the state of you, gaze roving from your head and all the way down your huddled form, and you realized she was scanning you for any visible injuries.

“…Y/N? Are you with me?” Hela’s voice was the softest you’d ever heard it, of all the time you’d spent with her, and it tugged at your heartstrings in a way that made your breath catch in your throat as you nodded slowly.

Hela nodded along with you, but made no movement to get any closer to you. “Did he hurt you? Are you injured?”

You swallowed thickly, and made a gesture toward the back of your head. “…I hit my head when the ship… when you… hit it? Did you hit it?” That wasn’t necessarily a question that you needed an answer to direly, but it was one of the only things you could get your mind to focus on, so it was what came out.

“Something like that.” Hela shrugged a shoulder, clearly a little confused at your line of questioning. She hesitated for a long moment, gaze lingering on your face, and you realized what she was about to ask seconds before she did. “Is he… are you still under…?”

You shook your head firmly, ignoring the way it made you feel woozy and disoriented. “No. I think I must’ve… when I hit my head it… sort of… reset me, in a way. I don’t know. It was gone before you… killed him, so… I can’t think of any other explanation. That was the only thing that happened between then and now.”

Hela said nothing for a long moment, and her gaze on you felt heavy and unbearable, and the look in her eyes, that pity mixed with fear and anger and happiness all at once, made the reality of everything all the more tangible, and you struggled against the urge to start crying.

Hela, always so perceptive, seemed to pick up on this immediately, and pressed her lips together, expression settling into something a little more firm as she pushed herself to stand and crossed the remaining distance between you. You couldn’t even find it in you to worry about telling her about your powers. Not when you felt like the littlest movement was going to cause you to pass out or maybe sleep forever or… No. You couldn’t think like that.

No matter how exhausted you felt, no matter what your brain decided to focus on, no matter how the lack of your powers was going to change things for you and for Hela, you couldn’t let this be it for you. Not after she had come back for you.

Not when you had so much you needed to say to her.

As Hela picked you up effortlessly, you kept careful watch over her expression, looking for the slightest twitch of her lips or dart of her eyes that would give away the fact that she had realized you weren’t using your powers on her. But Hela’s face remained neutral, save for the slight furrow of her brow which, you quickly realized, was due to the physical state of you and likely wouldn’t change any time soon.

Your absolute exhaustion soon got the better of you, and you let your eyes close, laying your head against her shoulder as she shifted you to be more comfortable. The kiss she pressed to your forehead was so light that you weren’t sure it wasn’t entirely in your head, but the gentleness in her voice when she spoke again made it a little easier to believe.

“Let’s go home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke with a start, the last wisps of a nightmare disappearing as soon as you wrenched your eyes open, but you couldn’t remember a single detail of what you’d dreamt about. Well, nothing more than that feeling of having something and someone inside your head. Exhausted and drained as you still were, as your eyes came into focus a little better and the dull ache in your head returned, you couldn’t make yourself move a muscle. The bed was so soft and the blankets were tucked around you, and you were so warm that you considered letting yourself drift back off to sleep again.

Until you felt something tighten around your waist and, after a quick glance, realized that you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Hela’s arm was draped loosely over your waist in a way that felt possessive and yet… comfortable. Right. Like it was meant to be, the two of you curled up, sharing the same space together.

You spared a brief glance over your shoulder, and found that Hela was asleep. Or, more likely, was pretending very well to be asleep, eyes closed and chest rising and falling slowly. There was no way that your startled awakening hadn’t also woken her up, as well. But as she remained there, expression peaceful and gentle, you found yourself absolutely mesmerized, and carefully, bit by bit, you inched yourself around until you were facing her, hardly but a few inches between you as you looked up at her, taking in everything about her as though this would be the only chance you’d ever have. There was a part of you that thought that might be the case, once Hela found out that your powers were gone and you wouldn’t be of use to her for any longer. A thought that made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t wrap your mind around.

“You’re staring, darling.” Hela’s voice was soft, and she was close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath as you smiled, remembering a time not so long ago when she had said the same thing to you when she’d been keeping you in the cell.

“Sorry,” you whispered, surprisingly not shying away in the least when Hela opened her eyes to look at you, holding your gaze with an undecipherable expression before she, too, smiled gently.

“I didn’t say you had to stop.” Hela’s voice was still light, but there was an edge to it that felt intoxicating and dizzying.

You said nothing in response to that, and Hela continued to look at you, with that uncharacteristic gentleness that felt so unlike her that it made your head spin.

“Bad dream?” Hela’s voice remained light, but there was a hint of concern in it, and as she waited for you to answer, she ran her thumb up and down your side and you tried not to let yourself get distracted by it.

Uncertain that you could trust yourself to speak just yet, you nodded in response, hoping that that would be a good enough answer for Hela, whose expression became a little more apologetic as she forced out a grimace of a smile.

“I’m sorry. I wish that I could make it all better. And I wish I could tell you that it will get better, but… well, an Infinity Stone is a terribly powerful item to deal with, and you’ve just had it in your mind for a few days. It’ll take time to sort yourself out. A lot of it, I wager, but…” Hela trailed off, and it was at this moment that you realized just how much things had changed between you.

Just how much Hela had changed, since you’d first met her.

You had so much you wanted to tell her. Needed to tell her. Before it was too late.

Sensing that you wanted to speak, Hela shifted a little, arm slipping from its place around your waist to instead settle on the bed, her fingers closing around your wrist as she propped herself up with her other arm.

You swallowed thickly, realizing that you couldn’t run any longer.

Easiest confession first, then.

Though you weren’t entirely sure easy was the best way to describe admitting to Hela that your powers were gone, yet it still seemed like an easier conversation to handle than your feelings for her. In fact, she likely already knew, given her close proximity and the fact that she had always been able to easily pick up on your powers.

“Hela, I…” you began all the same, voice catching in your throat, so you tried again after another moment of silence. “Hela, my powers are gone. I-I can’t… It was nonstop, on Thanos’ ship, and I’d already been feeling like something was off, and I just… I don’t know. B-But I know that means I’m not of use to you anymore, and I understand that that means you won’t want to keep me around anymore, because… I mean, what use am I to you, when the only reason you kept me to begin with was so that I could help you, and now I can’t, and I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry. I wish I could fix this. I wish I could go back in time and do everything differently, and I-”

Of all the things you had expected Hela to say or to do, stopping you mid-sentence by pressing a kiss to your lips was the absolute furthest possibility you’d counted on, and you were so shocked by the action that, for a solid few moments, you didn’t even more or close your eyes.

And then reality seemed to catch up with you all at once, and you allowed yourself to melt into her embrace more than you already had, pressing as close as your body could get and letting a hand reach up to cup her face, fingers brushing against her cheek.

You kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, reveling in the feeling of her body pressed so closely to yours, of the feel of her fingers threaded in your hair and her soft skin against the palm of your hand. It was all so much, and so unexpected, and despite the feeling of wanting to get lost in Hela for the rest of forever, you made yourself draw back.

Before you could even open your mouth to start asking the plethora of questions that were now at the forefront of your mind, Hela shook her head.

“I don’t care. I don’t care about your powers. I don’t care about any of that. I just want you.” Hela spoke with an earnestness that felt out of character, and a desperation that made your heart skip a beat.

“…I’m just a girl. You’re a princess… a Goddess. And you’ll be Queen one day, and you’ll have a kingdom to rule and realms to watch over. And I’ll… I’m nothing to you now.”

Again, Hela shook her head, and cupped your face with both of her hands, drawing you to meet her gaze as she spoke. “You are everything to me. Now and always. I don’t care if you can’t use your powers anymore. I don’t care that you’re ‘just a girl.’ You are mine. In a way that I’ve never been able to understand the want for, until now. Until you.” She gave a soft little laugh, thumbs caressing your face gently. “I used to think that I would never need anything or anyone else in my life. That it would always be me against the world, in battle and in life and in all ways that could ever exist. And then I met you, and suddenly… Suddenly, none of that matters anymore. None of it matters, if you aren’t right there at my side all the while.”

Your brow furrowed as you kept looking at her, struggling not to feel shy under the intensity of her gaze or her words. “What about the Stones? You were so close, to having some of them. And I know where the Soul Stone is now, it’s on Vormir.”

“And it will stay there.” Hela pressed her lips together, seeming to gather her thoughts before she began to speak. “…when I saw what that Stone did to you. When I realized what Thanos was willing to do, just to get another one… I saw my future. And I didn’t like it anymore. I didn’t want to become what he had, a mindless creature after more power than one person could ever truly need. And I knew that nothing was ever going to be as important as you, after that. You and your safety… That was my endgame. I couldn’t focus on anything else. I just needed you safe and with me.”

You swallowed thickly, taking in everything that Hela had said since you’d woken up. You still found it hard to believe, that a force like Hela could suddenly throw everything that she had worked toward away. That Hela could suddenly care about one thing and one thing only, and that one thing being you. It was unexpected and confusing and it was everything. To know that she wanted you in the same way that you wanted her.

In the same way you’d still yet to tell her that you wanted her.

“…You’re all I want, too. I think I came to that conclusion just a little bit before you did, I just… Well, I got a little preoccupied there, for a while.” You tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak and forced, and you realized that you were on the verge of tears, though you were unsure whether it was from the whirlwind of emotions due to Hela’s confession, exhaustion, or the residual trauma from everything that had happened with Thanos, and before you knew it, you had begun to cry, averting your gaze in a meager attempt to hide yourself from Hela.

Hela said nothing, pulling you back into her arms and holding you close as you began to weep, letting one hand run through your hair as she kissed the top of your head. “You’ve been through so much, in so little time. Not just with the Stones, but with me, too. I’ve really put you through the wringer, and I’m so sorry that I let my want for power get the better of me and worse, put your life at risk. And I hope that one day I can make it up to you.”

“You already have,” you whispered, voice still thick with tears as you tilted your head back to look up at her. “And there’s nothing to forgive, anyway. You’re… a future Queen. You have… had... an agenda, and it was never any of my business, whether I was involved or not.” You hesitated a moment, inhaling slowly. “But Hela… Others will come along, wanting the same power that you sought out, that Thanos was close to getting. We can’t let that happen.”

“And we won’t. We’ll keep watch over them, from a distance. And we’ll keep the Stones separate from each other. The Soul Stone is on Vormir, the Tesseract is on Midgard. Reality, Power, and Time are lost, as far as we know. And Mind…” She looked across the room and you followed her gaze to find the golden scepter placed among Hela’s small armory, the Stone contained within still glowing bright. You couldn’t help but to feel a little wary of the item, and you shivered. “…we’ll take it back to Asgard with us. And we’ll place it in the vaults and no one can ever use it to hurt you again.”

You nodded slowly as you turned back to look at Hela, thoughts still a little distant as you remembered what it had been like to be under the Stone’s control. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. At first, I thought my head might explode, with the feel of just… suddenly knowing so much, and also knowing that Thanos could essentially hear what I was thinking at any given moment… It was the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced, and I still feel… off. Like I’m not quite right, even with it no longer in my head.”

“Unfortunately, you might remain that way for a while. As I said, the Stones are powerful, even after they’re no longer in use. But it’ll get better, in time. You’ll get better. I’ll make sure of it.” Hela pressed another kiss to your forehead and you nodded again, closing your eyes as you let the warmth of her proximity wash over you.

Before, when you’d had your powers, anytime you were close to someone, it had always come with the small price of discomfort from your energy being used to recharge them, no matter if it was someone you cared about or not. That dull little tug had always been there, no matter who you’d been within touching distance of, and to now get to exist without that feeling, without that weight to inhibit everything you felt… It was going to be an entire new world of experiences. You’d never not had your powers, which meant that you’d have to get used to not having your powers. You’d be able to feel anything and everything without the unintentional filter your powers had always given you. And as exciting as that was, it was a little daunting.

“What are you thinking about?” Hela’s soft voice brought you out of your silent musing, and you let your gaze slide back into focus, the corner of your lips quirking up into a smile.

“How I’ve never been able to feel like this before.”

Hela’s brow furrowed at that, and you could tell she was waiting for you to explain further, and so you did, with a soft little laugh.

“I’ve never not had my powers, so the feel of having them has always been there. Second nature, always a part of me, no matter if I wanted them to be or not. And because of that, any time I’ve ever been close to anyone, let alone touch them or… lay with them, like this… there’s always been this little pull. A reminder that my powers were being used at all times. And now… Well, there’s no powers to be used, so I’m feeling everything more… fully.”

Hela smiled softly, bringing a hand up to brush your hair away from your eyes and letting her fingers linger there, threaded in the strands as she looked at you. “That must be a very new, very weird experience for you.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh softly. “Yes, it’s very weird. I’ll have to get used to it. To feeling everything and to not having my powers any longer. It’ll take some time, I think.”

Hela hummed softly, letting her fingers slide from their place in your hair to rest back at your waist again, and you gave a content little sigh.

“Everything’s going to be different now. For both of us.”

Hela nodded slowly, her own lips twisting to the side as she considered that thought. “Well, at least we get to do it together. That’ll be fun.”

You smiled a little more, huffing out a soft laugh. “Tell me about Asgard.”

Hela laughed softly, turning to lay on her back, and you did the same, looking at her even though she was focused on the ceiling. “It’s beautiful. Golden and grand and mighty.”

“You’ll show me around?”

“Everywhere. All my favorite places. We’ll get lost in the markets and the fields, and I’ll show you my favorite little secret spots hidden away in the royal gardens. And I’ll take you to the water and we’ll swim.”

You felt your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I don’t know how.”

“I’ll teach you.” Hela turned her head to look at you, her light grip on your wrist shifting so that she could thread her fingers with yours. “I’ll teach you everything you’ve never known. And I’ll teach you how to be a princess and, in time, a Queen.”

You smiled softly, even as you felt your heart sink at the potential possibilities the future held. “What will the people think of me?”

“I don’t give a care in Hel what the people think of you. You are mine, and you will be theirs, whether they like it or not. It’s that simple.”

You hummed softly, feeling like there was a plethora of things you could, and wanted, to say to that, but you didn’t want to fight. Didn’t want to put a damper on the comfortable feeling that had settled around the both of you, as you lay there together in Hela’s bed.

“You’re sure that this is what you want?” You couldn’t help but to pose the question one more time. It was not lost on you, how much of a limb Hela was going out onto in order to keep you with her. “I might take some work.”

“I’m willing to put in the effort.” She brought your hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss along the ridges of your knuckles. “If you’re willing to do the same, for me.”

“Of course I am.” The statement came without trouble. You meant it, and you hoped that Hela knew just how much that you did.

“Then there’s nothing else to worry about, is there?” Hela murmured, reaching her free hand up to brush your hair out of your eyes as she looked at you, with so much love that you almost felt as though you could feel the very power of it warming you to your very core.

“No,” you agreed, pressing your forehead against hers as you curled yourself closer to her. “There isn’t.”

And as you lay there with her, thinking over everything that had happened over the course of your time with Hela, all you could think about was that, while you’d lost your powers and everything that had made you you while you’d had them, perhaps it had been worth it, to gain the knowledge that you were loved and that you had love to give in return.

You could think of no greater power one could have, than that.

[tvintedspvrkmoved]

hahahah i'm losing my mind ??????

so two very cool things are true right now which are :

- in twelve days my best girl will have existed in some form for an entire year - i'm about to be able to say there are officially HUNDREDS of you here ???? like as in the plural form ??????

neither of these things make any sense to me , but since both are true i figured it would be a good time to do what i guess is a little follow forever type thing. SO. here are some of the people who have helped emma grow and develop and also helped me grow and develop as a person and as a writer 🤍

-------------------------- ★ ---------------------------

@dalphahale : honestly a day one bc i didn't really do very much with emma until around march i think and that's around when we started writing if i'm not mistaken ?? one of the best / most show accurate dereks i've ever come across and one of the best people too !!!! you're an incredible writer and honestly a saint in human form for putting up with me ooc lmao it's an honor to bless your dms every day with the most random and chaotic messages and thoughts and only be a LITTLE bit judged for it 😂 derek and emma are one of the most adorable ships i've ever seen and derek and allison are iconic as well i just think you're the bee's knees okay you're stuck with some form of my chaos indefinitely i fear 🤷‍♀️

@stanfordprepped : jared. JARED. another og and one of my best friends in the rpc. samemma is so unbelievably iconic and i'm so amazed and proud of everything that's come from them and from us writing together and from you in general i'm SO excited about charlotte's development and about samlena and about just all of our dynamics ahhhhh you are so unbelievably strong and talented and you deserve every good thing in the entire world bc the love and respect that you hold for others even on your worst days is so admirable i can't even fathom it sometimes.

@multi-royalty : MADDIE MY BELOVED i ????? owe so much of everything i've accomplished this year to you 😭🙏 you not only pulled me back when i was debating whether or not to even continue writing , but helped to develop some of my most cherished muses and threads and plots and headcanons. you're the sweetest little bean in the entire world and i can't even begin to thank you for everything you've done for and with me and the light that you bring to this community even when you can't see it 🤍

@guiltye : bitch i'll yell FOREVER at and about you are you kidding ????? your writing gives me literal chills and the plots that we have are some of the deepest most complex and incredible dynamics i've ever been a part of. you've been through so much this year and kicked ass until you got to the other side and still managed to help ME through so much too and i'm sure so many others and i just adore you okay i live for all lilly content but especially your ooc posts bc i just think your brain is so neat and i love getting to glimpse into it sometimes you're just incredible 🥹🤍 ps thank u for letting me yell about noah kahan without abandon and getting in ur feelings about him with me lol

@boundforhale // @stilesstylelinski : obviously i had to put y'all together you can't split up the gremlins okay. i love you both so much and i actually can't even begin to describe how much you guys have helped me this year both to be a better writer and to get through so many rough patches irl. i'm still not entirely convinced that australia is real but if it DOES exist i will not rest until i can fly there and we can all meet at a central location and proceed to just implode the whole universe with the sheer chaos and buffoonery. y'all are actually family at this point i don't know what i would do without you fr

@carp3diems : LISTEN HERE BITCH bff bestie angel i love you to pieces and if you ever leave me again i'll riot !!!! you're genuinely one of the coolest people i've ever met and i love all of our dynamics so damn much but what we've created with colbemma is just so insane and incredible and i know i just screamed about this in the dms but i genuinely cannot believe they started out hating each other lmao they're truly iconic and i can't wait to see how they continue to grow and thrive and also how YOU continue to grow and thrive

@redhoodiskra : A. you are an actual ray of sunshine and so incredibly talented and WAY TOO HARD ON YOURSELF and completely amazing and fantastic and i just love you a lot !!!! stiles and emma and the little family they've created make my heart so happy and so do all of our other dynamics !!!! we haven't written much on @westwingsolo yet and we absolutely should change that bc i'm in awe of you and your writing and the creativity you bring to your muses they're both so special and you can 100% see the love you've put into both.

i wish i could write everyone a little message but here are some more lovelies that you should absolutely go follow !!!! a lot of them have other pages with more incredible muses as well 🤍

@fuckmeupindie , @hellgiven , @gunchamber , @ofcrxwns , @escapedfromthevoiid , @ruinedmyself , @goldenboybarracuda , @delicatestm , @sarcasticsnackpack , @fidelissimi , @ofblackskies , @ratkiing , @snnydcys , @flamefallen , @impurc , @clockturned , @r4chelamber , @unbearablyindifferent , @mystictragedies , @conradfish3r , @jimh9334 , @jchnwinchester , @qapsiel , @thornstocutyouwith , @unitcd , @surgcns , @localsalt , @mecwmellc