#3 against the torch

[thankssteveditko]

(Amazing Spider-Man #3 - Stan Lee, Steve Ditko)

He just fuckin' slaps him. The disrespect

[vicsep7250]

This might be the lingering P5R vibes with the bonus challenge battles fueled by Infinite Wealth's Ch.12 boss fight...

But man do I want a possible Persona 6 boss fight to just be the Protag with a team of 4+ against the previous three (remake/royal/reload) protags.

I don't even care if it's an actual win for new protag or a "They let you win" win, I just want a cool boss fight.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Can I request Spencer and Nurse!reader? Maybe they meet when he’s wounded/she’s patching him up?

(Yes I’m a nursing student I promise we aren’t all mean girls 😔)

ty for requesting!! ik ur not all mean of course!!<3 —you meet the cutest FBI agent ever and tend his wounds. fem, 1.5k

One of the small pleasures of your job is when the patients are cute. Not many people come through as handsome as this one. You’re professional nonetheless. 

“What am I seeing you for today?” you ask, holding your hands behind your back. 

Your patient, charted as a Dr. Spencer Walter Reid, twenty nine years old, gives you a tentative smile. “Someone hit me really hard.” 

You can see the bruise forming against his temple. “Yes, I’d say so. Did you know the assailant?” 

“No, but it’s handled.” His smile turns to a grimace. “Uh, I get these, like, debilitating migraines, and I feel like I have one coming on.”

“A head injury could trigger that,” you agree, holding your hands out in front of you, little torch in hand. “Can I have a look?” you ask softly. 

When you’ve been a nurse for some time, you start to categorise people into boxes. All kinds of boxes for different things, but Spencer Reid gets a tick for a few things straight away: shy, pretty, and sensitive to touch. He must not get touched much, or he’s had a bad experience with strangers. He did just get hit in the head, you allow, brushing a sweet, mousy curl away from his head and holding it out of the way as you shine a light into each of his eyes. He flinches hard, but his pupils react as expected. 

Whoever hit him managed to break the skin, upon closer infection of the injury. The skin has turned purple at the edges of his cut. It’ll be a big bruise in just a few hours. 

“Spencer, please tell me if I hurt you, honey,” you say, voice still soft. If he’s got a migraine coming, he won’t want your usual overloud distinction. 

“It’s okay. It hurts, but not more or less when you poke it.” 

“You have a laceration, yeah? It’s about three centimetres long, but deep. I can close it with a butterfly stitch, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah, please. Um, about the migraine–”

“Do you want a tramadol, honey? I think you deserve one.” 

“I can’t have narcotics.” 

You pull back and straighten the hair you’d displaced. “That’s okay, it just means you can’t have the strongest stuff. Most people try to avoid them anyhow. How about tylenol, would that be alright? Or do you avoid painkillers in general?” 

“Tylenol is fine as long as it doesn’t have the codeine with it.” 

You give him a gentle nod. “I’ll make sure it’s the right one. You can even see the bottle, if you like. Would you want them before or after the stitch?” He probably knows, but you add, “It’s not a real stitch. But it might feel tender when I’m poking around.” 

“Anything. Whatever you want to do first.” 

His eyes squeeze closed. You give him a frown he can’t see, and rest your hand on his arm. “Is there someone here with you?” you ask him.

“My friend is coming, I think. There was a lot going on.” 

“That’s okay. I’m not sending you home until I’ve fixed you, Dr. Reid.” 

He smiles, even with his eyes closed, but doesn’t say anything more. You wash your hands and find your bandages. A butterfly bandage, a sterile wipe, and a square piece of gauze to cover it cleanly. His eyes are opening again when you return, ushering him gently down the bed so you can sit on his right side near the injury. 

“What do you do for work?” you ask him. 

“I work for the FBI.” 

“You do?” You tear open the sterile wipe and again pull the curls from his forehead. “This might sting. Please tell me if it hurts too much.” 

“It’s not the cut that hurts.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sympathetically. Migraines are a tricky business. If he’s already having one, you probably can’t do much to get rid of it, but that doesn’t mean pain relief won’t help. “I’ll do this as quickly as I can.” 

He’s quiet. You wipe around the laceration with careful, concise movements. The cut looks clean enough when you’re done, and it’s so small you won’t irrigate it. 

“Are you an agent?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Special supervisory with the BAU. The, uh, behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you say, putting the wrapping and the dirtied wipe into your cardboard bowl. “I think I’ve seen it on TV sometimes, you guys can track the serial killers and stuff?” 

“Mostly that, yeah. Uh, sometimes we find trafficking rings or missing kids. Sometimes we manage hostage situations. It depends on the level of the crisis.” 

“So you’re the big gun.” 

“I guess so. I’m not actually good with a gun.” 

“No one has to be good with a gun to change the world.” You pull the butterfly stitch from the packaging and pick at a finicky end. “I hate guns.” 

He sighs. “I do, too.” 

“They make my job hard. It’s not nice, seeing what they can do to people. It’s awful, really. Spencer, I’m so sorry, honey, I’m just gonna put this on here, it might feel uncomfortable as I pull the sides together.” 

“It’s okay.” 

You pull the plastic of the butterfly stitch on both sides, cinching his cut together promptly. It looks better now you can’t see the inside. 

“I’m gonna cover this with the dressing now. You don’t have to keep it on if you don’t want to, it’s a pretty small cut, it was just deep. I’d recommend you try to keep it dry for two days, really, you should keep it covered, but it’s up to you. And if anything happens, if it gets infected, you can always come see me again.” 

You’re mildly flirting, then. Just because he’s nice and shy. It might be a little cruel of you to proposition a man when he’s roughed up, though. 

Spencer, luckily, understands that you’re not trying to harass him. “Thank you.” 

You stand, peeling the plastic from the bandaid and exposing the sticky backing. Slowly, you stroke his hair back from the wound and line the bandaid up. He shivers under your nails. 

“So sorry,” you say, laughing under your breath, “it’s my nails, huh?” 

“It’s okay.” 

“You’re a great patient, Spencer. I’d give you a sticker if I could, I’m not kidding.” 

“You’re a great nurse.” 

“Thank you.” You smooth the edges of the bandaid down for good measure and step away from him to assess him. “How’s that migraine?” 

“Getting worse.” 

“You have them often, you said? Treated or untreated?” 

“Psychosomatic, apparently.” 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Has your doctor talked to you about CBT?” 

“Some. I don’t really… want it,” he says awkwardly. 

“That’s okay. If it’s psychosomatic as they believe, it might get better with time. How’s the stress in your life?”

“Stressful.” 

“It must be hard, the FBI, everything. Life is hard enough. Stopping serial killers must weigh on your heart.” You smile carefully. “Was there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention? Any other injury, anything that needs urgent care?” 

“I was mostly worried I had a concussion.” 

“It doesn’t seem like it. You’re not nauseous, are you?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

He gets this awful, sad look on his face, it really isn’t nice to see. People come in by themselves all the time but it never gets easier to handle. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, taking his arm into your hand. 

“I’m fine.” 

He had the look of someone who’s always fine. Luckily for him, it’s your job to take care of people, to make sure they’re more than fine. “Okay. I’m gonna get you something warm to drink. Do you like donuts?” 

“Uh–”

“I’m getting a feeling about you. Chocolate frosting, I bet.” 

He smiles, startled and pleased at once. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna get those for you. A drink, a donut, and some much needed Tylenol. You can lay down if you like.” 

He nods but doesn’t move. 

As you’re leaving the room, you cross paths with a handsome man with dark skin and a bright smile. Must be something in the air today, you think. 

“Reid, you okay?” you hear him say. 

“Fine.” 

“You’re pink.” 

“What?” 

“You’re blushing. Oh, you had the pretty nurse, didn’t you?” 

“Shut up,” Spencer whispers sharply. 

“You can ask for her number.” 

“No I can’t, she’s working.” 

“But you want to,” his friend surmises. 

You bite down a smile, giving your head a shake as you go. You need to get a move on. Spencer needs a hot drink, a donut, Tylenol, and a pen. It should be okay if you’re both feeling up to it, right?

[torpublishinggroup]

"Interstellar Guide to the Planet Earth" by TJ Klune

By the end of this guide, you will have been given the tools in order to safely and carefully visit Earth. If you should have further questions, please see Glorbak the Destroyer of Worlds, who will be happy to answer any inquiries you may have.

Remember: Exploration is the key to survival!

1.   You meant to travel to the HUMAN LAND OF DEARBORNE MICHIGAN, but because of the bending of space and time, you accidentally ended up in the dark place known as TALLAHASEE FLORIDA. Do not fret! Though Florida is considered an area where dreams go to die (also see THE HUMAN LAND OF TEXAS), there are many wonderful things to discover, such as bugs, humidity, reptiles and HUMANS called JESSICA who chew loudly while running a business called a NAIL SALON. This is used to sharpen the talons of humans, and to paint them different colors. Though not much is known about this tradition, it is thought that it grants powers to the HUMANS who visit this establishment.

2.   Oh no! While exploring the HUMAN LAND OF NORTH YORKSHIRE ENGLAND, you happen to see a GREY disguised as a chimney sweep. As you are well aware, GREYS are an odious species whose entire way of life is built around anal probing. Though we have a treaty with the GREYS, it is important to remember that anal probing does not provide any scientific and/or medical knowledge. Given that the GREYS have the technology to do non-invasive full body scans, it’s unknown why they continue to proceed through the back entrance. If you come across a GREY preparing to do just that, please remind them that it is against RULE 5#$7^45J to proceed with anal probing without the expressed permission of the one being probed. Consent is important no matter what part of the universe you are in!

"Interstellar Guide to the Planet Earth" by TJ Klune

3.   HUMAN HOLES. Though it may seem disgusting to an elevated species, HUMANS evolved to have multiple holes in their bodies. Do not be scared! These are imperative to their survival. We have already discussed one hole (the anus), but did you know that humans have several more? The most diabolical is the hole in the top parts of their bodies, otherwise known as a MOUTH. Inside the MOUTH is a wet piece of muscle surrounded by shards of bone that pierce through the flesh. This is, as far as we can tell, a “feeding hole”, the bones used to break up sustenance, and the muscle inside swirls it around. In addition, there are glands in the MOUTH HOLE that create lubrication. It is unknown if this lubricant is poisonous. If you should see a HUMAN leaking lubricant from its MOUTH HOLE, it is either a) hungry or b) getting ready to attack. One line of thought is that the lubrication allows HUMANS to breathe fire, though no evidence of this has been noted.

4.   Most HUMANS have communication devices they carry around with them at all times. Interestingly, these devices seem to have an unintended consequence: not one of them could survive without it. If, on the off chance, you find yourself surrounded by a mob of HUMANS CARRYING TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS, tell them you are going to take their communication devices away. Most likely, they will crumble and dissolve into LEAKING LUBRICANT FROM THEIR EYE HOLES, begging you not to do what you said. Some have suggested that the HUMAN’S life forces are tethered to these devices, and if they are taken away, there is a chance the HUMANS will turn feral.

5.   And finally, the most important: DO NOT ASK HUMANS WHO THEY VOTED FOR. On Earth, people “choose” their leaders on a special day filled with love and celebration and good feelings. However, the HUMANS elected are oft considered “really bad at their job” and “unable to speak in coherent sentences.” In a fascinating turn of events, the HUMANS appear to be rare creatures who are somewhat advanced, but also continually make terrible decisions just because they’re mad about certain things that have no basis in reality. If you do make the mistake of asking a HUMAN who they voted for, chances are you will be stuck in a conversation that will last as long as the life of a star. The only way to get out of said conversation is to announce you voted for the other leader running in the election. This will most likely incense the speaker to say things like, “DAMN YOU, YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING BUT YOURSELF” before leaving. Congratulations, you survived an encounter!

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Thank you so much for the part 2 of the shapeshifter AU! 🙏 The atmosphere is so singularly spooky and sultry. Keep up the great work!

on it boss!!

70 / 1.6k / part 3 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

...

You wait until the early evening. It's the earliest you can run. Your so-called familiars won't come out while the sky is still bright. Even so, the moon’s faint sliver stands faintly visible against the sky. You pack your things and fetch your traveling cloak. Vital components. Your dagger. Scrying parchment. You've survived on less.

Something catches your eye as you open the door. The setting sun gleams off the little glass vial on your hearth. You grab it. It's the thing Soap left—what he was teasing you about; the "little treat" he brought back. You see now what it is: black henbane. Your heart beats faster. Out of anger or anticipation—you're not sure which wins out. You'll certainly make use of this. But it will be despite your demons. Not because of them.

As you set off to leave, though, you find yourself face-to-face with a different threat altogether: townsfolk with torches and pitchforks.

The mob's torches flicker, casting jagged shadows across their grim faces. Their leader, a broad-shouldered blacksmith with soot-stained hands, steps forward. The pitchfork trembles in his harsh grip. "Off to consort with devils, witch?"

Behind him, a farmer's wife spits at your feet. "My boy hasn't slept since your cursed raven perched on our roof! You sent those monsters to torment us!"

A ripple of agreement surges through the crowd. You catch the glint of silver amulets around their throats—crude charms of rowan berries and iron nails. Your designs.

"I don't want any trouble," you tell them. You already intend to leave this place forever; all you need to do is convince them to let you go in peace. "I swear it. I condemn the demons that plague the village just as you do."

The blacksmith's shout cracks like a whip. "Liar!" He thrusts his pitchfork toward your cottage and the crow feathers littering the threshold. "Found your nest o' nightmares. Bones under the floorboards. Charms written in your hand guidin' those beasts!"

A teenage boy hurls a rock. It grazes your temple with a thump that rings in your skull. "She fed my sister to the black dog! Saw its yellow eyes in her window the night she vanished!"

Then a torch arcs through the dusk. It crashes against your doorframe, tallow and embers cascading onto dry thatch. The farmer's wife screams, "Burn the hellspawn out!"

Other voices roar in agreement. The mob surges forward as one. Their amulets glow faintly as they near your wards, rowan countering rowan.

You slam the door shut, scattering glowing red hay, and bolt for the back door instead. You flee toward the forest. Warm blood slides down your face and trickles into your collar. You crash through the tree line. Brambles tear your cloak. Torchlight dances between birches behind you. They’re gaining.

"Kill her before she calls the beasts!" one voice shrieks.

Another voice, a child’s, cries, “There! By the elder tree!”

Your boot catches on its massive roots. You hit the forest floor hard. Pine needles stick to your bleeding palms as you scramble up—and freeze.

Yellow eyes blink open in the shadows ahead. A wolf.

The blacksmith’s heavy gait clatters to a halt. “Christ preserve us.”

The hound steps into the fading daylight, scars rippling across its muscular flank. Ghost. He bares teeth longer than your fingers.

You back away only for another shadow to fall from the trees above and land next to you soundlessly. The shape is feline—Gaz—but he's no longer the size of a housecat. He's as massive as a tiger. A growl thunders through him. He levels his gaze past you. At the villagers. They don't stand a chance.

You whirl back on the villagers with wild eyes. "Get out of here!" you cry at the mob.

The blacksmith shoves a trembling boy behind him. "Back! Back to the—"

Ghost lunges. Not at the villagers. At you.

His jaws snap inches from your thigh, herding you backward into Gaz's flank. Gaz pins you with one paw on your chest. He keeps his claws sheathed, but the pressure is enough to bruise. His rumbling purr vibrates through your ribs as he licks blood from your temple wound.

"Demons!" A villager hurls a torch. It bounces off Ghost's shoulder. Embers catch in his fur. He doesn't flinch.

Soap's cawing laughter rings from the treetops. He drops down as a raven, shifting mid-fall into human form. He lands in a crouch. "Och, look at these brave lads! Come to play with the big bad devils."

The blacksmith thrusts the pitchfork at him. "Back!"

 Soap catches the shaft and yanks the smith forward. "Careful now. You'll poke someone's—" He drives the smith’s own weapon through his boot, impaling foot to soil. "—eyes out."

Screams erupt. The mob fractures. Some flee. Others stand frozen.

"No, don't hurt them!" you gasp out. You try to push out from under Gaz's paw, but it does you no good. "Leave them alone!"

Gaz's purr deepens into a predatory rumble as he drags his rough tongue up the side of your neck to taste your sweat. His hot breath stirs your hair when he growls, "Too late for mercy, love. Smell the fear on 'em? Ripe as summer fruit."

Soap wrenches the pitchfork free from the smith’s screaming form, flicking gore off the tines. "Aye, let's make it a proper feast! Been ages since we had fresh meat that fought back."

"Enough."

Price's voice cracks through the woods like thunder. He stands under the pines’ shadow as if waiting for the last motes of sunset to vanish before he ventures out.

"You lot should've heeded the warnings. Salt your thresholds. Avoid the woods after dark." His gazes pauses over a young child frozen in fear, no parents in sight. He tuts. "But you meddled. Stole from my witch. Harmed her."

The blacksmith finds his voice. "W-We didn't—"

Price steps forward. His boot crushes the smith’s bloodied foot into the ground. Bones pop. "See, that's the trouble with mortals." He crouches to stare into the terrified villager’s face. "You don’t admit you’re wrong."

"Price, please, just take me instead," you plead. "I'm what you came for, aren't I?"

Price's gaze snaps to you. He rises slowly. The flicker of your burning cottage on the horizon behind you reflects in his eyes and makes them glow. His expression tells you how little choice you have in that particular matter. Where you go, they go.

Then he looks past you. “Gaz."

Gaz’s hand slides up your inner thigh. "Already on it."

"No. Save the foreplay. We've got a village to raze." He grabs the bloodied collar of your cloak and hauls you to your feet. "You'll watch. Then we'll discuss your ungrateful actions." His gaze flicks away. "Ghost. Gaz. Clean up."

You can only watch Ghost and Gaz bound into the screaming mob. Your body feels lighter than the air. Then you remember the weight of the henbane in your cloak pocket. The next moment, it's in your hand. You crush the glass, ignoring the stab of pain. You send it sailing through the air, and it lands right on its mark—the roaring torch discarded in the leaf litter.

The henbane catches and wafts up into the air as smoke. It curls upward in thick, narcotic tendrils. The smell is heady, its effect potent and immediate. Soap snarls as the first plume hits his nostrils. He staggers back and clutches his head. Gaz convulses mid-pounce, collapsing into ferns as his tiger-like form shrinks to housecat size. Ghost whines low in his throat and shakes his massive skull like a dog with water in its ears.

Chaos erupts. Villagers seize the chance to bolt. The blacksmith drags his wailing son toward the tree line.

Price grips your arm hard enough to leave talon marks. His other hand clamps over his nose, veins bulging in his temple. You cough into your sleeve. Your vision swims. Henbane's poison works both ways, after all. It’s powerful for those who know how to use it for their own ends. Black henbane is what you used to summon your familiars and what bound them to you. But its hallucinatory effects are more pronounced on those who have surrendered the greater part of their souls to magic—or for those whose bodies are already flush with it. Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap don’t stand a chance. Even your soul is so considerably marked by witchcraft that you quickly fold to its effects. But you, at least, can twist it and warp it to weave a spell that might protect you.

Cloaked in smoke, you transform.

The shift hits you like a lightning strike—bones crackling, muscles twisting, vision narrowing into a something wide and preylike. The forest tilts, and suddenly Price's grip is gone. He holds your sleeve, but not you. You slip away, tumble through your limp clothes, and hit the forest floor on four paws. The world sharpens into smells of damp moss and wolf musk. Your rabbit heart hammers against ribs as thin as wishbones.

You dart left--straight into Gaz's waiting claws. The tomcat pins you with a paw, purring as his claws prick your scruff. Then he sneezes, henbane pollen glinting in his whiskers. You writhe free.

You race deeper into the forest with the wind at your back. The woods close in, but thorns no longer claw your clothes; roots no longer trip you. You are no longer an intruder. The forest itself turns toward you, opens to you. Thorns tug pleasurably against your fur as you bound past. Old magic stirs beneath your rabbit feet.

"Clever girl. Find her." Price's voice slithers through the trees far behind you, syllables slurred but venom intact. "And keep her whole enough to scream."

...

← part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 ➡

more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

[hereforuconnwbb]

Foul Play - Chapter 1

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 4.2k

warning: language

hey guyssss heres a new series im starting (unless it's ass and i wanna delete it and not do it anymore)😭 yes ik i havent finished 'the study of us' yet but i will do it eventually !! but anyways this is series is basically js paige transferring to uconn from sc for her fifth year eligibility and azzi is apart of the uconn women's soccer team. nth really special in this first chapter but this is gonna be an enemies to friends to lovers series !! anyways i hope its good enough otherwise imma js delete it BSHASHAHSBA anywayssss hope u guys enjoy !! 🫶🏽

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

“BREAKING: NCAA CHAMPION PAIGE BUECKERS TRANSFERS TO UCONN FOR 5TH YEAR”

The words flashed across every tv screen in the uconn athletics facility, bold and glowing like someone had set fire to the sports world. On social media, the reactions ranged from stunned emojis to full-on chaos in the comments. Everyone had something to say. ESPN reposted it within seconds. Bleacher report added an edit with Paige’s highlights from South Carolina which had a halfcourt buzzer-beater, a no-look assist, a chase-down block. Comments flooded in. “uconn is stacked now.” “why didn’t she just go pro ?” “this is insane.” “huskies r winning it all this szn.”

Azzi ? She barely glanced at the screen.

Her cleats scuffed against the turf as she paced toward the goal during a water break, twisting her hair into a tighter bun. The girls around her, though ? You’d think God had just descended onto campus.

“Bro. Paige Bueckers. Here. At our school. That’s fucking wild,” said sophomore winger Angel. She was leaned up against the goalpost, grinning at her phone.

“Deadass. Like… she’s literally the face of women’s basketball,” Destiny added, eyes wide, her thumb hovering over her screen like she couldn’t believe what she was reading. “I thought she was gonna go pro for sure.”

Across the field, a group of freshmen huddled in a noisy pack near the bleachers. They were loud, obnoxious, and painfully obvious.

“Oh my god, she’s so hot. Have you seen her arms ?” one of them squealed.

“Wait, wait—look at this video,” chimed in another. “She dropped thirty on lsu last year with a sprained ankle. That’s like… fucking mythical.”

“Her eyes are literally blue like ice water,” said another.

Azzi rolled her eyes as she jogged toward the group, water bottle in hand. She caught Caroline and Kaitlyn stretching near midfield, overhearing everything too. Caroline looked like she was already over it. Kaitlyn had that smirk which was half amused, half irritated.

“You guys gonna start foaming at the mouth or what ?” Azzi called out, mostly to mess with them.

“Can you blame them ?” Kaitlyn shot back, straightening up and brushing turf pellets from her knee. “It’s Paige fucking Bueckers.”

“Who ?” Azzi asked flatly, wiping her face with her forearm.

Caroline let out a dramatic gasp. “Don’t embarrass us like that. You really don’t know who that is ?”

“Should I ?” Azzi asked, deadpan. She wasn’t trying to be sarcastic, it just wasn’t her world. She only watched basketball when Marcus played. And even then, she barely paid attention unless he was on the court and made a 3 or yelled her name from the bench.

Caroline gasped. “Dude, she won 2 nattys with SC. She torched every team in the bracket. People call her the next DT. She’s been in Nike campaigns. She was literally on the fucking cover of slam.”

“She’s a walking highlight reel,” Kaitlyn added. “Smart, unbothered, stone-cold on the court. And lowkey ? Too good for this school.”

Azzi squinted up at the clouds. “So why’d she transfer ?”

“No one knows,” Caroline said with a shrug. “Rumours are she had beef with the South Carolina staff, which I’m pretty sure they cleared that rumour. Some people say it’s about the w draft timing. Or nil stuff.”

“Whatever it is, we just got a legend,” Kaitlyn said, then leaned closer. “And we finally have someone on campus who isn’t Marcus Reed.”

Azzi blinked. “You’re not a Marcus fan now ?”

Caroline scoffed. “Az, you know we love you. But your man’s a walking turnover with a midrange game from hell.”

“He’s got no court vision,” Kaitlyn added with a snort. “If he passes to a teammate, it’s by accident. Even Paige’s high school mixtape looks way better than his best college game.”

Azzi held back a laugh. “You guys are haters.”

“We’re just honest,” Caroline said sweetly, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “And if Marcus knew anything about passing, he’d pass you the ball once in a while.”

Azzi didn’t answer. She wasn’t about to start defending him—not here, not to them. Marcus was complicated. Her boyfriend, sure. But lately, he’d been so far up his own ass about the upcoming season that he barely asked about her own games.

Back across the field, the group of freshmen were still going off.

“I’d let her cross me up and dunk on my soul,” one sighed dramatically.

“Bro ion even think she dunks,” another laughed.

“She could dunk on my heart tho,” 

Azzi shook her head and looked toward the facility across campus, where the basketball players would be later on. Where the blue-eyed transfer apparently was going to be.

“Hope she knows what she’s walking into,” Caroline muttered beside her, watching the frenzy.

Kaitlyn grinned. “She doesn’t. Not yet.”

Azzi smirked. “You guys sound obsessed.”

“We are,” Caroline said simply. “Because Paige Bueckers ? She’s that bitch.”

And just like that, the season had officially changed. No one knew what was really coming.

—---------------------------------------

Azzi was walking back to her dorm, airpods in, shin guards shoved halfway into her backpack, still sweating from drills.

She rounded the path toward the side entrance of her building, swiping sweat off her brow, when she nearly crashed straight into someone dragging a suitcase and a duffel bag up the kerb.

“Shit—watch it,” the girl muttered, stepping back just before their shoulders clipped.

Azzi blinked. “Maybe don’t take up the whole sidewalk.”

The blonde looked up, jaw tense, her eyes a piercing, icy blue and had that unmistakable air of someone who didn’t give a single fuck.

“Didn’t realize I needed a permit to exist here,” the girl said flatly.

Azzi took out one earbud. “You always this friendly, or is it just me ?”

The girl scoffed, not even looking at her as she yanked her suitcase over the edge of the path. “You ran into me. But sure, let’s make it my fault. That tracks.”

Azzi folded her arms, her temper flickering to life. “Ok, relax. It’s not that deep.”

“Right. God forbid I mess up your little jog home.” The girl finally looked her full in the face, and there was nothing kind about her stare. “You done ?”

Azzi raised a brow. “With what ? Existing near your suitcase ?”

“You sound real proud of that attitude for someone who can’t walk in a straight line.”

Azzi blinked, then actually laughed—sharp and humourless. “Ok, what’s your deal ?”

“You tell me,” the blonde fired back. “You act like you own the sidewalk and then pick a fight when someone doesn’t roll over for you.”

Azzi stepped forward. “I didn’t pick anything. You’ve got a whole attitude like you’re too good to be here.”

“I am,” she said, voice cool and even.

Azzi stared. “Geez. You’re dead serious.”

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, taking her in now—tall, loose-limbed, unimpressed. Her hoodie said UConn Women’s Basketball, and something clicked in her brain.

“No way,” she muttered. “Wait—are you Paige ?”

The girl looked at her like it was none of her business. “Depends. Are you someone important ?”

Azzi’s jaw locked. “No. Just someone who lives here. Someone who goes here. Unlike you, apparently.”

“Congrats.” Paige said it like a punchline, shifting her bag over her shoulder. “Now if you’re done measuring your ego, I’ve got shit to do.”

Azzi stepped in front of her, blocking the door. “You know, I don’t care who you are. Transfer, champion, whatever. You’re not the only one who works their ass off here.”

Paige didn’t flinch. “Cute speech. Maybe you should save it for someone who asked.”

The silence was tight, electric.

“You’ve got a hell of a mouth for someone who just got here,” Azzi said.

“And you’ve got a hell of an ego for someone I’ve never heard of,” Paige shot back.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed. “Go to hell.”

Paige brushed past her, barely glancing back. “Already been. uconn’s just the next stop.”

The door slammed behind her with a sharp bang.

Azzi stood there for a second, stunned, jaw clenched. Her heart was still racing. She didn’t even know why. All she knew was 1 thing for sure:

She hated her.

And Paige ? She hadn’t even bothered to ask her name.

—---------------------------------------

Paige let the door slam shut behind her, the echo bouncing off bare dorm walls as she dropped her stuff with a thud. The room smelled like fresh paint and cheap pine cleaner, and everything about it felt unfamiliar, too clean, too quiet. New school, new room, same weight on her shoulders. Fifth year. Whole different battlefield.

She hadn’t even made it inside for 5 minutes before someone knocked.

“Paige ! Open up, it’s me,” came a voice from the other side.

She yanked the door open, still annoyed, and there was Aubrey, grinning like her whole day had just been made.

“Hey,” Aubrey said, practically bouncing. “Word is the women’s soccer team is already foaming at the mouth over you.”

Paige rolled her eyes, stepping aside. “Great. Can’t wait.”

Aubrey tossed her bag onto the chair and laughed. “Nah, I’m serious. Apparently half of them were drooling during practice.”

“Geez bruh,” Paige muttered, walking over to the bed and dropping onto it. “I already had one of them come at me outside just now.”

Aubrey blinked. “Wait, for real ?”

Paige nodded, pushing her hair back, still annoyed. “Yea. She almost ran into me, then acted like it was my fault. Got all up in my face like she was better than me.”

Aubrey’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god. Was she like kinda your height but a lil shorter ? Body is fit ? High bun? Brown eyes ? Tan skin ?”

Paige looked at her like she was psychic. “Sure. I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention to her biography.”

“That was Azzi,” Aubrey said, like it was obvious. “She’s like their golden girl.”

Paige scoffed. “Well their golden girl’s got a stick up her ass.”

Aubrey snorted. “What’d you say to her ?”

Paige leaned back against the wall, smirking despite herself. “Told her I’ve already been to hell. UConn’s just the next stop.”

Aubrey howled. “You’re such a menace.”

“She started it,” Paige said dryly. “Came at me like I owed her rent for walking near the building.”

Aubrey shook her head, still grinning. “God, this school is not ready for you.”

Paige stretched her legs out, her tone cooling again. “I’m not here to be liked. I’m here to win. That’s it.”

“Yea, well… you might end up doing both,” Aubrey said, eyes gleaming. “KK’s been pacing around like it’s christmas morning. Ice nearly jumped out the damn window when she saw your locker.”

Paige let out a short laugh. “At least somebody’s normal.”

Aubrey nodded. “Speaking of not normal—practice today’s a joint one.”

Paige sat up. “With who ?”

“The guys.”

“Fucking hell,” Paige muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “You deadass ?”

“Yea. You good with that ?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Her jaw clenched, then loosened. “Whatever. I’ll survive.”

Aubrey gave her a long look but didn’t push it. Paige appreciated that.

“Anyway,” she said, heading for the door, “next time you run into Azzi, try not to murder each other.”

Paige smirked without humor. “No promises.”

Once she was alone again, Paige leaned back against the mattress, her arms folded behind her head, eyes on the ceiling. She wasn’t here to make friends. She didn’t need them. 

—---------------------------------------

The walk to the basketball facility was quiet, and full of muscle memory Paige hadn’t realized she still carried. Same bounce in her step. Duffel slung low on her shoulder. Same pre-practice tension tingling in her limbs. Only this time, she wasn’t wearing gamecock colours. She was now a Husky. 

The doors to the facility swung open automatically, a blast of cool air hitting her flushed cheeks as she stepped in and that’s when she saw him.

Marcus Reed.

He was walking in from the opposite side lot, headphones around his neck, gym bag slung low, hoodie bunched around his elbows. His jaw tensed the second their eyes locked across the lobby.

Fucking perfect.

Paige didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. Just kept walking. And of course, he slowed his steps, timing it perfectly so they hit the entrance hallway at the exact same moment.

“Wow,” Marcus said, voice dry and low. “Look what the fucking wind dragged in.”

Paige smiled tightly, not stopping. “I could say the same about you.”

Marcus huffed a laugh, stepping sideways to block her path just before the double doors to the gym. “Still acting like you’re better than everybody, huh ?”

“I am better than you,” Paige shot back. “Always have been.”

He scoffed, stepping even closer. “Yea ? Then why you here ? Coulda gone pro. But nah you just had to crawl to uconn for more attention, huh ?”

Paige’s jaw twitched. “You think I give a fuck about your little theories ?”

“I think you’re desperate. Washed up, maybe,” Marcus said, leaning in like he wanted her to flinch. “You ain’t special anymore, Bueckers. You’re old news.”

“Right,” Paige said, biting down a bitter smile. “That why your dumbass still riding the bench half the season ? You’re so busy tryna be Steph, but you shoot like Shaq.”

That wiped the smirk off his face fast.

He stepped in again, voice lower, angrier. “You’ve always had a fucking mouth on you.”

Paige didn’t back down. “And you’ve always had your dick in someone else’s girl.”

His face hardened.

There it was.

Years of buried shit, shoved under their old Hopkins jerseys, under the fake smiles at aau tournaments, under all the “yo, that’s my bro” posts and inside jokes.

All gone the second she found out he was sneaking around with her now ex-girl. Back when they were both still dumb enough to think that kind of betrayal could stay secret forever.

“You still salty over that ?” he said, fake-casual. “That was senior year.”

“You were supposed to be my fucking bestfriend.”

He shrugged. “She wanted me, not you. Don’t be mad at me cause you couldn’t keep her.”

Paige’s fists clenched before she even realized it. Her jaw locked so tight it made her temples throb.

“God, you’re such a fucking fuckwit,” she muttered.

“And you’re still a soft bitch who thinks rings make you untouchable.”

Paige stepped into his space now, just enough to make his smug mask falter. Her voice dropped into something colder, flatter, dead calm.

“If I ever catch you talking shit about me again, I swear to God, I will embarrass you so bad that they’ll take your name off the fucking roster.”

Marcus didn’t move. His jaw ticked. There was a flicker of something under the arrogance, maybe fear, maybe regret, maybe just plain ego getting bruised.

But he didn’t say anything.

Paige pushed past him, shoulder brushing his as she walked through the doors without another word.

Behind her, the air hung thick with everything they didn’t say. The broken trust. The years of silence. The scars that still stung.

Paige pushed through the doors of the locker room, her jaw still tight, fists still flexing like they hadn’t quite come down from the urge to swing.

Aubrey looked up from tying her laces, immediately catching the heat radiating off her. “Yo… wassup witchu ?”

“Nothing,” Paige muttered, voice sharp, heading straight to her locker.

Aubrey narrowed her eyes, standing up. “You sure ? You look like you’re ready to square up.”

Paige tossed her bag down, and started changing without looking up. “I said it’s nothing.”

“Mhm sure,” Aubrey said, dragging it out. “Nothing usually doesn’t make someone look like they’re seconds away from homicide.”

“I’m fine.”

Aubrey didn’t believe her but she knew better than to push when Paige’s voice got that tight. She gave her a small nod, grabbed her water bottle, and let it drop.

Minutes later, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed outside the locker room, followed by Geno’s voice booming through the corridor.

“Let’s go, ladies ! We’ve got a packed schedule and apparently, this is a historic day. So try not to trip over your egos on the way out.”

Laughter rippled through the room and the girls started filing out. Paige took a slow breath and followed, pulling her hoodie over her head, hair slicked back tight, expression tighter.

The men' s team was already warming up on the opposite end of the court. Paige clocked Marcus immediately but he wasn’t looking at her, but she could feel the weight of his ego lingering in the room like smoke.

“Alright, alright !” Geno clapped once and the entire group settled. “Since most of you already know what today is… for the two of you that don’t, it’s the start of the new pre-season, and yes, we’re doing something different this year.”

His eyes scanned the group until they landed on Paige. “This is Paige Bueckers, if any of you have been living under a rock. Two-time national champ, former naismith winner, first team all-american, and the newest addition to our team for her redshirt year. So treat her with respect, or don’t she’ll make you pay for it either way.”

There were a few low whistles, excited chatter from the sidelines. KK let out a whoop, Ice bumped fists with Paige.

Paige nodded once, silent, jaw still ticked tight. Geno continued like nothing was off.

“Today’s session is a combined run-through with the men’s team. Team-building, chemistry, a lil scrimmage. You know the drill. Play hard, play smart, don’t break each other’s ankles. And if I see any dumbass drama, I’m making you run suicides until your lungs give out.”

A few groans echoed, but everyone got into position.

Paige took her spot at the top of the key, dribbling lightly, just warming up. Her eyes flicked toward Marcus once, then back to the ball. Nothing else existed now. Not the tension. Not the history. Just the court.

“Let’s go,” she muttered under her breath, locking in.

—---------------------------------------

Both the teams were now mingled on the court, paired off for a coed scrimmage, jerseys flipped inside out to indicate teams.

Paige barely listened to the instructions. She didn’t need to. She’d run a thousand scrimmages like this, and it was all muscle memory by now. All that mattered was that Marcus was on the other team. And he was guarding her.

Of course he was.

Aubrey caught her eye as they lined up at center court. “You good ?”

“Never better,” Paige muttered, jaw tight.

The ball went up. The scrimmage started.

From the first play, Paige was already locked in. She caught the outlet pass, weaved through the defenders like she was floating, and dropped a clean jumper just inside the arc. Net. No rim.

Marcus smirked like he wasn’t fazed. “Cute. You practicing for open runs or tryna relive your glory days ?”

Paige didn’t answer and just jogged back with a stone-cold expression, already eyeing her next move.

On the next possession, Marcus got the ball at the wing. Paige switched onto him on a screen. His eyes lit up, cocky. He jab-stepped. She didn’t bite. He dribbled right. She mirrored. Tried to cross her but Paige poked the ball loose and snatched it with 1 hand before he could recover. Transition bucket. Layup. Easy.

“Oof,” KK muttered from the sideline, trying not to laugh.

Marcus scowled, jogging back. “You gonna reach all game ?”

Paige shook her head. “Only takes one when you’re that predictable.”

That lit something behind his eyes. On the next possession, he got her again, posting up high, trying to bully his way into the paint. Paige held her ground. He lowered his shoulder, tried to spin but Paige stripped him clean and took off the other way, no hesitation. Fast break. Pull-up 3.

Splash.

“Oh my god,” Ice shouted, hands to her head. “She’s cooking him so bad right now.”

Marcus’s jaw flexed so hard it looked like it might crack. He waved for the inbound, got the ball again, and called for an iso. Paige didn’t even blink.

“You sure you wanna try that again ?” she said, crouching low, eyes locked.

“Fuck around and find out,” Marcus gritted.

He dribbled hard left, crossed right, tried to get her off balance. Paige slid with him step-for-step. He rose for a jumper and Paige got a hand up, clean contest.

Clank.

Rebound.

As the ball swung back around to the offense, Paige caught it at the top again. She dribbled slow this time, baiting him. He was sweating now, jaw clenched.

“Thought I was washed,” she said casually.

Marcus didn’t answer.

She drove left, then stopped on a dime, hitting him with a snatch back that made him stumble a half step. Paige pulled up. Midrange. Money.

“Dayuuuuuummmm,” someone from the guys bench yelled.

The scrimmage didn’t stop. But everyone felt it now. This wasn’t just a practice anymore. This was war.

Next trip down, Marcus didn’t even wait for the offense to set, instead he barreled right into a drive, shoulder down. Paige stepped in to take the contact. Hard. Chest to chest. He knocked her off balance but not down. The whistle blew.

Offensive foul.

“Oh that’s fucken crazy,” Marcus snapped, spinning toward the ref.

“Lowered your shoulder,” Geno called out from the sideline. “Control your body or sit down.”

Paige shook out her arms, already walking it off. “Can’t guard me, can’t score on me. Anything else you wanna fail at today ?”

He turned on her. “You keep running your mouth like that, you’re gonna get humbled real quick.”

Paige’s smile was ice. “You had many years to do that. Still waiting.”

“Still mad over some girl ?”

She didn’t answer that time. Just stared at him like he wasn’t even worth words.

Ball in again. Paige caught it near the wing. This time, she didn’t wait for him to get set. She blew by him off 1 dribble, left him grabbing air, and kissed it off the glass with ease.

Another whistle. Timeout. Teams jogged to the sideline for water.

Marcus stomped past her, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his temples. “You think this proves something ?” he muttered under his breath. “It’s just prac.”

Paige didn’t even look at him. “Exactly. And you’re already getting cooked. Imagine if I actually gave a fuck.”

Aubrey slapped her shoulder as she came off the court. “Yooooo that was filthy.”

KK tossed Paige a towel, grinning. “I thought that boy was gonna cry.”

Paige exhaled, letting herself cool down for the first time in 10 mins. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, jaw finally unclenching.

Marcus was sitting on the opposite sideline now, bent over, elbows on knees, still breathing hard. He didn’t look at her.

Good.

Paige leaned back against the wall, heartbeat still steady. Let them talk. Let them whisper. She hadn’t come to uconn for headlines, for reunions, or for revenge.

But that last part sure felt good.

—---------------------------------------

The whistle blew again sharp, 2 quick blasts that echoed off the walls.

“That’s it !” Geno barked, clapping twice as the last possession wound down. “Good run, good energy, nobody died. I’ll call that a win.”

Groans and laughter spread through the court. SHoes squeaked lazily as the players came down from the intensity, sweat dripping, shoulders sagging. Someone tossed a ball up from half-court, missing the basket entirely and triggering a chorus of boos.

“Hydrate, stretch, and get the hell outta the gym before I remember y’all still owe me suicide drills from last season,” Geno added, already turning toward his clipboard.

The teams began to drift together toward the center circle, slowly exchanging tired fist bumps and high-fives, some still catching their breath. Paige stayed back a moment, tugging at her practice jersey, sweat slicking her temples. Her fingers still tingled with adrenaline. Her shoulders buzzed from the inside out.

She didn’t need to look over to know Marcus had kept his distance for the rest of the scrimmage. After that last blow-by, he stopped calling for her switch. Stopped talking. She’d taken the air out of him, point by point, play by play.

And everyone saw it.

As the group clustered at center court, Paige moved in, giving quiet nods, tossing lazy high-fives to her teammates, a couple of the guys she didn’t know yet. She gave Aubrey a crooked smirk and bumped her knuckles.

Then Marcus stepped forward, hand out, expression unreadable.

Paige’s eyes flicked to him for only half a second which was just long enough to acknowledge he existed then passed him. She didn’t break stride. Didn’t lift her hand. Just walked right by.

His hand hung in the air a second too long before he dropped it with a clenched jaw.

Aubrey caught it. 

She glanced between them, mouth quirking like she wanted to laugh but knew better. She jogged to catch up with Paige, who was already halfway to the exit.

“Damn,” Aubrey said under her breath. “You really hit him with the ghosted high-five ? That’s cold.”

Paige didn’t look over. “Didn’t see him.”

Aubrey let out a low chuckle. “Bro, he was standing right there.”

“Nope,” Paige said, cool and calm. “Must’ve missed him. Just like he missed every shot.”

Aubrey wheezed. “Yo, chill—he might cry in the locker room.”

“Not my problem.”

The locker room was a blur of steamy showers and exhausted chatter. Paige peeled off her soaked jersey, her body humming with that familiar post-game fire. She didn’t say much. Just changed, grabbed her water, and dipped early.

As she stepped outside the facility, she paused, standing on the steps of the facility, eyes drifting toward the horizon as campus started glowing in that golden dusk haze.

She took a breath, rolled her neck out, and cracked a small, private smile.

Welcome to uconn.

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

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Bro I’ve been following you for—I kid you not—years. And I’ve always been more of a lurker, but now that you’re writing for the single greatest hyperfixation I’ve ever had, I just had to come in and request some Epic from one of my favorite drabble blogs lol. Could I kindly request something Poseidon related? Perhaps to the same prompt as your most recent Ares one? 👉🏽👈🏽

A/n: STOOOPP! This is the sweetest thing ever! Of course! I will be happy too.

Poseidon’s Favorite Places He and You His Wife Have Had Sex.

(Or: The God of the Sea and His Eternal Obsession with You)

Poseidon is a god of power, a force of nature itself. But when it comes to you, his wife, his divine equal, his greatest love.

He is insatiable.

The ocean is vast, endless, eternal.

And so is his hunger for you.

1. Beneath the Waves – Where No Mortal Can Breathe, But You Can

The first time Poseidon took you beneath the waves, it had been an act of trust.

You had been standing on the shore, your feet sinking into wet sand, waves curling around your ankles like an invitation.

Poseidon had appeared from the sea itself, rising from the water with effortless grace, his dark hair dripping, his storm-blue eyes burning with something possessive.

He had extended his hand. “Come with me.”

And you had trusted him because why wouldn't you, he was your world.

The water had wrapped around you, pulling you into the depths.

For a moment, there had been nothing but the crushing silence of the deep, the pressure of the ocean folding around you.

But then—you could breathe.

You could see the world of the sea, the glowing coral, the silver fish darting between ruins of lost civilizations.

And then—you felt him.

Poseidon had pinned you against a smooth rock formation, his body pressing into yours, the water swirling around you like a living thing.

“Here,” he had whispered, his lips trailing against your throat. “Where no mortal has ever touched.”

His hands explored every inch of you, slow, reverent, claiming you as the queen of his realm.

And when he finally thrust into you, filling you completely, the ocean itself trembled with his pleasure.

The waves above swelled and crashed violently against the shore, a reflection of the storm between you.

And in that moment—you became more than just his wife.

You became his sea, his tide, his storm.

2. On the Edge of a Storm, Where the Wind and Rain Bow to Him

Poseidon is the god of storms, of the untamed sea, of the power that churns beneath the surface.

And sometimes, when his desire for you is too overwhelming, too fierce, too all-consuming—

The world feels it.

The last time he had pulled you to him in the middle of a storm, you had been standing on the deck of a ship, watching the sky darken, the wind howling through the sails.

Poseidon had appeared from nowhere, materializing with the storm itself, his expression dark, ravenous.

“You tempt me,” he had murmured, pushing you against the mast, the rain soaking through your clothes.

You had shivered—not from cold, but from the heat in his eyes, the way his wet hands slid over your skin, rough and unyielding. Whimpers leaving your lips as lightning had cracked across the sky when he lifted you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding against you until you were gasping his name.

The ship had rocked violently, caught in the force of his passion, the sea itself obeying the god that ruled it.

And when he finally thrust into you, deep and hard, claiming you as his own amidst the chaos—

The ocean had roared with him.

The crew had whispered stories of a goddess among them, of a storm conjured by love and desire.

And Poseidon had only grinned, brushing his lips over your ear, whispering, “Let them fear us.”

⸻

3. In His Temple, Where He Worships You Like a Goddess

Poseidon may be a god.But to him, so are you.

And he proves it every time he lays you down upon the marble altar in his temple, beneath the flickering torches, where the scent of salt and incense fills the air.

He does not rush, does not ravish you in hunger.

No.

Here, he takes his time.

Here, he kneels before you, his hands trailing over your thighs, parting them slowly as if he is preparing to make an offering.

And when his mouth finds you, when his tongue moves with practiced devotion—

You realize that he is the one who worships.

Poseidon, the god who commands the seas, who holds dominion over storms and earthquakes, kneels for you.

He devours you like you are the ocean itself, like he will drown in you, like he would rather die than stop.

And when you finally fall apart beneath him, crying his name, gripping his hair—

Only then does he rise, his eyes dark with reverence, with love, with obsession.

And he takes you slowly, deeply, endlessly—

Because you are not just his queen.You are his everything.

4. On the Shores of His Kingdom, Where the Tide Kisses Your Skin

There is something about the beach at dusk, when the tide is high and the world is quiet.

It is here that Poseidon finds you the most beautiful.

You had been standing in the shallow water, your dress wet, clinging to your curves, your eyes locked onto his with quiet defiance.

“Come to me,” he had commanded.

And you had refused, just to tease him.

So he had come to you instead.

The next thing you knew, you were on your back in the wet sand, Poseidon above you, his body pressing you down as the waves washed over you both.

“You are impossible,” he growled, but there was a grin in his voice, amusement in the way he kissed you—hard, claiming, relentless.

And then he pushed into you, deep and slow, the water swirling around your bodies, the tide rising in rhythm with his movements.

You had cried out, gripping his shoulders, gasping against his lips as he moved with the ocean, each thrust pushing you further into ecstasy.

The sea had witnessed your love, cradled your bodies, carried the sounds of your pleasure into the wind.

And when you finally collapsed against him, spent and breathless, he had only whispered—

“You are mine. And I will never let you go.”

You are his goddess and he will make it so, because no one will be brave enough to take you from him.

Poseidon is a god of many things.

But when it comes to you, his wife, his love, his greatest treasure—

There is only one truth.

He will have you anywhere, everywhere, in the ocean, in storms, in temples, in the sand.

Because you are his, he is yours.

And he will spend eternity proving it.

[thediazes]

from the wings

for @nymika-arts <3

Buck tells Maddie that he isn’t in love with Eddie, and she—well, she tries to believe him.

She does. A valiant effort, truly. It’s just that Maddie learned how to read her little brother before he even learned to read the alphabet, and she can tell when he’s not being entirely truthful. To her, or to himself. Like when he was five years old and he’d run inside from the street, bike abandoned on the front lawn, with scraped knees and two holes in his brand new jeans to match, and insist that it wasn’t his fault. “I wasn’t going too fast, Maddie,” he’d say. “My– My bike went over a rock.” Tearful eyes pointed towards the floor. Hands always fidgeting.

Kind of like he’s doing now.

He’s fiddling with the paper napkin his cutlery came rolled in, making tiny rips around the edges. It’s become more and more frayed as their lunch date has progressed, and Buck’s gaze is glued to it as he talks.

“It’s not that I don’t like Ravi,” he says, frowning when he rips a bit too far. “I do. He’s great. I’m just…not used to having to explain what I’m about to do before I do it, y’know?”

Maddie hums. “It’ll take some getting used to.”

“I know,” Buck sighs. “It’s just weird.”

“It’s natural to miss Eddie,” she says. Carefully. Neutrally. “You guys worked side-by-side for a long time.”

“I don’t–” His eyes flick up to meet hers for the first time in five minutes, narrowing—as if they’re playing some kind of game, and he’ll be damned if he’s about to play right into her hand (Maddie’s fairly sure all she did was make a simple comment). “I mean, of course I miss him. He’s my best friend. But it’s not like I’ve never worked with anyone else before.”

“Exactly. You and Ravi will find that wordless communication in no time.”

Eyes back to the napkin. “Right.” Rip. “Anyway, how are you? Still feeling…cooped-up?

Maddie sighs. “Yeah, but…not as bad. I’ve been going on walks. Plus, now that Jee’s home for the break, she’s keeping me busy.”

He grins. “That’s what I like to hear.”

It’s then that his phone, face down on the table, chimes with a notification. When he picks it up, his smile grows impossibly wider, in an involuntary, reflexive sort of way that almost makes Maddie feel like an intruder for looking. “Who is it?” she prompts, and Buck quickly schools his face when he looks at her, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“It’s, uh– It’s Eddie.” He flips the phone around to show her, and on it is a picture of Christopher, in front of him a chess board with far fewer black pieces on it than white. “Chris is teaching him how to play, and he keeps losing. Badly.”

Maddie laughs. “Sounds like he needs a better teacher.”

“Eh, Eddie was pretty hopeless to begin with.”

He glances back down at his phone, eyes twinkling as he types out a response, and Maddie can’t help but think that her stubbornly resistant little brother is the hopeless one—navigating his new reality with his eyes closed; carrying a torch behind his back for a man who now lives eight hundred miles away.

She sighs.

Buck puts his phone down and changes the subject.

* * *

He picks up on the fifth ring, voice sounding tinny and a bit far away. “Hey, Mads, sorry—you’re on speakerphone. Need my hands free to chop veggies.” She hears the faint sound of a drawer opening and closing as he talks; the clattering of some utensil against the countertop.

“Ooh,” she says, “Whatcha making?”

“Soup,” Buck says brightly, “with chicken, peppers, zucchini—all kinds of stuff. Eddie sent me the recipe.”

Maddie smiles. Chim, sitting next to her, raises his eyebrows and smiles too. “Oh?” she prompts.

“Yeah–” His knife hits the cutting board, again, again, again. Chop-chop-chop. “–he found it in a drawer at his abuela’s house. One of her secret recipes, apparently. He thought I’d like to try it.”

“Her secret recipe,” Maddie repeats.

“Yep.”

“And he just…sent it to you?”

“Yeah?” And then, like he’s just realized what she’s getting at— “it’s not like she minds. She’s given me all kinds of recipes.”

“Right,” Maddie says. She glances to the side at Chimney, and her husband is just sitting there, grinning into his palm and shaking his head in a sort of resigned bewilderment. Tell me about it, his eyes say, as if this kind of familial domesticity has played out in front of him a million times over—because it honestly, probably, has. “I didn’t even know you liked soup,” she continues. Plenty of memories of her brother turning his nose up at it through the years.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying new things–” CHOP. “–in my brand new kitchen.”

Chimney snorts. “Right. Brand new,” he chimes in. “Having trouble finding anything?”

In the split second pause on the other end of the line, Maddie can tell Buck is rolling his eyes. “I’m glaring at you, Chim,” he says. “You can’t see me, but I’m glaring at you.”

Her husband just grins.

“Anyway, what’s up? Did you guys need something?”

“Yes, my wonderful brother-in-law who I have never made fun of, ever in my life—” Chim starts. Maddie’s sure Buck is rolling his eyes again. “Wanna spend tomorrow night with your adorable niece?”

Buck sighs, but he’s smiling. She can hear it. “You know I can never say no to that.”

“Great!” Maddie says. “I’ll drop her off at six. Let us know how that soup turns out.”

“I’ll send pictures. Eddie made me promise to take some so he could show his abuela.”

Chimney shakes his head, grinning. “Of course he did.”

“Goodbye.”

* * *

The firehouse is quiet when Maddie walks through the doors. She’d expected it to be a bit more hectic, really, given the time of morning, but things just seem settled. Comfortable. Yet to be disturbed by LA’s 8am traffic rush.

She hears the people she’s looking for before she sees them, their murmured chatter drifting down from the loft, and as she reaches the top of the stairs, she finds them gathered around the kitchen island, all clutching cups of coffee. She can’t help but smile at the tired, droopy expressions on each of their faces. Clearly the caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet.

“Hi,” she calls out, stepping into the space, greeted by turning heads and a few bleary-eyed smiles in return. Her husband’s face brightens immediately—before he’s even noticed the big pink box in her hands. “Thought you guys might be in need of some fuel this morning.”

Chim rises from his seat for a quick kiss on the lips. “Just what the doctor ordered,” he says with a grin, taking the collection of pastries from her hands and setting it down on the counter.

“You’re too good to us, Maddie,” Hen says.

Bobby smiles. “Thank you so much, Maddie. You didn’t have to do this.”

She waves him off. “Believe me, I’m going stir-crazy in the house all on my own. This was just an excuse to get out and do something.”

They all chuckle, and Chimney raises the lid on the box for everyone to take their pick.

Well—almost everyone.

“Where’s Buck?”

Hen makes a noise in response. Swallows a mouthful of croissant, and answers, “Downstairs. Eddie called.”

And when she glances over the balcony towards the floor, she sees him—tucked against one of the trucks in the far corner with his phone in one hand, pressed to his ear, and gesturing wildly with the other, despite the fact that his recipient can’t see him.

What strikes her, though, is his smile. God, it’s blinding. Grinning from ear to ear like he’s won the damn lottery, just because he gets to hear his best friend’s voice on the other end of the line. Radiant, comfortable; so soft around the edges that Maddie worries some part of him will spill over onto the concrete floor—all from a conversation that, if she's overhearing it correctly, seems to be about Christopher’s room-cleaning habits. And when he laughs, it’s a sound so genuine that she gets the sudden urge to jump into her car, drive to El Paso, and bring the Diazes back to Los Angeles herself.

Maddie’s much more used to the restless, ever-anxious version of her little brother. She doesn’t often see him looking so comfortable in his own skin. She finds herself wishing there was something, anything she could do to keep him there.

Some part of that train of thought must show on her face, because when she glances back, Bobby catches her eye and smiles, softly. A little sadly. Like he wishes he had the power to do the same.

Maddie just shakes her head and grabs a croissant from the box. Tries not to notice how familiar Buck seems to be with the tendency his best friend’s son has to leave too many glasses of water on his bedside table.

* * *

Maddie lets herself into Buck’s house three weeks later and is met with an empty living room. It’s impeccably clean; carefully organized. Furniture she recognizes from his loft placed at perfectly opposing angles—a vase of fake flowers placed right in the centre of the coffee table. The late afternoon sun streams in through the front window, but it doesn’t seem to quite reach the edges of the room.

She toes off her shoes in the entryway and heads down the hall in search of her brother. Nowhere to be found in the kitchen (a noticeably bigger space without the table that once inhabited it), but instead, found leaning in the doorway of the empty second bedroom, as if he’d been standing there staring at it for god knows how long before she got here.

There’s nothing in the room. Nothing really to look at, other than the small window on the opposite wall with the curtains drawn.

“What do you think you’re gonna do with it?” she asks, now at his elbow, and he doesn’t startle. So he heard her come in after all.

“I dunno,” he says. “Might just leave it like this.”

“Empty?”

Buck shrugs, plastering on a smile. “Don’t know what else I’d do with it. It’s not like I need an office.” He huffs out a breath, like he can’t quite commit to a real laugh, and Maddie just looks at him—really looks, at the tightness in his shoulders; the way that smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and the bags that seem to live beneath them instead. For a split second, she wants to haul him out of here and back to her house where he can sleep until his world is right side up again.

Instead, she suggests, “You could make it into a guest bedroom.”

Buck wrinkles his nose. Takes a breath and cracks another smile, but his energy for excuses seems to run out before the words have even left his mouth, and he deflates. “I don’t think I want anyone else sleeping in here.”

It’s the first bit of true honesty that she’s gotten from him in weeks, but it doesn’t exactly make her feel better.

“I just…I didn’t think it would be this–” He chews the inside of his cheek, looking down at his hands, and Maddie expects him to say weird, but instead, he says, “hard. Living here. Without them.”

Maddie sighs, wrapping her arms around one of his. “I know. But you know, filling the space might make it feel a bit smaller.”

Buck nods, still staring at the lone window. “Yeah. But I— I think I’ll leave it like this. For now.”

And Maddie contemplates shaking some sense into him; going on a shopping spree at IKEA and forcing this place into something a little less haunting herself. But they’d still be standing here, in Eddie’s house, cooking dinner in Eddie’s kitchen, eating it in Eddie’s dining room. Buck will still go to sleep in Eddie’s bedroom tonight—and she decides that rebuilding his own life is something Buck will have to take on himself.

So she simply says, “Okay,” and lets Buck pull the bedroom door shut. Allows him to move into the living room, and change the subject to whether they should have chicken or pasta for dinner.

* * *

Maddie pulls into her own driveway three days later and finds her brother on the front stoop—shoulders hunched, eyes glued to his feet. She slams the car door shut and plants herself in front of him, waiting for his eyes to meet hers.

“You okay?” she asks, when they finally do.

He looks at her, face open and honest and pleading for answers—an expression she’s seen countless times, since before he knew how to tie his shoes—and says, “I think I’m an idiot.”

And Maddie knows, immediately, what he means, because she’s been watching him inch towards realization since he came to her the first time, mixed up and messy and appalled at the mere thought of the truth.

“Yeah, I think you have been, a little. But you know, it’s never too late to be honest.”

Buck laughs; dry, humourless. “He lives halfway across the country, Mads.”

“I don’t mean with him,” she stresses. “I mean with yourself.”

Buck swallows. “Right. I’m not sure that’ll make me feel any better.”

“Maybe not,” Maddie says, lowering herself down to sit next to him on the concrete stoop, “but it’s probably better than pretending it’s not there.”

He sighs, and she smiles, laying her head gently on his shoulder. He’s quiet, contemplative for a moment, before he settles on, “Probably.”

Maddie just takes his hand and squeezes.

* * *

Buck is wearing a sweater that Maddie has never seen before. Knitted, dark blue yarn, a little tight around the shoulders. It pulls up above his wrist when he moves his arm, reaching forward to gesture at Chimney across the dinner table in the midst of a heated debate that Maddie has purposefully not been paying much attention to.

“The second one was way better!” Buck is insisting, while Chim gapes at him, appalled.

“I’m sorry, you’re telling me Top Gun: Maverick is better than the original?”

“Yes! The stunts were so much cooler.”

“It was never about the stunts, Buck–”

Their attention is drawn from the (clearly earth-shattering) dilemma at hand when a pair of headlights sweeps over the dimly-lit room through the front windows—a car pulling into the driveway. Maddie frowns.

“Are you expecting someone else?” she asks, and Buck shakes his head, brows knitted.

“Uh– no. No, just you guys,” he says. He stands, then, moving away from the table—still littered with dishes from their dinner and dessert—and into the dark living room to get a look at their mystery guest. When he reaches the window, his whole body freezes, like some frigid ocean wave has just crashed over him, swallowing the room and its perfectly placed contents whole.

“Buck?” Maddie prompts, though she has a feeling, as she watches his wide eyes track whatever scene is unfolding on his driveway, that she knows exactly who it is. That someone has just come home.

In lieu of an answer, Buck rushes to the door, throwing it open, and behind it is—Christopher. A bit taller than when she last saw him; his hair a bit shorter, but still, unmistakably, Christopher Diaz. Even simply from how Buck’s face lights up in a way that Maddie hasn’t seen since he left.

“Hey, Buck,” he says, grinning. Then, a beat later, “Is that my Dad’s sweater?”

And Buck just laughs, smiling ear-to-ear, and lets out a breath that Maddie suspects he’s been holding in for months.

* * *

Three weeks later, the house is warm. Comfortable. The air smells like home-cooked food and the scent of whatever candle Buck had lit when the sun went down and the overhead lights felt too intrusive. Scattered all over the coffee table are plates holding the remnants of the cake that had, before it was sliced into, read: ‘Welcome back pardners, yeehaw!’, along with half-finished glasses of water and wine.

By far the most eye-catching thing in the room, though—at least to Maddie—is her brother. Radiantly happy, shining like a disco ball as he laughs at something Hen just said, leaning back in the chair that he’s tucked in close next to Eddie’s. He looks…settled, finally. Even as he keeps sneaking glances at his best friend like he can’t quite believe he’s actually here.

It’s a relief, to see him like this, Maddie can admit. To be reminded—after months of confusion, denial, indecision—that sometimes, her brother is simply content. Loved, and aware that he is loved. That his life isn’t simply a timeline of difficult moments with a few smiles thrown in in between.

She smiles. Tries to commit the image to memory.

At some point, after getting caught up in conversation with Athena about the latest novel she’s been reading (something about beach houses and family scandals), she looks back to find that people have scattered—her husband at the dining table, sneaking another slice of cake to their daughter; Christopher, Denny, and Mara huddled over a Nintendo Switch in the corner; Bobby and Hen laughing about something over by the window.

Buck, nowhere to be found.

She excuses herself, following to where she expects him to be—likely already trying to load dishes into the dishwasher despite the fact that the party is only half-over—but pauses in the doorway when she hears his voice already in conversation with someone else.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Eddie says, quietly. Fondly.

“All what?”

“This. The party, the cake. I was only gone for a couple of months, you know.”

“Well, I can’t take credit for the cake. That was all Hen,” Buck says. “But…we missed you.” Then, more earnestly, “I missed you.”

Eddie hums. Pauses, then says, “I missed you too.”

They fall quiet, and Maddie is about to step into the room to make herself known—the guilt of eavesdropping creeping in—but when she puts one foot forward, she catches a glimpse around the corner; the two of them wrapped up in each other, Eddie leaning in to press a kiss to Buck’s lips. Easily, like he’s done it before.

“I love you,” he says. Soft. Meant only for Buck.

Buck grins—that same blinding, lottery-winning smile Maddie caught him wearing weeks ago—and says, simply, “I love you too.”

And as Maddie backs out of the room, finding a seat at the dining table beside her husband and daughter, she can tell she’s grinning too. If only because of the way Chimney looks at her, eyebrows raised, and asks, “What? Something funny?”

She shakes her head. “No,” she says, “Just glad everyone is back where they belong.”

[softspiderling]

picture of you in an invisible locket | j.v

summary:

“It is not my father who is against the match.”

“What?”

Jacaerys’ eyes widened in surprise at the implication, and you sighed quietly. You weren’t planning on telling him, knowing it would hurt his feelings greatly, but did you have any other choice?

“You say you have a deep affection for me, and then say that you’re against a match,” Jacaerys said, his brows knitted in confusion.

OR; loving jacaerys velayron means more than loving just him, something that you are painfully aware of

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: none :)

word count: 2,5k

author's note: my first jacaerys fic! ngl it was super hard to jump from obx to hotd bc i wanted my writing to feel authentic to the fandom/show??? yeah obx and hotd could NOT be any more different tbf. i have a bunch of ideas for jace but if you want you can send me some requests! also tagging @zyafics and @sunderlust bc they've been encouraging me to write for jace ily guys. happy reading and pls leave some feedback/comments/nice words!!! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The light of the torches were flickering as you walked down the hallway, your shoes clicking against the marble stones that lined the ground. It was nearly midnight and a lady of your rank shouldn’t be awake at this hour, much less out of her chambers by herself, roaming the halls.

But you were hungry.

You hadn’t had much to eat during dinner, trying to avoid him as much as possible, which is getting increasingly more difficult. Usually, he wasn’t so persistent, opting to stay close to your father during dinner, exchanging information about their culture, or drinking with your brother. Tonight, however, it seemed like he was on quest to find you whenever you were standing idly by, asking for a dance. And of course, you couldn’t decline for no reason, as it would appear rude or even slight, so you busied yourself with other - much less distracting - dance partners. By the time he was approached by one of your guards, inquiring about his training, and you saw your chance to sit down and eat in peace, the table had been cleared for the last course. While you did love cake, your hunger couldn’t be stilled by a mere dessert and you spent the remainder of the night famished, longing for some hearty food.

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled of hunger again, and you picked up the skirt of your night dress, hastening along to the kitchen. When you finally reached the stair case that led down to the kitchens, you hurried down the steps, letting yourself into the kitchen, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind you.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and you headed to the pantry, searching for bread and butter and if you were lucky, some smoked ham. You were so focused on your search, you didn’t even notice another presence lingering in the doorway of the pantry.

You heart nearly stopped when you finally did see him, your gasp echoing in the empty kitchen.

“Prince Jacaerys!”

The crown prince of the Seven Realms was standing in front of you, arms behind his back and brows raised. You forced your heartbeat so calm down, hand still clutching your chest.

“You gave me a fright,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

“I have been waiting for your arrival. You took quite some time, I was certain you would be here an hour past.”

Your eyes narrowed in slits, growing wary at his words. “And how did you know that I would come to the kitchens at this hour? I do not make it a habit to skulk around the keep at night.”

Jacaerys chuckled dryly, his beautiful dark curls bouncing as he shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“Given how you occupied the dance floor with various dance partners earlier, I did not see you sit down for supper once. You were certain to still your hunger somewhere.”

So he did notice.

You acted nonchalant, turning away from him eyes searching shelves in the pantry.

“Searching for this?”

Jacaerys brought a loaf of bread from behind his back, wrapped in a cloth. Your eyes gleamed, taking a step forward to reach for it, nearly bumping into him as he took a step forward as well, breaching into your personal space. Your heart stopped, feeling his hot breath fanning on your cheeks and the prince’s lips tugged into a grin.

“Ah ah,” he tutted, moving the bread out of your reach. “You do not expect me to give this away without a price now, do you my lady?”

You took a moment’s pause, considering his words with caution.

“… What sort of price do you speak of?”

“How about…” Jacaerys begun. “A kiss?”

With a small breath, you faltered, looking up at him through your lashes, your shoulders slumping.

“Jace.”

“Ah, now we are back to Jace?”

Snatching the small piece of ham and the butter that sat in a small marble bell from the shelves, you walk back into the kitchen, knowing Jacaerys would follow you. Making a stop at the counter, you spread your findings on it, waiting until Jacaerys stopped next you, loaf of bread still in his hand.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“I have not.”

“You danced with every single man at your brother’s name day celebration except for me,” Jacaerys pointed out. You shrugged with your shoulders, an act you would never do in front of other people, but this was Jace.

“I was merely being a good host.”

“Don’t insult me, my lady. I saw your grimace when Lord Ren twirled you over the dance floor while stepping all over your feet with his barbaric dance moves.”

Seven hells, he got you there. You never were able to keep your real feelings hidden when it came to Lord Ren. He was just too insufferable. Pursing your lips, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were still a lady after all, you had some manners.

“Will you give me the bread when I admit you’re right?”

“I should not,” Jacaerys sniffed. “Because I know I am right, I do not need a confession. I just want to know your reasons.”

With a huff, you snatched the loaf of bread out of his hands, reaching for knife in the wooden block. You cut out several slices, maybe with more force than necessary.

“You know my reasons.”

Jacaery is quiet next to you and you dropped the knife on the counter, wrapping the rest of the loaf up again. You can still feel his gaze on you as you spread the butter on the bread slices, knowing he was waiting for you to elaborate, and after a few more moments, you broke, the knife clattering against the wooden surface.

“Jace, you know I… Have a deep affection for you.”

“As do I for you.”

The two of you both skirted around the big word, not quite bold enough to say it yet.

“I do not wish to give my father the expectation to marry me off to you.”

“I’m the crown prince, surely your father would not have any grievances against a match.”

“It is not my father who is against the match.”

“What?”

Jacaerys’ eyes widened in surprise at the implication, and you sighed quietly. You weren’t planning on telling him, knowing it would hurt his feelings greatly, but did you have any other choice?

“You say you have a deep affection for me, and then say that you’re against a match,” Jacaerys said, his brows knitted in confusion. “I don’t understand. Isn’t a match born out of affection and not duty what you have been wanting?”

“Jace, this is more complicated than me harboring any affections for you-” you started, but your words were cut shot by Jacaerys speaking your name.

“If it’s about leaving home, I promise King’s Landing is not as bad as it seems. And on dragonback, it is only a three day journey. When I first left, I got terribly homesick as well, but-“

“I do not wish to be Queen!” you exploded, falling into Jacaerys’ words and he took a step back at your outburst, surprise flickering over his face. You let out a long, deep, breath, hand clutching at your chest, calming yourself down.

The kitchen is eerily calm, neither of you spoke, the only sound is the fire crackling in the hearth. Your voice is quiet when you finally spoke again.

“I am the youngest child of my father, Jace. His only daughter. My oldest brother is betrothed and to be wed in less than a year’s time, the second oldest is courting his partner to be betrothed. I was not trained to rule, to have any responsibility or to represent my house. You are the crown prince, set to inherit the Iron Throne, to rule over seven kingdoms. Seven, Jace. How exactly do you expect me to fulfill the role of a Queen consort?”

Jacaerys’ mouth was parted, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Which you understood. You have never shared your feelings about his position as heir before, how you resented it a little for it was the only reason you couldn’t let yourself be matched with him.

“I’m not fit to be Queen.”

“I… Didn’t know that you felt this way,” he said, his voice tight. “I can’t shirk my duties.”

“And I am not asking you to,” you assured him. “I just can’t… Be the wife you need.”

“What if-”

“Jacaerys, please.”

Your voice was pleading, knowing discussing this any further was no use. You weren’t fit for a Queen. Jacaerys’ face shut down, and he put his mask up, before nodding, ever the understanding prince, much to your luck. “Of course. Whatever you wish for, my love.”

His love.

“I will see you on the morrow.”

Reaching for your hand, he grasped it gently with his, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, before stepping back, letting go of you. As he departed from the kitchen, you leaned against the counter, your breath shaky. You knew you hurt him, disappointed him, but this was so much bigger than the two of you.

You breathed out deeply, hoping the sorrow would leave, but it didn’t. Reaching for the bread, your appetite had gone, but leaving it would be wasting it, so you bit into your dinner. And as you ate, you couldn’t help but think that the bread tasted like ashes in your mouth.

The next few days, Jacaerys seemed to respect your wishes to keep his distance. You still saw him around the keep, occasionally walking with your father, mostly though you saw him accompanying your brother as they conversed quietly, but intently. You wondered what they were talking about. Whenever you saw him, you noticed that Jacaerys kept his gaze away from took, and you couldn’t help but feel saddened, even though this was what you asked him for in the first place.

You missed his company. Especially at night. Despite the fact that you had never crossed any lines, or did anything improper - spending the dark hours at the library talking, exchanging stories about your childhood, maybe coming very close to a kiss - you were still a maiden. Of course you spending time with him alone was unseemly, and your father would betroth you immediately would he find out. It might be better for you, that Jacaerys kept away.

It was the end of the week when you saw him again. You were sat in the dining hall, at another feast your father had called for. It was the night of the departure of the representatives of House Blackwood, though even if it weren’t, you didn’t doubt that there would still be a feast. Your father didn’t need an occasion celebrate.

Your demeanor was polite, bht curt, hoping that it would deter any lords from asking for a dance, but of course Lord Ren was keen on offering you his hand.

Giving him a polite smile, you let him lead you around the dance floor, already forming some sort of excuse in your head when someone stepped to you, offering you his hand.

It was Jacaerys.

“May I, Lord Ren?”

“Of course, my prince.”

Lord Ren bowed to Jacaerys and you bowed your head out of respect before Jacaery placed a hand on your waist, his other finding your hand. You couldn’t help but feel relief that Jacaerys had freed you from Lord Ren, but you tried to keep your composure.

“I thought we talked about this, Jacaerys,” you muttered out between gritted teeth, as to uphold the image of a happy lady, dancing with her guest.

“We have.”

Jacaerys replied easily, never missing a step as he spoke, despite keeping his eyes on you. Ever the perfect prince.

You turned away, not being able to hold his eyes on you, your stomach churning.

“I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, Jace,” you said quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear you talking to the crown prince in such a familiar way. “I wish things were different- That I was different.”

Jacaerys’ hand tightened on your waist, and he used that to pull you closer.

“I spoke to your father, and he gave his blessing for our betrothal.”

Your eyes widened at his words, as you hadn’t expected them, the shock evident on your face. You had told him about your fears of being Queen consort and he just disregarded them.

“What?”

“I know you’re afraid that you won’t be able to fulfill your duties as Queen, my Queen consort. My mother will teach you, I will be by your side. My mother is set to live a long life and by the time I will inherit the throne, you will be properly trained. And I swear on my life, you will make the best Queen consort the realm will ever see.”

Stunned, you blinked your eyes at him, as if this all was a dream. Never before had you experience someone being so stubborn to prove you of your own worth.

“It hurt me greatly when you told of your reluctance of our match, because I cannot fathom that you see yourself anything less than you are.”

As he spoke, Jacaerys kept his gaze ahead, but he finally he turned to look at you, his eyes softening.

“I will not force you. This is your choice. If you do not wish to marry me, you won’t have to. Just know that I believe in you and what you will be able to do as Queen consort.”

You were trying so hard to find the right words, your feet stopped working for a second and you stumbled, but Jacaerys was quick to tighten his grip around you, keeping you upright.

“I- don’t know what to say,” you admitted.

“Say yes?”

Jacaerys looked down at you, his eyes hopeful and you felt your resolve melt away, especially because it looked he had planned it down to the last detail.

“Yes, okay.”

Jacaerys smiled at you before turning to the side, giving a curt nod and that was all it took for your father thrust his jug into the air, the ale spilling over the rim.

“I am thrilled to announce that Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen of the Seven Realms, has asked my daughter for her hand in marriage… And she has accepted!”

The raucuos cheers that followed after nearly deafened your ears and you hid your face in Jacaerys’ chest - an act of affection you allowed yourself now that the two of you were betrothed.

“This couldn’t wait until we were in closed chambers?” you whispered, pink tinging your cheeks. Jacaerys shook his head, lifting your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles.

“There’s no backing out of it now, my love.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: thoughts?? :)

[kayesfanfics]

Hi there! May I request an Adrian x reader where he's in need of comfort, so he asks (maybe shyly) if he can sit in her lap, even though she's smaller? She holds him gently, soothing him in any way she can?

Thank you for your consideration ❤️

A/N: YESSSS MY BABY BOY NEEDS COMFORT SO BADLY AND THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT<3

You and Adrian had been spending days on end cleaning up the castle, disposing of bodies after the battle and mopping up the blood, mending torn drapery and broken artifacts. The work was tiring, both physically and emotionally for Adrian. Having to go through his destroyed childhood home where he had killed his own father hurt him like nothing before, feeling the melancholic feeling of nostalgia waving over him as he wandered the halls of his childhood home, avoiding his old bedroom like the plague. You didn’t clean that room up yet, not wanting to overstep any boundaries before Adrian was ready. He was very quiet and solemn, as expected from someone going through his situation, but you made sure he wasn’t alone for it. You made sure he ate, would hold him as the both of you slept, would offer him a shoulder to cry on when he needed it.

On a day like the past few weeks, you were at the table sorting through dried herbs in the kitchen while Adrian was working elsewhere in the castle. It was so empty and silent and dreary in the castle, even being alone for a little bit made you feel uneasy, knowing it once housed a loving family. In the dreaded silence, you heard Adrian’s shows against the floor from the doorway behind you, and saw his shadow loom from the torches in the hallway.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” You asked without turning around, hearing his footstep get closer to you before a pair of thin, pale arms wrapped around your shoulders and a chin rested on your head.

“I’m not sure. My mind is just wandering right now.” He replied with little emotion, compelling you to set down everything you were sorting and turn to face him. His beautiful face was solemn and stern, his eyes puffy as if he had been crying, and his sweet lips in a tight frown. He looked as if he were about to cry right there in front of you, his eyes not meeting yours and looking down, as if he were ashamed to cry in front of you.

“My love?” You repeated, a hand moving to hold one of his, causing him to snap out of his thoughts and finally look you in the eyes with his own teary ones.

“May I…may I sit in your lap?” He asked with a trembling voice and a blush across his face. You told him ‘of course’ and moved so he could, wrapping your arms around his waist as he kept his around your shoulders. He took a deep breath of relief before letting out a shaky breath, slowly dissolving into tears as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You immediately held him tighter, moving one of your hands to rub his back as you buried your own face in his hair. You felt his body tremble against your own, his tears already soaking your blouse as he held onto you tightly, as if you’d disappear into thin air at any moment.

“Shhhhh, I know, darling.” You cooed, kissing his clothes shoulder as you yourself began to tear up. It hurt so much seeing the man you loved be so distraught and lost, stuck in a mourning phase he couldn’t escape. The two of you sat like that for what felt like forever until his sobs melted into sniffles, finally out of tears to cry.

“Adrian?”

“Y-Yes?”

“I love you. So much. You know that, right?”

“O-Of course.” He pulled away from the crook of your neck and you wiped any tears left away from his pretty face, holding it in your hands as he leaned into your touch. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

“How about we go to bed early tonight? I just want to hold you.”

“I would like that very much.”

[sserpente]

The Sunwalker's Gift

Synopsis: Legends say those who were cursed to live in the shadows are not lost. There is a ring, a ring of incredible power that allows its vampiric wearer to walk in the sun once more. If there is one thing you know, it is that Astarion—your partner, your lover—deserves to own this ring more than anyone. You put yourself in great danger to acquire it for him without his knowledge but in the end, you succeed. So now, what magical piece of jewellery would be more suitable to propose to the vampire spawn you want to spend the rest of your life with than this one?

A/N: Who’s the goose that’s on the loose…

Words: 1694 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of smut, SPOILERS FOR ACT 3

Blood, tears, sweat, another suicide mission. The rusty ring in your hand almost appeared as if it hadn’t been worth it to risk your neck and sanity for it but appearances were deceptive. This unassuming piece of jewellery in your hand held the answer to Astarion’s prayers. The very object that had made this long and exhausting search so rewarding in the end.

He didn’t know about it yet. He had no idea you’d had a lead with this legendary object at all. And after months of relentless and disappointing searches, Astarion had all but decided the ring was just another myth created to mock him in his misery… to the very point you had begun to doubt your decision to stop him from finishing Cazador’s work and letting him ascend.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head to chase the thought away. No. Walking in the sun was not worth spoiling his mind, his very soul—regardless of the fact you would have never left his side. You’d decided that the night he had confessed his feelings for you. This man was to be yours, forever.

Now you’d give this ring a little bit of polishing, and a bath in vinegar and soap and then you were certain it would look as good as new. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face, to see the first moment he slid it on his finger and stepped back into the daylight without tadpoles and sacrificed souls. Nervousness washed over you when you pictured your plan in your head but there was no doubt—only excitement and impatience.

Today would change his life for the better. Perhaps one day, if he so wished, you would even find a way to cure his vampirism altogether but for now, you wanted him to have this gift.

Your shared bedroom was empty, the sheets unmade and the smell of sex still lingering in the air. You were still getting used to the nocturnal lifestyle, of course. Staying up with him all night and sleeping during the day was messing with your inner body clock but it was a small price to pay to be with him.

The wooden door leading out to the balcony was open, the barest hint of light pouring through the gap. You approached it on bare feet, the hinges creaking when you pushed the door open further.

“There you are,” he mused without turning around. Astarion was leaning against the metal railing of the balcony, staring into the darkness. A few torches here and there lit the still-sleeping city as the sun began to crawl up from behind the hills, the chirping birds urging it on to start the morning. He truly was a sight to behold—shirtless and pale, even with the everlasting scars Cazador had inflicted on his back, you were overcome with the urge to drag him back to bed and have your way with him in an instant. You did that a lot these days—giving him pleasure upon pleasure without asking for anything in return. Astarion had learned in a rather rewarding way what your mouth and tongue could do for him. Teaching him to be intimate with you in a both consensual and sensual way was a task you were happy to pursue.

You hummed in response, walking up to him to sling your arms around his middle from behind, the ring hidden in the pocket of your morning robe. You pressed the side of your face against his back, his cold skin cooling your heated cheek.

He had been doing this a lot lately. Dragging out the final moments of the night, catching a glimpse of the sun and Baldur’s Gate below him before retreating to the shadows again to ensure his own survival. No more. You sighed.

“What is it, darling?”

“Nothing… I just… love you.”

Astarion chuckled—a barely audible sound coating your heart like sweet honey. At last, he turned around to face, your arms still wrapped around him. You had to look up to meet those crimson-red eyes and the gentle smile tugging on his lips.

“I love you too.”

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, my love.”

“Nor I from you,” he purred. His smile was gentle, genuine. You’d fought hard to make him drop that wall of feigned confidence and reveal the real feelings lying underneath. Now, you couldn’t get enough of it. “Let’s head back inside. I’m starting to feel… warm.”

“Just a moment, please.”

The vampire spawn raised his eyebrows but waited nonetheless.

“You said forever,” you went on, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yes?” He dragged the word out and smirked, reciprocating your hug now; his palms resting against your waist. His closeness calmed your nerves, encouraging you without him knowing.

“I… I want forever to start now. I want us to belong to each other and I want everyone to know.”

“Oh my… you’re feeling quite poetic today, my sweet. I don’t object.”

The first sunbeams hit the stone floor of the balcony upon his playful teasing and you could tell that he was getting nervous, eager to flee to the bedroom to avoid the angry burns he expected any moment now.

With a deep breath, you freed yourself from his embrace and took a step back to get down on one knee. It was then you saw the surprise dominating his beautiful face, his lips parting. Determined, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the shiny ring, holding it out to him.

“Astarion Ancunín… will you make me the happiest woman of Faerûn and marry me?”

It took him a heartbeat to remember how to draw oxygen himself, it seemed. He muttered your name under his breath, red eyes fixed on the plain but powerful ring in your hands. He didn’t recognise it, of course, didn’t expect it to be what it was. He had no reason to believe that this unimpressive piece of jewellery was about to return something to him which should have never been taken in the first place.

“Marry you?” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “I… I do, love. I want… yes.”

Yes. You smiled, the weight of uncertainty falling from your shoulders at once. You took his hand in his, sliding the ring on his finger and rose to your feet again, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him.

Astarion melted into your affectionate treatment without hesitation, yet you could tell he was holding back. Uneasy, he pulled away.

“Darling, as much as I would like to savour this moment, could we celebrate our engagement inside?” He glanced at the sun rising higher and higher. Any second now the balcony would be fully submerged in its warm light.

Instead of responding to his plea, however, you only smiled at him. You were certain this would work—you had seen the ring in action after all, made sure it was safe before you took it to your love. You had met up with Dalyria, one of Astarion’s spawn siblings, in secret, only two days ago for this exact reason and she had volunteered to try the effects of the ring—saying it was the least she could do in return after Astarion had freed them.

“I need to get inside!” You reached for his hands when he panicked, holding him in place. Only seconds later, you were both drowned in the soft morning sunlight.

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut and flinched, expecting the burn and the pain the day brought him—but nothing happened. He remained standing, the sunbeams warming his skin.

“What… what is… how is this possible?” he breathed out.

“The Sunwalker’s Gift. It’s the ring, Astarion.”

His red eyes widened, disbelief swinging in his smooth voice as he looked down on his ring-clad finger to admire the shining piece of jewellery reflecting the sunlight. “But… but how? How did you get it?”

“The mage we found and spoke to contacted me a few weeks back. He put me in touch with a bard who meddled with vampires before—two of which, after a couple of pints, revealed that the ring was every vampire’s secret dream and rumoured to have been buried with a deceased vampire lord in the lands north of Rivington a couple of centuries ago. After that, the mage and I returned to do more research and discovered where his tomb is located.”

“And you went to this tomb… alone? Have you lost your mind? Gods, anything could have happened to you!” He was trying his best to be upset, truly. You had to hold back a giggle when his voice went a little high-pitched. It was flattering knowing that the only person this gorgeous man had ever truly shown honest concern for was you.

“I wasn’t alone, I promise. I had help. Halsin and Gale accompanied me.”

“Halsin I can understand. But… Gale?” He pretended to gag, eliciting another childish giggle from you. But then, his tone became more serious once again.

“You did this for me… I…” The very hint of an embarrassed laugh clung to his words. “I’m not sure I even deserve you.”

“You do. I love you. And you’re stuck with me now. You just agreed to be my husband, remember?”

“How could I?” Astarion muttered your name again. There was admiration and affection as it left his lips like a prayer. You had no doubt that part of him was still processing what this engagement ring really meant. It was too early still for joyous screams and running across the flower fields hand in hand. “Thank you. This is… I did not dare dream of this and yet you continue to surprise me. I just… thank you, my love.”

You nodded. “I told you all I want is for you to be happy. I would have turned every single rock in Faerûn to find this ring for you. Now come on. We have a long day ahead of us and a wedding to plan.”

Astarion smirked, his red eyes sparkling with joy, relief and affection. “Darling… there is nothing I’d like more.”

A/N: I am so crazy for him this is abnormal even for me. I'LL BE GETTING A GROUP PHOTO WITH THE WHOLE MAIN CAST AT MCM, I'M SO HYPED!

[a-hound-will-die-for-you]

The Dance

Masterlist

Summary: The dances are a moment of freedom and delight for you, and pure torment for Sandor Clegane. Watching from afar, he must endure as the knights compete for having you. His patience wears thin, and soon enough, you’ll have to calm him. Just a little longer, and you’ll be together. He just need to be discreet. Word count: 2200 Notes: highborn lady f!reader x Sandor Clegane; preestablished relationship; secret relationship; discrection; jealousy; possessiveness; selft restraint; Sandor taming. English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes I might make. Constructive feedback is welcomed, I am here to share and learn <3

Some strands of your hair have escaped the braids that crown your head, yet you pay them no mind. You keep turning and turning, the strict steps taught by your dancing master long forgotten.

Denied the thrill of pursuits like hunting or riding, rare are the moments when a lady of high birth is granted such freedom. So when the dance begins after the feast, you seize it. 

You move with grace, accepting the hands of the lords who guide you to the rhythm of harp and drum. Your heavy gown sways with every movement, and its long sleeves lift like wings when you reach from one partner to the next.

Many seek your favor that night.

Lords clad in silk and velvet, landowners and heirs. All of them smile as they take your hand in theirs, longing for more than a dance before the night is done. But only one man in that hall will have you when the music fades and the last candle dies. 

A man who stands apart, half-shadowed in the background behind King Joffrey and his lioness of a mother.

Though you have not looked at him all evening, you feel his eyes upon you. On your face. Your shoulders. Your hips. A gaze like a threat that clings to your skin.   Someone has brought him a wineskin, and he drinks from it now and then, but never breaks his stare. 

You feel as flattered as you are concerned. The more tightly wound he is, the more passion he’ll unleash when he comes to you. But there are many eyes at court, and surely this lack of discretion will bring trouble.

Patience, you try to send him without looking, all the while you smile and twirl in the arms of another lord. This one is drunk, and bold enough to place a hand at your waist. So the man who watches from the shadows clenches the hilt of his sword. A cage of fingers meant to imprison his wrath.

As the music comes to a pause, you are breathless, sweating, and with your cheeks flushed from the exertion. You excuse yourself politely from your dancing partner, then leave the Great Hall with quiet steps.  

There is a balcony not far, so you walk down the corridor and turn once, then again, through the winding halls until you reach the first step of the serpentine stair. You’ve walked that path many times before, yet you can’t help the slight shiver in the darkness of the unlit torches. Without thinking much of it, you begin to climb the first steps, but you don’t get far. A hand of iron grips your forearm, shoving you mercilessly into a nearby alcove.

“Caught you,” he rasps, and before your back hits the stone wall, his free hand slips behind you, breaking the impact. Then his massive shape looms over yours, blocking what little light filters through the arched window.

In the dark, you cannot see him, but you recognize that scent.

Leather, metal, fire… and a trace of wine.

"Sandor..."

Your voice is barely more than a sigh, though you're smiling. So sweetly that you feel his grip on your forearm loosen. You use the moment to slip free with playful ease, but you scarcely manage a step back. His gloved fist lands against the stone beside your head, blocking your path.

"Not going anywhere," he slurs, then his hand finds the small of your back and pulls you in.

He buries that terrible, burned face in the crook of your neck. You shudder when his lips ghost over your collarbone, yet your hands travel to his shoulders and tangle playfully in his hair. 

“They'll see us,” you exhale softly, though it's a hollow concern. His back is nearly three times larger than yours, and completely shields your trapped body.

"Bugger that, come here," his nose traces the line of your neck, lips threatening to press a kiss to your tingling skin, "I miss you..."

The hand on your back curls like a predator's claw into the fabric of your dress, and his thick thigh wedges between your legs. Then he presses upwards. You clutch desperately at his shoulders, losing your balance for a heartbeat as you feel your body rise along the stone wall. The tips of your toes barely touch the floor, but his grip is firm, and the scarred plane of his cheek against yours grounds you.

The warmth of his body pours through the openings in his armour and you embrace him, letting yourself be carried away by the overwhelming need that burns in him too. He responds with a low, pleased sound that strikes you straight to the core. But soon you snap back to reality.

Planting your hands on his chestplate, you push him away so that you can look him in the face. He lets out a soft grunt at that, displeased at leaving the comfort of your neck.

"Shouldn’t you be guarding the king?" you ask, meeting his eyes as he stares at your lips. 

"Told them I had to piss," he leans in for your neck again, but you don’t let him.

"How charming of you…"

"Bugger those pompous fools," he mutters, then lowers his head once more, the weight of his chestplate pressing into your hands until you can’t hold him back any longer.

"Sandor…" you laugh softly, "are you drunk?"

"Mayhaps a little..." 

His thigh presses up again and he lifts you higher to grant himself easier access to your neck. His mouth finds your skin, and the fist braced against the wall moves to the nape of your neck, keeping you in place just the way he likes. Then you feel his lips part, and his teeth brush against your skin. Softly, but with possessive intent.

"And jealous," you interrupt before he can bite and leave a mark.

He pauses, lazily, and pulls back just enough to look at you.

"I’m not…" he starts, but your eyes lock onto his. It never takes him long to give up when you look at him like that. His shoulders slump forward in defeat and his chest lets out all the air as he looks away. 

"They’re undressing you with their eyes," he opens and waves his gloved hand as if the gesture could emphasise his words.

"Well," your hands cup his rough cheeks, and you guide his brooding face back to yours. "If you mind your manners and are patient, you'll be doing it with your hands."

The hopeful glint in his dark eyes makes your pulse race.

"When?"

"Soon." You manage to keep your voice steady. “Tonight”.

His posture softens. His thigh lowers slowly, setting you back down onto the floor, but his hand on your back remains firm, and the other still cradles your nape.  

“I can't suffer another cursed minute in that room, watching those buggering blaggards feast their eyes on you.” He sighs deeply, seeking refuge again in the crook of your neck. As he bends, the hilt of the longsword strapped to his back catches the moonlight.  “I swear if one more of them lays a hand on your waist, he’ll be dead before he pisses his breeches.”

You exhale and caress his tangled locks with tenderness. The gods have gifted you the most impatient and stubborn man in the seven kingdoms. But by the seven hells you love him with all your being.

“I said be patient,” you whisper against the scarred skin of his misshapen ear. “Don't be reckless”.

The blackened, battered armor hides his body, yet you can swear you see him tremble. As he stares down at you, you see a fondness that makes your heart ache.

“Then give me a taste of what's waiting,” he bargains, and holds your chin up between his gloved thumb and forefinger.

You know well what he’s asking for, but you meet his gaze with innocent, doe-like eyes, as though the meaning escapes you.

“A kiss...” he sighs out, lowering himself just enough to make it easier for your mouths to come closer.

His fingers graze along your jawline, prompting you to seal your lips with his, yet he doesn't move any further. At that angle, he could easily dip down and steal the kiss for himself, but you know that’s not what he wants. What he wants is for you to give it. He wants you to rise on your toes, grab hold of his gorget, and claim his lips in a fierce, heated kiss.

So he remains completely still, and you enjoy watching his eyes drift agonizingly from yours to your lips, and back to your eyes again, his breath growing ever so slightly uneven. Just a moment more and he will break, you think. 

"Please..." his voice then rasps, a hoarse prayer barely breathed against your lips.

There it is. 

Already begging, and you don’t even have him between your sheets yet.

Moved by both his need and your own aching want, you give in. But instead of seizing him by the gorget as he’d expected, your fingers tug at his cheeks and guide his face down to yours. Your lips are sweet and warm on his, and the suffering man can't stifle the moan that rises from deep in his throat. But the kiss ends as swiftly as it began, leaving him growling in protest, head tilting back toward yours and seeking you again like a starving hound.

“Not enough. I want all of you,” he mutters, reaching for you with his arms, but you’ve left him so stunned that his movements are sluggish, and fails to capture your body as you twist and slip away like an eel.

“Later…” you smile, already a few steps apart from him. 

His face is twisted in a grimace that makes his features uneven. On the unscarred side, it might almost be a smile. On the burned side, a deep scowl pulls at the ruined flesh. Either way, he makes no move to chase you, yet the rigid set of his legs tells you he is holding himself back.

"And Sandor," you add before turning back toward the Great Hall, "for the love of the Seven, mind your staring and keep your wits. The queen sees more than she lets on. If she learns of this, she'll have your head on a spike."

“A gentler torment than the one you're inflicting on me now,” he says amused, and now you have no doubt he's smiling. In his own way, but smiling all the same. You swallow your retort and cast him a reproachful look, and he makes a visible effort to please you. "Aye, I'll be discreet."

Back in the Great Hall, the dances have ended. 

You take your place at the long table, surrounded by lords and heirs.

The evening unfolds just as you expected - drenched in endless courses of delicacies, while two knights vie to outdo each other in flattery.

At the far end, the king’s Hound obeys your command in silence.

You do not feel his eyes upon you, heavy with rage and lust. You do not feel that wild tension or the constant fear that he might do something foolish. But now and then, you still feel his gaze, though much softer. Like a gentle breeze that lifts the flutter of a bird’s wings against your back. A sensation you welcome and linger in, for it soothes the yearning within you to have him soon.

From the royal table, Cersei Lannister watches the scene with feline eyes. 

She knows men well, and understands what drives them and makes them burn.  She has known for some time that her former sworn shield harbors a fierce lust for you.

She’s seen it many times, standing stoically behind her son, while desire seems to consume him beneath that mask of restraint. But she also knows that half the court regards you in the same way, so the matter hasn't truly concerned her... until now.

What she sees now is something different. 

The Hound’s eyes struggle to stay off you, but sometimes weakness wins and forces him to look. And what she sees in them when he does is something far more dangerous than mere desire.

She sees vulnerability. She sees softness, care, and a longing as desperate as it is deep. 

But there is something more.

Something worse.

Something that could tip the balance and endanger the unshakable loyalty he has shown her son until now.

Those dark, mournful eyes, lined by a life carved in cruelty and misery, brim with a tenderness no fortress could hope to contain. 

What the Queen Mother sees in Sandor Clegane’s eyes is pure devotion. 

It is love.

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

Thanks for reading! <3

What do you think? Did anyone sigh with the ending? A comment would give me life, and encourage me to write more :)

[toxycodone]

Laios x Beastkin!Reader

an. Senshi, Chilchuck, and Marcille x Reader are mentioned quiiiite a bit in here. Izutsumi x reader is more sparse. split between furry/scaly/feathery beastkin after the more general ones in the beginning. SORRY if the formatting is weird I got "text limited" a lot on this lmfao

this is a lot so. <3 show sum luv

general sfw

when you two first meet...bro is ELATED. He knows Izutsumi, which is fine, but you're an entirely different one. Who also doesn't seem to be super against him getting to know them

He asks SO many questions. What are you mixed with? Are you naturally born or artificial? What's it like having wings? A tail?

He's testing out all your features. He loves them so much.

When there's downtime, he likes to conduct "research". This goes for analyzing your features and making notes, comparing them to his books and other notes, and even more intricate tests like reaction time and stuff.

He'll hold a candle/torch by your face and test your pupil dilation. It's oddly intimate because he's just staring you down and its like. okay. are we gonna kiss orrrr

Loves. Loves. Loves just WATCHING you. Seeing the way you pounce on little bugs for fun or get spooked by certain noises. He just smiles and is all amused.

You'll catch him doodling you pretty often. He makes notes like "y/n caught a treasure bug today. They seem pretty skilled at hunting. Failed to kill it for some reason...just played with it until it scurried off." The doodles are like...surprisingly pretty decent. The monster portions of you are the best looking and most detailed. But it's so cool to see just how much he pays attention to you and your idiosyncrasies.

Your interactions with Izutsumi also interest him. Do you guys get along? Are you prey to her? Or is she to you? If you and Izu are talking or around each other he's watching like a hawk out of pure curiosity.

However...there's a particular page in his journal where he's providing feedback on how he would make you "better" aka cooler. It's basically just his own ramblings. No Laios, an extra set of eyes and the ability to breath fire and ice and everything in between is not. better. you're just salivating over the idea of your monster OC

If you bring this up to him he actually agrees. After a lot of note taking and observation he's really fascinated just on how well suited your entire existence is to...surviving. He has a lot of theories he'd love to share about you.

But he has e x t e n s i v e notes on your body. It's something that fr makes you blush because, why is he theorizing about the base of your tail and how it connects to your spine? and the number of nipples you have? wait...how is his guess right...?

But Laios is so useful. You might as well call him your owner. You don't have to lift a finger when it comes to taking care of yourself. (He misses his dogs so you fill in.)

He takes care of your skin/fur/scales/feathers, cuts your claws, helps you file down your hooves or horns. He's very into taking care of you if you'll let him. (Marcille also hops in on this since its her love language LOL. When she's not busy with Izutsumi she helps when she can.)

If you are like...afraid of water or don't enjoy bathing. You are like the party's pet. They're debating on how to get you clean before Chilchuck is like "if you don't take a bath I am going to kill you and throw you in there myself." Laios then goes all puppy dog eyed bc he thinks Chil is being to hard on you and then he sighs and is like "fine. I'll buy you a treat when we get back to the surface."

Marcille/Laios are really good when it comes to bath time. They aren't weird about it (Laios is checking you out but. In a curious type of way. Marcille is giving him side eye if hes getting too...Laiosy. But he respects your boundaries. Just imagine Laios happily scrubbing you while humming a tune awe.)

And when it comes to sleeping arrangements...you can alternate between anyone in the party. But Laios and Chilchuck are your best bets. Marcille is an excellent sleeping partner if the dreams don't bother you, shes soo happy to have you sleep with her and she's soft and smells nice.

Laios happily lets you sleep with him. He's actually not super cuddly (unless you are he'll reciprocate). But he is very much like, giving you a ton of space. If you fall asleep before him he just relents and sleeps as comfortably as he can around you lol. Literally just like any other pet owner.

Chilchuck....sleeping with him is difficult bc Izutsumi will fight you on it, but she relents if you can fit in without much issue (bonus points if you're warm) so. You guys can both overheat this poor man. Izu may even start cuddling with you more. She finds a lot of comfort in having another beastkin in the party even though she won't say it.

And speaking of Chilchuck...you're likely a bit more cooperative than Izutsumi, so he gets your help when it comes to checking for traps and finding treasure. With your elite hearing and other abilities, he's actually really pleasantly surprised how useful you are. (If you were a half-foot he'd definitely want you in his guild). He gives you pets and treats when the others aren't really paying attention (He doesn't want them to see him doting on you is all LOL).

Okay. So. Your diet. This is an anime about eating so. Let's get down to it.

Whether you're a herbivore, carnivore, or omnivore--Laios is ENSURING your needs are taken care of in the party. It is of upmost importance to him.

He takes notes and asks about how certain foods make you feel. Are you more energized? Less energized? Stomach hurting? Pooping well? (Will ask this with upmost sincerity, he wants to make sure the butter/milk/etc used in their cooking isn't interfering with your tummy. Whether you want to answer this is up to you lol).

Laios and Senshi happily adjust things to your needs. Laios will spend time foraging with you, Senshi will find certain monsters with more nutrients that meet your needs. Senshi is also like, really knowledgeable about nutrients, so sometimes in your food he may grind up shells or bones to meet calcium needs and such. When he cooks he'll give you bones or soften them up in water so you can eat the marrow. :-)

Senshi...is the coolest though. He also lets you perch on him (like Izutsumi) and since he's lived in the dungeon for so long, he knows a lot about monsters firsthand. If it applies, he'll give you tips about yourself or some monsters you should prey on. Senshi and you go on little foraging trips too. He'll have you sniff things out in return for extra food during dinner.

Laios likes to see you hunt prey and eat it raw, though. Everyone else would rather not and it makes them sick but he thinks it is SO cool. He honestly wishes he could do that. He takes hunting lessons from you and will give you tips on being stealthier and such.

Your teeth really fascinate him. He likes testing your bite strength on different types of material (Like wood, stone, bones, etc.). He'll stick his fingers in your mouth and admire them if youd let him. He gives you so much praise in general its so cute.

AND. PETTING YOU. He is so tactile if you let him (i mean look how much he tries and fails to pet izutsumi). When you give him the all clear he is like. jumping for joy. he LOVES to pet you and praise you. He absentmindedly pets you when hes sitting down or standing by you. And when you nuzzle into his touch his heart SOARS. You can see on his face he's blushing and has that like. excited wiggly smile <3

I think when he's just sitting around he just messes with your tail. He likes it.

Lay down beside him and he will happily pet you and be like "do you like this? Is this a good spot?" Present. Your belly to him. and he is over the moon. He pets you wildly and is like "Who's a good boy/girl/monster?" He is so unashamed about doing this too. Chilchuck would put a stop to it if you didn't like it so much.

If you give him kisses or tongue bath's he's eating that shit up (i mean. look at those extra comics w him and dogs he lets dogs just kiss all over his face omfg). He isn't a huge fan of getting his hair wet (sensory issue) but when it's your drool...he can't help but be excited. Laios is all like "they're grooming me?? this means they like me, right??? Can I officially say I befriended a monster???"

It's proof that you care for him and view him as apart of your pack...he is just over the moon at this.

I will say...Laios is way too "has no backbone with you" for a while. You're chewing shoes? You can't help it! Stealing snacks? It's instinctual! Playing too rough with Izutsumi? C'mon guys...

But when he notices his party actually getting upset. You will be surprised how he can put his foot down. Not even max puppy eyes work on him. He will leash and muzzle you if needed.

But you can always get away with messing with his stuff. He thinks its fun to chase you around when you got his shirt in his maw. Then he happily wears the torn up gear and Marcille is like "let me sew it..."

For Scaly Beastkin:

He's so helpful when it comes to shedding season. Laios finds nice rocks all the time and helps scrape off any patches that are drying and crusting and hes not even phased and doesn't think its gross at all. He would keep some skin to test its resilience if you let him.

And going with that, when you need to shed and soak he would help you find a place and will happily assist with the shedding. He's so excited to be there honestly. But he feels bad you are uncomfortable so he lets you cuddle up under the water with him while you wait for your shed to soften up <3

Laios runs his fingers over your scales absentmindedly...just loves feeling how smooth they are, especially after he spent so much time helping them maintain that pristine smoothness.

He gets Marcille's help to make a moisturizing ointment to put on you every now and then so you don't get to dried out in the dungeon!! Marcille starts to fret about that too. You're just kinda chillin and she'll reach over and put ointment on your hands/cheeks/tail. Just areas you may be susceptible to drying out.

Also...he lets you use him as a heating rock. Sunshine is really limited in the dungeon, so...when you need a warm up he's there and waiting and extremely excited to warm you up with a hug.

For Furry Beastkin:

Brushes you. He'd do this EVERY evening (and morning) if you let him. He takes notes, too. Do you have an undercoat? Or is it just one? What does this mean about what environment you originated from?

He probably tries to use your shed fur to embellish his own clothes or put in his pillow/blankets. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle I guess?

And to add to that...remember how Marcille made a cute little cat head from Izutsumi's fur? He does that too. He and Marcille make cute little shapes outta your shed and giggle together about it.

If you get fleas...he is the party member you should tell. He'll help you get rid of them and won't rat you out to the other members LOL. He'd probably blame himself if it spread and the rest of the party is like "you expect us to beleive. you got fleas. Laios you would be excited if you got them."

For Feathered Beastkin:

Preening....<3. When you have pin feathers he is so sweet and gentle. gently picks them out. It kinda tickles bc he's just gliding his fingers over your wings. You'll catch him sighing in content and burying his face in the softness. It's so sweet.

He collects your feathers and shows them off to Marcille (who also really likes them.) Your down is SO useful too. The party has the softest blankets and pillows thanks to you. When you're molting everyone is calling dibs on the feathers to stuff in their bedding.

Laios examines your wingspan and is really interested on stuff like weather you can fly or not. If you can, he's in awe. He wants to see it. Maybe even fly with you if he can. Its always been a dream of his to do that.

nsfw

tw (for nsfw). monsterfucking? if that counts. mentions of vent/cloaca/knot

This man. It is so easy to tell overtime just how fucking horny he gets over monster stuff. He is addicted to just how much you differ from him. Your scales, fur, feathers, wings, etc....he thinks they're all extremely sexy.

He just loves the primal aspect of it? Like you act on instinct. Do what makes you happy. Like of course you have human reasoning and such but STILL. You're so non human and otherworldly it makes his stomach knot up and his dick hard as a rock. He wants to know EVERYTHING about you.

If you have a heat/rut cycle...he is. fucking. begging you come to him for help. jfc you don't even have to let him stick his dick in you. He just slowly probes your hole with his fingers and legit GASPS when he feels it clench around him. Not only is he learning so much about you and monster anatomy but hes also having his monster fucking dreams come true.

I mean it is a given with Laios but his fucking face is always in your hole. He loves eating pussy/ass so fucking much. And having your dick, clit, or knot down his throat drives him wild. He eats your slick and cum like he's starving. He's so sloppy with it too--there's spit and slick and cum all over his face and he's just slurping it all up like its his last meal.

He definitely "examines" you. He'll stick his fingers in you and stretch out your hole just to get a better look at what's inside. (imagine his thumbs sliding in and prying you open.) The muscles pulsating and the color and the smell...god he's drooling. You feel all vulnerable and exposed but he's just constantly praising how amazing your body and its functions are.

He busts so quick with a beastkin it....wow. Like. You are seriously all he has ever dreamed of and shit. I can't imagine he'd be able to contain himself. He cums and just still wants more, he fucks you through the overstimulation until he cries

Oh he wants to know whats in your pants so bad its ridiculous. Like. I cannot explain just how much he is vibrating with excitement

If you have a cloaca...he's very gentle with your hole at first. You explain to him what to look for, what feels good. He'll gently explore with his fingers until he finds the right hole and then he's going at it. He's shoving his tongue in there happily too. He knows what a cloaca is. He knows it's a singular vent for waste and sexual functions. Doesn't matter. His tongue is going in there. Laios is beyond excited to taste everything and see what makes you squirm.

If you have a knot...it's a given he wants you to knot him. It takes him a few tries (he can't take your knot at first because he's too tight) but when he finally is able to its like. euphoric for him. He loves feeling your warm cum in his ass and your desperate pants against his throat as your overstimulated self gets adjusted to being stuck to him. Gods.

Plus...I've discussed this on my blog in more detail but with a beastkin reader he's definitely into

You biting/scratching him up. He lovvveess being marked. Use him as a chew toy PLEASE

Predator/Prey rp: He's a trained hunter but he wouldn't mind being hunted...He loves how strong you are and how you can turn the tables on him if you wanted.

Just?? You being feral?? He likes it when you act more like your monster side and just treat him like a toy.

Breeding Kink: Even if you aren't able to get pregnant or breed (either due to sex or incompatible genetics due to being part monster), he's still really into it. You can fill him up vice versa...He loves the feeling of having you last inside him and he loves knowing you're still filled up from him. Plus, it adds to the more animalistic part of sex which is what he likes

[onlymexsarah]

Burning Flames VI || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: Suggestive, slight smut(?), language and my english :) A/n: Sorry for the waiting, but thank you for your patience! I'll see you at the end of the chapter, and if you want to be added to the taglist just let me know🫶🏻 Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3- Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Your back was pressed against some wall. His fingers felt like a ghost's touch on your neck, tracing immaginary lines all over your collarbone while everything inside you were on fire.

His scent was the only thing you could smell. Honey, burned wood, maple. He felt like the fire that kept you warm during the cold winter nights, like the sound of falling leaves in a autumn day, like a welcome breeze under the summer sun, like the perfume of a flowery meadow in spring.

His hot breath crashed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "Tell me to stop, Little Flame."

Your eyes shut closed. Why would you want it to stop when it felt so heavenly?

As an answer you locked your hands behind his neck and brought his body toward yours, making you officially presseded between the wall and him.

His lips rested against the sweet spot behind your ear and you bite your lips to prevent any unholy sounds to leave your mouth. He started to slowly kiss your neck as one of his hands went into your hair, and tilted your head to give him more access, while the other grabbed firmly your waist, pinning your hips against the wall.

If his lips hadn't been enough to drive you crazy, his leg making its way between yours surely was. "This is all I dream about since the day I met you." he whispered with a low, rasped voice. He bite your neck, sucking the skin between his teeth and making you grab his hair tightly as your head fall back against the wall behind you. "How would you taste..." his leg moved between yours, putting some pressure against your pulsing core, and this time you didn't hold the moan that grew in your throat. "The sounds you would make..."

Mother boils you.

His voice, his scent, his body. You could get lost in all of it and you would be eternally happy. It was so right being in his arms, pressed against his as your bodies were one. It felt as right as the stars shining during the night. As the sun rising at dawn. As the sun warming the day at its peak. As the sun seeting during dusk.

You were a torch and his mouth travelling down your neck, claiming every bit of it, was the spark that set you on fire. You wanted to burn, and you wanted to burn with him. His hair in your hands felt like they had always supposed to be there; his hot breath against your skin made you believe that no clothes or blanket would keep you warm again. His hands felt like they were shaped to be on your body, while him...he had been made to be with you.

Your head started to feel lighter, the air around you becoming colder with each breath. He stopped abruptly his movements and grabbed your hair tighter, as if he was holding it for his life. He brought his face away from your neck, and as you opened your eyes you were met with two golden pounds staring already in yours.

Eris.

Seeing him cleared something in your mind, and all of it suddenly felt more real. His hands were still holding you, and when his gaze softened you melted.

"I don't want to wake up." He whispered softly, as if he was afraid to speak too loud. "This is the only time I can be with you."

You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting slightly your head. 'Waking up'? You were very awake, and the male in front of you was exactly where he needed to be.

You brought a hand on his cheek, caressing the line of his face softly. Cauldron, he was so beautiful. If someone had asked you what perfection looked like, you would describe Eris, since there wasn't a single thing about him that hadn't been touched by the Mother herself.

"I am with you." You softly said while you gently pushed one of his curls away form his forehead. "We can be together whenever we want."

And why wouldn't you? There was nothing to stop you from being with him. His eyes hold the door of your home, there was nothing in the world that could keep you away from it. From him.

His narrowed his eyes, and you swore his gaze was burning right inside your soul. "You're here." he sounded surprised, like he had never seen you before. His fingers untangled from your hair and caressed you cheek, almost urgently, like you were doing to disappear at any moment.

You leaned in his touch as you let out a soft chuckle. "Why wouldn't I be?"

It was such a stupid question. You had always been with him. You had been with him from the moment you were born, you had been with him in all the past lives and you still would be with him in the nexts.

His eyes darkened. His fingers traces the line of your jawline, slowly, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. They moved towarch your chin, then your lips, and you slightly parted them as his thumb caressed your lower lip.

"Oh, Little Flame..." he was so close now that you felt his breath on your mouth. "So many reasons, and it's just a matter of time before you'll remember them."

Then he did something that completely shocked you. He brought both hands on your cheeks, and tilted his head upward, placing a soft, warmn kiss against your forehead. Your hands fell from his face to his shoulders, keeping him there, against you.

Your eyes closed as he kept his lips pressed against your head. This. You wanted this. You wanted him.

"I will make this right. I will kill my father so that he will never be able to hurt you. I will kill everyone who'll want to harm you. I will burn everything that will stop you from being happy." he brought his lips away, and his eyes met yours again. "I had been a monster, and I still will be one if it means protecting you. I swear this on my court, the only good thing I had in my life before you. And you and me are going to share it one day. Side by side, we will make it blooms with all the goodness that my father had crashed during the centuries. You'll have everything of me: goods and bads. It will all be yours."

Your breath was short, your heart was racing in your chest. His voice, so full of determination made it impossible to feel even a sheer of shame for wanting that monster. For wanting everything of him.

"Tell me you want this, Little Flame." he whispered, his face leaning a inch closer to yours.

Then, as you opened your mouth to answer him, everything went black.

***

You gasped for air as you opened your eyes and quickly sat up. Where were you? Everything was dark. The surface under you was soft and you swore that was silk the material touching your bare legs.

Town house. Velaris. Night Court.

Your still asleep mind quickly worked all the basic informations that you needed to calm down.

Where was Eris?

You had been together a moment ago, you swore you could still smell his scent in your nose. The sensations you were feeling were so similar to the one of winnowing, but no. It was a dream.

You were dreaming.

Of Eris.

It had felt so real. His touch, his voice, his smell. The feeling of his hands holding you felt like impressed in your body, and for a moment you shivered from the lack of it.

"Tell me you want this."

Cauldron, what were you going to say to him?

You swore you had been about to tell him something, but you couldn't remember what.

What would you answer now?

Gods, if only you knew that.

Your hand brushed back your hair as you sighed. He had offered you his court. Him. Would you have taken it?

In the dream you knew you would have. But in the real world? If Eris came to you and offered to you his whole being, what would you do?

Are you even listening to yourself? Eris? Offering you what?

The voice in your head scowled you like a child, and a wave of embarassment grew inside you. The dream really fucked you up. Even losing time to think about it was proof of your foolishness.

You had been training togheter for threee weeks now, and you had gotten kind of used to his presence. You had considerably improved with your powers, and somehow, at some point, you and Eris had even started to joke.

But, unfortunately, joking didn't come easy for you the next time you saw him. As soon as you saw his eyes the memory of the dream struck you and you had to hide your face with your hair in order to not let him see the deep blush that was forming on your cheeks.

The worst thing was that if before you just found him attractive, now everything he did made your head going dizzy. Like he moved his fingers to produce fire, or how his voice would lower when he gave you instructions.

You hadn't realized that he was behind you until his velvet voice said something in your ear you didn't catch, and the flames you were controlling over your hands exploded, burning some trees around you.

"That, I think Kallias would mind." snorted ironically Eris behind you, pointing to the trees.

You rolled your eyes as you quickly stepped away from him, having noticed that the closer you were the more flustered you got. "It was your idea to train in the Winter Court this time."

His eyes studied your movements, and you knew that he had noticed the distance you were keeping that day, he knew that something was wrong, and, oh Mother, you hoped he couldn't know why.

"You have enough control now, it doesn't matter where we train." He said with calm voice you knew he used when he was studying something. "But today you seem...distracted. Is something on your mind?"

Cauldron, it had been just a dream. He didn't know about it. He didn't know that everytime your eyes fell on him you felt a strange pull inside you, like the memories of his hands, lips and body on yours were still imprinted in your mind.

"Nope, all good." you quickly replied, waving a hand in the air and facing the snowing landscape again. "Must be the dinner. Azriel made me try a new spicy food."

'Must be the dinner'? Was this really the best thing that went in your mind?

Thankfully he dropped the subject, but it didn't go unnoticed his amused smirk.

You were so lost in your thoughts, mostly of him pushing you against the nearest tree, that when Azriel arrived you didn't even asked Eris the question that you were suppose to.

***

Everything was a mess. Nesta had been captured for the Blood Rite, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Eris had been captured by Briallyn and Rhys and Feyre had made a bargain to die togheter.

Eris had been captured.

By that bitch of Briallyn.

You tried hard to control the deafining song of your blood running wild in your veins. You would kill her. You would kill Briallyn for everything that she did, and you would make her suffer.

"Az can't go alone. We need you, Cassian." Feyra's voice was a low whisper over the rage that was building inside you.

Cassian, that bastard, had the nerve to esitate and then say, "Let him die."

"Screw you!" You jumped on your feet as you said those words, facing Cassian as if you weren't three feet shorter. You wouldn't let Eris die, and if you had to fight Cassian then it was better for his wings to be fireproof. "Eris is your ally, what kind of General are you if you let your allies to die?"

Cassian's eyes flared with rage that you were sure matched your own. "Your sister had been captured for the Blood Rite and you worry about some asshole who would be better off dead anyway?!"

You lift your chin higher, staring at the Lord of Bloodshed right in the eyes. "When my sister will come out alive from the Blood Rite, and she will, she'll only feel ashamed to be with someone who left everything crumble out of sadness for her disappearence."

Your words found their marks as Cassian winced under your gaze. People often forgot that Nesta was your twin, not vice versa. Every sharp behaviours she possesed, you had them sharper.

"Y/n." Feyre's warning tone made your head snap toward her.

"What?" you spitted out as your whole body tremble , begging you to take action and save Eris.

Rhys shifted shlightly in front of his mate, as if you were the threat at her life.

If you hadn't burn down his entire office few days ago he wouldn't be so caution around you, the voice in your head scoffed in your mind.

You couldn't have helped yourself. When Nesta told you and Feyre that the baby would likely kill your little sister, and that the whole Inner CIrcle knew about it and voted to keep Feyre in the shadows you had stormed inside Rhys' office and reminded him that while you were training with Madja to how use your power to heal, destruction came pretty easily to you if he dared to make choices for Feyre again.

"Maybe the Made dagger we gave him will grant him immunity from the Crown. If he's carrying the dagger, if they haven't unarmed him, it might shield him against another Made object." Feyre tried to reassure you with a calm voice, and somehow you felt even more sick.

You were showing everyone that you actually cared for the Heir of Autumn, the same male they all despise, and a wave of embarassment run all over you. It wasn't enough to calm the boiling blood inside you, but at least it made you take a step away from Cassian.

He was a mated male whose mate had just been captured in the middle of the night, you couldn't really blame him for not caring about anything else.

And we'll just pretend that this realization means nothing? A voice in your mind said sarcastically, but you shut it down before any following thoughts could come with it.

"There are plenty of other methods to get him to talk." Azriel's said darkly, and that sick sentation was back in your stomach.

If Briallyn did so much as touch him you would kill her with your bare hands, making her regret to be born in the same world as you were.

"I'll go with you." you said to Azriel, not leaving room for any arguments in your voice.

Amren scoffed beside him. "Stupidly honourable, but even if Cassian and Azriel are training you, you are no fighter girl. You can't even control your fire."

Your eyes snapped at her, and with a lazy smirk on your lips you rose your right hand, palm up toward the ceiling and let a fire as big as your face appear on it. "Can't I?"

A gasp escaped her mouth as Cassian widened his eyes. Amren narrowed hers as she studied you cautionly. "How?"

"I trained." You said with a little shrug, as you let your fire taking different forms over your hand. "With the same male that you are willingly letting in our enemy's hands."

Amren sneered a 'foolish girl' while her eyes shifted toward an unsurprised Feyre and Rhys, understanding that twice she had been left out of their secrets.

"Why?" Cassian asked beside you, looking at the flames on your hand. "He did nothing to deserve your trust."

You bit the inside your cheek, holding your tongue before you snapped back some comments that would only cause more troubles.

"He saved my life during the war with Hybern." you stated seriously, knowing it was time for them to know the truth. The way Azriel's eyes widened slightly made you understand that Rhys had just told him about your bargain with Eris, not the entire story. "I was with Elain when Hybern's soldiers found us. I told her to run while I stayed behind to buy her time...they were going to kill me if it hadn't been for Eris." You looked back at Cassian, your chin always high as you dared out the words that had been hunting you for months. "I know that in your shared history Eris had never proven to be trustworthy, but in ours shared past he did, and I'm going to repay the debt I own him."

Had you revealed too much of your thoughts? Had you looked like a stupid, naive girl obsessed over a male? You didn't care. Eris was in danger, and something warm inside you needed to save him, even if you were almost sure he would have never done the same for you.

"Be quick. Don't go near Briallyn for any reason." Rhys intructed you as you summoned the fighting leathers that Cassian had gifted you after three full weeks of training. "Y/n, follow their instruction and don't let emotions cloud your judgment. Eris might depends on your clear mind more than we can imagine."

You nodded before stepping beside Azriel and let him winnow you on the other side of the continent.

***

Eris was nowhere to be found in the lands surrounding the queens' castle, and you swore if you didn't find him before a week you would start to burn every piece of that castle until you found him.

You talked with a human merchant that was arriving just from the palace, and you weren't ashamed to say that you had used your High Fae's beauty to make him tell you if he had seen any 'new Fae male' around. He told you that a redhaired Fae male had been dragged to the castle the night before the last, and your stomach twisted at the word dragged.

Images of Eris hurt, bloody and chained flashed through your mind. You would make Briallyn pay for what she did.

"We'll wait here until they leave the castle. Then trail them from the cloud clover." Azriel instructed you with a dark tone that matched your face.

But no one went in or out of the castle for days. No one walked even close to it, the gate had stayed shut down closing the citizien in and the rest of the world out.

Cassian and Azriel patrolled the sky while you made sure to cover every inch of the ground surrounding the castle.

"Briallyn has to know we're here." Cassian said has he alit, his latest aerial survey completed. "You think she's waiting for us to make a move?"

"The place is guarded with as many wards as the House of Wind. If Briallyn is moving Eris, we'll be better off catching him then." Azriel said calmly, while shadows whispered in his ears.

"If he's still alive..." you murmur while you lit a little fire to keep all the three of you warm during the night.

The thought of Eris' death had placed roots in your head as soon as you had left Velaris. Your whole body froze everytime you remembered that you had no proof that the redhead still breath. You could feel his precense inside the castle, your whole soul knew that he was there, but maybe you were just sensing a body. A lifeless, cold, death body.

The thought of Eris' body turning cold felt unnatural, sending shivers of wrongness through your spine. Eris was warm, always radiating warmness to whoever was around him. He could never be cold. You would forbid it.

"I have every reason to believe he is." Azriel's voice woke you from your throughts.

You rose your eyes from the fire to him, and found two hazel pounds already looking at you. Studying you. "How? You said yourself that your shadows can't get inside the castle."

Azriel's stoned face stayed silent for a while, as if he was reading right through you. What was the spymater seeing was above your knowledge. For a moment you felt like an opponent that he was studying to understand her secrets, but true was that you hold any, even thought Azriel's gaze suggested otherwise.

"If Eris was dead, I have the rights to believe that everything would be different." You furrowed your eyebrows, not following his paths of thoughts. "This conversation would have never existed in the first place."

You braced your arms around your legs as your fingers played with the fire in front of you as you used to do when you couldn't sleep when you were a child. "Let's hope you're right."

I'll find you Eris, you are not alone.

***

Four days.

Four fucking days and still nothing of Eris.

"Four fucking days." Cassian hissed from where the three of you monitored the castle, echoing your thoughts. "We've been sititing on our asses for four fucking days."

"It's seems you've forgotten how much of spying is waiting for the right moment." Azriel said as his blade met yours. He had decided to keep training you during those days, both to occupy time and to make you ready for a fight situation. "This one was sloppy. Ground your feet better on the ground. People don't engage in their evil deeds when it's convenient to you."

Fighting looked like a second nature to Azriel as he changed conversation between you and Cassian as if you were trying to disarm him at every possible occasion.

"You would think that Beron would be worried after his son hasn't returned for days." You said between your breaths as Azriel changed from a defensive position to an offensive one. "instead here we are, only three of us looking for him."

"Beron likely knows what is happening to Eris." snorted Cassian crrosing his arms. "He might even see a lot of opportunities to have his heir under the command of the Crown."

Anger rose inside you before you could even notice it. Was there anyone in this world who cared for Eris? His mother probably, but she had been under Beron's talons too long to even do something in order to protect him.

He has you now, your mind said on its own.

Silently you accepted what had long grew inside you. If Eris had no one who cared about him, then you must be dead, five feet under ground. Caring for him didn't mean trusting him blindly. Didn't mean that you would give him the moon on a string if he asked you to. It meant that if a bitch of a Queen took him then you would rip the whole Phrytian apart to find him.

"Control your anger." Azriel commaned as you noticed that your strikes had become harder. "Let it control you and you are dead on a battlefield."

Before you could answer Cassian shot to his feet. "Someone's leaving the castle."

Azriel didn't wait any second before grabbing your waist and launching into the skies as Cassian followed you. Your arms locked behind Azriel's neck as your eyes skanned the ground from the cover of clouds that now hid you.

"I don't see a prison wagon." Cassian said over the wind as you watched the small caravan leaving the eastern city gates.

You were gratefult for a moment that your power made impossible for you to feel any kind of cold, or the chill air would have you trembling like a leaf.

Azriel's gaze remained on the earth below. "They don't need one." he said with quiet venom.

Something inside you stirred, like a string attached to your ribs, and you new who you would see before your eyes landed on him. You suddenly hold your breath, and there, riding at the front of the party, side by side with a hunched, small figure, was Eris.

You almost jumped from Azriel as soon as you saw him. You needed to know if he was alright, you needed him to know that you were there, for him.

"Stupid asshole." Cassian snarled. "She snared him with the Crown."

"No," Azriel said quietly, and you swore his hold grew a bit tighter around you and his tone become apologetically. "Look at his left. He's still got the dagger at his side. If he was in her thrall, he'd have already handed it over."

No.

No. No. No.

"So possessing another Made object does protect him against the Crown." Cassian accusation set in the air and your ears started to ring. "Traitor."

No.

You refused to believe it was true.

Eris would have never betrayed you. Any of you. Not when Briallyn was everything he stad against to. Not when allying to Briallyn meant leaving his father on the throne of the Autumn Court.

"There must be another explanation." You said, and hated how your voice sounded weak. "He must be playing along. Making her believe he is under the Crown's control."

"We follow them. Capture Eris now and we might not get anything out of him. We trail them and learn how far this betrayal goes, if there is any." You had the feeling that he added the last part just for you. "See who they're meeting with. It has to be important, for them to leave the safety of the castle."

What if Briallyn had promised Eris to overthrow his father? What if he had found another, more convenient, alliance in her? What if everyone had been right, and he had just been manipulating you?

As you followed the caravan for three days those thoughts eat you alive. Sometime you were sure that they were wrong, and Briallyn was indeed controlling Eris. Other times you wanted to bury yourself alive to have thought that you could have trusted him.

There was a flicker inside you that you couldn't understand what was, but sometime a voice would come out of it, telling you to run. The voice was so similar to Eris' that you thought you were really going crazy if you had started to hear his voice in your head.

But the worse part was when you were sleeping, because you would dream of him, glassy eyed, looking straight in front of him not matter how many times you yelled his name.

You could not see a inch from your nose. It seemed like you were in the middle of a cloud, making everything around you blurr and grey. Your thoughts were slow, your breathing hard, and walking felt like trying to go through a block of jelly.

"Run."

A voice echoed around you, but you could not see where the person was.

"Run away as fast as you can."

Eris.

Eris was somewhere close to you. "Where are you?" you asked back, trying to follow whatever the string inside you was.

"She will kill you." he said, and this time a flicker of red hair appeared among the clouds. "If you are lucky, she'll only kill you. If not, she'll make me handle you over my father, and he'll make me watch."

His voice sounded hollow, as if he had repeated those words so many times that they had lost meaning. You had no idea what nonsense he was talking about, but you'll be damned if you wouldn't reach him this time.

As you were close enough you saw him. His eyes were vacant, looking at something in front of him. His posture straight, like a soldier waiting for orders.

A sigh of relief washed over you.

Eris was there. You had found him, and you had no intention to let him be taken away from you again.

With your right hand you grabbed his, while you brought the left one on his cheek and make his gaze fell on you. "Look at me." You said firmly. "I'm here. Look at me, Eris. Tell me you recognize me."

His amber eyes met yours, and you knew that the world might start to end now, but you would never look away from his eyes if it meant freeing him from the Crown's control.

"Go back to Velaris." he sounded almost pleading, but his eyes stayed vacant, as if he was seeing right through you.

Your hold on his hand and cheek thightened. "Only if you come with us."

You would not leave him. You could not leave him. His mind was being controlled, he was under the control of a Made object and it was a good damn think that the Cauldron had Made you too. Had given you Made powers.

You could beat the fog around him, even if momentarily.

You closed your eyes and concentrated on the burning flames inside you. You called to them, urging them to grow and grow until there were enough for you to pull them out.

Your eyes flushed open as a bubble of fire had created around the two of you, keeping the fog outside while around you the forest come into view.

"I hope your mind is a bit clearer now." You smirked slightly as you saw him blinking quickly, waking up from whatever dreaming state Briallyn had put him through.

"You're here." his tone was surprised as his eyebrow furrowed, trying to understand what was happening. His hands quickly grabbed your waist, as if he didn't believe that yes, you were actually in front of him.

Should you ignore the butterflies that appeared in your stomach as his hands grabbed you? Definetly yes.

"For someone who lived five hundred years you get surprised too often." You commented with an amused smirk.

He matched your amused grin for a moment, then his face darkened. "This is a dream."

You watched him confused. "Is it?"

"The mat-" he stopped mid sentence as his eyes buried holes in yours. "The bond created by the bargain is making this possible." he said slowly, as if his throat had suddenly gone dry. "But it doesn't matter. I cannot fight her, Y/n. You have to go away before she find you. She knows you're here."

"We are not leaving without you." you stated firmly, almost offended that he suggested otherwise. "Can you not walk away from her so that we can take you?"

He shook his head. "I breath only because she commands so. I cannot do anything without her permission." Flickers of anger appeared inside you again. "Promise me something."

You nodded, and you ashamely knew that if he kept looking at you with that intensity you would have done anything he wanted.

"If it comes to me or you, you chose yourself, and don't make the same selfless, foolish choice that I would make."

Absolutely fucking not.

"No. I'll find a way to not let it come to that." it was your turn to shook your head. "You saved my life, remember? It is time for me to do the same."

"Yes, Little Flame, I saved your life, and I'll do it again a thousands time." You were going to cry. Or kiss him. Or maybe both. "She controls minds, not emotions. So spare me the pain that your death would bring on me."

You had not time to process his words as he pushed you away from him, right outside the bubble of fire and into the fog.

A/N: Are we all seeing the parallels between the two of them? Two dreams in the same chapters, I hope you liked the idea🫶🏻 next chapter we'll get some action from our Eris and our reader! Also, YOU ARE SO MANY WTF?! When I started to write this fic it was just an idea I had in my head and that I wanted to share, and now you all want to read more?! Thank you all for reading this, let me know if you liked it and what you wish to see next🫶🏻

taglist: @adventure-awaits13 @blueeclipsepaperstudent @huffleruffplant @azysmate @bia-wayne-west @babypeapoddd @lady-targaryens-world@sourapplex @ghostwritermia @asteria33 @pinklemonade34 @tell-me-a-poem @speedypersonawhispers @historygeekqueen @webvics@paliketerson @lizzytish82 @tincanhat @marrass @acourtofmoonlightandstars @yasmin-oviedo @ghostwritermia @marly500 @kabekusa @gamarancianne @butterfix @itsxchar6 @iowaladynerd @that-girl-reading @kitsunetori @rcarbo1 @username199945 @giana1508 @homeslices @yasmin-oviedo @impossibelle @

[madrone33]

Number 1 Rule of adapting the Odyssey into EPIC is: if it can be more dramatic, it will be more dramatic.

The Greeks decide to throw the infant Trojan prince from the walls because they're scared he'll try to avenge his family? No, Zeus comes down to personally give Odysseus a vision of being killed and says his family WILL die. Kill the baby that reminds you of your son right now, it's the gods will.

Odysseus goes to greet the inhabitants of an island and gets trapped in a cave for two days by the cyclops that's eating his men one by one? Nope, we got BOSS BATTLE 30v1 in the Ithacans' favour until BAM fourteen pancakes are made by Polyphemus' club and oh shit Polites is DEAD-

Athena is just vaugely absent for the whole journey until the end? We got emotionally charged platonic breakups instead, with yelling and insults and "well I'm breaking up with you FIRST!"

Smooth sailing to Ithaca? STOOOORM-

Odysseus' great-great-great-grandfather giving him a speed boost to help him on his way home? Get ready for trickster wind gods, mischievous winions, and a game that was rigged from the start.

Random-ass suspicious and greedy crew mates open the bag? It's Eurylochus, his second in command, his brother-in-law, the man he trusted, Eurylochus WHYYY

Parking in the wrong harbour and getting boulders thrown at the fleet by angry man-eating giants while Odysseus backs away veeery slowly? Nah Poseidon himself pulls up to dunk on them, and Odysseus has to make a last minute getaway using the power of STOOORM to avoid being curbstomped like his fleet.

Odysseus gets some stronger drugs from a god to make him immune to the other drugs of a goddess? Well these drugs actually give him magic powers which he uses to engage in a Pokémon/Yu-Gi-Oh style BOSS BATTLE!

Get some closure with dead loved ones and acquaintances, and be the first interviewer of the fallen heroes of past ages? Nope, we just got TRAUMA and a whole boatload of guilt!

A neat outline of what the rest of the journey will look like, a warning against an island of cows that will slow him down, and the way to appease Poseidon? This Tiresias just says "Y'know there used to be a world where you made it home, BUT I DON'T SEE IT NO MORE. IT'S GONE. IT'S OVER. Also, your palace is fucked."

Sailing past the sirens while getting to be the first mortal to hear their song and live? M U R D E R

Sailing past Scylla to avoid Charybdis and accidentally getting six men eaten because he thought he could totally take Scylla, even though Circe said he couldn't, and then he realised he, in fact, cannot take Scylla? ... Eurylochus, light up six torches.

Eurylochus waits till Odysseus is out hunting and then goes behind his back to mutinously rally the crew and feast on some sacred cattle? Betrayal on both sides, stabby stab, K.O., and then Odysseus helplessly watches them make the greatest mistake of their lives as they ignore his pleas.

Quick clean and easy lightning-strike to the ship, leaving Odysseus to cling to some driftwood and paddle away? Zeus himself appears to the mortals, monologues, makes Odysseus be the one to choose, and then smites the whole ship leaving Odysseus to nearly drown anyway.

Telemachus gets advice from a disguised Athena to yell at the suitors and then sail away to look for news of his missing father? Telemachus gets into a full on beatdown with the suitors and gets FIGHT CLUB TRAINING from Athena!

Athena goes "dad I want my favourite mortal back? Did you forget about him? I think you forgot about him" and Zeus instantly replies "nonsense. How could I have forgotten that funny little mortal? Of course you can have him back my sweet favoured child <3" and then Athena skips off to Ithaca? "Father please-" "LIGHTNING BOLT! ANOTHER LIGHTNING BOLT! LIGHTNING BOLT TO THE FACE HOW DARE YOU ASK ME OF SUCH A THING!"

Poseidon does a double take "wait they let him go?? Oh hell nah!" and then sends a giant fuck off storm for Odysseus to swim through until he reaches the Phaeacians? No, Poseidon's just been there on Ithaca's shores, waiting for eight years, now get in the water BITCH- except Odysseus is just like "oh yeah? Fucking FIGHT ME"

You thought the suitors in the Odyssey were bad? Jorge really just said "dial that shit up to ELEVEN"

[peachessndreamss]

Comfort in You

Summery : After a long and boring council meeting, Cregan looks for comfort with his wife, and she finds comfort from him.

Characters : Cregan Stark x f!wife reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings : Lactation, drinking of breast milk, P in V sex

Word count : 2.3k

A/N : Well, here we are. All my Cregan pieces can be enjoyed alone but are all interconnected and feature the same Lady Stark their children.

peachessndreamss Masterlist l peachessndreamss ask box

Cregan Stark had developed a throbbing headache an hour into the meeting of the Winterfell council and had now sat with the pain for what felt like days as the sky outside the window had grown dark, and fat, wet flakes of snow had started to fall. The cup boy had filled and refilled Cregan’s cup with weak beer as he drank simply to have something to do with his hands.  

The sounds of the courtyard outside the window had changed from the clack and crash of combat training to the squealing laughter of play as the younger inhabitants of the castle had finished their days' lessons and had been sent out to run off their remaining energy. The smell of roasting meat was wafting around the keep and Cregan felt his stomach squeeze with hunger. 

The Master of Coin continued to speak on the taxes being imposed for goods travelling the Kings Road when Cregan decided he had finally had enough. Without comment he stood, looking similar to a moving fur covered mountain, took hold of his cup, raised it to the other men around the table in a silent toast before draining it in a single mouthful and putting it back down on the table with a heavy thud.

“We'll leave it there today,” he said before turning to the doors and striding from the room. 

He crashed through the heavy, double oak doors and into the main hall of Winterfell. Here the smell of food was even stronger and the room was full of people setting up for the evening meal, laying trenchers and wooden cups along the long tables running the length of the hall. Several large fires burned along the walls and in places where the light from the fire didn't reach there were torches burning merrily. 

The head table of the great hall was already laid with pewter plates and silver goblets. Beside his own great chair in the centre of the table his equally large wolfhound was sleeping, the great shaggy beast’s snoring could be heard over the sound of the crackling fires and laughing screams from the children playing in the courtyard. 

Crossing the hall, Cregan took the tightly spiralled staircase to the 1st floor, heading directly for Lady Stark’s chambers. 

He knocked once before pushing open the door, Lady Stark's chambers were always warmer than anywhere else in the Keep and Cregan immediately shrugged off his heavy fur lined robe and draped it over the back of a large chair. He moved through the main room towards the sleeping chambers, where his wife was sitting in the window seat, their 3 month old son cradled against her chest. 

She looked up as he walked into the room and her face broke into a glorious smile. 

“My lord,” she greeted softly.

“My love,” he replied as he sat heavily on the end of their bed and started to unlace his boots. 

“How was your council?” She asked. 

Cregan sighed deeply, his head dropping forward, his chin almost resting on his chest, he paused for a moment before turning to face her, looking at her from under his brows.

“Never has there been a council of men so dull,” he replies, the corners of his lips turning up. 

Lady Stark laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps they find their lord rather dull in return?” She countered, fighting a grin. 

“Do you find me dull, my love?” Cregan asked as he stood and moved towards his wife. 

He bent down and kissed her cheek before kissing the crown of his son's head. 

“Are you well?” He asked, touching the tip of his nose to hers. 

“We're well,” she replied, smiling down at the child, “this one's appetite takes after his father,” she added, lifting the child up and allowing Cregan to take the boy from her arms. 

Despite the jostling movement as he was passed from one parent to the other, the boy stayed fast asleep as Cregan cradled him against his chest. 

“Let's give your mother a rest shall we?” He crooned as he carried his son towards his crib placed at the end of their bed.

Once the child was placed safely in his crib, Cregan turned back to his wife as she stood slowly from her seat, the long, dark skirt of her velvet robe dropping to the floor with a swish.  She smiled at him before stepping towards him and falling into his arms. Cregan pulled her tightly to his body, his cheek resting on the top of her head as her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. 

“Come and lie down with me,” Cregan said softly as he turned the two of them toward the large, wooden framed bed that dominated the room, “we should rest,”. 

With his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders he encouraged her toward the bed, taking Lady Stark’s hand as she sat on the edge before slipping back and setting against the pillows before Cregan joined her. 

He slipped one arm behind her back and rested his head onto her chest. She winced in discomfort at the weight of him on her sensitive breasts but Cregan remained oblivious, he had closed his eyes and a small smile had turned up the corners of his lips as he felt all the tension in his head disappearing as he  tightened his arms around her waist. She ran her fingers up and down his back, her own eyes closing as the warmth of his body soothed her aches and pains. 

She was half asleep when Cregan shifted his head, the change in pressure and weight of his head sent a spike of pain through her breasts and she gave a sudden cry of pain and surprise. 

Cregan bolted upright, concern furrowed his features as he looked over her for sign of injury. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” she said with a shake of her head as she placed her hand over her aching breast, trying to dull the pain, “I’m just full to bursting,”. 

Cregan’s brows furrowed as he glanced toward the plump baby sleeping at the foot of their bed. 

“He takes all he can,” Lady Stark said with a tired smile, “but I’m making enough to feed twins, or half the babes in the winters town,” she added, feeling tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. 

“Oh my poor love,” Cregan said softly, leaning toward her and taking her face in his hands, stroking his thumb over her cheek, “I did know you were suffering so,”. 

“I could take a job as a wet nurse,” she joked, as distressed by the worry on his face as the pain in her breasts. 

Cregan’s eyes travelled from her face down to her swollen breasts where his focus lingered and he felt his blood starting to heat. He glanced back up to her face, a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“Would you let me help you?” he asked, his voice soft. 

“And how do you propose to help?” she replied, her mind racing with possibilities. 

Cregan smiled playfully before leaning forward and kissing his wife softly on the lips.

“With my mouth, of course,” he replied, his voice a warm whisper against her lips. 

Lady Stark pulled back from him just a little so she could look in his eyes. 

“Do you mean it?” she asked, already feeling her nipples prickling at the thought of his mouth on them. 

“I would do anything to end your suffering my love,” he said softly, “I’d burn myself alive to keep you warm,”. 

She pushed her fingers through his thick, dark hair and brushed it behind his ear, feeling the burn of tears in her eyes as a wave of emotion rolled over her. Love radiated from his body the same way heat did. 

“Please help me,” she whispered with a nod before moving her hands to the small, pearl buttons that held together her velvet robe. 

Underneath was a simple linen shift held together at the neck by bows of ivory colour ribbon, Lady Stark felt heat burning her neck when she noticed the two damp patches where her milk had already leaked. Cregan pulled at the first ribbon, undoing them one at a time until the garment fell open and fully exposed her swollen breasts. 

“Oh my love,” he whispered, “my poor love,”. 

Cregan lowered himself from a sitting position to resting on one elbow, bringing his face inline with her chest. He lent forward, finding his mouth was already watering and his cock was straining in his breeches. He swallowed hard as a small bead of milk appeared on her nipple as if it had been waiting for him. 

He turned his gaze up to her face, looking up at her through his dark lashes. 

“May I?” He beseeched softly. 

Lady Stark nodded, and watched open mouthed as his eyes dropped from her face back to her breasts before closing as he moved forward just enough to take her aching nipple into his mouth and giving it a gentle, experimental suck. 

The wet heat of his mouth acted like a balm on the sore skin of her nipples and she felt the thrill of arousal as he licked his tongue around while sucking. 

She gave a small cry of surprise as she felt the milk begin to flow, tension melting from her muscles as she relaxed back against the pillows, slipping one arm over Cregan’s back and pulling him closer. Cregan groaned with pleasure as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of sweet milk. 

Cregan broke away from her nipple with a soft, wet sound. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were glossy and dazed as he looked up at her. 

“You’re so sweet,” he whispered as he rearranged himself slightly and took her second nipple in his mouth and started to drink. 

The relief flooding through Lady Stark’s body was palpable, she no longer felt like her skin was stretched too tightly, the muscles of her back and neck had stopped aching and the constant pain at the base of her skull seemed to be lessening with every pull of Cregan’s soft lips. 

Lady Stark moved her hand up his back and pushed her fingers into his hair, letting her nails drag along his scalp, causing a shiver to run down Cregan’s spine and a quiet moan rumbled through his chest. 

She could feel the flow of milk slowing as Cregan gave a few final draws on her nipple, desperate to get as much as her body had to offer him. He twisted his tongue around her impossibly hard nipple once more before breaking contact, leaning back a little and looked up at his wife. 

“Better?” he asked, his head spinning and his voice husky with lust. 

“Much” she breathed, hardly able to form a sensible thought. 

Cregan’s free hand ghosted down his stomach and stopped over the now obvious bulge in the front of his trousers. He took a deep breath as he gripped his cock and squeezed, willing away his arousal. 

“Cregan?” Lady Stark said softly, “let me help you,”. 

“No, no, you don’t need to,” he replied, trying and failing to pull on his deep reserves of willpower and self control. 

“Make love to me, please Cregan,” she implored him, feeling her own arousal matched his but was just less obvious. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, sitting up to unlace the ties at the front of his breaches, “Are you ready?”. 

“I’m ready,” she replied, drawing the skirt of her shift up her legs and pulling it off over her head, leaving her naked and aching in a new way. 

Cregan couldn’t look away from her as he fought his way out off his breaches, kicking the off the edge of the bed with before moving with the ease and grace of a wolf hunting its prey he moved across the bed and covered her body with his, pressing her back into the mattress and the pillows with his weight. 

Her legs parted for him, lifting up around his hips, she felt the hot head of his cock rub through her wet core. He pressed his lips to hers as he shifted his hips forward, his tip pressing just inside her wet body. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, his breathing heavy. 

“Please Cregan, please,” she begged, slipping her hands around his waist and pulling him toward her, feeling him stretching and filling her after 3 months of absence. 

The familiarity of each other's bodies returned as they moved together, pushing and pressing, clawing and squeezing. They climaxed together, Cregan’s groan rolling up from his chest, sounding part agony and part pleasure. 

He dropped heavily beside his wife, breathing deeply and feeling completely spent. His limbs felt like they were made of lead and he wouldn’t have been able to lift them to save his own life. Lady Stark rolled into his arms, pressing her face against his chest, breathing in the hot and homey scent of his skin. 

The two of them were on the edge of falling asleep when there was a loud thumping on the doors to the chambers. 

“Cregan?” called the rough northern voice of Martyn, Winterfell’s steward and Cregan’s oldest friend, “Cregan, they’re waiting to serve supper,”. 

Cregan gave a soft chuckle, kissing Lady Stark on the top of her head as he slipped out from under her. 

“Shall I tell him I’ve already eaten?” Cregan asked as he grabbed his trousers from the floor and dragged them on. 

Lady Stark laughed before dragging one of the furs over her body to cover herself. Cregan stood, glancing down at her watching him. 

“I’ll bring you a plate,” he said as he walked out of the bedroom and into the main chambers, picking up his boots as he left. 

“Thank you, my Lord,” she replied with a smile 

“You’re welcome, my love,”. He replied with a wink over his shoulder as he headed toward the doors and back into the world outside their chambers.