#it’s about finding solace and comfort in the bonds formed

[avichor]

platonicism and found family being viewed as lesser in comparison to romance will always be my villain origin

[esotericbluntbaby]

confined

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: being mandy's best friend, you were ecstatic to be her maid-of-honor, only to realize that the best man was your ex. wounds reopen when you realize you're stuck with him in more ways than one.

mentions: nsfw/smut (no p in v, but moreso oral fixations..?) , angst, both of you are lowk assholes, forced proximity, hurt/comfort, happy ending, she/her pronouns, reader wears glasses, ex! hamzah

--

"he's right next door," she took the ice bucket from the counter in front of you two, "i can go get the ice if you want."

mandy was treating you like you were fine china during an earthquake: shattered, fragile, and delicate to the touch.

you and her have been best friend since past lives, finding each other in every single life you've lived. she understood you as well as you understood her, leading to a bond that was irreplaceable and youthful. so, when she asked you to be her maid-of-honor the day after martin proposed to her, you obviously checked the "yes" box of the letter she gave you. you liked martin for her; after seeing her get her heart broken by immature high schoolers a couple years ago and middle schoolers even before that, you took solace in the fact that martin genuinely cared about her in a way that radiates in the kindness he treats her with.

during this time, you and hamzah also had a bond as strong as you and mandy's. hanging out with mandy led to martin joining the hangouts, which led to hamzah joining after martin realized how lonely it must've felt to have both of your closest friends date and show their affection in front of their single friend.

throughout the hangouts, you and hamzah's relationship slowly emerged from the love that festered around you two. it was almost as if mandy and martin's emotions somehow spread into the emotions located between you and hamzah, leading to him admitting his emotions a couple of days after valentines day.

though mandy and martin got their fairytale-esque, happy "ending" in the form of a wedding, you and hamzah's fate was much more melancholy; compared to the love story you both witnessed, you and hamzah's story turned into shakespearean tragedy.

you and hamzah's relationship ended after 11 months; specifically, one month before things would have gotten to the "serious" stage. he broke up with you because he wasn't ready for things to get serious yet, as if it wasn't already. he acted as if you didn't pour the inners of your heart out to him whenever you'd whisper sweet everythings into his ear. he acted as if he didn't watch you as you slept with a look of pure bliss and engagement apparent in his eyes. you, on the other hand, acted as if it wasn't a big deal; you were never one for showing people how you feel. the people who understood you already knew that. needless to say, you and hamzah's current status was one that was ignored by the both of you. the existence of your emotions towards each other resided somewhere in the lower valleys of your heart and souls, holding on by a mere thread.

a three years ago, you would've been overjoyed with the fact that you'd be walking down the aisle with him as the last couple before mandy walked down with her father in her hand. however, with how unexpected the breakup was, nobody could have prepared the emotions that you would go through the week in the wedding.

the conversation you and mandy were having was currently in your shared hotel room which, ironically, had a single door and wall separating you from hamzah and martin. before it started storming out, mandy had gotten a glass of champagne she wanted to share with you before the wedding in three days. wanting to chill the bottle in ice first, you were conversing about who was going to go and get it from the machine.

you took the bucket from her arm, "no, it's okay. didn't martin say he needed to talk to you about your floral arrangements?"

"still, like, i wouldn't want you to just go out and possibly run into him before you're ready. we still have three days to prepare for that."

you sighed, "i don't care if i run into him, somehow. it's whatever at this point."

mandy's eyebrows furrowed slightly with worry, "are you sure you're okay with walking down the aisle with him? i get if you're uncomfortable- i can change the order, or, something-"

"mandy," you took your hands and firmly reassured her by placing them on her shoulders, "it's okay. i'll be okay. go talk to martin, i'll be back."

"okay, be safe. text me if you need anything."

--

going to the ice machine on the 9th floor, you turned the corner and walked towards the buzzing noise. the lighting of the hallways were fluorescent, with a hint of warmth in each lamp beside each door. the windows showed raindrops racing down the crevices of transparency; you could hear thunder very faintly in the background of the buzzing. reaching the ice machine, you read a sign on it written in thick, black sharpie.

broken! do not use! working ice machine on the first floor!

you looked at the map and, sighing, you walked back to the elevator and pressed the down arrow, waiting patiently for it to get to you. after hearing the ding of the elevator and watching the stainless steel doors open, you entered as your finger made it to the buttons on the side. pressing the first floor button, you stood in silence.

a part of you had been thinking about seeing hamzah this whole trip. though the other part of you hated him for how he ended things with you over some excuse, you also didn't want your best friend's wedding to be tense and full of resentment. then again, your plan was to simply walk with him and then separate for the rest of the trip and, eventually, the rest of your life. the part of you that thought about seeing hamzah was also the part of you that missed how dorky and lame he was; that was also the part of you that missed how he tasted and felt, skin to skin.

your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the ding of the door, revealing an ice machine conveniently right in front of you. taking the bucket, you placed it beneath the spout and pressed the button to fill it. suddenly, a clap of thunder caused you to jolt; you hated loud noises. you were beginning to regret leaving the hotel room.

quickly closing the bucket, you mimicked the opposite of your earlier actions: you pressed the up arrow, got in, and pressed the 9th button. you were planning on waiting patiently, once again, for the elevator ride to go smoothly. there was no one else in the elevator with you, meaning that you were free from awkward conversations with middle aged men. however, the door slid open once again and revealed the face you weren't planning on seeing tonight.

you knew hamzah liked going to the gym, however, seeing him so jacked after erasing him from your life for a full two years was an experience that you weren't able to even comprehend. his curls peeked through his beanie in a halo, slightly hiding the glimmer he always had in his dark eyes. one thing you noticed about him ever since you started dating was that he looked insanely good in simple, black clothing; currently, he was in a black tank top and black sweatpants. sweat was glistening off of his skin, providing a glow that was so lethal that it could blind you. this was your ex. you were currently admiring your ex and you hated it.

realizing it was you standing in the elevator, his eyes slightly widened at the thought of you. hamzah always enjoyed how you looked before going to bed. he liked the way your hair was let down and cascading down your back. he enjoyed how you looked with your glasses on and how smart they made you look. he admired how you slept in big t-shirts and shorts. the feelings were mutual. he was aware that it was bad he was thinking of you in this manner, however, he didn't care.

you moved aside, making room for him in the slightly cramped elevator. he walked and stood next to you, avoiding eye contact and still exchanging glances at you beside him. his hand moved towards the elevator floor buttons, soon realizing that the floor was already pressed. the elevator was quiet and you both sensed awkward tension emerging from between you two.

until, you both felt the elevator stop moving.

"uh- shouldn't we have been on our floor by now?" he questioned, breaking the awkward silence with the clearing of his throat.

you nodded, "yeah, um, it's been, like, two minutes."

"are we stuck?"

the lights went out as thunder crashed outside, causing you to jump once more. hamzah took out his phone and shined the flashlight onto you, revealing the slightly petrified expression held in your furrowed eyebrows and parted mouth.

he softly spoke, "hey, it's okay. i'm sure it'll come on soon."

you took out your phone and attempted to text mandy, ultimately failing when you realized there was no signal inside of the elevator.

"i'm not getting any signal, are you?"

he checked, "no, i'm not."

--

after the man on the elevator's loudspeaker told you that you had to wait for the storm to clear in order to be rescued, you could almost feel your heart drop down to your stomach. you were currently stuck in an elevator with the man that broke your heart and left you emotionally bruised for months.

you both sat on the floor on opposite sides. since there was no signal, there wasn't much to do other than sit there and stare at seemingly everything except each other; that was, until hamzah broke the silence.

"so.."

you made eye contact with him, a familiar feeling of nostalgic warmth entering your system. this wasn't to say that you completely forgot about what he did. that feeling lasted a second or two, before it was replaced with the reminders of anguish.

he continued, "how've you been?"

"fine," a tang of bitterness exited your mouth, "you?"

"i've been okay."

"cool."

"are you mad at me, still?" hamzah asked.

a look of disbelief plastered itself on your facial canvas, "are you serious?"

"look, it's not like i wanna be in this elevator with my ex either, but i am," he firmly reassured, "neither of us know when we're going to leave and neither of us can use our phones. i might as well make small talk-"

"that isn't small talk."

"then what is it?"

"it's talking about how i've been since we ended things," you sighed, "that isn't small talk. it's more than that."

a pause entered the conversation.

"okay, it isn't," his voice got softer, "i still want to know."

"fine. in reality, i ask myself what the hell i did wrong every night."

"you didn't do anything wrong-"

"well, i wasn't doing things right enough for you to stay."

silence entered the room, once again. you realized you were being snappy, but you couldn't help it. he was the reason mandy saw you as fragile and delicate. you hated him for it.

you continued, "maybe we should just stop talking. i think it's making everything even worse-"

he cut you off, "i still think about you."

"what?"

"like, i don't know, every night."

"that's such bullshit."

he scoffed, "just because i was the one that ended things doesn't mean it didn't hurt for me either."

"that's also bullshit. you chose to break up with me," you reminded, enunciating the "you", "that was your decision."

"well, you agreed, didn't you?"

"did i have a choice?"

"well-"

"no, i didn't."

hamzah took his beanie off to run his hands in his hair, allowing it to fall onto the floor beside him, "jesus fucking christ, you aren't even letting me explain."

you took a deep breath, "fine. go."

"you wanna know the real reason i broke up with you?"

"fucking obviously."

"well, smartass, i was scared, okay?"

"scared of fucking what? you think i wasn't scared-"

"if you haven't realized," hamzah got closer to you, "a relationship isn't just about you."

"y'know what, fuck you, hamzah."

he cocked his eyebrow, "what'd you just say?"

"i said fuck you. you're over here acting like you're hurt over it- acting like you weren't the one who left me when i needed you the most, giving me the most bullshit excuse. 'im not ready for things to be serious' i knew it was bullshit as soon as those words came out of your mouth," a glare overcame the admiration that was once found in your eyes, "in reality, you left me. that's all there is to it. i needed you and you fucking vanished. it's like you didn't even try-"

"don't even fucking say that," he grabbed your cheek with his hand, "i'd drink fucking poison if it tasted like you."

"what are you-"

"you think i don't regret leaving you? i do- i regret it every single fucking night when i'm laying in bed, so fucking lonely. it's like i see you everywhere, in everyone, and it just reminds me of how much i fucked up by letting you go. i miss you so fucking much, baby, you don't even understand. shit, i haven't even been able to finish ever since i left you."

a certain lust replaced the tension in the room, "what?"

"i can't even make myself finish anymore. it's been three years and i haven't gotten laid- i haven't even tried to. i knew they wouldn't be as good as you, doll."

"hamzah-"

"my question is," his face became inches apart from your face, lips being parted right in front of yours, "have you?"

you stayed in this position for another thirty seconds; you and hamzah were currently on the floor, noses practically touching from how close you two were. the tension in the room was both full of anger and sex; a concoction that shouldn't have been mixed in the first place, a cocktail that was dangerous to be drank.

"no," you swallowed, "no, i haven't."

"why is that, baby?"

your breathing became slightly heavier as nervousness was felt in the pit of your stomach, "hamzah, i can't-"

"use your words," his thumb teased your cheek in a circular motion, "why haven't you gotten with anyone since me?"

"no one could make me feel the way that you do," a tinge of dominance allowed itself to escape from you, "now, answer my question, hamzah."

"what's your question?"

"if i decided to kiss you tonight, would you just leave again?"

"fuck no-"

you latched onto him as if he was the only thing holding you together. immediately, your tongues explored each other's mouths. you both missed this feeling; you both missed this taste. hamzah tasted like the mint gum he'd always get whenever you guys would go to gas stations together; you could dive deep into how good he tasted. his hands roamed around your body, exploring a familiar lagoon that he missed swimming in.

though you enjoyed making out with him, he wanted more. unlatching from your mouth, you chased after his lips once again.

"relax, baby. i'm right here- i'm not going anywhere."

pinning you against the wall with his hands, his lips made its way to your neck. sucking and leaving bruised marks on the crevice between your shoulders and ear, you let out a small moan; it was the sweetest tune that hamzah hasn't heard in forever. he sucked harder, earning a louder and more whiny noise coming out of your mouth.

you gripped his hair in your hands tightly, "fuck, hamzah- i missed you so much."

leaving a kiss on your neck, he moved onto your collarbone, kissing and sucking softly. hamzah was marking you as if he needed people to know you were his, which he, in fact, did. low moans exited his mouth the more he sucked the soft and supple skin that was exposed. the more he marked, the harder you breathed and begged for more.

he remembered the soft spot that you had from three years ago: a specific area on your neck closer to your ear. taking that area he kissed it with a softness you haven't felt in years, then continued to suck a dark purple bruise with a roughness you craved in his absense. hearing the moan you let out, you felt hamzah grin against your skin.

afterwards, he decided to bite the area, causing a soft scream exit the back of your throat. gripping onto his hair harder, he led out a low groan. you both had no plans on stopping, until the power went back on.

hamzah stared at all the marks he made on you, as if he was picasso and you were his canvas. both of your eyes no longer held resentment: instead, adoration and love appeared in the glint of your irises. you noticed that hamzah's hair was a mess, as well as yours, as you both attempted to catch your breaths.

"what do we tell mandy?"

you were confused, "what?"

"uh, i kinda-"

you noticed your reflection in the stainless steel walls; you looked like you were attacked by a leaf blower in the reverse setting.

your eyes enlarged, "holy shit-"

"i'm sorry, did i go too far?"

"no, baby," you kissed him lightly on the lips, "i wanted you to go that far."

"i'm sorry for hurting you. i was already planning on apologizing during this trip," he held your hand, "but, now, i wanna ask you something else."

"which is?"

"will you take me back?"

"you gotta convince me that it'll be worth it."

he kissed your forehead, "even if it takes my whole life and everything i have. i promise you."

--

author's note

do u guys want more nsfw.. or do i stick to my angst with no smut...

[wisesoultarot]

How will your future spouse make you feel about yourself?

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🌷Image 1

Your future partner will envelop you in a warm embrace of respect, affection, and admiration, creating a safe haven where you can truly be yourself. They will celebrate your uniqueness and make you feel cherished in every moment, reminding you that you are deserving of love in all its forms. In their presence, your inner child will come alive, feeling liberated and joyful, as if the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders.

They will take the time to understand your emotional needs, offering support and encouragement that nurtures your spirit. With their unwavering belief in you, they will help you realize that your dreams of a fairy tale ending are not just fantasies, but beautiful possibilities waiting to unfold. Together, you will create a love story filled with laughter, adventure, and deep connection, where every day feels like a new chapter in a book you never want to end.

Their kindness and thoughtfulness will be a constant reminder that you are valued and appreciated, and they will inspire you to reach for the stars, knowing that you have someone by your side who believes in you wholeheartedly. How sweet it will be to share a life filled with love, joy, and endless possibilities! 🥺🩷

🌷Image 2

You and your future partner will share a profound and transformative connection, one that transcends the ordinary and resonates on a soul-deep level. It will feel as though you have known each other for lifetimes, as if you both belong to the same soul family, intricately woven together by shared experiences, values, and dreams. This bond will be a sanctuary, a safe haven where both of you can be your authentic selves without fear of judgment.

Their embrace will envelop you in a cocoon of warmth and comfort, creating a sense of belonging that is unparalleled in your life. In their arms, you will find solace and security, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world. It will be a place where you can let down your guard, allowing vulnerability to flourish and trust to deepen. This connection will be a source of strength, reminding you that you are never alone in your journey.

Being with them will invigorate your spirit, breathing new life into your days and igniting a passion for existence that dispels any lingering feelings of boredom or despair. Their laughter will be a melody that lifts your heart, and their presence will be a spark that ignites your creativity and enthusiasm for life. Together, you will embark on adventures that fill your days with joy and excitement, exploring new horizons and discovering the beauty in the mundane.

As you navigate life side by side, you will cultivate a vibrant bond that inspires you to embrace your true self. This relationship will encourage you to shed any masks you may have worn, allowing your genuine essence to shine through. You will feel empowered to pursue your dreams and aspirations, knowing that you have a partner who believes in you wholeheartedly. Their unwavering support will foster a strong belief in your own potential, encouraging you to reach for the stars and chase after your passions with renewed vigor.

Together, you will create a tapestry of shared experiences, filled with laughter, love, and growth. You will celebrate each other's victories and provide comfort during challenges, forging a partnership that is resilient and nurturing. This connection will not only enhance your individual lives but will also create a beautiful synergy that propels both of you toward your highest selves. In this union, you will find not just a partner, but a true companion on the journey of life, one who enriches your existence and inspires you to be the best version of yourself.

🌷Image 3

You might be an incredibly intuitive individual, perhaps even spiritual, psychic, or a medium, and you have a deep understanding of your own worth and values. Your self-love is already profound, rooted in a strong sense of identity and self-awareness. You are fully aware of how you feel about yourself, and no one can elevate your emotions to extraordinary heights because you recognize your own brilliance. This self-awareness acts as a shield, protecting you from the superficial validations that others might seek to offer. Your confidence radiates, and it’s this very energy that will attract your future partner.

As you embark on this journey of love, your future partner will undoubtedly pick up on this unique essence that you exude. They will be drawn to your authenticity and the way you carry yourself with grace and self-assuredness. What will they do? I sense that their romantic gestures will leave you breathless, as they possess a deeply romantic nature that resonates with your soul. They will surprise you with thoughtful acts of kindness, spontaneous adventures, and heartfelt expressions of affection that will make your heart flutter.

This partner will encourage you to explore your romantic side, gently nudging you to embrace the softer, more vulnerable aspects of love that you may not have fully appreciated in past relationships. They will create a safe space for you to express your desires and dreams, allowing you to open up in ways you never thought possible. No one before has truly shown you what love and romance can feel like, but with them, you will discover a new depth of connection that transcends the ordinary.

They will demonstrate that they are your perfect match, your one true love, by understanding your needs and desires on a profound level. Their ability to listen and respond to your emotional cues will make you feel seen and cherished. Together, you will embark on a journey filled with laughter, passion, and mutual respect, where both of you can grow and evolve as individuals and as a couple.

In this relationship, you will find a partner who not only appreciates your brilliance but also inspires you to shine even brighter. They will celebrate your achievements, support your dreams, and stand by you through life’s challenges. With them, love will feel like a beautiful dance, where both of you move in harmony, creating a rhythm that is uniquely yours. 🥰

[orellazalonia]

Can I request for Stucky x reader please. They are in a committed relationship. But nowadays Steve and Bucky are spending more time together without the reader. Date and plans get cancelled. The reader tries asking them for some attention or atleast few minutes to spend, but they snap at her calling her selfish and clingy. The reader is not able to understand what she did wrong that they are now spending time with each other without her, compared to how it was before. The team notice this and spend time with the reader. The reader realises how much less time she spent with the team because of Steve and Bucky. So she spends more time with the team. One day Steve and Bucky ask her to hang with them but now she's the one who is busy and they are getting a taste of their own medicine. They wonder if this is some kind of revenge. You can decide the ending. Make it a happy ending if possible.

Hello! This was such good angst material, I loved it so much!!! A good message to, know your worth isn’t based on others. You should never lose who you are no matter what relationship you’re in.

Also! The ending can be seen as happy or lead into a happier part 2 possibly. Nonetheless, thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy! Happy reading!!!

Forgotten in the Familiar

Summary: After being pushed aside by Steve and Bucky, you find solace and joy in reconnecting with the rest of the team, realizing your worth doesn’t depend on someone else choosing you. Once they realize what they’ve lost, Steve and Bucky work to rebuild your bond with genuine remorse, and together, you begin again, not as an afterthought, but as equals once more. (Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: 2.5k+

Main Masterlist

Loving Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was never simple, but for a long time, it was good. It was soft in the places it needed to be, steady in the spaces that held your heart, and built with care like a home the three of you made brick by brick.

The world didn’t always understand the three of you. Two war-scarred soldiers with one super-soldier trying to carry the weight of the past with the grace of a man from another time and the other still stitching together the broken pieces of his mind. Then you, someone not from their past, not built in a lab, and not haunted by HYDRA, serum, or battlefield ghosts. Just you.

And somehow, that had been enough.

They were fire and steel, both forged in war but around you, they were human again. They learned how to slow down. How to laugh without flinching. How to find comfort in mundane things: sleepy Sunday mornings tangled in sheets, cooking breakfast together, or movie marathons with popcorn paired with tangled limbs on the couch. You brought peace into their chaos. In turn, they made you feel like the most loved person on the planet. A triad. Equals.

But that was the part that started to fade.

It wasn’t sudden. It was slow, the kind of slow that creeps in when you’re not paying attention. A missed dinner here. A vague text saying “Can we reschedule?” A shared glance between Steve and Bucky that you weren’t part of. They didn’t mean to pull away at first but over time, the space between you all widened, like a gap forming beneath floorboards. And you were the only one who noticed.

At first, you thought they were just going through something. They had history that ran deeper than most people could understand. Sometimes it hit them in waves, and you’d learned to be patient when it did. They’d talk about the 40s, about Brooklyn, or about names of men long dead. You used to be invited into those memories. You used to be the one holding their hands as they sorted through the past.

Now, they did it without you.

You tried not to be jealous. They had a bond you’d never be able to replicate, and you never tried to. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel invisible when they spent hours behind closed doors laughing, talking, and disappearing into each other without thinking to ask you to join them.

You’d wake up to an empty bed more often than not. Their side of the sheets would be cold. Voices would echo faintly down the hall from the living room or the balcony. And when you got up, sleep still in your eyes and hope in your chest, you’d find them mid-conversation, only to have their laughter dim the moment you walked in.

You were still there but somehow, you weren’t in it anymore.

You told yourself not to read into it. Not to make a big deal out of something small, but the ache didn’t go away. You smiled less. You asked less. And they didn’t notice.

Or if they did, they didn’t say anything.

The three of you had once been a unit. Now, it felt like Steve and Bucky had become their own orbit, spinning together tightly, while you floated somewhere outside of it just far enough that they no longer looked back.

You missed them. But no matter how softly you tried to reach for them, it felt like your hands kept coming back empty.

And it wasn’t like you didn’t try talking to them, you did, more than once. You didn’t want to accuse nor did you want to fight. You just wanted to be seen again.

“Do you think we could have a night? Just us?” You had asked one evening, watching them both laugh about something on Bucky’s phone. “I miss us. All of us.”

Steve barely looked up. “Not tonight. We’re in the middle of something.”

You swallowed your disappointment, nodding.

Another time, when the hurt had been building too long in your chest, you tried again. “I feel like I’m the only one still trying,” You admitted quietly. “Like I’m constantly reaching out for scraps of your time.”

Bucky didn’t even let you finish before exhaling harshly. “God, you’ve been so needy lately.”

“Clingy,” Steve added, rubbing his temple. “We’re trying to handle a lot right now, and it’s not always about you.”

The words didn’t just sting, they stuck. And the silence after them was louder than anything you’d ever heard.

You didn’t argue. You didn’t cry. You just… shut down.

The following days were different after that, but not in the way you hoped. You stopped asking for time. Stopped checking your phone for canceled plans or halfhearted apologies.

You stopped lingering near the places they usually sat and stopped pretending you didn’t notice when they chose to whisper rather than include you. The ache didn’t vanish, but it dulled enough for you to start seeing what else existed outside of the bubble you’d been shrinking inside.

And the team noticed.

It started small with the subtle kindnesses that didn’t feel like pity, but quiet recognition.

Wanda passed you in the kitchen one morning and gently touched your arm. “You doing okay?” She asked. Not a forced, surface-level check-in, but something deeper. When you hesitated, she didn’t push. She just smiled and handed you a cup of coffee exactly the way you liked it. “I’m around if you need someone.”

Natasha didn’t ask. She just showed up in the gym beside you during one of your many recent solo trainings and silently mirrored your stance. “You’re sloppy today,” She said with a smirk. “Let’s fix that.”

Sam was more direct. One afternoon while you sat alone on the terrace, he plopped down beside you with two sandwiches and zero preamble. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” He said. “But don’t disappear on us. You’re part of this team too and we actually like you, unlike those two meatheads you live with.”

It made you laugh, really laugh. The kind that cracked something open inside your chest.

Peter invited you to movie night. Scott brought you a weird board game and asked you to teach him how to not suck at it. Even Clint asked if you’d spot him in the range and told you your aim was “way better than Barnes’s, but don’t tell him I said that.”

And it kept going.

Yelena asked you to braid her hair and gossip over sparkling water and macaroni with hot sauce. Pepper invited you to lunch. Even Bruce, who usually kept to himself, started asking your opinion during lab testing, trusting your input more than most.

Bit by bit, day by day, the rest of the team pulled you back into the world.

You realized something then. You’d stopped being a person outside of Steve and Bucky. You had built so much of your day-to-day around making sure they were okay that somewhere along the way, you forgot you mattered outside of that role.

But now? You were remembering.

Your laughter wasn’t forced anymore. Your smiles didn’t hide a bruise in your chest. And the quiet overall? It didn’t feel empty. It felt peaceful.

You hadn’t meant to distance yourself from Steve and Bucky, but you also weren’t running to meet them anymore.

You were starting to stand on your own.

While the shift wasn’t immediate, it was obvious.

Steve finally noticed it firsthand during breakfast.

He walked into the kitchen expecting to see you at the counter like usual, hair messy, and wrapped in that old hoodie of his you always stole. But the stool was empty, the coffee pot was full, and there was a note on the fridge in your handwriting:

“Training with Nat. Be back later. Don’t wait up :)”

He stared at the smiley face longer than he should’ve.

Bucky noticed it later that day when he returned from a briefing and passed the lounge, he stopped in the doorway when he heard your laughter. It was loud and easy, the kind of unguarded joy he hadn’t heard from you in weeks. You were curled up on the couch between Scott and Peter, all three of you surrounded by junk food and card games spread out like a makeshift battlefield.

Your knees bumped against Scott’s. Peter was showing you how to stack pretzels on your nose for a dumb challenge. You weren’t looking at the door. You didn’t even notice Bucky.

Or maybe you did and just didn’t react.

That’s when the shift clicked for him.

You used to look for him. You used to light up when he entered a room, or at least spare a glance. Now? You didn’t even pause.

He waited a moment longer, then walked away.

And by the end of the week, the signs were impossible to ignore.

You weren’t home much, not in the way you used to be. You still slept in the shared bedroom, but your side of the bed was cold when they crawled in late, and empty when they woke. You left little notes, kept it polite, but the warmth was gone.

And worse, you didn’t ask them for anything anymore.

No “Want to have dinner together?” No “Can we talk?” No attempts to sit between them, wrap an arm around Steve’s waist, or tug Bucky’s hand into yours. You didn’t linger near their private conversations or hover with that hopeful look in your eye.

You weren’t chasing them anymore. Instead, they were watching you.

Steve stood in the hall one afternoon as you leaned against the wall with Sam, the two of you trading stories from missions and laughing like old friends. The sunlight hit your face in a way that made something ache in his chest.

You looked content, without them.

He hated the twist in his gut when you didn’t even glance his way.

And it all came to a head a few days later.

You were sitting cross-legged on the common room floor, surrounded by paint-streaked paper and tiny fantasy miniatures, Peter and Wanda flanking you like excited siblings. You had glitter on your hands. There was something messy and beautiful about how at ease you looked. No weight behind your eyes. No tightness in your shoulders.

Steve and Bucky stood just inside the room, watching you from behind the couch.

“She’s been… happy,” Steve said, his voice hollow.

Bucky nodded slowly. “And not because of us.”

They both fell silent.

For a long time, neither spoke. Then Bucky murmured, “You think she’s doing this on purpose? Like, making us feel what she felt?”

Steve shook his head. “I think we made her feel alone for too long and she just stopped waiting to be seen.”

They looked at you again, how you leaned over to show Peter a technique, how your hands moved with purpose, how Wanda nudged your shoulder and you nudged back without hesitation.

“She’s not doing this to hurt us,” Steve said finally. “She’s doing this because we already did.”

Honestly, it wasn’t that you were trying to avoid them.

You just weren’t available anymore. Not emotionally, not physically, and not the way they were used to. The version of you who once paused everything the moment they said your name had slowly become someone they now had to wait for.

And they didn’t like it.

So they tried to fix it.

It started with small things. Steve asked if you wanted to go over some field reports with him like you used to during quiet evenings, side by side, and soft music in the background. You smiled and said you were already helping Tony in the lab.

Later, Bucky offered to take you to your favorite diner, the one you hadn’t been to in months. “Thought we could talk,” He added awkwardly.

You blinked at him, kind but distant. “Sorry. Pepper just invited me to some kind of gala-planning meeting thing. I think I said yes.”

And then, one night, they both sat waiting in the bedroom while you showered. They had the lights dimmed. Your favorite blanket pulled out. Thai takeout spread out just the way you liked.

You walked in and paused.

It looked… familiar, like a memory of a time when the three of you were something soft and safe.

But the ache in your chest didn’t quite fade.

“I really appreciate this,” You said gently, glancing between them. “But I promised Yelena and Nat I’d meet them on the roof. Girls’ night. We’re trash-talking each other’s knife skills.”

They stared at you. You could see it in their eyes: the subtle flicker of desperation.

Steve stood up. “Are you… avoiding us?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m just not rearranging my life around you anymore.”

Bucky stepped forward. “Is this payback?”

Your expression didn’t flinch, but your voice turned quieter. “It’s not revenge, Bucky. I’m just busy.”

They didn’t stop you when you left the room, but they didn’t move for a long time after.

A few days passed after that before they came to find you again.

You were on the back balcony that day with a blanket over your shoulders, watching the sky melt into orange and rose-gold. The wind was cool against your skin, and for once, the stillness felt good.

You heard the sliding door open but didn’t turn around.

Steve’s voice was soft. “Can we sit with you?”

You gave a small nod.

They sat on either side of you carefully, like they weren’t sure if they were allowed to be that close. You didn’t lean into them but you didn’t move away either.

It was Bucky who spoke first.

“We messed up, badly.”

Steve nodded. “We didn’t just forget to make time. We forgot how to show up for you. How to choose you when you needed us.”

There was no defensiveness. No excuses. Just raw honesty.

“I think we got so wrapped up in each other, so afraid of losing what we had, that we didn’t notice we were losing you instead,” Bucky added. “And that’s on us.”

You looked at them, finally, eyes tired but steady. “It felt like I became invisible. Like I was only part of this when I stayed quiet or waited. And when I finally asked for something, you told me I was clingy, like I was being selfish for wanting even a second of your time.”

Steve’s face crumpled slightly. “I’ve thought about that moment every day since. I was frustrated… at myself, at everything, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair. You were asking for something we should’ve been giving freely.”

“I kept thinking you’d notice,” You whispered. “That one of you would see how small I was starting to feel.”

“We see you,” Bucky said, inching closer. “We didn’t before, but we do now. And we’ll spend as long as it takes proving that to you, if you’ll let us.”

You didn’t respond right away.

Instead, you looked up at the sky. You let the wind blow through your hair, let their words settle, and let the silence sit between you. Not heavy this time, but healing.

Then slowly, you reached out, one hand to Steve and one to Bucky.

You didn’t say yes. You didn’t say no.

But you let them hold you.

And for now, that was enough.

Taglist: @yasmin12312 @herejustforbuckybarnes @eeveedream @wingstoyourdreams @figtreesandmoonlight @happygalaxymilkshake @hits-different-cause-its-you @the-galaxy-fiend @ordelixx @mouseratface @mel-reads @itsmejen

[littlest-w01f]

Comfort

Azriel x Vanserra sister!Reader (+Eris)

For @acotar-omegaverse-week

Omegaverse week 2025 Masterlist

Day 1: First heat/Rut

Summary: During heat, Omegas need constant comfort from their mates. For your first heat as a bonded omega, the suddenness takes you by surprise, left alone in the busy market and the rather unsafe atmosphere of your Autumn home.

Cw: None

The sun in Autumn Court was as hot as ever, or perhaps it was your own body burning. As you stood in the busy marker, your heart began to race, palms sweating beneath the weight of your basket.

You could feel the telltale tingling sensation coursing through your veins, signalling the onset of your heat. It wasn't unusual for an omega's heat to awaken so prematurely as yours was now, weeks in advance, but the suddenness of it took you by surprise.

Warmth stemmed from within, threatening to consume you from the inside out. Panic set in as you clutched at your chest, trying to quell the inferno raging beneath your skin, barely able to mask your scent before it reached a seller. Rosemary mixed with an earthy scent rising from the high collar of your robe, your wrists heating where your glands were located.

Your breath came in short gasps, and beads of perspiration formed on your brow. The other fae in the bustling market seemed oblivious to your distress, their laughter and chatter filling the air like a bluster of normalcy.

400 years of existence had granted you wisdom, knowledge, and a wealth of experiences, yet nothing could have prepared you for the intensity of this heat. It was as if your very essence was being rewritten, every cell pulsating with an insatiable hunger. The once familiar rhythms of your heartbeat now felt erratic, pounding against your ribcage like a wild drumbeat.

Then it hit you, why it felt so different, so detached, all your other heats were filled with aimless longing, now you longed for your mate, your alpha, for Azriel to swoop in and comfort you.

The yearning was more acute, more focused. It wasn't just about release or satisfaction, it was about connection, about finding solace in the strong arms of your beloved mate. You craved his presence, his touch, his scent, everything that was Azriel.

As the heat intensified, your senses grew sharper, and the sounds of the market faded into the background. All you could hear was the thrumming of your pulse, the ragged catch in your breathing, and the low, primal feelings building in your body, legs turning to jelly as if supporting your body was too harsh a task.

Azriel consumed your mind. Your bond snapped with the Illyrian male a while ago. He spent those weeks showering you with love in secret, away from your duties as an Autumn Princess, away from your father and brothers. He was your sanctuary, and you needed him deeply.

The thought of facing this intense heat alone, without his comforting embrace, filled you with a sense of dread. The thought alone made a gasp escape your lips, making a conscious move to close your mouth so it wouldn't be too loud, trying to swallow the sound back.

You hurried back home, with each step, your pace quickened, driven by the urgent need to reach safety and solitude. The heavy basket pressed against your hips, its contents forgotten in the face of your mounting desperation. You weaved through the crowded stalls, ignoring the curious glances and whispered speculations that followed in your wake, your omega scent mixing with the regular autumnal air.

Finally, you burst through the gates of your family's estate, slamming them shut behind you with a resounding thud. The autumn breeze carried the scent of changing leaves, offering a fleeting respite from the fiery storm raging within you. You raced up the stairs, your heart pounding in sync with the relentless beat of your heat.

Reaching your chambers, breathing harshly, you slammed the door closed and leaned against it, panting heavily. The room spun around you, the colours bleeding together as you slid down the door.

The once big room was now too small. You pulled at your robe, hands on your throat where two bite marks on either side stood, his mark on you, permanent.

"Sister?" There was a knock and a concerned voice, one that could only belong to Eris, "Y/n are you alright?"

"Eris!" Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper, as you pushed off the door and stumbled towards the sound of his concern, slightly panicked as you covered your neck with your robe; the usually soft fabric now itched against your glands. The thought of anyone seeing you weak forced you to pull yourself together, or at least attempt to.

You flung open the door, revealing Eris standing in the dimly lit hallway, his brow furrowed in worry. His usually hard features softened at the sight of you, and he stepped forward, reaching out a hand as if to offer support.

"I... I'm not feeling well," You managed to stammer, the words catching in your throat as another wave of heat washed over you, weakly trying to shut the gate. A single tear rolled down your cheek, and you sniffed, trying to keep the waterworks at bay.

Eris' expression shifted from concern to alarm as he took in your disheveled appearance and the tears streaking your flushed cheeks. He quickly ushered you back into your chamber, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Cauldron, y/n, what's happening to you?" He asked, his voice laced with a mix of fear and protectiveness. He approached you cautiously; every inch of your chambers was drenched in your pheromones.

You collapsed onto the edge of your bed, the force of your heat making even sitting a struggle. "I don't know," You admitted, your voice barely audible over the roaring in your ears. "It's never been like this before. I need... I need Azriel."

"Azr-" Confusion covered Eris' face before it was replaced by understanding. "He's your... Azriel... Why didn't you tell me?" He asked softly, his gaze lingering on your tear-stained face. "Why didn't you say anything? We're siblings, y/n. I would've supported you."

His words were kind, but tinged with a hint of hurt. He'd always been fiercely protective of you, and the fact that you'd kept such a significant part of your life hidden from him stung. "I'll get you to him alright? You will get a lot worse without proper care from your mate. But first, we need to calm this heat of yours. We can't sneak away with you stinking up the place."

You shivered from his words, month after month, when you'd been treated as a prisoner in your own home for what your father considered being weak, the cold cell you were used to because your scent ruined the integrity of the Autumn Court, the scars, bruises, collared to the walls like a threat to your own Court. You couldn't be caught, and if your father found out you were claimed by Azriel, you'd only suffer further.

Eris guided you to stand, supporting your weight when your legs wobbled beneath you. Together, you made your way to the window, pushing aside the heavy curtains to reveal the sunlit garden below.

"Let's go outside, you shouldn't be cooped up indoors too much." Eris suggested, leading you toward the open balcony overlooking the lush gardens. The warm autumn air enveloped you, carrying the sweet fragrance of ripe fruit and the earthy scent of fallen leaves, holding you by the waist as he winnowed with you.

He helped you settle onto a stone bench, the cool surface a welcome contrast to the feverish heat radiating from your skin. Eris sat beside you, his frame providing a comforting barrier against the world.

"Now, breathe," he instructed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Focus on the sensation of the air moving in and out of your lungs. Let it calm you, let it soothe this restless energy inside you. Let my comforting pheremones in, alright... Don't be scared."

As you obeyed, Eris began to hum a gentle melody, one that seemed to vibrate through the air and into your very bones, distracting you. His gentle pheromones filled your nose, so unlike when your brother was fighting your father for dominance during meetings. He pulled you closer, resting your head on his shoulder, "Rest for a bit, I'll write to Rhysand soon."

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself drifting in and out of a fitful sleep, your body exhausted from the unrelenting heat coursing through your veins. Eris remained steadfast by your side, occasionally stroking your hair or whispering soothing words to keep you grounded.

When you finally stirred, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in a soft, ethereal glow. Eris had fetched a tray bearing a steaming pot of herbal tea and a plate of sweet pastries, which he carefully placed beside you.

"Drink this," he urged, guiding your hand to grasp the ceramic cup. "It should help alleviate some of the discomfort." As you sipped the fragrant brew, Eris continued, "You'll see Azriel soon."

You nodded, feeling too weak to show the excitement you felt, sipping the tea gratefully as its soothing warmth spread through your body. The bitter notes mingled pleasantly with the sweetness of the pastry crumbs you nibbled, helping to ease the gnawing hunger in your body.

As the minutes ticked by, you felt your senses gradually returning to normal, the relentless heat slowly receding to a manageable simmer. The world no longer spun wildly around you, and you could think more clearly, albeit with a lingering haze of exhaustion despite spending the entire day sleeping as you ate.

Eris watched over you with an attentive gaze, his posture relaxed yet ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. When you finished the last of the tea, he stood, extending a hand to help you rise. "Here, put this on, we should go." He passed a cloak to you.

You wrapped the soft fabric around your shoulders, grateful for the extra layer of clothing over your gown. Then the scent hit you, the chill of night, of Azriel. The cloak was his. He would've given it to Eris for you, Rhysand would have. You hurriedly pressed the clothing to your nose, nearly pushing it in.

As you inhaled deeply, the familiar, intoxicating aroma of Azriel's cloak enveloped you, instantly transporting you back to those stolen moments in the Night Court. The scent was a tangible connection to him, and you clutched the fabric tightly to your chest, a small smile playing on your lips.

Eris observed your reaction with a knowing look, his expression softening. "Ready to head out then?" He asked, already starting to lead the way through the castle's winding corridors.

The journey to Spring Court was swift, thanks to Eris' keen navigation skills honed from years of exploring the boundaries of their Court. As you walked, the air grew warmer, filled with the vibrant scents of blooming flowers and the distant tang of saltwater carried on the Spring breeze.

With each step closer to Spring Court, your anticipation grew, the cloak's intoxicating scent serving as a constant reminder of the lover awaiting you. By the time you reached the court's outer borders, you were practically vibrating with eagerness.

Your bond felt stronger here, Azriel was close, not Courts away. He was right in front of you. You left your brother's side, nearly launching yourself at your mate, shaking and sobbing in his arms. "Azriel, you're here... I... I thought... You were done with... With me." You sniffed, wetting his leathers with your tears.

Azriel's arms wrapped around you immediately, holding you close as he murmured soothing reassurances against your hair, his wings fully encircling you, shadows covering you, trying to soothe their clearly distressed mate, the pheromones that released from him, the scent of night chilled mist, wave after wave that it even had Eris stumbling back.

"Never," He whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I could never be done with you. You're mine, and I'm yours, no matter what."

He held you tighter, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your chin up to capture your lips in a tender, heartfelt kiss. Tasting the salt in your tears, kissing quite the need of your body till he flew you home with him.

When he finally broke the kiss, Azriel gazed down at you with hazel eyes shining like liquid gold. "I know how much you need me right now. And I am here for you, completely and utterly."

Azriel's promise echoed through your mind as he cradled you against his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. His wings shielded you from the world, creating a cocoon of safety and intimacy.

Azriel stroked your hair as he held you tighter in his arms. "I should have been here sooner, should have found a way to ease you through your heat. But I'm here now, and I won't leave your side until you're whole again."

As he spoke, his words wove a soothing spell, calming the frantic beat of your heart. You felt yourself relaxing into his embrace, your body yielding to the comfort only he could provide.

"I want to take care of you," Azriel continued, his voice low and husky with desire. "I've been feeling your emotions all day, trying to find my way to you without making it too obvious. Then Eris wrote to Rhysand, and I didn't care for subtle."

Azriel's confession tugged at your heartstrings, understanding the lengths he'd gone to reach you when he couldn't even bear to leave your side. The realization that he'd been struggling just as much as you, feeling your turmoil from afar, made you feel a surge of affection for him, a need to care for him back.

Azriel pulled his wings away, looking straight at Eris, "I'm taking her." It was a final statement. You turned to smile at your brother, the pull of muscle not weak anymore as you lifted in the air with a single flap of Azriel's wings, taking to the sky.

As you soared through the starry night sky, the wind whipping through your hair, Azriel's strong arms kept you securely fastened to his chest. The rush of flying was always exhilarating to you; you pressed your nose to his neck, breathing him in.

The cool night air ruffled your hair as you flew, the stars twinkling above like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse. The rhythmic whoosh of the wind filled your ears, and the feeling seemed to harmonise with the steady thump of Azriel's heart against yours. As Azriel glided effortlessly through the darkness, the city lights of Velaris began to appear in the distance, casting a warm, golden glow upon the landscape below.

Azriel's wings expertly guide you towards the House of Winds. Azriel released you from his hold, though his hands lingered on your waist, fingertips grazing the curve of your hips. "Welcome home, my love," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "Let's get you settled."

You squealed as he picked you up again, throwing you over his shoulders with one hand, "Az!" Pinching at the back of his neck, having him roll his neck away.

"Easy there, little firecracker," Azriel chuckled, giving your ass a playful squeeze as he carried you inside his room, setting you down on his bed.

The room was dimly lit, only a few candles flickering softly, casting a warm, intimate glow. He stood tall before you, his eyes drinking in every detail of your face as your form almost drowned in his bed.

"You're so beautiful when you're feisty," Azriel murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers trailed along your jawline, over his mark on your glands, sending shivers down your spine.

"I missed you," He whispered, his voice low and husky, eyes shining in adoration.

Your breath caught at the tender touch, a flutter igniting in your chest as Azriel's gaze bore into you, raw emotion swirling within those hazel depths. The weight of his words, heavy with longing, made your knees go weak, your scent coating his room like it belonged there. You found yourself leaning into his caress, craving more of his touch.

Azriel's thumb brushed over your lower lip, tilting your chin up to meet his hungry stare. In a fluid motion, he closed the gap between you, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. His lips moved against yours with a fervour that left you breathless, tongue delving past your parted lips to claim every inch of you.

{General taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-angst @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @thelov3lybookworm @romanticatheartt @inkedinshadows}

{Azriel taglist- @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch @satorusemepls @fieldofdaisiies}

{omegaverseweek taglist: @human169}

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱

daughter of poseidon!reader x luke castellan 🫧

IN WHICH.. in an attempt to keep percy from going insane, y/n is forced to keep her relationship with luke a secret

warning! the fic contains- feminine reader // post tlt but no luke betrayal (percy is there and chris and clarisse are together) // use of y/n

🎧- give you the world by steve lacy

2.4k

Since the dawn of time, you and Luke Castellan have been best friends. Attached at the hip since birth, the two of you have always been close. He was the one who helped you conquer your most intimidating challenges, whether that be the nervousness due to the first day of school or a Minotaur vigorously hunting you down.

And you assisted him, too. On those sleepless nights due to haunting nightmares, you lay beside him, comforting him through every scared shiver. It had always been Luke and Y/N, two peas in a pod, destined to spend eternity together.

Now, you both reside in Camp Half-Blood, eagerly awaiting your next adventure. You loved your time at the summer camp, whether it was tending to the young children or paddle boarding on the smooth and crystal blue lake that glimmered as sunlight passed through. It was thrilling to live such a beautiful life with the people you loved most.

It all started when you waltzed into the infirmary at fourteen, hurt and confused, with Luke and Annabeth by your side. The journey to get here was long and painful, losing one of your best friends, Thalia, in the process. Your head throbbed as Chiron explained the basis of everything, since this whole Greek God situation could be hard to process.

Poseidon, the God of the Sea, claimed you with ease the moment he saw you lingering by the lake all day. With Hermes, it took him a lot longer to accept Luke. However, you cheered him up when no one else could, lighting up his whole world, and no matter how bummed he was about his absent father, your illuminating smile shifted his mood instantly.

You’ve been a year-rounder since then; the world is too dangerous for you to venture off. Every once in a blue moon, however, you wish that just for one year, the monsters would stop prowling and you could explore the cities that tourists swarmed on a regular basis. Other times, you were happy to live in the warm solace you referred to as camp. The companions made inside the safe haven were incomparable to all the mysteries that roamed outside.

Around a year ago, a small blond boy arrived, his cluelessness mirroring yours when you first stumbled in. As you gave him the standard tour, something seemed to be off. The stories he shared of devious monsters attacking reminded you of your childhood, and a feeling of suspicion and concern arose.

Your wariness was only confirmed when the golden trident floated above Percy’s head. Sure, you were excited to have a younger brother, but you knew the dangers the life of a forbidden child contained. So, you made it your honorary job to protect him no matter the circumstance. You taught him how to surf and how to use his powers for the greater good.  And so a magnificent connection was formed, with you and him bonding like full siblings. He loved hearing all of the gossip between the older campers, and you loved when he updated you on how his friends were doing. Not to mention the chaotic board game nights you and he shared with Annabeth and Luke. There were almost no hidden secrets, for you told each other everything. Which is why you felt horrible about the massive personal detail you left out of your weekly yapping session.

You and Luke had been dating for three months. You had liked each other for a while, but eventually the overly flirty comments and long stares got the best of him, and he confessed . One breezy night, he asked you to meet him on the waterfront before bed. You obliged, stepping out into the chilly weather to find hundreds of blooming flowers (courtesy of the Demeter kids) arranged neatly in a heart. It was cheesy, but it was the exact type of movie love you were looking for.

That chilly, moonlit evening, you decided it was best to keep your relationship hidden from Percy and, for that matter, most of the camp. Close friends, such as Clarisse and Chris, knew, but that was only because you went on frequent double dates with the pair. But that doesn’t mean others didn’t bat an eye at your overly friendly relationship. You had almost been caught multiple times, despite Luke being the son of Hermes, who was known for his sly nature. 

The first time it happened was entirely Luke's fault. You and him had just finished archery training and were walking to lunch, where the rest of camp resided. As soon as you approached the bustling picnic tables, you were dragged off by the Aphrodite kids, who wanted your help with some fashion emergencies. That left Luke with Chris and Percy, along with some other campers from Hermes cabin.  -

“How was archery?” Asked an unclaimed kid, who Luke had little interaction with. They had small talk every once in a while, but not enough for him to know any personal details about his life.

“It was fine. You know, my girlfrie-“

Luke was lucky looks couldn’t kill, because with the way Percy and Chris were staring at him, he would have been six feet under already. He tried his best to salvage the situation, continuing on as if nothing had happened.

“My friend hit three bullseyes in a row. It was really impressive.” He finished, staring down as he pushed around his mushy broccoli with a flimsy spork, hoping to avoid the glares of his, let's face it, practically brother-in-law. Lucky for him, Percy shrugged it off, and the topic was quickly changed. 

-

The second time, however, was most certainly your mistake.

-

The dull light from the moon provided little protection from the consuming jet black sky. You and Luke had to sneak out after hours often, which was one of the major downsides to a private relationship.

“No!” You playfully shouted, trying to juke him out as you ran through the rocky sand of the shoreline. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), your boyfriend was the most athletic kid on camp. He easily caught you before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the navy blue lake. 

You gently punched his back through strained laughter, gasping for oxygen. But as he attempted to step into the cold winter waters, you used your powers to manipulate the sea so it avoided his path. And with one quick swoop of your hand, he was drenched with the cooling solution, and you remained dry. 

He set you down, aggressively shaking the water from his head. “I forgot you were like the princess of the sea.” He said. Your harmonious giggles caused him to grin from ear to ear. 

“Yeah, maybe not the best choice on your end. C’mon, Percy probably has a shirt for you.” You replied, interlocking your fingers and skipping back to your cabin. 

You sneakily creaked the door open, hand over your mouth to try and hush the laughs that spilled out. Percy was sound asleep, snoring softly as you made your way to his dresser, rummaging through the array of neon orange shirts.

“Here. Mr. D gave him the wrong size by accident a while ago.” You whispered toward him before dragging him back out with the fabric still in hand. Once outside, he slid his soaking shirt off, carefully placing it next to your clothes that hung on the drying line. After giving him the t-shirt, you kissed him goodnight and headed back to get some much-needed sleep.

The next day, Percy awoke you with violent shakes, causing you to twist and groan with confusion.

“Get up. It’s like eight already. Don’t you have counselor activities to tend to too?” He said.

You shot up in a panic, staring down at the clock that read 8:03 a.m., almost 20 minutes after your morning duties. With an exasperated sigh, you slipped out of bed and rushed to grab a clean t-shirt from outside. 

Still dazed, you grabbed a familiar shirt off the clothing line and rushed back inside, quickly changing in hopes of escaping Chiron’s anger for your unpunctuality. 

While you happened to make it to breakfast on time, you failed to notice how unusually long the shirt was or how the tag on the back had the initials “L.C.” loosely scribbled on them. However, everyone else noticed your strange outfit. 

“Whose shirt is that? Why is it so big?” Percy was immediately questioned as you sat down with your food tray in hand.

“What do you mean?" You asked, glancing back down at your lengthy attire, before realizing your mistake. “Oh! I spilled something on my only clean shirt, so I borrowed that old one from you. Sorry.” You salvaged, and others seem to believe you. 

You made eye contact with Luke from across the table, growing flustered instantly due to the anxiety-inducing incident.

-

The third and final time might have been your fault, too. But by then, the two of you were fed up of keeping it secret.

-

“Awe, look at the little lovebirds!” 

Clarisse voiced as she shakily pointed a digital camera towards Luke and you, who were engaged in your own conversation.

Gorgeous flowers blossomed around the couple, ranging in various colors and sizes. Laughs rang through the air as Chris, Clarisse, Luke, and you all hung out one hazy camp afternoon. 

You looked up at the girl, smiling brightly as you twirled a pink flower in your palm. Grabbing Luke’s jaw with your soft, freshly manicured hands and turning his head to look in their direction, Chris pulled out a Polaroid camera, snapping a photo of the teens. 

As the black picture slid out of the small box, Chris handed it to Clarisse, who shook it with force in order to see the image fully.

“Do you want me to take one of you two?” You asked, snatching the camera from Chris’s hands and pointing it towards them. 

They posed, and the photo turned out super cute. You stared down at your frilly ruffle socks that stuck out of your high-top navy blue Converse. The toes of the shoes had been decorated with the signatures of all of your friends.

“It’s getting late; wanna head back?” Chris suggested the others let out a groan. He was right; they had camp duties to attend to, but being wrapped in their loved one’s embrace was so much more appealing.

You hopped up reluctantly, Luke grabbing your hand as you took the scenic route back to the cabins, the other couple straying a different way.

“I love going out with them.” You declared, breaking the silence and dramatically swinging your intertwined arms.

“Me too. It makes me feel like we’re just regular people.” He responded, smiling at her with such genuineness.

“Maybe in another universe.” You replied, sighing as you let out a light giggle.

“Speaking of which,” you continued. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

“Duh. We’re probably Gwen and Spiderman in one.” 

“Totally.” They grinned, enjoying the comfort they brought each other in the chaos that was their life.

After hours of training, you slipped back into Cabin 3, taking the photo out of your back pocket and placing it on your bed. You smiled at the sweet situation before Luke burst in, calling you to the bonfire. Obliviously, the Polaroid was left open on your bed, exposed to the world.

You basked in the warmth of Apollo’s kids songs, zoned out while mindlessly swaying to the beat of the guitar. Luke, who was sitting beside you, noticed you staring off into space and questioned it.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“I wanna tell Percy about us.” You replied, looking into his eyes to detect his emotions. He seemed surprised at first, but his expression changed to one more supportive a few seconds later. 

“I agree. I mean, he might try to literally drown me, but I hate lying to him.”

“Me too.” You finished, turning back to face the singer. However, you instead met eyes with a furious-looking Percy, holding a small black rectangle in his hands. Your heart stopped, and you leaped up to rush and explain, Luke following behind. The young blond stormed off in the other direction.

“Percy, please listen. We couldn’t tell you because we knew how you’d react. I know you’re protective and all, and I love that about you, but Luke's a good guy, and we both know that.” You started, praying to the gods that this would work out. 

“I barely even know him!“ Percy lied straight through his teeth, trying to come up with a rational reason for his anger. 

“Are you kidding? You’ve known him for a year now.” You sassed back.

“How long have you been dating?” He threw away his last point, knowing he had already lost that argument.

“Three months, I think.” You whispered out, ashamed.

“Three months, and you didn’t think to let me, your little brother, know?” He screamed, speed-walking back to his cabin, irritated. 

You let out a sigh, facing Luke. Sadness coated your glossy eyes before seeping out onto your cheeks. Your boyfriend was quick to wipe the tears with his calloused thumb, comforting you.

“Hey, he’ll come around eventually. Let him sleep it off.” He whispered, embracing you in a tight hug. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, clamping your eyes shut.

As the sun rose the next morning and Percy stepped out of the cabin, you and Luke were waiting outside, prepared with a whole spiel about your relationship. To your astonishment, he greeted you with a smile and spoke up first.

“I’m sorry about last night. While I think this whole concept of you dating Luke is insane, he’s probably the best it’s going to get, so I approve.” You smiled back, a sigh of relief escaping your throat. 

“And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It’s just-“ 

“Don’t. It’s fine, really. Just absolutely no PDA in front of me.” Percy stated, a look of disgust appeared as he said the last sentence. Both of you agreed to his simple terms.

“I’ve gotta go to the arena. I’ll see you later.” Luke declared, and you nodded, ruffling your fingers through his curls before he departed. Once he was a solid distance away, Percy leaned in and whispered to you.

“Really? Luke Castellan? That's the best you could do?”

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[r0ugesun]

I just found your blog but I was wondering if you could write something about Aemond being friends with Aegon’s wife, them forming a bond until eventually the wife gets fed up with Aegon’s mistreatment and goes to Aemond for “comfort” and eventually falls pregnant? Whether Aegon finds out can be left up to you. ☺️

Thank you so much for sending this request I hope I was able to write what you had in mind :>

(Also heavily inspired by Ivy by Taylor swift)

warning nsfw under the cut

Aegon wife! Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Prince Aemond had always been a man of few words, preferring to sharpen his mind with books and hone his battle prowess in the training yard, a stark contrast to his brother’s revelry and indulgences. Yet, he found himself drawn to you, Aegon's wife, you were beautiful as you were wise.

Initially, your bond was forged out of mutual respect and admiration. You were intellectual equals; you admired Aemond's discipline and resilience, while Aemond found solace in your gentle wisdom and kindness. You spent hours in the library, discussing histories and poetry, your conversations flowing easily despite the tension that often surrounded you in the Red Keep.

One afternoon in the library, you looked up from the book you shared and smiled at Aemond. "This is fascinating, truly. I can hardly put the book down," you said. "How did you come across this one?"

Aemond, sitting next to you, glanced up. "I spent a great deal of time here in my childhood. When my brother and nephews were in the dragon pit, I chose to study as much as I could," he replied. "It's been my refuge from everything else."

Your smile faltered slightly. "I understand… It's become mine as well."

Aemond furrowed his brows slightly. "What do you mean?"

You sighed and glanced down at the book. "It's Aegon... He spends more time in Flea Bottom than he does with me. He barely stays in my bed before he's off again..."

Aemond gently interrupted, "I understand. My brother overindulges, it's true. But he loves you, and I am grateful for your devotion as his wife."

You managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Aemond. That's very kind of you."

Aegon, meanwhile, remained oblivious to the blossoming feelings of more than just friendship between you and his brother. His nights were spent in ale houses and brothels, leaving you to endure his neglect and occasional drunken sex. It was during these lonely nights that you sought out Aemond, finding comfort in his unwavering support.

Your relationship, once innocent, slowly began to change. You found yourself confiding in Aemond about the pain and frustration you felt because of Aegon. One evening, after one of Aegon's drunken rages, you found yourself standing outside Aemond's chambers. You knocked hesitantly, and Aemond opened the door, his expression softening when he saw your tear-streaked face.

"Y/n," he said gently, stepping aside to let you in. "What’s happened?"

You took a shaky breath. "It's Aegon. He's been unbearable tonight. I couldn't stand it any longer, Aemond. I can’t do this anymore."

Aemond's jaw tightened. Idiot, he thought to himself. He led you to a chair. "Sit. I'll fetch you some wine."

As he handed you the goblet, your fingers brushed, and you felt a warmth spread through you, one you’d never felt with Aegon. "Thank you, Aemond. Your company has been… a great comfort for me."

Aemond sat beside you, his gaze intense. "And yours as well. You should not have to endure this. I'm sorry my brother hasn’t been behaving as gallantly as is expected of him……You deserve better." He said in a low voice, he held your chin gently and looked at you deeply, leaning in slightly.

You turned away, your fingers tracing the embroidery on your dress. "Aemond….he’s your brother. I am married to him…. I made vows."

Aemond sighed and dropped his hand. "I know... I know," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I cannot pretend I do not see you suffering. I see the way you put on a brave face and I die a little inside." He scooted closer to you. "Had it been me you married, I would’ve spent every day in your bed."

Your breath hitched, but you shook your head. "This cannot happen, Aemond. It would only bring more pain and scandal that wouldn’t be fair to you."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hand. "I would endure any scandal, bear any pain, if it meant I could have you the way I want."

You hesitated, the weight of duty and desire fighting within you. "Aemond, please... we cannot."

He sighed dejectedly, he released your hand, withdrawing slightly. His gaze never left yours, he looked at you with a mixture of resignation and deep yearning.

For a moment, silence hung between you, heavy and charged. Then, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, then deepened as the floodgates of your suppressed emotions burst open.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and trembling, Aemond's eye searched yours. He pulled you on his lap, straddling him, and he kissed you hungrily once again.

He lifted your dress, letting it pool around his lap then seized your hips, guiding you to grind against his clothed cock.

“Aemond” you gasped softly

“Can you feel just how much I want you?” He moaned, his hot breath against your ear.

You bit your lip, looking into his eye “I want you just as much” you whispered back, the friction between you intensifying deliciously.

You felt him reach under your dress, he freed his cock from his breaches and moved your small clothes to the side so that your pussy was exposed “let me show you what you deserve”

You gasped as you felt him grip your hips and impaled you with his cock, every thrust igniting a fire within you.

He moaned deeply into your ear at the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock tightly. You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours, moaning desperately in each others mouths, you could feel yourself losing yourself in the fire he’s lit within you.

Your bond, once purely platonic, deepened into something more intimate. Comfort turned to desire, and that night you crossed a line that neither could return from. You tried to tell yourself it wouldn’t happen again but stolen stares across the dinner table turned to clandestine meetings, and those turned into nights spent in his bed.

The affair was passionate and consuming, driven by a need to find solace in each other.

One night, as you lay entangled in each other's arms, you whispered, "Aemond, what will we do If Aegon finds out? I fear head burn the entirety of the castle..."

Aemond tightened his hold on you. "No” he furrowed his brows “I would never let that happen” he promised. "I will protect you, no matter the cost."

As the days turned into months, You met in hidden corners of the castle, stolen moments filled with declarations of love and fervent kisses, Just like all lovers do in the dark. Each tryst only deepened your bond, binding you closer together.

It wasn't long before you discovered you were with child. The knowledge of the babe growing within you brought a mixture of fear and anxiety. You knew the consequences if Aegon were to discover the truth, yet you also felt a strange sense of peace, knowing that the child was conceived out of love and not duty.

One morning, as you stood by the balcony, Aemond approached you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. "You look troubled," he observed.

You turned to him, your eyes filled with worry. "Aemond, I'm with child”

Aemonds face fell and he looked down “I’ll have to congratulate my brother” he said, lips pressed tightly.

“Aemond” you whispered desperately, he looked at you, he knew. You both knew.

Aemond swallowed thickly "I promised you that I would keep you safe…. And I will" he assured you.

As the months passed, and you welcomed the babe into the world, Aegon oblivious to the true nature of the affair, grew increasingly proud and affectionate towards his "son." He would often take the boy in his arms, cooing at his small features and the bond he believed they shared.

“My boy….You sleep so well because you know you are loved” he said just above a whisper, Aegon's newfound love for his child brought a bitter ache to your heart, knowing the truth that could shatter this fragile peace.

One evening, as Aegon was playing with his son in the nursery, he noticed something strange. The baby's eyes, a piercing shade of violet, were unmistakably Targaryen—but there was something more. Something that reminded him of someone else.

Aegon glanced at you, who was watching them. "He's got the dragon in him," Aegon said proudly. And then he narrowed his eyes. "But there's something more”

Your heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Aegon frowned, deep in thought. “The way he looks at me, it's almost like.….. like Aemond's gaze."

You tried to laugh it off. "Aemond? What are you talking about?"

Aegon kept his eyes on the babe, his expression growing more serious. "Yes. It's…. It’s his eyes, It's like Aemond watching us."

Your stomach dropped as you tried to keep your composure. "Aegon, it’s just the features that run in the family.

Aegon shook his head slowly, the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. "No, it's more than that. Everytime there is a gathering…. You and Aemond are always missing…. The two of you…. Always at the same time.”

You felt a cold sweat break out on your skin. "Aegon….."

Aegon turned to look at you, filled with a dawning realization. "This isn't just any targaryen features…..my boy is…. is Aemond's son, isn't he?" The intensity in his eyes made your heart freeze, like he could see into your soul.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you couldn't find the words to deny it. The truth hung heavy in the air, impossible to escape.

"Aemond," Aegon repeated, his voice rising in anger. "He's the father."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, the weight of the secret finally breaking you. "Yes” you gasped out.

Aegon's face twisted in fury. He stood up so abruptly that the chair he was sitting on crashed to the floor. “MY BROTHER, YOU SLEPT WITH MY BROTHER??” He screamed furiously.

You flinched, cowering in your chair "I'm sorry," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I never meant for this to happen."

"SORRY?" Aegon roared, sweeping a vase off a nearby table. It shattered against the wall, fragments scattering across the floor. "SORRY DOESNT FIX ANYTHING!"

His rage was palpable, the air thick with the betrayal. He grabbed a goblet and hurled it across the room, where it smashed against the wall. “YOU MADE A FOOL OF ME! YOU LIED TO ME!"

The noise drew Aemond, who burst into the room, his eye wide with concern, seeing Aegon's fury was something he hadn't anticipated. "Aegon?? What’s happening?? calm down," Aemond said, his voice steady but urgent.

Aegon rounded on his brother, his eyes blazing. "YOU!” Aegon grabbed at his clothes shaking him with anger.

Aemond trying to keep his composure. "Aegon, listen—"

"DONT TELL ME TO LISTEN, I WILL NOT HEAR YOUR FILTH" Aegon screamed, grabbing another object and smashing it against the wall. "YOU BETRAYED ME! MY BROTHER!"

"Aegon" Aemond said, his voice pained, realizing the meaning behind his brothers rampage. "I never wanted this to hurt you."

Aegon laughed bitterly. "Too late for that. You've both made me a fool."

You stepped forward, reaching out to Aegon. "Please, Aegon, we can find a way through this."

Aegon slapped your hand away, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. "My son…my boy…."

Aegon held his chest as though he’s been stabbed through the heart. “Get out both of you…”

You and Aemond looked at him for a moment

“GET OUT! AND GET OUT OF MY LIFE!”

You gathered the baby in your arms, tears streaming down your face. Aemond hesitated, but then followed you, his face ashen. The echo of Aegon's rage lingered, a reminder of the fragile bonds that had been shattered and the uncertain future that lay ahead.

[takusan-no-ai]

Original Me

PAIRING: Astra x Male Reader (Romantic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: Astra develops feelings for Phaethon’s younger brother.

As the younger brother of Phaethon you naturally had connections with Chaotic Fried Rice, aka Astra Yao. You had previously talked with her about your siblings hiding their proxy work, and it led to a serious conversation between you too; one that formed bond before either of you knew it.

You both found solace in each other’s presence whenever doubt would arise. For you it was the trust of your family. For Astra it was the love of her fans. And that comfort became a genuine friendship as you both grew. You found it in yourself to forgive Belle and Wise, and Astra found her own strength and courage to be a light in the darkness for others.

Surprise, surprise, all that time together didn’t stay platonic. The casual handholding, cuddles, comforting words, shared laughter, and cheeky kisses from Astra led to you developing a crush on her. And Astra found herself becoming more attracted to you; the guy she can’t get out of her head. So much so that she’d developed the problem of writing about him in all her love songs.

But the thought of expressing those feelings left you nauseous. Your heart was already damaged from when your family lied to you. And although you’d forgiven them, there was still a fear. Fear that your heart might get hurt again if you opened up. So you did the only thing you could: avoided her. You hid in your room, pretended to be sick, anything. But it didn’t help the ache in your heart from how much you missed her.

But of course that never stopped Astra before. And it certainly wasn’t going to now. She knew the feelings she felt for you. And Astra would be damned if she wasn’t going to at least confess to you. So she tracks you down, studying your schedule with the help of Evelyn, and catches her prey when he least expected it.

A loud gasp erupted from himself, (Y/N) now being pinned to the wall. He was just walking in the alleyway next to Gravity Cinema, and having finished a pickup job for some new films, was on his way back to Random Play. However he wasn’t the only one aware of this.

Astra had him pinned. And she huffed at him with her eyebrows crossed. The young man looked away from her, blushing furiously.

Had it been a few weeks, maybe a month, since he last seen her? Either way it felt like an eternity. Her eyes were just as beautiful, no…more, than he’d last seen her. Did she get her hair done? The style looks nice. Wait he’s getting distracted now.

Astra crossed her arms, huffing and puffing, walking back and forth, circling around him like a predator would its prey. “You avoid me for so long and all you can do is ogle me? Just say you love me already!” She left no room for comfort, immediately getting in (Y/N)’s face. Despite her crossed brows and forcibly deepened voice, her eyes sparkled brightly, and her mouth almost curved into a smile.

She was enjoying this.

(Y/N) turned away. “I’m not saying that.”

“Hmmmm.” Astra kept turning his head every time he looked away, forcing him to maintain eye contact. All the while she had her hand pressed on his chest. “But when I say I love you, your heart beats faster. So much so that even you have to notice it.”

“Still…,”

“Why won’t you say it?”

“…I,” he hesitated. “I can’t say it.” Astra stared at him, confused. “You’d get bored of me. Or find me annoying. Plus I’m not a cool proxy like Belle and Wise, or a strong fighter like Evelyn.” He kept prattling on reasons for her to not like him.

Astra pinched his nose, effectively making (Y/N) shut up. She leaned close, smiling at him.

“If I say I love you then I love you. Simple as that. And if I need to prove that to you then I will. But you have to let me.” They were now so close they feel each other’s breath.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to open his heart some more.

“I…really love you, Astra. And I want you to love me too.”

…

…

…

“Congrats.”

“Happy for you.”

“Nice.”

Back at Random Play, Wise, Belle, and Fairy cheered at the news of Astra and (Y/N) being an official couple. Though it was through the gritted teeth and codes of slight jealousy, it was mostly cheers of joy.

Astra had a new person to sing for, to ignite that hope in humanity. And (Y/N) had a new person to believe in, to help him open his heart to the world.

- Fin

[aventurineswife]

May I request Sunday for Hug Day if that’s still available? I want to give him all the affection in the world <3

The Art of Letting Go

Summary: In the quiet of the Astral Express, the bond between you and Sunday deepens as you share a moment of vulnerability. Sunday, burdened by the weight of his dreams and past, finds solace in your embrace, realizing that he doesn't have to carry his burdens alone. Together, you find a brief respite from the pressures of the world, beginning to believe that there may be a place for both of you to heal, one step at a time.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Valentine's Week Special, Hug Day, Comfort, Healing, Vulnerability, Emotional Support, Slow Burn, Introspection, Found Family, Quiet Moments.

The soft hum of the Astral Express filled the air, a gentle and familiar rhythm echoing through the corridors of the train. You had just finished another long day of traveling and contemplating your journey ahead. Outside the window, the stars twinkled, but tonight something about the quiet, the stillness of space, made your thoughts heavy with questions, doubts, and the memories of all you'd left behind.

Sunday, who had been quiet that day, entered the room. His ethereal presence always lightened the air, his wings fluttering softly, the golden halo behind his head glinting faintly in the dim light. Yet tonight, his eyes were distant—almost lost in thought, as if caught between two worlds.

You sensed the weight of the moment suspended between you. There had been no words of formal recognition of the growing closeness, but every glance, every slight exchange, had deepened the bond that began to form. Sunday was mysterious, his mind always filled with a thousand thoughts, but warmth was undeniable while you were together.

"Something on your mind?" you asked quietly, trying to fill the silence. His eyes locked on yours for a second before looking away, wings fluttering soft as he shifted position.

"Maybe," he said, almost whispering. "Often I wonder if any of us truly are free, any of us, from these dreams that seem to shape us."

You could feel the weight of his words, the burden behind them. Sunday had a way of speaking in riddles, often hiding his true emotions behind layers of philosophical thought. His ideals, his dreams for a world without suffering, clashed with the harsh reality around him. And yet, somehow, he still held on to the belief that it was possible to achieve.

"You're not alone in your thoughts, you know," you said, stepping closer, feeling a pull toward him that you couldn't quite explain.

He looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and relief. "I know," he whispered, almost as if to himself. "But I fear that no matter how close we grow, the weight of my past will always keep me distant from others. It's... difficult, to let go."

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. His eyes met yours, with a silent question in them. Before you could second-guess yourself, you pulled him into a hug. It was gentle at first, hesitant even, as if testing the waters. But when his wings fluttered and he slowly wrapped his arms around you, the tension in his body seemed to dissolve, if only for a moment.

His head rested on your shoulder and you could feel the weight of his thoughts melting into the embrace. His normally stoic face softened, and for once, you saw the vulnerability behind the facade of the former leader, the protector, the dreamer. Sunday's breathing was steady, his wings still, but his heart seemed to be beating to something different now—something more like peace.

"Thank you," he murmured into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be this close to someone. It’s been... too long."

You held him a little tighter, as if reassuring him that there was no need for explanations, no need to justify the warmth that passed between you.

"This doesn't need to be fixed, Sunday," you said, your voice soft and warm. "You don't have to carry all of it alone. Not anymore."

For a long time, neither of you said anything. The world outside faded into nothingness as you simply stayed there, two souls wrapped in a shared space of solace. You didn't need to explain the depth of your feelings; they were understood in the silence of the moment.

"Perhaps," Sunday whispered again, this time with a quiet hope in his voice, "I can begin to believe that there is a place for me... without the weight of all my dreams, without the pressure to save everyone."

You smiled against his shoulder, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands. "Maybe we can both start fresh. One step at a time."

A soft laugh escaped him, a sound that was light, genuine, and unburdened. "I suppose we could," he replied, his arms tightening slightly around you in a rare show of affection.

And so you clutched him close, surrounded by the hum of the Astral Express and the silent vastness of space. You knew that the feel of this embrace was more than a hug, but a bridge-step in healing, towards an understanding, and maybe even toward a future where Sunday may find some peace.

For now, though, all that mattered was that the two of you were here together in the quiet of night.

[stargazedwinchester]

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `make it stop, sam winchester ༘♡

summary: you're both grieving, but sam needs you more than ever. word count: 1197 pairing: sam winchester x reader now playing;｡･:*♫♪ make it stop (septembers children) - rise against

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

The bunker is eerily quiet.

Too quiet. In fact, it’s almost like you can hear him sometimes. Metallica playing through his record player, his snarky, sarcastic comments followed by his heartiful laugh.

A month has passed since Dean’s death. You’re not taking it well, and hell, neither is Sam. You see him maybe once a day if you’re lucky. Sam barely leaves his room, tangled earphones plugged into his phone, dark circles molded to his pretty face. It breaks your heart knowing that he’s suffering so much — and there’s barely anything you can do.

Family don’t end in blood. That’s what Dean would tell you when he wanted to prove that your bond means more than what’s on the outside. You know he took it from Bobby, but it’s a hell of a good precept.

You loved that man like a brother. His courage and pride were contagious, unwavering. Without him, you feel lost.

Completely and utterly lost.

Sam’s bedroom door is open ajar, he’s laid across his bed in a white t-shirt, grey joggers and dark navy blue socks. His hair is wild and long. It’s probably the longest he’s had in a long time. Sam is glued to his phone, with earphones plugged in, as usual. Whilst you’re at the door, you knock gently, and he looks up for a mere second, before backing down at his phone. “Can I talk to you?” You ask him, padding over to his bed. You sit gently by his thighs.

“Sure.”

He is still staring at his phone, and you gingerly move his phone out of his way. “I don’t think we should sit at home and sulk,” you attempt to pick your words carefully, “how about we get out of town for a little while? The bunker isn’t going anywhere.” You chuckle lightly, and Sam looks at you, almost completely deadpan. Your lips purse slightly at his response.

“I know you’re hurting right now, Sammy, but Dean wouldn’t want you to. He would want you to celebrate his life, continue the family business, right? Saving people, hunting things.”

“I can’t do that right now when I can barely save myself.” He mutters, his glazed hazel eyes meet yours, whispers of anguish begin to show through the colour of his iris, his once bright eyes now dull.

“Sam…” You tut, noticing tears form and well across his waterline, threatening to spill. “C’mere,” you pull him into a hug, and his vast arms wrap latch around you as you tenderly stroke his hair.

-

It’s been a couple of hours, and you have a couple of bags packed. You assisted Sam in packing his bags, too, as he’s taking this much harder than you originally thought. You called a couple of air b&b’s and rental homes and found one a state over, a good 5 hour drive away. At this rate, you’re just happy attempting to help Sam, help him feel better.

Sam lifts the bags into the Impala, luggage covering the back seat completely. You’re only away for a couple of weeks, but it feels like you’re moving out.

You offered to drive there, allowing Sam some time to rest. He finds solace in the Impala. Many, many years of driving around the country with his brother surely brings him the comfort he’s been needing.

It still slightly smells of him. A musk of expensive cologne has sunken into the leather seats, one that you’ve come to know and love throughout the years. You know he’s there with you in spirit, probably complaining that you’re driving Baby and not him.

When you arrive, you take a little bit of time unpacking, placing your things in your designated bedrooms and folding your clothes and placing them in the drawers. Although you’re there for two weeks, you feel the need to make it like it’s your home. A fresh start with no memory of your old life at the bunker.

The sun begins to set, a purple and pink sunset graces the horizon with light orange clouds. The trees create a silhouette outside of the window, creating the perfect picture. You yawn, exhaustion finally catching up to you. Rubbing your eyes, you exit your bedroom and prepare to get ready for bed. You use your usual skincare, brush your teeth and pad over to your room, shutting your door behind you. It’s early, but you know sleeping now will refresh you completely for the morning.

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

There’s a knock at your door. A light one that shocks you awake. Back at the bunker, you never have anyone knock at your door. You’ve come prepared, though. Just in case.

Stepping over to your door, you open it quietly, only to reveal Sam on the other side.

“What’s up?” You yawn, squinting your eyes slightly. “I can’t sleep.” He mutters, his voice low and gruff. Sam’s clearly been in and out of sleep, his hair tousled and he has a habit of keeping his eyes mostly shut when he’s tired. You grin at him, widening your door. “Do you want company?” You ask, and he nods. Stepping to the side, you let him in.

He crawls into your bed, and you follow suit. Surprisingly, he’s not brought his earphones or his phone with him. You can’t help but feel awful for the guy. He’s lost every family member and everyone he’s ever loved. They’re gone.

Except for you.

As you’re sitting up, he’s beginning to get comfy. He lies on his back, then turns over to his side, facing away from you. The silence between you both is comfortable, peaceful. But there’s something lingering in the air. You turn to face him, tapping him tenderly on his upper arm.

“Sam,” you begin, and he hums.

“Yeah?”

It takes you a second to collect your thoughts, knowing that saying the wrong thing can set him off. You keep your hand placed on his bicep, attempting to keep that connection and ensure he’s listening.

“I know you feel like you have to carry all this shit alone. But you don’t. Like moving forward is the only way to make the pain stop. You don’t have to. It’s okay to grieve and feel sorry and all of the above. It’s normal, but you’re not alone. You’ve got me.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you can hear the shaky breath he exhales.

“I miss and love him so much too,” you continue, your voice quieter, softer. “There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think about him. I know nothing I can say will fix anything, but I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallow as his body stiffens. Sam remains quiet, his hand settling over yours. Sam’s hesitant, unsure that if he lets go, he’ll lose you too. Nothing in the world right now will bring as much solace than the comfort of one another.

“We’ve lost such a huge part of our lives… but we still have each other. And that’s something.”

Sam lies there, absorbing your words like a sponge. He responds with a small hum in agreement. He squeezes your hand tiredly, so you know he’s got you too.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Azriel prompt 2 and 3!! Don't make it sad though lol

Work Song

Summary - A mission with Azriel takes a bad turn.

Warnings - angst, mentions of death, fear of death, fluff

"God - here just hold my hand."

"Is now a bad time to tell you that I'm claustrophobic?"

Took all of my willpower to not make this sad af.

Death.

It was always something that had terrified you, they all knew that you had spent many a night lying in bed thinking about what would come next for you, and no one knew of your fear more than Azriel, the one who soothed that fear and made it evaporate with his searing adoration for you.

Azriel assured you that no matter what came next, he would follow you anywhere, whether that be into the eyes of death and a life of entangled souls, with you, it didn't matter where he was. You were his home, his everything. The sun to his moon. The bird to his spring breeze. The dawn to his dusk. Everything.

But as he knelt before you, nose bloody and panting with wildly wide eyes staring at you in the hands of the very male you had set out to exterminate, he could see that fear in you, he could see it in the way your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, he could see it in the sweat rolling down your forehead and in the gulps of air that you took as his knife pressed to your throat.

You were just as talented as Azriel as a spy, if not more, you had grown up as an orphan in Hewn City and had no choice but to fend for yourself. Rhys had found you tailing him a couple hundred years ago along the Hewn City streets, he admitted how impressed he was by you, by your nimble athletics and swift fighting style. Azriel hadn't been happy when Rhys had placed you under his wing to train, though he found himself becoming fond of you rather quickly.

There was a sense of shared trauma between you, with his marred hands to the thick cracks slicing through your back. Life hadn't been kind to either of you, but it gave you some form of solace to know that you weren't alone.

Then the bond snapped, and Azriel often refused to ever leave you, he just wanted to be with you, slaying the Night Court's enemies or entangled with your body in the small cottage you shared in Velaris.

Azriel loved you more than anything he ever thought possible, the need to have you near, to protect you, was so great that if he wasn't with you he would believe you to be in danger. It wasn't like you couldn't look after yourself, he certainly didn't doubt that after the copious amount of times you had flipped him over your shoulder with a smirk on those beautiful lips. It gave him peace having you near, it was like he couldn't truly believe he had you, a mate, an eternal love.

Blood trickled down your neck as you heaved a shaky breath, the tip of the knife prodding into your skin. Your eyelids flickered closed, and he watched your lips move as you spoke to yourself, he watched you pray to the Mother for Rhys to hear your calls.

"God, here - just hold my hand," Azriel spoke gruffly to you as darkness shrouded you in its embrace, there was no light source in the tiny hallway, the walls were close, so close that you thought the world was caving in on you, and it didn't help that you couldn't see anything in front of you.

Blindly, you reached for him, finding instant comfort in the warmth of his digits entwining with your own, no matter how serious Azriel had to be sometimes, his touch alone told you how much he loved you, it was always so soft, and he always rubbed his thumb across the surface of your skin.

"Is now a bad time to tell you that I'm claustrophobic?" You had squeaked, flinching at the sudden tense of his hand, you couldn't see him but you knew he had turned his head to you, slowing his shuffling sideward steps.

A cold embrace curled around you and you relaxed into the shadows that cradled your face and shoulders, they purred at you, and you hummed in the softest of thanks as you felt his lips press to your temple. Such a simple thing, but something that gave you life in a way nothing else could.

"One step at a time, Dove," you smiled slightly at the name, the one he called you often, light as a feather he had said, swift and elegant, poised and perfect, "We'll be home soon. How does a bath sound? I'll even let you put one of those facemasks on me."

A small giggle pushed through your lips and you could feel him sigh in relief, "That sounds perfect, Az."

Then he had pulled you from that suffocating nook and fallen to his knees after a brute force slammed against the back of his head, awaking to find you stood before him in your leathers, hair pulled into a tight braid, gasping for air in the arms of another.

Every fibre of his soul, everything that made him, was fighting to get to you, but he couldn't. Chains were secured around his limbs and wings, carefully placed so that each tug would threaten to rip his wings from his body. But he would do it. He would lose everything for you even if it meant tearing himself to pieces in front of you.

Azriel grunted in frustrated annoyance, in agony as he tried to reach you, "Stop Az, your wings," tears brimmed in your eyes and your bottom lip wobbled.

A gentle tut pulled his gaze from you, focusing on the male who held you tightly in his arms, his face illuminated by a single streak of moonlight that slipped through the crack of the roof. A revolting thing held you, smirked at the smell of your blood, and it made Azriel boil.

"Do you love her to death?"

Azriel's eyes darkened as you whimpered, bristling in his iron clad grip, "Speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life."

It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever said. Pity.

"No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her, no matter what."

The chains rattled and you squeezed your eyes shut, you couldn't see your mate try to rip himself apart for you. A chill breath fanned against the back of your neck and you shivered involuntarily at the sensation as the blade limply curved around your neck, threatening to spill the contents of your throat onto the damp stone floor.

Rhys. Please.

Azriel screamed in frustration, "Dove, look at me," he commanded, and you listened, you knew what he was trying to do, he was trying to soothe you with that calm voice that had the power to convince you of anything, "It's going to be okay. Just keep your eyes on me."

"I'm scared," you whispered into the pitch black room, forgetting the blade pressed to your neck at that moment.

"I know, Dove. We're going to get out of this alright? Soon we'll be back in Velaris and you'll be in my arms, alright?"

A shaky hum sounded in your throat, one that was full of tense tears and sadness.

The sensation of the body ripping from you made you gasp and you lurched forward, into another set of arms. Red siphons entered your clouded vision and you could have sobbed in relief as those arms cradled you as your attacker gargled on his own blood at the hands of your High Lord.

Moments later, chains rattled and clattered to the floor, and Azriel was on you within seconds, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips into your hair line.

"What happened?" Rhys asked, looking at your shaking form with worry as Cassian scoured the room top to bottom, Azriel was too focused on you to care about the mission at hand.

Azriel ignored his brother, cooing to you softly as sobs recked your body, a body that was trying to recover from the possibility of your greatest fear coming true, "Not now, Rhys," Azriel murmured as he scooped you into his arms and stalked from the room, following every winding path to the courtyard and lifting off into the sky without a second thought.

Azriel flitted around you once he had placed you on your bed at the cottage, he ran the bath and added all of the oils he knew soothed your muscles and anxiety. Your mate peeled the clothes from your body, then his own, and settled into the tub with you, gently washing away the blood around the already healed spot on your neck.

Candlelight illuminated the space, from the matching toothbrushes in the holder by the sink to the array of soft cotton towels folded neatly atop the organiser. Neither of you needed much to be happy, you had grown up with far less, so little that any opulence made you feel uncomfortable; but that didn't stop Azriel from showering you with gifts daily and making sure your shared abode was as comfortable as it could be.

Fear rolled off of you in waves, and he knew that you were thinking of your blood spilling onto the floor, he knew you were thinking of the grasping to life and the garbled mutters of your love confessions from your bloody lips before darkness consumed you.

"Hey," he turned your head to the side and found emptiness in your eyes, "You're home. You're safe. We're fine, okay?"

Slowly, you nodded, acknowledging his words and settling into his arms once more, sighing as the searing hot water worked its way into your muscles and coaxed you into relaxation. His lips peppered along your shoulder, slowly, lovingly, like every kiss was a declaration to the Mother of his thanks.

"I love you," your voice was weak, Azriel buried his head into the crook of your neck, "I thought you were- that I was-"

"I won't ever allow anything to happen to you," your silence was drowning, a solemn pause in your otherwise blossoming lives. Azriel's finger dragged along the curve of your jaw, "I need you to say it, Dove. I need you to believe it."

Sliding down a couple of inches, the back of your head found the space at the centre of his chest, the water rose to your shoulders and you curled onto your side, "You won't let anything happen to me," you repeated quietly, "We're safe. We're okay."

Azriel spent the rest of the evening doting on you, making sure you ate and drank, he nestled you onto his lap and read to you, he allowed his fingers and shadows to rake through your hair, and he held you tightly to his chest when your body couldn't fight slumber for a moment longer.

As long as he had you in his arms, nothing would be able to take you away.

[lokis-coconut28]

Unbound - Chapter 1: The Keeper's Bond

(Loki x Magic Female Reader)

(A/N) : Hi my lovelies! Apologies for my absence, I appreciate your patience with me...

*The last month has been particularly challenging. I continue to recover from surgery, I turned a year older, and I ended a near decade long relationship. As I continue navigating these emotions, I find comfort here, among you all, my friends 💚*

(I am hesitant to post this fic, it has lived in my drafts for quite some time. As a new writer, I'm scared to take on a multi-chapter fic! But - I hope that you enjoy where I'm going with it!) (It's not as elegantly written as I'd like, but indulge me...) & I am happy to be back! You all inspire me so much!

I appreciate your support and comfort now more than ever. Please have grace with any errors - I forgot how to write amidst the chaos and heartbreak...

Please feel free to drop me a message about anything/a pic of Loki or David Bowie (I'm currently chokeheld by Jareth)

Summary: Loki has been watching over you from his new throne... With his feelings on the line, he makes a bold decision to bond to your mind.

Word Count : 2.5k

Warnings: Slight touch of NSFW/Voyeurism in Ch 1

Happy Reading my Loves! 🖤

A throne, buried in the infinite void of space and time, was not what Loki had expected for his life’s purpose. Never truly wanting the throne, yet in a twist of fate, finding himself tethered to it for eternity, was an irony that laughed at him in an endless echo throughout the multiverses. 

Exploring realities in the palms of his hands was a delicate craft. The responsibility, accepting the intricacies of overseeing an incalculable amount of timelines without interference or interjection was no small task. Observation had become a makeshift game to Loki, honing in on a multitude of lifeforms, seeking out what connection he could from afar, cherishing emotions of plenty in the vast cosmos which thrummed through his hands. 

A new desolate reality, ever flowing, impalpable, washed through Loki. A sobering wave crashed into him over and over again, reminding him that this was life now.

In the darkest of hours, he allowed his head to lower and rest, obsidian horns digging deep into his temples, a torment unlike any Loki had endured before. Despite the stillness around him, an unrelenting gravitational pressure crawled around his head, eerily creeping into a chokehold around his neck. A force strong enough to extract tears from a god. 

The weight of the crown had proven to be heavy, in more ways than one. 

The pull of the timelines forged on, wrapping serpent-like, circling Loki’s wrists; binding him to the seated throne. 

The intensity of holding limitless lives extracted a toll on Loki’s physical form. In secret, he wished he could put the weight down - if only for a moment. Knowing he could not, knowing he was destined to this role for eternity - these thoughts spiraled in his mind, plaguing his thoughts like a broken record with every passing second. 

Attempting to shake the burden of eternal responsibility, Loki let his eyes fall shut, concentrating on the only thing that brought the god solace in his isolation. Locating you. 

Loki had observed millions of souls in his quest to pass time. Asgardians, Midgardians, creatures from planets and realms that in all of his centuries he had never once discovered. He found comfort in busying himself with watching the lives of beings across the galaxies, across time, into the promise of forever. 

Yet, in his observation of the entirety of space and time, Loki had never encountered a living soul quite like yours. There was something particularly special about you, a unique aura standing out as a bright star in the atramentous eternal sky. Loki felt an unexplainable pull to your life force - a pulsing chemistry, as though you were two magnets coming together in an unyielding draw. 

Curiosity propelled Loki’s focus to you, solely. You were a powerful enchantress, a formidable force to be sure. Intrigue, he decided, was the proper feeling he had for you… at first. It did not go unnoticed, the way you effortlessly wielded your own powers, harmonious with the mysterious magic you possessed. Unlike himself, unlike most everyone in the multiverses, Loki could find no other variants of you. Scanning all of the timelines, he quickly realized you were a one of a kind entity - a rare anomaly that captured the attention of the God of Stories. 

Loki shifted in the throne, straining his forearms as he found you within the malachite cordage that resided in his grasp. Using all of his might, he concentrated on your energy, barely able to locate you through a thick veil of unfamiliar magic. Adjusting his grip on the timeline, the veins in his arm thrummed, focusing deeply, eyes finally landing upon your form.

For the first time, he could see your face clearly as you walked alone, your breath puffing into a small cloud of moisture as you exhaled into the cold night. Your hair softly fell around your face, bouncing delicately in tandem with each footstep. The clang of your black leather boots echoed with each hurried stride as you made your way across the damp cobblestone street. Your beauty was so effortless & charming, Loki found it hard to pull his gaze from you. Though out of reach, you were absolutely enchanting. 

To be near you - Loki imagined, slowly drawing in deep breath, inhaling at the sudden fluttering that had manifested in his core.

Abruptly, a frigid gust of wind commanded the hair on the back of your neck to raise, causing you to fuss with the herringbone scarf that stylishly looped around your collar. You took a moment to peer up at the night sky as you raised the hood of your coat to rest upon the crown of your head. The dazzling beauty of the stars twinkling above forced you to stop and appreciate the divine display. A brilliant wave of emerald light appeared overhead, dancing elegantly in a private show, eliciting a shy smile from your lips. 

Your eyes creased, squinting at a particularly bright star. Your gaze lingered on it with a subconscious level of expectancy.

“I’m not sure I’ve seen you before”, you remarked at the unfamiliar celestial orb, as if it would answer back if you asked it their name. 

Loki stilled as you tilted your head in wonderment, imagining you could somehow see him through the vastness of space, somehow sense his presence. He wanted to believe you could. 

“Stunning” you whispered quietly, letting out a contented sigh as you continued on your path into the darkness.

As time went on, your voice became a symphony in the silence. Your expressions became their own motion pictures that played in an endless loop within Loki’s mind. Watching you cast your spells as deliberately and cautiously as a painter stroking a canvas, Loki never tired of watching you. He admired your skill, your intelligence, as you worked with magic that was foreign to him. Somehow, these stolen glances and sacred moments seemed like a secret kept between the two of you. 

Loki let out a disgruntled sigh, reminding himself once more that you did not, and you would not ever know him. He silently cursed, knowing he could never interfere. Yet, perhaps… 

It had started as a simple trial, a test spell easily woven and rooted to your mind. A small magical connection tethering his mind to yours. Nothing more than to ensure your protection, to ensure your safety.

The moment that Loki had cast this spell upon you, practicing his illusionary craft became somewhat of a game, hiding himself from your mind, blending in with the shadows of your thoughts. 

Ilusion - an art form that Loki had mastered over centuries. Invisibility he found easy, but ignoring the intoxicating pull of the spellbound bond he had formed…This was much more difficult. 

He had not intended for the bond to grow so strong. At first, it was a fleeting trick, a slow dancing flame, a soft whisper that lived on the edge of his consciousness. Only a way to ensure your safety, a way to pass time. 

Yet each time he sensed your own mind within his, something inside of him tightened, even yearned for you. An undeniable ache that he refused to put a name to. 

As months time passed, the bond strengthened greatly. The lie that he told himself - of safety and precaution - seemingly dissolved, transforming into something…more. The sense of nobility, of being your protector from afar, alarmingly shifted to a forbidding feeling. Longing. 

The forged connection had become an addiction. Each night, Loki would find himself utterly intoxicated in your mind; voyeuristically watching you in your realm. Inhaling a breath of your conciousness and warmth. He let his eyes flutter shut, mesmerised by the comfort of your dreams. He would allow the sensation - of your joy and laughter - to quell a pain deeply buried inside of him.

While the burdened promise of protecting the timelines echoed throughout his mind, his focus was no longer entirely occupied by the task at hand - by the mission of being on the throne - but by you. Stolen glances into your reality, physical proximity cradled if only by illusion in his dreams and waking fantasies, lit a wick in his core - promising an explosion in his heart if he did not start to take precautions with his feelings. But... with your presence in front of him, his mind could rest, and he could be at ease. 

Loki often found himself wondering what it would feel like to hear your soothing voice call his name. He longed to be seen, not just by anyone—by you. It was a laborious struggle, this mix of euphoria and sorrow - wanting nothing but happiness for you, no matter which timeline you were in… yet.. still, in his quietest moments, he would let himself dream, selfishly wishing it was him you’d say goodnight to, if only just once.

When hope slipped away, time and time again, he would lower his gaze, seeking refuge from the relentless thoughts. But…he knew he would always come back to you.

‘How could I not?’...  

This particular night, when the weight of your own day had been laid to rest, Loki sought out your mind in the dark. An intense wave of sensual indulgence erupted through his body as he allowed himself to siphon the sensation of your solitary pleasure. Pleasure. A feeling that had been lost in the spacial abyss for quite some time. He would not turn his gaze upon you, as you allowed yourself to be consumed by self gratification... your most intimate moments. Closing his eyes, as if to give you privacy, he tried to remember how long it had been since he himself had had an intimate moment. He could only imagine the pleasure of being able to truly hold you, gently kissing your lips, moving together in perfect harmony. A passionate embrace, bodies gently entwining in the most sacred of acts, whispering promises of love to you between soft moans.

Love. Love?

Loki suddenly froze, eyes snapping open at the realization of the emotion he had nonverbally named. He slowly straightened his posture against the back of the cold seat, timelines clawing heavily at the lines in his palms. Feeling a heated dagger in his heart, ignoring the way his anatomy had betrayed him having been lost in the forbidden sensation of your reality, he scolded himself for imagining something so real. His throat bobbed as he inhaled a breath of the emptiness surrounding him, immediately reprimanding himself once more for indulging in your pleasure, and crossing the boundary he swore he would not. 

Love. 

Loki scoffed defensively, bringing himself back to reality. No longer did he get the privilege of feeling love, care, companionship. Sacrifice - a heavier toll than he ever would have imagined. A familiar sadness wrapped around his throat, threatening to extract tears.

The reality was, no matter what realm you were in, no matter what he felt, how much he wished he could speak to you, just once - it was impossible now - given his choice and commitment to guard the timelines, for freedom. 

For them. For you. 

Loki repeated this mantra to himself, a reminder of his motives, remembering the god he wanted to be. 

The chokehold of grief elicited a small sob from the deepest shadows of his soul, in part from the guilt of using his own power to feel companionship, to feel love, under the guise of protection, and in part from the sorrow of never being able to return back to life in the timelines. Never getting a chance to be near you, even if only as a stranger passing by in the bustle of your daily life.

Purpose. A heavier burden than he ever knew to be possible. 

On a particularly quiet night, lost in a deep slumber, you dreamt of a distant soul, calling to you in a soft, fleeting whisper. The stranger seemed gentle, but their voice was heavily laced with pain and agony as they cried out to you, calling your name, in a desperate plea to be heard.

You were abruptly jolted awake by a searing burn on your skin, branching through your hands like lightning, leaving a scorching imprint in the flesh of your trembling palms. You inhaled sharply as you inspected the marks that remained. 

“Magic.” You whispered, quickly swinging your legs to the side of your bed, sitting upright as you studied the light coursing through your hands.  

A power unfamiliar to you, almost alive, flared from the tips of your fingers to your wrist. A bright green rope-like illumination emanated from your upturned palms.

The magic throbbed, as if fueled by someone else’s spark. Your hands ached as the heat ripped through your skin, sinking deeper into your flesh. In the silence of the night, the foreign magic coursed through your veins, the power pulsing in a heartbeat that was not your own. 

You willed your own frost-blue glow to spill from your fingertips. Shimmering wisps curled around each digit, delicately twisting around the emerald that had been etched onto your body. Instinctively, you closed your eyes and willed your own strands of magic to reach out to the power that had called to you in your sleep.

Then you sensed him. A stranger's soul, ethereal, almost faint. With forceful intention, you strengthened the bond to his magic. His presence was a distant echo, lingering in the air around you, but veiled in the mist of time and space. The presence was elusive and fleeting, barely detectable in your mind and senses. Persisting, you extended your power, finally reaching the source you had been searching for. 

A smoldering silence lingered in the air for a moment. You felt the unmistakable weight of eyes upon you. With a swift motion, you spread your hands, lighting the room, your gaze searching for the shadowed figure watching you.

“I know you’re here,” You cautiously broke silence, your words bouncing off of the walls in the empty room. “Physically or not.” 

Another empty moment passed. 

“Please, say something…” Your words brushed against the air like a feather, soft and pleading, a hushed request that somehow seemed to carry more weight than any shout ever could. 

Rippling through the silence, his voice reached you. Soft, low, coming from nowhere yet surrounding you everywhere at once. Time stood still as a hum so low and delicate found you.

“I... am not supposed to be here..." 

“Please, don’t leave...” you pleaded gently, your voice laced with a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to say a word… just stay, if only for a moment.”

The silence was suffocating, thick enough to feel, as if the air itself had frozen in place. It pressed against your ears, louder than any noise, almost deafening in its stillness.

“You don’t understand what this means…”

The voice pressed through the hushed air. Your heart ached at the way his voice cracked with desperation. His emotion was raw, the mix of regret and longing, the weight of the forbidden moments spilling in a tremble from his lips like honey.

“For either of us.” 

The room grew colder, yet your blood coursed with a fierce heat through your veins at the intensity of the unspoken warning. Whatever this connection was, you knew it was not meant to exist. But now... it did. 

And there was no turning back.

Taggies as requested : @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl

Divider Credit : cafekitsune

Xoxo - L 🖤

Masterlist

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Twelve - Banished from your sight on the day of Queen Margaery's nameday celebrations, Jon seeks comfort in the Godswood.

This is pure wish fulfillment, okay?

Ch 13

Jon finds himself in the Godswood of Highgarden, kneeling in the dirt, his head bowed. You have dismissed him for the day as you will be spending the whole of it with the queen preparing and primping for her nameday feast this very night.

The Three Singers lay before him, so intertwined it is as if they are one. Their blood-red leaves do not stand so stark against the landscape as they do in Winterfell. The lush gardens surrounding it blend so seamlessly, Jon loses himself in the view of it, mesmerized by the sway of the flowers and leaves in the wind.

Ghost lies beside him, stretched out in the sun, tongue lolling out happily.

Jon prays for strength, for the safety and health of his family, for his own health, for yours and Margaery’s. He prays that the Gods give him the strength to continue on the path Ser Jaime has set before him. This stilted, honorable path that he must follow so not to shame himself or you. But it is torture, the distance he must hold you at, the way he must keep his eyes from you, must keep his hands to himself even in private moments. Though he has lessened the private moments, and in turn you have sought solace in the queen. At least you will have a strong relationship as good-sisters, Robb will arrive and Jon can present him with an already bonded family, an apology for not being able to come home, not being able to stand by their father—Robb’s father, his uncle’s side, when he was accused on treason.

Ghost’s head rises, his ears swiveling, and Jon pivots towards the intruder, not even needing to get to his feet to draw his sword.

“Whoa, peace, friend, I have not come to harm you.” A tall man, older, around Lord Stark’s age, with dark brown hair that fell to his shoulder, and piercing eyes. Though Jon could not tell the color with the sun at the man’s back. He was well muscled, the body of a man who had trained and fought hard for decades, the strength of his form clear. He would be a beast in armor, a terrifying sight to behold, Jon is sure. His skin is tanned, not like Lord Martell’s but perhaps a few shades lighter, and he is dressed in finery, a sword strapped at his hip.

“Apologies, My Lord.” He says, bowing his head in the direction of the older man, and getting to his feet. “I shall leave you to the Godswood.”

“No, stay, I would enjoy the company.” The man says, giving him a crooked smile, a scar running through his upper right lip.

Jon returns to the ground and the man sits beside him, his eyes on the weirwoods. “I often find only Godswoods can offer me the solitude I need when I am tormented by my own thoughts.”

“My Lord?”

“I am not a lord, have not been for many years. We are both knights, let us address each other as so.”

Jon nods, staring at the trees as well, wondering why the man wished for him to remain if he wanted solitude.

“You are wondering why I asked you to stay, and perhaps how I know your mind weighs heavily upon you.” He says, his voice accented, Dornish perhaps? Jon is not quite sure.

“Aye.” Jon says, scratching between Ghost’s ears.

“I have seen many a young man kneeling in a holy place wondering if his course is true.” He says a hint of sadness in his tone. “It helps to share your burdens.”

“I do not think that is wise…” Jon says, eyeing the man out of the corner of his eye.

The man laughs. “Who will I tell, I do not know you, you do not know me, but we are both knights, sworn to uphold our codes. Your words will not leave this place, I assure you.”

There is something about the man that Jon finds strangely comforting. He has carried the weight of his decision for moons now, and it is slowly suffocating him until one day he fears he will wake up and no longer be able to breathe.

He lets out a slow breath. “I am in love with a noblewoman, and I know she loves me, but I am not worthy of her.”

The man hums in acknowledgement.

“But her father has allowed us to court as he feels even with my...strange parentage I am worthy of her hand, but it must be kept a secret.”

The man shifts his weight, stretching out one leg. “Why, if her father finds you worthy?”

“Because…there are things out of mine and her control, things that could tear us apart, and I believe he wishes to spare her the heartbreak but I—I…”

“Slipped up, overindulged, made an error?” He asks in a wry tone.

“Yes, but I did not go too far, I restrained myself, but now…now I must pull back even further, and it saddens her.”

“And her sadness in turn causes you sadness.” The man supplies, nudging Jon with his shoulder. “It is a good man who is saddened by his beloved’s sadness.”

“And now her aunt wishes her to dance with suitors, and I cannot interfere, but I do not think I can bear the sight.” Jon grabs a fallen stick and stabs it into the ground, feeling a bit childish.

“Might I tell you my own tale? Perhaps you will gain some wisdom.”

“Of course, I would be grateful for any advice.”

“Wisdom, not advice, I would not advise following my course of action.”

Jon can see the man’s eye color now, a dark gray, nearing purple.

“When I was younger, a bit older than you, I was in a frighteningly similar situation, though it was not unknown circumstances that kept myself and my lady love apart, but my closest friend. He was convinced that they must be wed, his assurance bordered on obsession, near madness, but I said nothing because he was my friend, I trusted him with my life.” The man sighs and runs a hand down his face.

Jon swallows hard, stick still in hand, staring at the hole it had made as if it will give him answers, a way to react to what he believes he is being told. You have always said he was intelligent, he believed it, he always thought himself intelligent even as a boy, but intellect was no shield against this kind of revelation.

“I continued to meet my love in secret, I adored her, would have laid my life down for her if she asked, but I knew she never would. Then my friend snapped, and we did a horrid thing, and in my cowardice, I did not break away and take my love to safety, I kept her with us. Against all odds she still loved me, I had dishonored her many times before, and she began to show, I thought this would dissuade my friend, that he would see sense…”

“But he did not.” Jon says a sinking feeling in his gut. Was this man truly who he believes him to be? How would he even be here, and why, why now?

“No, he did not. He thought to have the child born then taken away so that he could seed her. It sickened me, sickened her, but the gods intervened. Neither I nor him got to keep her, got to live with and love her. My cowardice, my devotion to my friend, got her killed.”

“I see why you said not to follow your example.” Jon jests grimly.

The man laughs, it is watery, hoarse, and the sound of it pierces Jon to the bone. “Do not be a coward, boy. No code is worth the life of the woman you love.”

“Did she love you, at the end?” He is afraid to hear the answer, afraid his father is a monster.

“Yes.”

“And the child?”

The man he is sure is Ser Arthur Dayne smiles sadly at the thick roots of the weirwoods beneath them. “Blood is proof of our devotion, she bled for our child, and so did I.”

“Her bones are in the crypt of Winterfell.” Jon says quietly, testing the waters.

The man says nothing, only gets to his feet, squeezes Jon’s shoulder, and walks away.

For a moment he is a child again, a pit in his chest, fear tugging at his limbs, a desire to reach for and call out to the man he is sure is his father surging through him. Against his better judgment he gets to his feet and runs, Ser Dayne—his father turning, his instincts still as honed as the legends said, and braces himself.

Jon embraces him, burying his face in his father’s finery. Jon is tall, but his father is taller, the top of Jon’s head reaching his father’s neck, and he breathes in the scent, finding it oddly familiar, though he knows he could only have smelled it nearly a lifetime ago.

His father wraps him in his arms, burying his face in Jon’s curls. “I should have fought harder, my boy, my son, I did not wish to abandon you, I swear to you.”

Jon bites his tongue to keep the tears from falling. “Lord Stark was good to me, he treated me as a son, I was not beaten or starved. I have siblings who love me, who think of me as their own.”

His father’s tears hit his shoulders, his body trembling. “That is good, he promised my sister he would take care of you. My household guards, they told me that when they came to retrieve my body, they thought me dead, but I could not let the Stranger take me. Not when I did not know what had become of you.”

“What did she name me, is Jon my true name?” It has been a question long on his lips.

“Yes, yes, I would never begrudge her the naming of her child, nor would she let me. She wanted you to have a strong Stark name, to set you apart from all the other Dornish boys, she told me. She was brilliant, strong-willed, and witty, she never ceased to make me laugh, even near the end.”

His father pulls back, drinking in the sight of him, his voice trembling. “You look so much like her, apart from your eyes, she was so happy that you had my eyes.”

Jon blinks away the tears, willing himself to be strong, he will need to digest this information, he will need to find you, and tell you what has occurred.

“And you are so strong, look at you, Oberyn did not lie, you inherited my strength. And I have heard that you are a skilled swordsman as well, you have done so well, my son, I am proud of you.” His father says, cupping Jon’s face with calloused hands. “I am sorry, I should have sought you out sooner, but the reports said you were thriving, that you were happy, and then you were taken to King’s Landing, and I could not show my face there. Too many people would recognize me, Robert would have me killed, and Oberyn said you had found love. I could not take you from that.”

“Then why are you here now?” Jon asks, overwhelmed by his emotions, his mind a blur, his heartbeat in his ears.

“Because I asked him to be.” Tyrion steps out of the shadows, and Jon nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Lord Tyrion?”

“I know, a Dornish man working with a Lannister, it is a sight to see, but you cannot say much my son, considering you wish to wed his daughter.” His father says, releasing his face and turning towards Tyrion.

“Come, let us bring this happy reunion inside.”

Jon sits beside his father as Tyrion fills him in, this plan has long been in the works, since his parentage was revealed.

“It took some convincing, your father did not think you would wish to see him.” Tyrion says, inclining his head toward Jon’s father.

“Does Lady y/n know of this?” Jon asks, unsettled by the very fact that you are not in the room while pertinent information is being revealed.

“See, I told you, besotted. ”

“You did.” His father chuckles.

“I will inform y/n of this development when we break fast in the morning, she should be able to enjoy one more night of merriment before meeting her future good-father.” Tyrion says.

“Is it official, then? I may have her hand?” He glances between Tyrion and his father.

His father claps him on the shoulders, then kisses both his cheeks. “Yes, my son, we have come to an agreement, you will wed your pretty lioness.”

Jon is floating, his mind clear, the joy that will alight in your eyes, the smile you will shine upon him, the way you will throw your arms around his neck and embrace him excitedly, it is all he sees. He gets to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process, “I must tell her; she will be overjoyed.”

“No one will be telling y/n anything tonight. We cannot tip off my sister.” Tyrion orders. “You just remain as you have these past few moons, it will be safer for her.”

His jaw muscles twitches, he is sick of waiting, especially now that his father is here, that he could be claimed, his title of bastard shed like snakeskin. “Why must we hold back, King Tommen loves Lady y/n, he would marry us tonight if we asked.”

“Calm, Jon, I know the Dornish sun burns in your veins as it does mine, but you must trust us, soon all you have been promised will come to be.”

Jon forces his jaw to unclench and nods. “I will hold my tongue until morning.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film

[g3tinl0ser]

Cant come up with a title for this. it will be a Caius mate story. not sure how long honest. but feel free to shoot me name ideas or things you'd like to see happen!

MASTERLIST

Living as a vampire carries its own unique trials, an eternity of unchanging existence interwoven with emotions that cut deeper than mortal hearts could ever endure. Nothing illustrated this more profoundly than your relationship with Edward Cullen. Before the transformation, you were inseparable, bound by a love so fierce it seemed eternal even before immortality sealed your fates. Together, you navigated the strange, tumultuous world of vampirism, finding solace and purpose in one another amidst the chaos of your new reality. For a time, it was as close to perfect as creatures like you could dare to dream.

But everything shattered when Bella entered Edward’s life. She was his blood singer, a siren in human form, her very presence a temptation he couldn’t resist. Though you knew, deep in your immortal soul, that she wasn’t his true mate, Edward was drawn to her with a force neither of you could comprehend. Watching him drift toward her was like standing helplessly in the path of a tidal wave, unable to stop it, unable to save yourself. The man who had been your constant through lifetimes walked away, leaving you to grapple with a betrayal so profound it felt as if eternity itself had turned on you.

The pain was indescribable. How could he abandon everything you had built together? A century of shared existence as vampires. Five tender years as human lovers. The weight of those years, the trust you had forged over time, felt irreplaceable, until it wasn’t. His departure tore through you like jagged glass, leaving wounds that even immortality could not heal. You questioned everything: his love, his loyalty, and your own worth. The betrayal lingered in your chest, a phantom ache that no passage of time could soothe.

Edward’s apologies were frequent, his explanations earnest, but they only deepened the wound. He spoke of Bella with a mix of awe and torment, as if struggling to make sense of his own feelings. He insisted that his pull toward her wasn’t a rejection of you or what you shared, but rather some inexplicable compulsion, a force of nature that neither of you could have foreseen. And yet, his honesty, however well-meaning, felt like salt in the wound, each word a reminder of the love he had willingly risked for someone else.

Even now, you struggle to reconcile the man you once knew with the one who left you behind. Was it weakness? Was it something broken in him, or in you? Edward’s departure wasn’t about your worth or the depth of your bond, and yet, that knowledge does little to ease the ache. It was a cruel twist of fate, an evolution of his emotions that neither of you could control. But knowing that doesn’t make it any less painful.

Eternity once seemed a gift when you faced it together. Now, it feels like a curse, stretching endlessly ahead, haunted by the echoes of what you lost.

Staying with the Cullen family after Edward left was an act of resilience, a daily test of your ability to endure the weight of loss. Every corner of the house carried echoes of what you once had, a love you thought would span eternity. Yet, amidst the pain, you found strength in the bonds you had forged with the others, bonds that kept you tethered when it felt like you might drift away.

Carlisle and Esme were your anchors, their unwavering support a steady light in the storm. Carlisle often reassured you, his gentle voice filled with conviction, that your mate was still out there. That one day, you would be loved as deeply and completely as you deserved. It was a comfort, even if it felt impossible to believe. Esme, ever the nurturing soul, would stroke your hair as you rested your head in her lap, her touch soft and motherly, as if willing some of her boundless warmth to seep into your fractured heart.

Rosalie and Emmett became your greatest sources of distraction, pulling you out of your grief and grounding you in the present. Rosalie introduced you to the intricacies of vehicles, and together you spent countless hours in the garage. She was patient and meticulous, her passion for the craft infectious. Emmett, rarely far from her side, had set up his own gaming station in the corner of the garage. You couldn’t help but smile at how inseparable they were, even when doing their own things. Between rounds of whatever game he was immersed in, you’d catch him sneaking adoring glances at Rosalie. She’d pause her work to ask how he was doing, genuinely interested in his animated rants about his latest strategy. Their bond was effortless, a quiet yet powerful reminder of what love could be.

Emmett also became your outlet for the anger and energy you couldn’t seem to contain. Together, you took down more trees than you could count during your wrestling matches, the crashes loud enough to draw attention from nearby humans. After a stern scolding from Carlisle, your sparring sessions moved to bare-knuckle boxing in the backyard. Jasper often watched, entertained by the fiery matches, though the others were less amused.

It was during one of these bouts that Edward finally snapped. His voice, sharp and unfamiliar in its anger, cut through the tension like the crack of thunder before a storm. “You’ve scared her,” he accused, his words heavy with condemnation. “She doesn’t feel safe here because of you.”

The accusation hit like a slap to the face, leaving a stinging shock that lingered in the silence. The weight of his misplaced judgment bore down, harsher than any physical blow could have been. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words faltered, caught in the tangled web of disbelief and indignation.

“Scared her?” you finally managed, your voice low but shaking. “I barely speak to her, Edward. How could I possibly scare her?”

Edward’s eyes blazed, his jaw tight as though holding back the full force of his anger. “It’s not just what you say,” he retorted, his voice trembling with restrained fury. “It’s the way you look at her. Bella’s worried your anger will turn on her one day. She told me she’s afraid to be alone in the same room as you.”

The words struck harder than you expected, winding you. Bella, afraid? Of you? The notion was absurd, yet Edward spoke with such conviction it almost made you question yourself. Almost.

You shook your head, trying to process the accusation. “I’ve never done anything to hurt her,” you said, your voice rising. “I’ve never blamed her for, for you leaving. I haven’t threatened her or even bad-mouthed her to anyone but Rosalie, and she doesn’t count. She doesn’t like Bella anyway.”

Edward’s expression darkened further, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the air heavier. “That’s not the point,” he shot back. “Intentions don’t matter if she feels unsafe.”

“Unsafe?” The word burned on your tongue. “This is my home, Edward. I’ve done everything I can to make it comfortable for her. If she’s afraid, maybe it’s because of you constantly filling her head with paranoia about me.”

The accusation seemed to strike a nerve. Edward’s fists clenched at his sides, and his gaze darted to the floor for a brief moment, as if weighing whether to respond.

“This isn’t about me,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “It’s about her. All I’m asking is that you think about how you come across. You don’t see it, but, ”

“But what?” you interrupted, stepping forward, your voice rising with each word. “But I’m some sort of monster? Someone incapable of being in the same room as her without scaring her to death?”

Before Edward could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, and the rest of the family appeared. Carlisle and Esme entered first, their faces etched with concern. Alice hovered near the doorway, her sharp gaze darting between you and Edward, as though trying to predict the next move. Behind her, Emmett loomed, his large frame filling the space. His expression was grim, his posture tense and ready, as if expecting the need to step in.

“What’s going on?” Carlisle asked, his voice calm but firm, cutting through the heated tension.

“Edward thinks I’m some kind of threat,” you said bitterly, gesturing toward him. “He’s accusing me of scaring Bella.”

“Edward,” Esme said gently but with an undercurrent of disapproval. “That’s a serious thing to say. Are you sure?”

“Bella told me herself,” Edward insisted, though his voice faltered slightly under Esme’s gaze.

Emmett took a step closer to you, his broad shoulders squared as he positioned himself slightly in front of you. “That’s enough,” he said, his deep voice steady and protective. “You don’t get to throw accusations around like that without proof.”

Edward glared at Emmett, his frustration evident, but he didn’t reply. The room felt charged, the silence stretching as everyone processed the scene.

“Let’s all take a step back,” Carlisle said, his tone soothing but authoritative. “We need to address this calmly. Edward, if Bella has concerns, we’ll address them, but accusations won’t solve anything. And you,” he added, turning to you, “have every right to defend yourself, but let’s not escalate this further.”

You nodded stiffly, though your jaw remained tight. Emmett stayed close, his presence a solid reminder that you weren’t alone in this. The family’s intervention diffused the immediate tension, but the storm between you and Edward was far from over. For now, though, the room was quiet save for the unspoken words lingering in the air.

Rosalie’s voice rang in your mind, sharp and sarcastic. “Typical Edward,” she’d say. “Always the self-righteous protector.” And maybe, just maybe, she’d be right this time.

Still, his words lingered, heavy and suffocating. You’d been toying with the idea of leaving for some time, and this moment pushed you over the edge. The choice crystallized in your mind, clear and inescapable. The tension in the room seemed to ripple as you made your decision, and Edward’s head snapped toward you, his expression shifting from anger to alarm. He’d heard your thoughts.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head, his voice low but urgent. “You don’t have to do this. Don’t go.”

But it was too late. You had already turned away, the decision a quiet roar in your mind. Each step felt heavy yet purposeful, the weight of the moment grounding you even as your heart ached. Behind you, Edward’s voice faltered, and for the first time, you heard it break.

“Please,” he whispered, almost inaudible, the single word laced with desperation.

You paused for the briefest of moments, your hand resting on the doorframe. You could feel the family’s eyes on you, the unspoken pleas mingling with Edward’s. But the choice had already been made. With a steady breath, you stepped forward, the door closing softly behind you.

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your absence settling over the room like a heavy fog. Emmett stood frozen, his protective stance faltering as he processed your departure. Rosalie’s voice echoed in your mind, sharp and sarcastic: “Typical Edward. Always the self-righteous protector.” This time, though, her words felt like a hollow comfort. Whatever came next, you knew one thing for certain: there was no turning back.

As you wandered through the sunlit streets of Athens, a profound sense of connection settled over you, as though the city’s ancient soul was reaching out to yours. Each step you took on the sun-warmed stone felt like a conversation with history, the whispers of a thousand forgotten voices echoing in the air. The fragrant aroma of fresh basil and thyme mingled with the faint saltiness of the Aegean breeze, grounding you in the present even as the past seemed to ripple through every corner. Street musicians played melodies that seemed to straddle the line between joy and sorrow, their music weaving effortlessly into the bustling life of the city.

Athens had become more than a refuge, it was a sanctuary, a place where you were learning to piece yourself back together. Edward’s departure had left you fractured, but here, among the winding alleys adorned with cascading bougainvillea, you felt the faint flickers of resilience take root. The city whispered its secrets of survival and renewal, offering you lessons embedded in its very foundations. It was as if the ruins, weathered but enduring, mirrored your own slow journey toward healing.

Still, there was something else, an inexplicable pull, like a thread tethering you to the city itself. At times, it felt like a sharp tug in the center of your chest, coming and going with the cadence of your steps. It wasn’t a burden, but a strange, persistent energy, a call from something within Athens that resonated with a part of you you hadn’t yet come to understand.

Rebuilding your heart had been anything but easy. There were days when the weight of grief felt insurmountable, when the shadows of what once was threatened to pull you under. But you pushed forward, carving out an identity that existed wholly apart from Edward. It was just you, your strengths, your vulnerabilities, your ambitions. And day by day, you found yourself growing stronger, more certain of the person you were becoming. The sunlight seemed brighter now, as though it had been waiting for you to see it again, casting its golden warmth on your newfound independence.

For the first time, you felt an unexpected gratitude for your gift, the ability to alter your features, to manipulate your skin so you could walk among the sunlit streets without fear. It had been a gateway to rediscovery, granting you months of exploring the beauty of the world in daylight. Greece, with its rich cultures and vibrant landscapes, had wrapped you in its embrace. Every conversation with locals, every taste of the country’s food, every moment spent immersed in the rhythm of its life added to the mosaic of who you were becoming.

Now, as you stood atop a hillside overlooking Athens, the city unfolded before you, bathed in the fiery hues of a setting sun. The Acropolis glowed like a beacon, its golden light a reminder of resilience and endurance. The chatter of voices and the distant laughter of strangers wove into the air, a symphony of life continuing to move forward. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as a sense of clarity washed over you, filling every corner of your being.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt… whole. Whole enough to envision a future untainted by bitterness or fear. Whole enough to let the past remain in its place, as a lesson rather than a weight. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city into soft twilight, you opened your eyes, ready to embrace whatever lay ahead.

You were ready. The certainty settled over you like the calming weight of a long-forgotten melody. Ready to return to the Cullens, to confront the tangled web of emotions that bound you to them. You would try one last time to find your place within their family, a place where your presence wasn’t overshadowed by misunderstandings or silent tensions. If it didn’t work out? You could accept that, too. Life had shown you that paths diverged, and sometimes, forging a new one was the only way forward.

The idea of leaving wasn’t one of defeat but of choice. You had options now, ones that didn’t feel like a compromise. Maybe Rosalie and Emmett would join you, and together you could create something entirely your own, a coven built on shared dreams and chosen bonds. The thought wasn’t laced with bitterness but with possibility, the kind of freedom that came with knowing you could finally decide what your life would be.

As the sun dipped lower, its light casting the sky in gentle hues of lavender and gold, you allowed yourself a rare moment of stillness. The air was cool and comforting against your skin, carrying the faint hum of the city below. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you were truly at peace. The weight you’d carried for so long had lifted, replaced by the quiet hum of anticipation for whatever was to come.

Then, the shrill ring of your phone shattered the tranquility, the sound a discordant intrusion against the serene backdrop of the evening. Fishing it out of your pocket, you glanced at the screen, and a wry smirk tugged at your lips. How poetic, you thought. Thousands of miles from home, basking in a moment of clarity and newfound strength, only to be interrupted by the one person who had once left you in ruins.

Edward.

For a moment, you considered letting it ring out. But something, perhaps the raw edge of fate tugging at your chest, made you answer.

“Hello?” Your voice was steady, though your heart beat harder in your chest.

There was silence on the other end, heavy and trembling, before Edward spoke. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice low and fractured.

“What are you talking about?” you asked sharply, the sudden weight of his words clawing at your chest.

“Bella,” he whispered. “She’s… she’s dead.”

The world seemed to tilt, and you had to grip the edge of the table to steady yourself. “What do you mean, dead? What happened?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” he said, his words brittle and rushed. “I just needed to tell you, I’m going to the Volturi. It ends tonight.”

The breath left your lungs in a sharp exhale. “The Volturi?” you repeated, the name like ice on your tongue. “Edward, no. Don’t, ”

“There’s nothing left,” he interrupted, his voice breaking. “I’ve already failed her. I can’t, ”

“Stop,” you said firmly, your tone cutting through his spiral. “You don’t get to make this decision for the rest of us. For me. You’re giving up, Edward, and you’re not thinking about what that’ll do to us. To your family.”

“I have thought about it,” he said, softer now. “And I know… I know how much I’ve failed you, too. I treated you like you didn’t matter. Like your pain didn’t matter.” His voice cracked, and he exhaled shakily. “I should’ve treated you better. I should’ve loved you better.”

Your throat tightened, his words reaching places you had long thought numb. “Edward…”

“I don’t deserve forgiveness,” he murmured, cutting you off. “But I’m sorry, for everything. For leaving you behind. For blaming you for things that were never your fault. You deserved so much more than what I gave you.”

The weight of his apology settled over you like a stone, both unexpected and crushing. “Edward, if you’re sorry, then prove it. Stay alive. Don’t do this.”

For a moment, there was silence, his hesitation palpable. Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost a breath, he said, “Goodbye.”

“Edward-”

The line went dead, and the silence on the other end rang louder than anything he could’ve said.

You lowered the phone slowly, your hands trembling. The room felt suffocating, and the only thing you knew was that you couldn’t let him do this. Not like this.

To Volterra.

[shybluebirdninja]

FADING BONDS: PART 2

Summary: Two broken souls—Logan, an aging hero, and a young woman overlooked by her own family—find solace in each other’s silent company, forming an unexpected connection that challenges their emotional walls.

Pairing             : UberDriver!Logan x Fem!Reader

Genre              : Angst, Fluff

It’s funny how silence can start to feel like company. You’ve been riding with Logan more often now, enough that you know his truck better than you’d like to admit.

The way the passenger seat squeaks if you shift just a little too much, the faint smell of old cigarettes and something like motor oil, and how the heater barely works, so you’ve taken to bringing a jacket even if the night’s warm.

He’s still as closed off as ever, his gruff demeanor acting like a shield against any real conversation. But there’s something about the way he drives, something about the heavy weight in the air between you, that feels... familiar.

Like the two of you are on the same wavelength. No questions, no forced smiles, no bullshit. It’s a strange, fragile kind of comfort.

One night, after your shift, you climb into his truck. He glances at you, eyes flicking up and down like he’s just making sure you’re still breathing. Not that he’d ever admit he cares.

“Busy night?” you ask, more out of habit than anything else.

“Same shit, different day,” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly. His hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles taut, like maybe if he squeezes hard enough, he can keep the world from crumbling around him. “Kids puking in the back, people yellin’ at me ‘cause I’m ‘too slow.’ You’d think drivin’ was easy for these assholes.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Sounds like a blast.”

“Yeah, real fuckin’ dream,” he grumbles.

And that’s it. That’s all you need to say. There’s a comfort in the way Logan doesn’t push, doesn’t prod. Everyone else—your parents, your sister, hell, even the occasional friend—they always want to know more.

They want updates on your life, your career (or lack of one), your plans for the future. They don’t get it. They don’t understand that sometimes, it’s enough just to exist.

With Logan, there’s no pressure to be something you’re not. No expectations. Just two people, broken in different ways, sharing space without needing to fill it with bullshit.

The drives continue. Night after night. Sometimes you’ll trade a few words, sometimes not. Logan’s grumbles are often the only sound breaking the silence, usually about how “kids these days don’t know shit” or how “people can’t drive for crap.” You’d laugh if it weren’t so damn true.

But every once in a while, he’ll let slip something from his past. It’s always brief, like he’s catching himself before he says too much.

“Used to know a guy,” he mutters one night. “Real pain in the ass... but smart. Smartest guy I ever met. Could’ve done a lot more if the world hadn’t chewed him up and spat him out.”

You don’t ask who. You don’t need to. You’ve heard enough by now to piece together fragments of the puzzle. You know about the loss, the pain, the countless people he’s watched die, one way or another.

There’s a heaviness in his voice that tells you this guy, whoever he was, meant a hell of a lot more to Logan than he’ll ever admit.

The nights bleed together. You start finding reasons to see him more. Sometimes you’ll tell yourself you’re just tired of the bus, or that you’d rather ride with someone who doesn’t force small talk. But deep down, you know it’s more than that.

There’s something about Logan—something that pulls at you, like you’re both just two lost souls floating through the same fucked-up world.

One evening, you catch him parked outside the diner after your shift, though you haven’t called for a ride yet. He’s leaning against his truck, cigarette hanging from his lips, staring off into the distance like he’s a million miles away.

“You waitin’ for someone?” you ask, stepping out onto the curb.

Logan glances at you, doesn’t bother with a smile or any of the niceties people usually fake. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so,” you murmur, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The air’s cool tonight, biting at your skin. “Mind if I bum one of those?” You nod towards the cigarette between his fingers.

He grunts but hands you one, along with a beat-up lighter. “You smoke?”

“Not really.” You light the cigarette anyway, taking a drag and coughing a little as the smoke burns your throat. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Logan chuckles, low and almost imperceptible. “Figured.”

You both stand there in the quiet, leaning against his truck, watching the night stretch out before you like some endless void. The city lights blink in the distance, casting a faint glow over everything.

For a moment, you wonder if this is what life’s supposed to be—just one long stretch of nothingness, broken up by small moments that don’t really mean anything.

“Why do you keep drivin’?” you ask suddenly, breaking the silence.

Logan doesn’t answer right away. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, eyes focused on something far beyond the here and now. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, almost resigned. “Ain’t much else I’m good for these days.”

You don’t know why, but his words hit harder than you expected. You’d always seen him as this untouchable force—someone who’s been through hell and came out the other side, bruised but still standing. To hear him say he’s got nothing left... it stirs something inside you. Something painful.

“Feels like we’re both just tryin’ to survive, huh?” you say quietly, staring at the ground.

Logan glances at you, and for a split second, you swear you see something flicker in his eyes. Something vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

He doesn’t respond, just takes another drag of his cigarette and tosses the butt to the ground, crushing it under his boot.

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “Something like that.” You stand there a little longer, both of you too broken, too tired to say anything else. There’s nothing to be said. Not really.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

How is post-traumatic dealt with on Gallifrey? Is it a detach and move on stiff upper lip society or is it a deal with it in therapy before your emotional instability wrecks your potential situation? Or somewhere in the middle? It just feels very private, and I can’t imagine a support group situation being popular.

How is mental trauma dealt with on Gallifrey?

Quietly and alone until the trauma either resolves or eats you alive.

🧠 Mental Health on Gallifrey

Gallifrey as a society isn't big on emotional vulnerability, so it's not surprising that emotional trauma could be seen as something to be managed, rather than processed. Therapy, as humans might recognise it, isn't a known standard institution on Gallifrey, and even if it were, you'd be hard-pressed to find a Gallifreyan who'd willingly sit in a circle and share their feelings about the Time War.

🏥 Solace Bays

Medical facilities on Gallifrey are known as Solace Bays, which is a name that implies both comfort and control. We don't know of any mental health processes going on in these places, but that doesn't mean they're not there.

🛁 The Quantum of Solace & Zero Rooms

Despite all this, none of this means they don't do anything about their trauma; it just tends to be solitary. For many Gallifreyans, healing—especially emotional healing—appears to be a sensory, immersive, and intensely private experience.

Sensory Tanks, as used in places like the Quantum of Solace, are an accepted form of stress relief for Gallifreyans. Picture a flotation chamber filled with oxygenated, dopamine-laced, protein-enriched liquid that taps into your subconscious and lets you live out vivid, personalised VR experiences. You float, weightless, and your brain is given full control to generate therapeutic dream scenarios.

Other Gallifreyans prefer Zero Rooms, which cut off all external stimuli and allow the mind to reset itself without interference.

Neither of these options involves discussing your feelings. Still, both are extremely effective in regulating mood, repairing psionic strain, and recalibrating the self with just enough sticky tape to get up and go on.

🧘‍♂️ Self-Regulation

When it comes to managing long-term psychological distress, most Gallifreyans probably prefer to self-regulate. This can include conscious neural rerouting (like cognitive behavioural therapy, but internalised), instinctive craving of neurotransmitter-rich foods, low-level emotional anchoring, and support from a bonded TARDIS capable of providing stabilising environmental feedback. Medications may exist, but they're likely rarely used, and human antidepressants are entirely out of the question (see related).

🏫 So…

Gallifrey has the spaces and technologies to support anyone experiencing long-term trauma, but there doesn't seem to be any kind of treatment plan or specialist area for it. Maybe on Gallifrey, you don't so much cry it out as re-align your neural architecture and get back to work.

Related:

💬|♾️😥Do Time Lords deal with depression? If yes, how?: Depression in Time Lords and possible treatments.

🤔|♾️🤪What’s the ‘Dark Design’ in Time Lords?

🤔|♾️✨Do emotions affect regeneration?

Hope that helped! 😃

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