#because its kind of just. dark. and angsty

[zhuoyichenpretty]

ep 24 commentary (brain fried edition)

my head is a little empty after ep 24 tbh!! brain is not braining after all the zyc hurt no comfort (-:

some scattered thoughts here and there, painstakingly corralled like cats out of my vacuous brain and into a list (spoilers):

ZYZ is really emo this episode poor dude like he is having a hard time keeping it together it seems. Every other word out of his mouth is depressing as shit, which is saying a lot considering how depressing he usually is already (': I kind of wanted this episode to pick his brain more, give him room to emote in the aftermath of all that. But it almost feels like the character refuses to be alone, like he might spiral if he has too much time to get in his own head. I'm still so curious to know, though, what he thinks about the state of their promise in light of how far ZYC went trying to save him. “He has us,” ZYZ said to WX. When the time comes, I wonder how he'll reconcile that with what he’s asked of ZYC.

PSJ and Ying Lei bonding! shenanigans! I did laugh thank you guys. Also, not that the team didn't operate separately before, but I really get a sense of how much ZYC held things together with how apparent his absence is. It's obvs heartwarming seeing how hard everyone is working to save him (PSJ especially for me bc I love their mutual tacit trust and respect and all the ways they're alike and different), but ultimately it's still so angsty (':

Kind of love the couple instances where ZYC has been referred to as fragile/weak/of delicate constitution (depending on how you wanna translate it) like that's a very interesting quality to assign to basically the tank of your team. Even if the comments are made facetiously, it just reminds me of how often we witness his mortality, and of course how everything about the styling, aesthetics, and content of the flashbacks to his childhood reinforce a characterization of vulnerability at the very heart of him. I saw someone mention how the Cloud Light Sword responded to ZYC's tears and to that vulnerability rather than brute strength, and I totally agree. I love how this "fragile" characterization plays into the whole fate weapon deal. ZYC's strength is (imo) unconventional, and it is his sensitivity, his compassion, and his deep capacity to feel that the sword acknowledges, resonates with, and empowers. Almost like it protects his tender heart rather than making it something he needs to overcome to get stronger.

One thing I will never get over is how incredibly they styled TJR as baby!Yichen, adult ZYC, and Bingyi. What do you mean this is all from one drama and not three separate productions. Insane. I'm out of my mind with how gorgeous every change in costuming is.

A tangential note is I've seen people mention (paraphrasing very much here) ZYZ's demon form being nicely subtle in its eerie inhumanity and tbh I have a similar feeling even just about human adult ZYC imo. Especially when his hair is down and he's got that thick eyeliner on and we get a close up of his contacts, if you told me from the start that he's half-demon half-human or something I'd believe it. Along the same vein, baby!Yichen reads completely human to me, and Bingyi of course completely demon. Something something the Cloud Light Sword bridges the gap something. This point is unintelligible and not narratively based but I had to make it because I've been thinking "wow ZYC elven" for days now.

Saw a tag about yuanyi getting us through some dark times but man they are PUTTING me through some dark times rn help?/

Been trying to put off talking about the baby Yichen scenes because wow I cried immediately. Well, no, I was like "yay! I love seeing baby Yichen!" and then they crushed me into demon dust lol. And then WX had to tell that absolutely precious story about when she got sick and ZYZ had to go like "actually ZYC was probably lonely as fuck" and yeah that's fine I didn't need my heart anyway.

Ending on this point so I can put a pretty screencap here: There is so much gravity to just the short scene of Bingyi removing his mask and dropping to his knees with that anguished and fatigued expression. TJR's acting is the gift that keeps on giving (me angst).

so sorry if anything here didn't make sense, i currently have the same thousand-mile-stare as Bingyi the more i think about how this all might end and how long I'm gonna have to wait to find out.

[whump-in-the-closet]

Merry Whump of May

@themerrywhumpofmay

May 9th- “We’ll burn that bridge when we get there.”

[collar | lost | roof]

***

(tw: lady whump, mention of past torture, minor character deaths, mention of dead bodies, gunshot, bad coping mechanisms— smoking addiction is implied)

Mal ran like she had never run before. The blood on her sleeves was not her own.

It was supposed to have been a simple con. They had promised the noblewoman nothing but the finest blades. The money would be paid upfront and then they would vanish, the expected delivery never arriving.

It was so simple, she had been allowed to accompany the crew on it.

But now she was running into the night, lungs burning for lack of air and eyes burning with unshed tears.

You messed up.

You messed this all up.

God, Xiang would kill her. Her leg twitched at the thought of what Xiang would do. There was a jaggedly circular scar in her calf, courtesy of Xiang.

Xiang had ordered an arrow to be shot through her fucking leg.

Mal didn’t know if she was more terrified of the dead body she had left behind or of what Xiang would do to her for leaving without the money.

The dead body with empty eyes.

Gold in her hair and blood on her lips.

The noblewoman was a corpse now.

And it was Mal’s fault. It was all her fault.

Mal stumbled to a stop, her hands clammy and stomach churning. The tell-tale signs that she was about to be sick. Which she was. Violently.

Light from an overhead lamp fell gently over her, its touch bronze and smelling of smoke.

The smoke didn’t come from the lamp– crouched just out of the circle of light, a man sat in the shadows of a building’s steps. He smoked a cigarette comfortably, the tip glowing with a dull light. He stared up into the sickly-coloured night sky and paid no mind to the person that had just thrown up all over the base of the lamp.

Mal ran her tongue over cracked lips. She looked behind her. There were shouts in the distance but she decided they were still too far away to be very concerned.

She walked over to the man. “Do you have an extra one?”

The man glanced at her, exhaling a puff of smoke. When he spoke, his voice sounded like it had been shredded. “Do you have money?”

“...No.”

The man smiled, closing his eyes as he inhaled the cigarette. “Too bad.” He didn’t seem to notice the blood covering Mal. Or he merely didn’t care.

“C'mon. I need one.” She needed the steadiness a cigarette would bring. She needed to keep her head together– to keep the image of a dead noblewoman in the back of her mind-- and for that, she needed a cigarette.

He didn’t open his eyes, but reached into his tattered jacket and pulled out one cigarette. He flicked it at Mal, who caught it with numb fingers. “Don’t expect a light from me.”

The shouting grew louder and Mal fled.

She turned a sharp corner, retreating into comfortable shadows.

A cat hissed at her from the sewers as she kicked up at water, splashing the small creature.

Mal winced an apology. She found a lighter in her jacket– thank the gods she never went anywhere without one– and shoved the cigarette into her mouth. Lighting as she was running was a bit hard, but not impossible.

She stopped only for the first welcome inhale of the cigarette. And for the exhale.

The alleyways branched into a dozen different directions, all lined with refuse and filth. A few were flooded. She turned to go back the way she had gone and was greeted with more shadows.

Lost.

Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to find her if she was lost. Well. There was really only one thing to do.

Mal sat down by the sewers and waited until the shaking in her hands had stopped.

The only light came from the glowing end of her cigarette, bright against the shadows.

Maybe if she had a cigarette during the con, it wouldn't have all gone to shit.

She had been on the roof. Watching for any sign of officers or guards or anything slightly off. Like Xiang had said. She had done everything Xiang had said.

Well, not everything.

Waiting on the roof. Waiting on the roof, bored out of her fucking mind. The noblewoman had been talking. Just been talking and talking and talking, and how was she supposed to know that a noblewoman was that good with a pistol and sword?

There had been a gunshot. And Dar was on the ground, bleeding, twisting in on himself. Yan had been run through with the noblewoman’s sword.

Mal exhaled smoke, staring out into the shadows.

She had left three corpses behind. Not just the noblewoman’s.

A dripping wet cat made its way down the cobbled street. Its ears were pressed back into its skull as it stalked past Mal.

Mal inhaled the cigarette and breathed it out her nose. “Rough night, huh?”

The cat ignored her.

“Yeah, me too.”

The cigarette was nothing but a stub and Mal put it out on the bricks. “I need to find more.”

I need to get out of town. Before Xiang finds me.

Mal flicked on her lighter and watched the flame. She turned it off and the flame vanished. Clicked it on. The flame appeared, impossibly bright.

On and off.

On and off.

“I guess we can burn that bridge when we get there.”

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[eldritch-araneae]

Bumblebee Week Day 5 - Disability

Scattered dreams Collect what I used to be This fight is an infinite maze A hunt but without the chase Reject the cure My symptoms, your metaphor Immortal yet still so feeble Half human addictive evil For a life I obsessed you Now its time to forget you And no matter how hard, I try Cross your heart and swear you'll try I am full of forgiveness Let me out of this illness There's a reason I stand revived No more fears where tears don't dry

Song: Cyhra - Letter to Myself

[novaursa]

Hello:) I love your writing and I saw that you're still taking requests, so I wanted to ask if you'd be interested in writing about my idea??

So the whole idea is Cregan x wife!reader where (before her marriage) she was from a more southern house that's closer to Kings landing (Tyrell, Lannister etc. you can choose)

Now, the main plot is that she wants to help during the war, but she's not that good at fighting and also has no dragon. However, she wants to prove that she can help.

So she fakes/has a little argument with Cregan and then, after a cute goodbye, infiltrates the greens in Kings landing.

There, she acts as if she's no longer close to cregan because he is a black supporter and because of her previous house, she's a green loyalist (in reality, she's team black and a true lady stark)

While she's there, she infiltrates them and sneaks information to cregan and rhaenyra etc. While both of them (or at least cregan worry about her)

Larys and aemond are obvi kind of suspicious of her.

You can choose how you want this to end. If it's angsty because she gets caught or happy even though she got caught, or maybe she doesn't get caught at all. You can choose, with your writing, I'm sure you'll find a great solution:)

The whole scenario is inspired by "She Wolf" by shakira (I hope you know the song😅)

For the rating 16+/18+ depending on the violence/gore/sexual themes.

(Also I wanna thank you for actually considering and writing about my idea for your harwin story "chasing the inferno". I was the anon)

I hope the idea isn't too confusing. Have a great day :)

The Silent Game

- Summary: When your family took the side of King Aegon II, the usurper, you felt the need to support the rightful Queen and your husband, the Warden of the North. No matter the cost.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Cregan Stark

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

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 8 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂 That idea you had (about Chasing the Inferno) was brilliant. And just what I needed to continue the plot, as my imagination was at the halt at that time. And I know that song. I was in my Shakira era when it came out. 😄

The North had always been a place of bold contrasts: the cold and the warmth, the silence and the howling winds, the dark nights and the flickering lights of Winterfell. You were still adjusting to these contrasts, even after months of marriage to Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North. Your union had been one of strategy, a lioness from the Westerlands joining forces with the wolves of the North. But in time, your marriage had grown into something deeper, something that transcended the cold calculations of politics.

Yet now, as the war between the Greens and the Blacks brewed, you found yourself increasingly restless. Winterfell felt like a prison, even with its ancient walls and the comforting presence of your husband. You longed to be more than just a silent supporter; you wanted to take action, to show Cregan that you were his equal in all things, that you could be the lioness who fought alongside the wolves.

But Cregan’s attention had shifted, as it often did with the coming of autumn. The Wall and its endless duty had consumed him, and the war in the south seemed a distant concern compared to the threats of the North. It was a reality you understood but did not accept. You needed to contribute, to show your devotion to him and his cause—Rhaenyra's cause.

Tonight, as you sat by the fire in your shared chambers, the flames casting long shadows across the stone walls, you decided to act. You would provoke Cregan, force him to send you away, to the very heart of the enemy’s territory—King’s Landing. There, you could serve as his eyes and ears, a lioness among snakes, sending back crucial information to the Black faction and to your beloved husband.

The plan was simple in theory, but your heart clenched at the thought of deceiving him, even if it was for a greater purpose. You had to make him believe that you no longer wished to stay in Winterfell, that you felt suffocated and out of place in the North. The thought of causing him pain was unbearable, but you knew it was necessary.

Cregan entered the chamber, his dark hair still damp from the cold air outside. His grey eyes softened when they met yours, and he offered you a small smile as he moved to sit beside you. His presence was comforting, a reminder of why you had fallen in love with him.

"You've been quiet tonight," he observed, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the very stones of Winterfell.

You looked into the fire, gathering your resolve. "I’ve been thinking, Cregan. About our place in this war."

He frowned slightly, not out of anger but concern. "Our place is here, in the North. The Wall needs me, and Winterfell needs its lady."

His words were reasonable, grounded in the reality of your lives, but they ignited the spark of frustration you needed to fuel the argument. "And what of the war in the South? What of Rhaenyra? Do we not owe her our loyalty? Our support?"

Cregan’s brow furrowed further as he regarded you. "We support her, but our duty is here. The North is vast and unpredictable; it cannot be neglected."

You stood up, letting your anger seep into your voice, even as it tore at your heart to speak such words. "I am a Lannister, Cregan! My brothers are in King’s Landing, one serving on the Small Council of the Greens. How can I sit here, idle, while they plot against Rhaenyra and our cause?"

Cregan stood as well, towering over you, his expression a mix of surprise and hurt. "You would leave Winterfell? Leave me?"

The pain in his voice nearly broke your resolve, but you pressed on, knowing this was the only way. "If it means contributing to this war, then yes! I am not some helpless maiden to be kept in the North while the world burns. I want to fight, to serve, to show that I am as much a Stark as I am a Lannister."

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you feared you had gone too far. "You think I don't need you here? That I don’t want you by my side?"

You softened your tone, taking a step closer to him. "I know you do, Cregan. But I need to prove my worth, not just to you, but to myself. Send me south. Let me be your eyes and ears in King’s Landing. I can be of more use there than I am here."

He looked away, the muscles in his jaw tightening. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his desire to protect you and his understanding of the larger game at play.

"I cannot send you into the lion’s den, not when your brothers are part of it," he said finally, his voice strained.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "They are my brothers, yes, but they are also men who have chosen the wrong side. They may not trust me, but they will allow me close enough to gather information, to play the part of the loyal sister while serving Rhaenyra and you."

Cregan’s gaze returned to you, searching your face as if trying to find any hint of doubt. "This is dangerous. You know that."

"I do," you whispered. "But I am willing to take that risk for you, for our house, for our future."

He closed his eyes, his grip on your hand tightening. "You ask too much of me," he murmured. "But how can I deny you when you speak of duty and love in the same breath?"

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly brushed away before he could see. "Then you will send me?"

Cregan opened his eyes, the decision made but the weight of it clear in his expression. "I will. But promise me, when this is done, you will return to me. I cannot lose you."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I promise, Cregan. I will return."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you would slip away then and there. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, committing this moment to memory. 

When he released you, his expression was one of determination mixed with sorrow. "I’ll make the arrangements. You’ll leave within the week."

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart heavy with the knowledge of what you were about to do. But you reminded yourself of your purpose, of the love that drove you to this decision. You would prove your loyalty, your devotion, and your love for Cregan Stark, even if it meant walking into the lion’s den to do so.

The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of your chamber, casting a muted glow over the room. The warmth of the fire had long since faded, leaving a chill in the air that seemed to seep into your very bones. You had spent the night sleepless, lying in the large bed you shared with Cregan, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Today was the day you would leave Winterfell, your home, and your husband, to embark on a dangerous mission to the South.

The thought of leaving him, of being apart from the man you loved, filled you with a deep ache. But this was necessary. For Rhaenyra, for the Blacks, for Cregan. You had to believe that.

A soft knock at the door drew you from your thoughts. You sat up, wrapping your robe tightly around yourself as the door creaked open, revealing Cregan. His expression was a mixture of sadness and resolve, a reflection of your own emotions. He entered the room silently, closing the door behind him, and for a moment, you both just stood there, staring at each other.

"You’re leaving soon," he said quietly, his voice rough from the early hour.

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. You knew that if you spoke, your voice would betray the turmoil inside you.

Cregan crossed the room to stand before you, his large hands gently cupping your face. His touch was warm, comforting, and you leaned into it, closing your eyes as you savored the moment.

"I wish there was another way," he murmured, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. "I wish I could keep you here, safe, by my side."

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. "I know, Cregan. But this is what needs to be done. For Rhaenyra, for the North...for us."

His jaw clenched, and you could see the struggle in his eyes. "I hate that you have to do this, that I have to send you into danger."

You placed your hands over his, squeezing gently. "You’re not sending me into danger, Cregan. I’m choosing this. I want to help, to do my part. And I know you would do the same if our positions were reversed."

He pulled you into his arms then, holding you close against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath, and you closed your eyes, trying to memorize every detail of this moment. The thought of being without him, of not feeling his warmth beside you at night, was almost unbearable.

"You must be careful," he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Promise me you’ll stay safe, that you’ll come back to me."

You tightened your hold on him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. "I promise, Cregan. I will return to you. I will always return to you."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious. "If you find yourself in danger, if things become too perilous, you must come back. The war, the cause—it’s not worth losing you."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. You needed to be strong, for him, for both of you. "I will be careful, I swear it."

Cregan leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a kiss full of love, of longing, of a desire to hold on to this moment for as long as possible. You returned it with equal fervor, pouring all your emotions into that kiss, as if it was the last one you would ever share.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I love you," he whispered, the words carrying the weight of all the things he couldn’t say.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice barely more than a breath.

The two of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, holding each other, neither wanting to let go. But eventually, you knew the time had come. You stepped back, breaking the embrace, and Cregan’s hand lingered on yours as you moved away.

"I’ll be waiting for you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Winterfell will be waiting for you."

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this might be the last time you saw him for a long while. But you had to stay strong, for both of you.

Cregan escorted you to the courtyard, where a horse had been prepared for your journey. The Northern wind whipped around you, biting at your exposed skin, but you barely felt it. All your focus was on Cregan, on the way his hand gripped yours, as if afraid to let go.

As you approached the horse, Cregan helped you mount, his hands lingering on your waist, his touch warm even through the thick layers of your clothing. Once you were settled, he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You’ll have a small escort until you pass the Twins, just enough to keep you safe without drawing too much attention," he said, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. "I trust you, my love. I trust you to do what needs to be done."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "And I trust you, Cregan. I will send word as often as I can."

He gave a small, tight smile. "I’ll be waiting for your letters, but more than that, I’ll be waiting for you to return."

You looked down at him, your heart breaking at the thought of leaving him behind. But you steeled yourself, knowing that this was the path you had chosen.

"I will come back to you, Cregan," you promised, your voice firm. "No matter what happens, I will return."

He reached up, his hand brushing against your cheek one last time. "Goodbye, my lioness. Until we meet again."

With a final nod, you urged the horse forward, the sound of hooves on the stone courtyard echoing in your ears. You didn’t look back, knowing that if you did, you might lose the resolve to go through with this. Instead, you focused on the path ahead, on the journey south, on the mission that awaited you.

But as Winterfell disappeared behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that a part of you was being left behind, with the man you loved.

The towering walls of the Red Keep loomed ahead as your carriage (courtesy of Lady Frey when you rested in the Twins) rolled through the gates of King’s Landing. The familiar, oppressive weight of the capital settled on your shoulders the moment you crossed into the city. You had grown up in these streets, and while the grandeur of the Lannister seat at Casterly Rock had always called you home, there was something about the Red Keep that felt equally like a gilded cage and a battlefield. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead.

The journey south had been long and grueling, but that was nothing compared to the task you now faced. You had to convince your brother, Tyland, that your presence here was born out of desperation and exile, not strategy and loyalty to Rhaenyra. Every word, every gesture would need to be calculated, yet natural, to ensure he believed you were truly the sister he thought he knew.

The carriage came to a halt, and before you could fully prepare yourself, the door was pulled open by a Lannister guard. You stepped down, your legs stiff from the journey, and barely had time to straighten your skirts before you saw him—Tyland, rushing down the steps of the Keep, his face etched with worry.

"Sister!" His voice was strained with concern, and he reached you in a few quick strides, enveloping you in a tight embrace.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace. It had been years since you’d last seen Tyland, and despite everything, despite the sides you had chosen, he was still your brother. The scent of his familiar cologne brought back memories of a simpler time, before the realm had been torn apart by dragons and treachery.

"Tyland," you breathed, your voice trembling as you wrapped your arms around him, drawing on the emotions you needed to sell your story. "I didn’t think I’d ever see you again."

He pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he scanned your face, searching for any signs of harm or distress. "What happened? Why are you here? Why are you alone?" The questions came in a rapid, breathless stream, his eyes wide with worry.

You looked down, feigning shame and sorrow, before meeting his gaze with a carefully crafted expression of despair. "Cregan found out about our family’s support for King Aegon. He was furious, Tyland. He said he couldn’t have a Lannister—a traitor, he called me—living in his house. He… he exiled me. Sent me away with nothing but a few guards and this carriage. I had nowhere else to go."

Tyland’s face darkened with anger, his grip on your shoulders tightening. "That bloody Northern savage," he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "How dare he treat you like this? How dare he?"

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes as you allowed yourself to lean into the role you had to play. "He said he never wanted to see me again, that I was nothing but a stain on his honor. I begged him to reconsider, but he was adamant. I had no choice but to come here, to you."

Tyland’s expression softened, his anger giving way to concern as he pulled you into another embrace. "You’re safe now," he murmured against your hair. "You’re with your family, where you belong. We’ll protect you, I promise."

You nodded, clinging to him as if for dear life, even as your mind raced with the lies you had spun. "I was so afraid, Tyland. I thought he might… I thought he might harm me. The way he looked at me…"

Tyland pulled back, his eyes fierce with a protective fury you hadn’t seen in him before. "He’ll pay for this, I swear it. But you’re safe now. I’ll make sure of it."

You allowed yourself to sag against him, letting out a shuddering breath as you feigned relief. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice shaking. "I didn’t know where else to turn."

He stroked your hair gently, guiding you back towards the Red Keep. "You did the right thing, coming here. The war… it’s tearing everything apart, but you’re safe with us now. We’ll figure out what to do next."

You let him lead you inside, your heart pounding with the fear that he might see through your act. But Tyland was focused on comforting you, on reassuring you that you were home now, that you were safe. The gods old and new were merciful, it seemed, as he didn’t question your story, didn’t probe deeper into your supposed exile.

As you walked through the familiar halls of the Red Keep, Tyland kept a protective arm around you, guiding you towards the chambers that had been hastily prepared for you. His anger at Cregan, his love for you, were palpable, and you leaned into that, praying silently that you could maintain this charade.

When you reached your chambers, Tyland dismissed the servants, wanting a private moment with you. He led you to a chair by the fire, urging you to sit, and then knelt before you, taking your hands in his. "You don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ll protect you. The Greens will win this war, and when they do, you’ll be safe, and you’ll have your place in the new order."

You nodded, your eyes fixed on his as you forced yourself to believe in the role you were playing. "I just want to do what’s right, Tyland. I want to support our family, to do whatever I can to help."

He smiled, a hint of the boy you once knew shining through the hard exterior he had built over the years. "And you will, sister. You will. We’ll make sure of it."

As he stood to leave, you squeezed his hand, forcing yourself to look vulnerable, desperate for his protection. "Please… don’t let anyone else know what happened. I don’t want to be seen as a failure, as someone who couldn’t hold onto their marriage."

Tyland nodded, his expression serious. "Of course. We’ll keep this between us. No one will think less of you for what that Northern brute did. You’re a Lannister, and you’re my sister. That’s all that matters."

You nodded, offering him a weak smile as he left the room, closing the door softly behind him. The moment he was gone, you allowed yourself to collapse into the chair, your hands shaking with the weight of the deception you had just woven.

The Red Keep was your tie to home, but now it was a den of enemies, a place where every word, every action, could spell disaster if you were not careful. You prayed to the gods old and new, begging them for strength, for cunning, for the ability to play this dangerous game.

You had convinced Tyland, but there were many others who would not be so easily swayed. You had to be vigilant, careful, and above all, you had to keep Cregan in your heart. You would send him word when you could, slip information back to him and to Rhaenyra. But for now, you had to be the lioness among lions, playing your part in this deadly dance.

And all the while, you prayed that Tyland, or anyone else, would never see through the mask you had so carefully donned.

The grand halls of the Red Keep were as cold and imposing as ever, despite the ornate tapestries and blazing hearths that lined the corridors. You had grown accustomed to the hollow echo of your footsteps as you navigated this labyrinth of stone and secrets, but today, the weight of your task felt heavier than ever. The shadows seemed to cling to you, whispering of the dangers that lurked behind every corner.

In the privacy of your chambers, the faint scent of burning parchment still lingered in the air. You had just destroyed a letter—one that had arrived under the cover of darkness, smuggled into your hands by a loyal servant of the North. The letter had been from Cregan, your heart's anchor in this sea of deception.

You could still feel the warmth of his words lingering in your chest, a reminder of the love that bound you to him, even across the distance. He had written of his worry for you, of the nights he spent staring out over the frozen landscape of the North, wishing you were there beside him. He thanked you for your courage, for the sacrifices you were making, even as he admitted how much it pained him to have sent you away. His words were full of love, but also fear—a fear that you would be caught, that the game you were playing would turn deadly.

My brave lioness, he had written, I know the strength you carry within you, but I cannot help but worry for your safety. Every day, I pray to the old gods to watch over you, to keep you safe in the den of our enemies. You are my heart, my soul, and I am so proud of what you are doing, even though it tears at me to think of you so far away. Return to me, my love, when this is all over. Until then, be careful, and know that my thoughts are with you always.

You had read the letter several times, allowing yourself a few moments of vulnerability as you traced the familiar curves of his handwriting. But you knew that every word was dangerous, that keeping such a letter would be a risk you couldn’t afford to take. So, with a heavy heart, you had burned it, watching as the flames consumed the last tangible connection to your husband.

Now, as you walked through the Red Keep, you carried the memory of that letter with you, tucked away in the deepest part of your heart. You had to be careful, more so than ever before. The walls had ears, and the slightest misstep could unravel everything.

As you rounded a corner, heading towards the private dining chamber where you were to meet Tyland for dinner, you caught the tail end of a conversation that sent a chill down your spine.

Aemond Targaryen’s voice, sharp and filled with frustration, echoed down the hallway. "It’s impossible that Rhaenyra could have known about the ships. Someone must have tipped her off. The fleet from the Free Cities was our best chance to cut off her supply lines at the Gullet!"

You slowed your pace, your heart beginning to race as you listened. Larys Strong’s voice, oily and calm, responded in a tone that made your skin crawl. "It is troubling, my prince. We must consider that there may be a leak within our ranks, someone feeding information to the Blacks. We cannot afford any more missteps."

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the gravity of their conversation. Rhaenyra had been warned about the ships—a piece of information you had managed to send north discreetly through one of your own messages. If they suspected a spy in their midst, it would only be a matter of time before they began to scrutinize everyone, including you.

As you continued down the hallway, forcing yourself to remain calm, you felt a pair of eyes on you. You turned your head slightly and saw Aemond and Larys watching you from the shadows. Aemond’s single eye glinted in the dim light, his gaze sharp and assessing. Larys’s expression was unreadable, but his presence alone was enough to set your nerves on edge.

You met their gazes briefly, offering a small, polite nod as if nothing was amiss, before continuing on your way. The chill that ran down your spine was unlike anything you had felt before, a cold, creeping fear that settled deep in your bones. They had seen you, and you could only pray that they did not suspect you of anything more than passing by.

As soon as you were out of their sight, you quickened your pace, eager to reach the safety of your brother’s chambers. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to maintain a composed exterior. You couldn’t afford to show any sign of fear or guilt—especially not now.

When you finally reached the private dining chamber, you found Tyland already seated at the table, a glass of wine in hand. He looked up as you entered, his expression softening into a smile.

"Sister," he greeted, rising to embrace you. "You look troubled. Is everything all right?"

You returned his embrace, taking comfort in the familiar scent of your brother, but the tension in your shoulders refused to ease. "I’m just tired," you lied smoothly, offering him a weary smile. "The journey was long, and the atmosphere here… it’s oppressive and difficult to adjust in a few months."

Tyland nodded, leading you to the table where a simple but elegant meal had been laid out. "The war weighs heavily on all of us," he said, pouring you a glass of wine. "But you’re safe here, with family."

You accepted the wine, taking a small sip as you tried to push the encounter with Aemond and Larys from your mind. But the memory of their scrutiny lingered, a constant reminder of the precarious position you were in.

As the meal progressed, you made light conversation with Tyland, discussing family matters and memories of your childhood at Casterly Rock. He seemed genuinely pleased to have you back in his life, and his presence was a balm to your frayed nerves. But even as you laughed at his stories and shared in his plans for the future, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking on a knife’s edge.

Every word you spoke, every gesture you made, was calculated to keep up the facade. Tyland must not suspect anything—nor could anyone else. You were playing a dangerous game, and the stakes were higher than ever.

As the night wore on, you excused yourself, claiming fatigue from the journey, and Tyland kissed your cheek warmly before you left. "Rest well, sister," he said, his voice filled with affection. "We’ll speak more in the morning."

You nodded, offering him a final smile before retreating to your chambers. Once inside, you closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. You had made it through another day, but the fear remained, gnawing at your resolve.

You crossed the room and knelt by the hearth, staring into the dying embers of the fire. Closing your eyes, you whispered a prayer to the gods old and new, asking for their protection, their guidance. You needed every ounce of strength and cunning to survive this—to complete your mission and return to Cregan’s arms.

As the night deepened, you crawled into bed, but sleep eluded you. Instead, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your deception pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. The memory of Cregan’s letter played over in your mind, a reminder of why you were doing this, of who you were doing it for.

No matter the danger, no matter the fear, you would see this through. For Rhaenyra, for the North, and for the love you carried for the man waiting for you in Winterfell.

But as you drifted into an uneasy sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could keep the truth hidden, how much longer you could play this deadly game before someone discovered the lioness in their midst was indeed a wolf.

The skies above King’s Landing were thick with the smoke of burning ships, the sound of clashing swords and the cries of the wounded echoing through the streets. The city had fallen, its walls breached by Rhaenyra's forces, and now the Blacks had taken control of the capital. The Red Keep, once a symbol of power and authority under the Greens, had become a battlefield, its halls filled with the triumphant and the defeated.

You stood in the throne room, surrounded by the black and red banners of House Targaryen, your heart heavy with a mixture of relief and dread. The mission you had embarked upon months ago had finally reached its conclusion. You had done what you had set out to do—played your part in the fall of the Greens from within their own stronghold. But the price of your success now weighed heavily on your soul.

At the far end of the hall, Rhaenyra Targaryen sat on the Iron Throne, her dark hair cascading down her back, her gaze as fierce as the dragons she commanded. Daemon stood beside her, his presence as menacing as ever, his eyes glittering with the thrill of victory. The throne room was filled with the murmurs of courtiers and soldiers alike, all of them awaiting the queen’s judgment on those who had opposed her.

As you approached the throne, your heart pounded in your chest, knowing what was about to happen, dreading it. Tyland had been captured along with the other members of the Green council, and now they awaited their fates. You had pleaded with the guards to see your brother, to speak to him, but they had refused. You had been kept away from him, kept in the dark until this moment.

"Your Grace," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you as you curtsied before Rhaenyra. "King’s Landing is yours, and the Greens have been defeated. I am at your service, as always."

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened slightly as she looked down at you, a rare moment of warmth in the midst of the chaos. "You have done much for our cause, my lady. Your loyalty and bravery have not gone unnoticed. It is thanks to your efforts that we were able to anticipate their moves, to strike where they were weakest. For that, you have my gratitude."

You bowed your head, accepting her praise, but the words felt hollow. Gratitude could not ease the tension that coiled in your gut, the fear that gripped your heart as you awaited her next words.

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardened again as she turned her attention to the prisoners being brought before her, shackled and defeated. Among them was your brother, Tyland, his face pale but his expression resolute. He had always been a proud man, and even now, in chains, he refused to show fear.

"Tyland Lannister," Rhaenyra’s voice rang out, echoing through the throne room, "you stand accused of treason against the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You served the usurper Aegon and conspired to destroy House Targaryen. For your crimes, there can be but one punishment."

You felt the blood drain from your face as the words you had feared most were spoken. "No," you whispered, barely audible, before finding your voice and stepping forward, your heart in your throat. "Your Grace, please, I beg you to spare him."

The entire hall seemed to hold its breath as you spoke, all eyes turning to you. Rhaenyra’s gaze was sharp, questioning. "He is a traitor, my lady. His actions led to the deaths of many, and he must answer for them."

You sank to your knees, desperation in your voice as you pleaded for your brother’s life. "He is my brother, Your Grace. He may have been misguided, but he did what he believed was right, just as we all have. I know his loyalty was to the wrong cause, but I beg you to show mercy. Let him live, and I swear he will never pose a threat to you again. He is all I have left of my family."

Tyland’s eyes met yours, and for the first time since you had reunited in King’s Landing, you saw something break in his stern facade. The love and concern in his gaze were unmistakable, and you felt your heart wrench as you saw your brother—the man who had always protected you, who had stood by you when no one else did—now reduced to this.

Rhaenyra’s expression remained impassive, but you could see the conflict in her eyes. She was a queen, but she was also a mother, a sister. She knew what it was to love and to lose, to be torn between duty and family.

"You ask much of me, my lady," Rhaenyra said slowly, her voice measured. "Tyland Lannister’s hands are stained with the blood of my loyal followers. Mercy for him could be seen as weakness, a precedent that might encourage others to rise against me."

Daemon’s gaze flickered to you, then to Tyland, and back to Rhaenyra. His voice, when he spoke, was cold and calculating. "Mercy is a luxury we cannot afford in these times, Rhaenyra. Traitors must be dealt with swiftly, without exception."

Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t afford to be weak now, not when your brother’s life hung in the balance. "Please, Your Grace," you implored, "I will do anything you ask of me. Anything. Just spare him. I will leave the capital, return to the North, or anywhere else you command. I will serve you however you wish, but please, do not take him from me."

The silence that followed your plea was deafening. Rhaenyra looked at you, truly looked at you, and you could see the wheels turning in her mind, weighing your words, considering the options. You held your breath, praying that the love you had for your brother, and the service you had given to her cause, would be enough to sway her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rhaenyra spoke. "Tyland Lannister has committed grave crimes against the realm, crimes that warrant death. But in recognition of the service you have rendered to my cause, I will grant him his life." 

A gasp of relief escaped your lips, and you bowed your head in gratitude, tears now streaming down your face. "Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you."

"But know this," Rhaenyra continued, her voice stern and unwavering. "He will live, but his life will be one of exile and dishonor. He will be stripped of his titles and lands, and he will be sent to the Wall. He will live out his days in the service of the Night’s Watch, far from here. He will never again set foot in the South."

You nodded, unable to speak, overwhelmed with a mix of relief and sorrow. It was a harsh sentence, but it was life. Tyland would live, and for that, you were endlessly grateful.

Tyland was led away, his eyes lingering on you until he disappeared from view. You rose to your feet, still trembling, and Rhaenyra gestured for you to approach the throne. 

"You have done much for me, and for that, you have my thanks," she said quietly, so only you could hear. "But remember, this mercy I have granted comes with a cost. Loyalty must be earned and maintained. See to it that you do not waver."

You met her gaze, understanding the weight of her words. "I will not forget, Your Grace."

With that, you turned and left the throne room, your heart heavy but filled with a sense of purpose. Tyland would live, and that was more than you had dared to hope for. But the road ahead would be long and treacherous, for both of you. You had made sacrifices, and you would have to make more. But as long as you could keep the people you loved safe, it would all be worth it.

As you walked through the halls of the Red Keep, the echoes of your footsteps accompanied by the distant sounds of a city under new rule, you prayed once more to the gods old and new. You had survived this day, but there would be many more challenges ahead. And through it all, you would need to stay strong, for yourself, for your brother, and for the North that still awaited your return.

The road to the North was long and arduous, the chill of autumn creeping steadily into the bones of everyone who traveled it. The once green fields had turned to barren landscapes, the sky a constant blanket of grey. You sat in the carriage, wrapped in furs, the bitter cold seeping through the heavy fabric. Beside you, Tyland sat quietly, his expression unreadable as he stared out the window at the bleak countryside.

The silence between you had stretched on for days, the weight of everything that had happened in King’s Landing hanging heavy in the air. You had saved his life, but at a cost. Tyland had lost everything—his titles, his lands, his place in the South. And now, he was being sent to the Wall, to a life of exile and duty in the farthest reaches of the realm. You knew he struggled with the reality of his new fate, and the words he had not yet spoken weighed on your heart.

As the carriage rumbled along the rough road, you finally mustered the courage to speak, breaking the silence that had settled between you like a shroud. "Tyland," you began, your voice soft but steady, "I know this is not the life you envisioned for yourself. I’m sorry for what has happened, for the choices that led us here."

Tyland turned his gaze from the window to you, his eyes searching your face for a moment before he sighed, a heavy sound filled with all the emotions he had kept bottled up. "You did what you thought was right," he said finally, his voice tinged with bitterness but also a hint of resignation. "You always were the clever one, the one who saw the bigger picture. But I can’t say I’m not angry, or that I’m not filled with regret."

You nodded, understanding his feelings all too well. "I had to make a choice, Tyland. I couldn’t let you die, not when there was another way. But I know the Wall is not what you wanted, and for that, I am sorry."

He leaned back against the cushioned seat, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the weariness of the past few months. "The Wall," he muttered, almost to himself. "It’s a place for criminals, for bastards, for those who have nothing left to lose. And now I am one of them."

"But you’re alive," you said gently, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "And you’re still a Lannister, no matter where you go. The North may be harsh, but there is honor in serving at the Wall, especially now that winter is coming. The realm will need men like you, strong and capable, to defend it."

Tyland looked at your hand in his, then back at you, a shadow of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You always did have a way of making the worst situations seem bearable. I suppose that’s why you’re still alive, too."

You smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "We do what we must to survive, Tyland. But that doesn’t mean we have to face it alone."

The rest of the journey was spent in a tentative peace, the bond between you and Tyland slowly beginning to heal, though it would never be the same. He had accepted his fate, though with a heavy heart, and you had accepted the burden of knowing that your actions had brought him to this point. But as the carriage drew closer to Winterfell, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

When Winterfell finally came into view, its ancient walls standing tall against the sky, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. This was home now, the place where you had found love and purpose, and where you would begin the next chapter of your life. As the carriage rolled through the gates, you could see the figures waiting in the courtyard—Cregan among them, his tall, broad-shouldered form unmistakable.

The carriage came to a stop, and before you could even step out, Cregan was there, pulling the door open and helping you down. His hands were warm, his touch grounding you as he pulled you into a tight embrace. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and cold air that clung to him.

"I missed you," you whispered, your voice muffled against his furs.

"And I you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion as he held you close. "Every day, every night, I thought of you. But now you’re here, and that’s all that matters."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up into his eyes. "I brought Tyland with me. Rhaenyra spared his life, but she sent him to the Wall."

Cregan’s gaze shifted to where Tyland was stepping out of the carriage, his expression unreadable. He nodded in acknowledgment, though there was no warmth in his eyes. "Lord Lannister," he greeted, his tone respectful but formal.

Tyland straightened, meeting Cregan’s gaze with a mixture of pride and resignation. "Lord Stark," he replied, bowing his head slightly. "I’m here to serve, as ordered."

Cregan studied him for a moment, then nodded. "The Wall is not a punishment, Tyland, but an honor. The Night’s Watch may be seen as a place for those with no other options, but the truth is, it’s a place for men who understand the weight of duty. The realm needs protectors, especially now, with winter coming. You will find purpose there, and in time, perhaps even a sense of belonging."

Tyland’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he nodded in agreement. "I will do my duty," he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of determination. "If this is my fate, then I will embrace it."

Cregan’s expression softened slightly, and he extended his hand to Tyland. "Then you have my respect, and the respect of the North. You are welcome in Winterfell until you take the black."

Tyland accepted the handshake, and for a moment, the two men stood in silent understanding. You felt a sense of relief wash over you—there was no animosity here, only a shared understanding of the burdens they both carried.

As the three of you made your way inside Winterfell, the warmth of the great hall enveloped you, the familiar scents of wood smoke and roasted meat filling the air. You felt a sense of peace settling over you, knowing that you had done what you could to protect your family, and that here, in the North, you would find the strength to face whatever came next.

That evening, you and Cregan sat together by the fire, the weight of the past few months slowly lifting as you shared stories of what had transpired. Tyland joined you, his demeanor more relaxed than it had been since his capture. The three of you spoke of the future, of the challenges that lay ahead, but also of the hope that lingered just beyond the horizon.

As the fire crackled and the shadows danced on the stone walls, you felt a deep sense of contentment. The North was harsh and unforgiving, but it was also a place of honor, of loyalty, and of love.

The warmth of the fire had long since faded, leaving only the soft glow of embers to illuminate the room. The heavy furs that covered the bed provided a cocoon of warmth, sheltering you from the cold that seeped in through the stone walls of Winterfell. Outside, the wind howled, a reminder of the harshness of the North, but here, in Cregan’s arms, you felt only the warmth of his body against yours.

The two of you lay entwined beneath the blankets, your skin still tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking. It had been so long since you had been together like this, since you had felt the press of his body against yours, the way his hands knew every curve and hollow of your form. You had missed this—missed him—with an ache that had grown unbearable during your time apart.

Cregan’s fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine, his touch light but possessive, as if he was reminding himself that you were truly here, that you were his once more. You pressed closer to him, your head resting on his broad chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It was a sound that had become your anchor, a reminder that you were home.

"You’re quiet," Cregan murmured, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep. His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. "What’s on your mind, my love?"

You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch, the safety of his embrace. "I’m just… grateful," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Grateful to be here, with you. I missed this, missed us."

Cregan shifted slightly, rolling onto his side so that he could face you, his dark eyes searching yours in the dim light. "I missed you too," he said, his voice low and full of emotion. "Every day you were gone, I thought of you. Wondered if you were safe, if you were thinking of me as much as I was thinking of you."

You reached up, your fingers brushing the stubble on his jaw, feeling the roughness beneath your fingertips. "You were always on my mind," you confessed, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of your emotions. "There were times I didn’t know if I’d make it back, but the thought of you, of us… it kept me going."

His expression softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You’re here now," he whispered against your skin. "And I won’t let anything take you away from me again."

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, needing the reassurance of his presence. "I don’t want to be apart from you ever again," you said, your voice fierce with determination. "I’ll do whatever it takes to stay here, with you, in the North. This is where I belong, where we belong."

Cregan’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down your cheek. "You’re my wife, my love," he said, his voice steady and sure. "Nothing will keep us apart again. We’ve been through too much, and we’re stronger for it. This is our home now, and we’ll face whatever comes together."

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. It was true—together, you could face anything. The challenges you had overcome, the dangers you had braved, had only strengthened the bond between you. And now, here in the safety of Winterfell, in the warmth of Cregan’s arms, you knew that you could finally allow yourself to rest, to trust that you were where you were meant to be.

Cregan’s lips found yours again, the kiss slow and tender, full of the love and longing that had built up during your time apart. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, wanting to lose yourself in the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you rested your forehead against his, your eyes closed as you savored the closeness between you. "I love you," you whispered, the words slipping out as naturally as a breath.

"I love you too," Cregan replied, his voice rough with emotion. "More than anything. More than the North, more than duty, more than life itself."

You smiled, feeling the truth of his words settle deep within your heart. There was nothing more important than this, than the love you shared, the life you were building together. And after everything you had been through, you knew that you were ready to face whatever the future held, as long as you had him by your side.

The two of you lay together in silence for a while, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence, the quiet intimacy that had been so hard-won. The world outside might be harsh and unforgiving, but here, in this moment, you were safe. You were loved.

As you drifted off to sleep, your head resting on Cregan’s chest once more, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them with the strength of the North in your veins and the love of your husband in your heart. And that, you knew, would be enough.

[esmedelacroix]

All the ways you disappoint me.

pairing: boyfriend!miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: The honeymoon phase confirmed it's existence for the second year of dating Miguel. Your love life went from flourishing to one-sided the day Miguel revealed to you that he was Spiderman.

cw: ooc miguel, very angsty, depressive behaviors, alcohol abuse

a/n: I have been on hiatus for a very long time. I've been in a very dark place this past month. I lost a very good friend of mine that I have known since middle school. Which really threw me off track. I have a bunch of works in progress coming out soon. I finally feel like I'm in a mentally okay spot to pick up writing again. This is lowk just word vomit but its something.

*listen to this song on loop for the best experience !

miguel masterlist | next part

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Disappointment. A feeling you you felt often. Maybe even too often. You were very familiar with disappointment. He only ever came around late at night. Disappointment would wrap his arms around you as if he wasn't the reason why there was a wet spot on your pillowcase almost every night.

All Miguel O'Hara ever does is disappoint you. "So why are you still with him?" your good friend Jess asked over hot morning tea.

"What am I supposed to do without him?" you questioned.

"That's not a very healthy mindset to have. You know that," Jess said putting a firm comforting hand over yours.

You look away for a moment. Eyes trailing out the window of the Spider Society Café that reeked of coffee and broken promises. Miguel O'Hara was married to the barista who would hand him five coffees minimum a day. He chose to marry the barista and work and not his own girlfriend of three years.

As you watched the birds create an arrow in the air flying north over the firey trees below. Part of you wished that you were a bird in this very moment flying away from the problems that devoured your brain from the inside. "You still with me?" Jess asked worriedly.

"Yeah," you sighed turning back to her.

"So you'll talk to Miguel tonight?" Jess commanded. She did that a lot. She would ask a question that sounded like an order which made you feel the need to obey. You simply nodded bringing your mug to your lips and sipping on your now-cold Earl Grey tea.

"Isn't it strange how quickly tea gets cold?" you thought out loud.

"Well that's kind of how tea works hon'," she answered.

. . .

You stopped waiting for Miguel to come home ages ago because you didn't think there was a point in it. Just like how you didn't see the point in trying to talk to him about putting effort into your relationship. In the same way you shouldn't have seen the point in staying with him after your last thousand arguments. You felt your eyelids get heavier with every passing hour you spent staring at the ceiling waiting to hear the door swing open.

Like you summoned him with your mind, you heard the door. The keys. The sigh. And the footsteps. Your heart began to race. Why am I nervous? You asked yourself. You stood up and walked out of your shared room.

Miguel's usual routine was to get home eat the food you prepared for him hours prior, shower, and go to bed. As you walked down the hallway leading to the kitchen, you stopped yourself before turning the corner. Inhale. Exhale. You stepped out into the kitchen and his head shot up immediately. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked. That’s new. An apology, from Miguel. You thought to yourself.

"No, no, I was having trouble sleeping," you answered in a quiet voice.

"Everything alright?" he questioned as he scraped the last bit of food on his plate into his mouth.

"Yeah, I've just been thinking," you started.

"About?" he asked urging you to continue.

"Miguel do you still love me?" you blurted out.

"Of course I do," he replied in a fraction of a second. He sounded almost hurt that you had even asked that question.

Moments like these make you forget the status of your relationship. Moments when Miguel would forget that he's supposed to be cold to you. The moments when he allowed himself to let his guard down around you. Those fleeting moments that should have never left your relationship. "Then why don't we spend any time together? I want to be around you Miguel, I don't care if we sit in silence in the most boring place on the planet. I just want to be in your presence," you admitted. He gave you that little hurt expression again.

"I—I've just been busy," he stuttered. Miguel would often do this thing where he would begin to say something and then cut himself off and choose to say something else.

"Miguel, you know you can tell me anything," you insisted.

"I just—can we please not do this right now?" he pleaded.

You gave him a frown. "Can we sleep it off? Talk about it in the morning?" he sighed rubbing his face.

"Will you even be here in the morning?" you ask under your breath.

"I'll see," he said putting a hand on your shoulder as he walked past you into the bathroom. He did it again. He cut off the conversation the moment it got hard for him. Why are we so complicated? You asked yourself as you lay your head on your moist pillow. Will there ever be a night where I don't cry because of him? A night where he doesn't confuse me with his actions?

. . .

That night as you lay in bed with his back faced away from him, you couldn't help but cry. You felt like you were drowning in your tears. Like they were holding you back. You tried to be as quiet as possible. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. You repeated to yourself.

The only happy thoughts you could think of were of Miguel. Or the Miguel you used to know. The person he used to be before he started using his job as an excuse to neglect you.

Just then when your breathing slowed and you calmed down a bit with tears still streaming down your face. He wrapped his arms around you. He cuddled you from behind. He did that often. When he thought you were asleep. It was almost as if different versions of himself occupied his brain. You liked the one that took the spotlight at night.

The one that would cuddle you. Nuzzle his nose into your hair. The one that would rub your back and. Apologize. To. You.

. . .

Apology fell asleep that night and disappointment woke up at the ass crack of dawn because there was another Spider-verse that needed saving.

You woke up later that morning to the usual chilling feeling of Miguel not being there. You got up stretching your arms as you walked to your kitchen. You made yourself a cup of tea and an omelette, and ate alone, in silence. Thinking. About him. Again.

For the second time this week as if you called for him with your heart, you heard the balcony door slide open and a masked man swing in. He took his mask off and shook his head adjusting his hair. "Good morning," you said with a stupid smile on your face. Why? You couldn't tell. Maybe it was the fact that he was actually here in the morning like he said he would be.

"Good morning. You’re in a good mood," he chuckled.

"Well you're here," you smiled.

Miguel gave you a look. You weren't sure how to feel about it. But it wasn't a bad look. It was nice. Kind of sweet. He prepared a pot of black coffee and talked about his morning in Peni Parker's universe catching a difficult anomaly. For a moment, you could feel little fireflies set off in your stomach seeing him talk about something he was passionate about.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked as he took a seat next to you.

"Just about us and our recent slump, I guess?" you started.

"I'm listening," he hummed as he sipped his coffee.

"I want to spend more time with you Miguel. I want to not argue with you about how much time you spend at work. I want to know what's on your mind. I want to know how you really are and not just how you say you are," you admit. Miguel stayed quiet for a while in thought.

"I don't know what to say to that," he said; his voice cracking a bit.

"You don't have to say anything just—let me be your shelter, please?" you suggested.

. . .

That night Miguel didn't come home. He didn't come in the middle of the night. He didn't come to eat either. He didn't come to wrap his arms around you. And he didn't come to apologize.

. . .

I don't like it when my friends tell me I have a drinking problem. How could it possibly be a problem if it makes me feel better about all the things that rack my brain? Being vulnerable is much easier said than done. Especially, with the girl I love. Of course, I want to tell her things. I want to tell her everything. I want her to know me as well as she knows her hometown. As well as she knows her childhood cat. And as well as she knows how to navigate Pinterest.

But I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'll cry and she'll think I'm weak. I'm afraid she'll think I'm unworthy. I know she would never think those things about me. But how could anyone think anything differently if I think that way about myself?

That's why I turn to the friend that won't let me down ever. Endless Modelos. Because I'm so weak that I can't even open up tp my girlfriend. Every time I feel like I am finally ready to tell her what I'm going through, I stop myself because I am afraid.

. . .

To your great surprise, Miguel wasn't there in the morning. Or the next, or even the one after that. By the third you hadn't seen him it was beginning to stress you out. You wondered if he was safe. If he was even still alive. You decided to go to the Spider Society.

After talking with Jess for a while and babysitting Mayday for a bit. You were finally free to go see Miguel in his office. You opened the door and called out to him but the only thing you heard from him was a sniff. Then two. Followed by a third.

"Miguel are you up there?" you asked as you climbed the stairs to his his platform.

"No?" he said in a shaky voice.

"Is everything okay?" you asked. You saw your answer in the form of 10 too many emptied beer bottles on his desk and on the ground.

You rushed towards him discarding your purse on the ground. He brought his hands to his face and he hid. From you. Your heart sank to the lowest pit in your stomach it could reach. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulders and crouched down next to him. "Miguel, talk to me, please?" you whispered.

Nothing.

. . .

The worst way Miguel could ever disappoint you happened. You had imagined it happening in so many other ways but not like that. You never thought of him as the type of man to give up on something so good.

For the last time in your relationship, Miguel O'Hara disappointed you when he told you he wanted to break up.

. . .

next part → All the ways I defy you

[horeformilfs]

I have an ask for you. So this can either be with Alcina, Donna, or any of the Dimitrescu daughters.

All I really want is like reader going absolutely ape-shit on some kind of foe. For whatever reason you want. Whether it be Eathan or just some random person trying to hurt her lover. The circumstance is completely up to you.

Oh, and if reader could have some kind of power, plant manipulation, shape-shifting, whatever, that would be loved.

Aaaanyway, thank you very much for even reading this. If you don't like it, just ignore me. No harm done. Have a fabulous day/night, and stay safe!

💐💐

I love this idea and made it kinda angsty

I'll Protect You...Because I Love You

Dimitrescu Family x Fem!Reader

TW: Arguing, Drinking, Fighting, Stabbing Blood, Fainting, Ethan Winters being a dick, Death

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

In the dimly lit corridors of Castle Dimitrescu, Y/N moved with practiced ease, her footsteps echoing against the ancient stone walls. She had become accustomed to the labyrinthine layout of the castle during her time as Lady Alcina Dimitrescu's maid, navigating its sprawling halls with a sense of familiarity that bordered on intimacy.

But Y/N's relationship with Alcina transcended the boundaries of employer and servant. Over the course of eight months, their connection had blossomed into something far deeper—a love that defied the constraints of their disparate stations. Alcina's formidable presence had initially intimidated Y/N, but beneath her regal facade lay a woman of unparalleled complexity, whose icy exterior belied a warmth that Y/N found impossible to resist.

Despite the differences in their status, Y/N and Alcina had forged a bond built on mutual respect and unwavering devotion. In the quiet moments between their duties, they stole fleeting glances and exchanged whispered confessions, their love growing with each passing day.

And it wasn't just Alcina who had captured Y/N's heart; her affection extended to Alcina's three daughters—Daniela, Cassandra, and Bela. Initially wary of their mother's new paramour, the sisters had gradually warmed to Y/N's presence, finding in her a kindred spirit who shared their love for the sprawling grounds of Castle Dimitrescu.

Y/N's connection to the Dimitrescu family ran deeper still, for she harbored a secret that she had kept hidden from Alcina and her daughters—a power as ancient as the castle itself. Y/N possessed the ability of chlorokinesis, the power to manipulate and control plant life with but a thought. It was a gift she had inherited from her ancestors, one that she had honed in secret, fearful of the repercussions should her abilities be discovered.

But despite the challenges they faced, Y/N's love for Alcina remained steadfast, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatened to engulf them. And as the sun dipped below the horizon and the castle came to life with the flickering of candlelight, Y/N knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, she would face them with unwavering courage, guided by the love that bound her to Alcina and her daughters.

As Y/N approached the door to their shared bedroom, she could sense the tension radiating from within. The air crackled with an uneasy energy, sending a shiver down her spine. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit chamber.

Alcina sat at her vanity, her usually regal posture slumped with frustration. Y/N's heart ached at the sight of her beloved in such turmoil, her concern outweighing any fear that lingered in the air.

"What's wrong, Alcina?" Y/N ventured softly, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness of the room.

Alcina's response was immediate, her words tumbling forth in a torrent of anger and resentment. "That blasted Miranda! She thinks she can dictate every aspect of our lives, as if we're mere pawns in her game!"

Y/N listened in silence as Alcina ranted, her heart breaking with each word that fell from her lips. But before she could offer solace, Alcina's frustration reached a boiling point, her hands clenching into fists as she unleashed her fury upon the unsuspecting vanity.

The sound of splintering wood echoed through the room, mingling with Alcina's ragged breaths. Y/N moved closer, her instincts urging her to comfort her lover in her time of need.

"Alcina, please," Y/N pleaded, reaching out a trembling hand in a futile attempt to soothe her. "Let me help you."

But Alcina's response was sharp, her eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down Y/N's spine. "Stay back, Y/N! This is none of your concern!"

Y/N recoiled at the venom in Alcina's voice, her heart pounding in her chest as she took a cautious step backwards. The sight of Alcina unsheathing her claws sent a wave of fear coursing through her, the primal instinct to flee warring with her desire to stand by her lover's side.

With a heavy heart, Y/N made her decision, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke. "I'll leave you alone, Alcina. I... I need some air."

And with that, Y/N turned on her heel and fled the room, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as she made her way downstairs, the weight of Alcina's anger heavy upon her shoulders.

As Y/N entered the dining room, her steps heavy with the weight of her emotions, she failed to notice the three figures huddled together at the far end of the room. Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela exchanged concerned glances as they watched Y/N's distant demeanor, their hearts aching at the sight of her pain.

With a shared understanding born of years spent in each other's company, the sisters moved as one, their footsteps silent against the polished floors as they approached their beloved Mămica. Y/N's shoulders sagged with the weight of her burdens, her trembling hands reaching for the crystal decanter of whiskey that stood sentinel upon the table.

The clink of glass echoed through the room as Y/N poured herself a generous measure, her movements mechanical as she downed it in one swift motion. The sisters exchanged worried glances, their concern deepening as they watched a solitary tear slip down Y/N's cheek.

Bela, the eldest of the sisters, stepped forward first, her voice gentle as she addressed Y/N. "Mămica, are you okay?"

Y/N startled at the sound of Bela's voice, her eyes widening in surprise as she met the concerned gazes of the Dimitrescu sisters. She attempted to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered at the edges, her facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions.

"I... I'm fine," Y/N replied, her voice betraying the turmoil raging within her.

But Daniela wasn't convinced, her keen intuition sensing the truth behind Y/N's facade. "Did you and Mamă have a fight?"

Y/N hesitated, her gaze flickering between the three sisters as she struggled to find the words. "Yes, but it's nothing for you to worry about."

Cassandra reached out a hand, her touch gentle as she brushed a stray tear from Y/N's cheek. "You don't have to pretend. We're here for you."

Y/N felt a sense of comfort envelop her as she sank into the plush cushions of the living room couch, Daniela nestled in her lap like a protective shield against the storm raging within her. The warmth of the fire cast flickering shadows across the room, a soothing counterpoint to the turmoil churning in Y/N's mind.

Daniela, ever the embodiment of affection, wrapped her arms around Y/N, seeking solace in the embrace of the woman she regarded as her other mother. Y/N returned the gesture, her touch gentle as she ran her fingers through Daniela's hair, the rhythmic motion a balm to her frayed nerves.

With a deep breath, Daniela ventured to broach the subject that hung heavy in the air. "Mămica, what happened? Why are you so upset?"

Y/N hesitated, her heart heavy with the weight of her confession. "It's... it's nothing, darling. Just a disagreement with Mamă."

But Bela, ever perceptive, sensed the gravity of the situation, her gaze piercing as she pressed for answers. "But why did you leave? You always stay with Mamă when she's upset."

Y/N's resolve wavered at Bela's question, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke. "Because... because Mamă got so angry... her claws came out."

The revelation hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the depths of Alcina's fury. The sisters exchanged shocked glances, their concern for Y/N mingling with a sense of unease at the thought of their mother unleashing her wrath upon the woman they held dear.

"That's... that's never happened before," Cassandra murmured, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Y/N nodded, her own disbelief mirroring that of the Dimitrescu sisters. "I know. That's why... that's why I had to leave."

And as the flames danced in the hearth and the night stretched on before them, Y/N knew that no matter the challenges they faced, they would navigate them together, bound by the unbreakable bonds of love and family.

As the warmth of the fire bathed the living room in a soft glow, Y/N found solace in the embrace of the Dimitrescu sisters, their presence a comforting reminder of the love that bound them together. Cassandra and Bela nestled into Y/N's side, their forms molded against hers as they sought refuge from the storm brewing outside. Meanwhile, Daniela remained perched in Y/N's lap, her attention focused on the book in her hands as she read aloud in a soothing cadence.

But their tranquil moment was shattered by the arrival of Alcina, her footsteps heavy with the weight of her frustration. She swept into the room, her icy gaze fixing on the group gathered before her.

"Why aren't you all in the dining room? Dinner should have been ready by now," Alcina demanded, her tone sharp with irritation.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably under Alcina's gaze, her protective instinct kicking in as she sought to shield the girls from their mother's anger. "We were just spending some time together, Alcina. We'll be there shortly."

Alcina's response was a dismissive roll of her eyes, her frustration palpable as she turned on her heel and made her way to the dining room.

As they sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was thick with tension, the strained silence punctuated only by the clinking of silverware against porcelain. Alcina's mood cast a pall over the table, her brooding silence a stark contrast to the usual lively chatter that filled the air.

The daughters exchanged uneasy glances, their resentment simmering beneath the surface as they grappled with their mother's recent outburst. Y/N's heart ached at the palpable discord, her own frustration mingling with a sense of helplessness in the face of Alcina's wrath.

But amidst the awkwardness and resentment, Y/N found solace in the unwavering support of the Dimitrescu sisters, their presence a reminder that no matter the challenges they faced, they would weather them together, bound by the unbreakable bonds of love and family.

As Y/N raced downstairs, her heart pounded in her chest with each step, adrenaline coursing through her veins at the revelation of Ethan Winters' presence in the castle. She found Alcina in the main hall, her imposing figure a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around them.

"Alcina, what's happening?" Y/N's voice trembled with urgency as she approached her lover.

Alcina's gaze flickered with a mix of fury and determination as she turned to face Y/N. "Ethan Winters has escaped Heisenberg and infiltrated the castle. But don't worry, I'll deal with him."

Y/N's mind raced with a myriad of emotions, fear and concern warring within her as she processed Alcina's words. "What about the girls, Alcina? Are they safe?"

For a moment, Alcina remained silent, her expression unreadable as she locked eyes with Y/N. In that brief exchange, Y/N sensed the truth—the girls were still in the library, unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows.

Without waiting for a response, Y/N broke into a sprint, her feet pounding against the cold stone floors as she raced towards the library. Alcina followed close behind, her presence a reassuring presence in the face of uncertainty.

As Y/N rushed towards the library, her heart pounding with fear and urgency, she flung open the doors, relief flooding her as she laid eyes on the girls, safe and sound within the comforting embrace of books.

"Mămica, Mamă, what's going on?" Daniela's voice cut through the tension, her brow furrowed with confusion.

Before Y/N could respond, a deafening gunshot shattered the tranquility of the room, the sound reverberating off the walls as time seemed to slow to a crawl. Instinctively, Y/N moved to shield Bela, her body tensing in anticipation of impact.

But she was too late.

The bullet struck true, searing pain tearing through Y/N's abdomen as she staggered backward, the force of the impact sending her crashing to the ground. Shock and disbelief painted the faces of Alcina and the girls as they watched in horror, their cries of alarm echoing in the chaos that ensued.

Ethan Winters emerged from the shadows, his presence a menacing reminder of the danger that lurked within the castle walls. Y/N fought through the pain, her voice strained as she addressed him.

"Why are you here, Ethan?" she pleaded, desperation coloring her words.

But Ethan remained silent, his gaze cold and unyielding as he turned his attention to the Dimitrescu sisters and Alcina. Panic surged within Y/N as she watched him advance, her instincts screaming at her to protect her family at all costs.

With a fierce resolve, Y/N pushed herself to her feet, her body protesting with each movement as she positioned herself between Ethan and the ones she loved. "Stay back!" she warned, her voice trembling with a mixture of pain and determination.

But Ethan showed no signs of relenting, his gaze locked on his targets with a chilling intensity. With a resigned sigh, Y/N braced herself for the inevitable confrontation, her mind racing with thoughts of how to keep her family safe in the face of overwhelming odds.

As Y/N summoned the vines with her chlorokinesis, her focus shifted solely to protecting Alcina and the girls from the imminent threat of Ethan Winters. The tendrils of greenery twisted and coiled around Ethan, ensnaring him in a tight grip as she launched herself into the fray.

The girls and Alcina watched in stunned silence as Y/N unleashed her power, their eyes wide with astonishment at the revelation of her hidden abilities. The air crackled with energy as Y/N and Ethan clashed, each blow resonating with the weight of their opposing desires.

But despite Y/N's valiant efforts, Ethan proved to be a formidable opponent, his desperation driving him to strike out with renewed ferocity. As he delivered a final, devastating blow, piercing Y/N's abdomen with a merciless stab, a cry of anguish tore through the air.

With the last of her strength, Y/N summoned forth a vine, twisting it around Ethan's neck in a desperate bid for survival. With a sickening snap, his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, the threat he posed extinguished in an instant.

Exhausted and wounded, Y/N collapsed to the ground, her body trembling with the effort of her exertions. Alcina and the girls rushed to her side, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief as they surveyed the scene before them.

"Daniela, keep her awake!" Alcina's voice rang out, laced with urgency as she knelt beside Y/N, her hands trembling as she sought to staunch the flow of blood from her wounds.

The youngest Dimitrescu sister nodded frantically, her hands gentle as she cradled Y/N's head in her lap, her voice trembling with emotion. "Stay with us, Mămica. Please, don't leave us."

Y/N's vision blurred as she struggled to remain conscious, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she met Alcina's gaze with unyielding determination. "I'll protect you because... because I love you," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper before darkness claimed her, her body succumbing to the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With tender care, Alcina lifted Y/N into her arms, cradling her gently as she carried her to their room, the girls trailing behind in solemn silence. The journey felt endless, each step a testament to the weight of their collective worries as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors of Castle Dimitrescu.

Upon reaching their sanctuary, Alcina laid Y/N upon the bed with infinite gentleness, her touch reverent as she began to tend to her injuries. With practiced precision, she cleaned and dressed Y/N's wounds, her movements deliberate as she worked to ease her lover's pain.

The girls watched with a mixture of awe and concern, their hearts heavy with the realization of Y/N's sacrifice. As Alcina finished her ministrations, they crawled into bed beside Y/N, seeking solace in the warmth of her embrace.

Bela nestled close to Y/N's side, her touch light as a feather as she draped an arm over her, while Cassandra snuggled against her other side, her breaths soft and steady against Y/N's skin. Daniela settled in the crook of Y/N's arm, her presence a soothing balm against the ache of her injuries.

Alcina took a seat in a large chair nearby, her eyes never leaving Y/N's form as she held vigil over her beloved. With a book in hand, she settled in for the long night ahead, the pages offering little distraction from the weight of her worries.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, Y/N stirred from her slumber, her eyes fluttering open to the sight of the Dimitrescu sisters gathered around her bedside, their faces radiant with relief and joy.

"Mămica, you're awake!" Daniela exclaimed, her voice filled with unrestrained delight as she threw her arms around Y/N, her embrace warm and comforting.

Bela and Cassandra echoed their sister's sentiments, their smiles bright as they showered Y/N with affectionate hugs and whispered words of gratitude.

Alcina watched from the foot of the bed, her heart swelling with love and relief at the sight of Y/N awake and alert once more. With a soft smile, she approached Y/N, her gaze tender as she spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Alcina began, her voice laced with sincerity. "For what happened last night, and for the hurtful words I spoke. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make amends and to work on controlling my temper."

Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude at Alcina's apology, her own forgiveness offered freely as she reached out to take her lover's hand in hers. "Thank you, Alcina. I know we'll get through this together."

With the tension of the previous night lifted, the day unfolded with a sense of newfound peace and harmony. The Dimitrescu family spent the hours together, basking in the warmth of each other's company, the laughter of the girls filling the air with joy.

As they shared meals and shared stories, the bond between them grew stronger, their love for one another shining brightly amidst the shadows of their shared past. And as the day drew to a close, Y/N found solace in the embrace of her family, grateful for the second chance they had been given to cherish the moments they shared together.

[strawberrynightmere]

heyyyy <3 can i request an andrew x virgin insecure reader? i feeln kind of angsty tday :')

if you do smut, id like to request him taking like readers virginity (no ashley, no incest.)

It took me a long while of thinking of whether I should write it or not.

I'm not very good at writing smut, but I hope this is good enough.

Headlock [Decay! Andrew x Fem! Reader]

Warning ⚠️ : dark content, toxic friendship(?) (Ashley), mentioned murder, sexual content/18+/nsft(?), I have no idea how the Decay route goes, but neither do you, so let's half-ass it. It had a plot, but that got dropped halfway. The title? I guess. Again, I'm not good at this.

A/n: it's not exactly as requested

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

How did you get involved in this? It all started when a 'parasite' was found in the buildings' water pipes and the inhabitants got quarantine. Only later did you find out that you were all being starved to death so your organs could be harvested.

Why you were still staying with the Graves siblings is a question you had no answer for. Was it because you three were criminals, or simply because you didn't want to be alone anymore? Maybe the quarantine did its toll on your mental wellbeing?

Who knows?

Andrew was nice, normal-ish, and chill person to be around. Maybe you caught some feelings for the guy, but let's be honest, compared to the crimes you committed with them, your "little" crush is the last thing to come to your mind.

And then there's Ashley...

She tends to be, how would you put it? Brutally honest? Sometimes rude? Wellmeaning... in her own twisted way? Alright, now you're just trying to defend her. She tends to passive-aggressive comments about your body as if she knows about your insecurities. For some god forsaken reason, you just chuck it up and think it's her messed up way of helping, even if her comments did make you cry once you were alone.

Yeah, it's terrible.

But there were times when you two would just interact normally. And by that, I mean you just listened to her talk and complained about Andrew on what he did or who he was with.

You noted not to interact with him when she was around.

But boy, oh boy! Did things drastically change when Andrew came back alone.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You jolted when the door of the motel room was busted open. To your relief, it was just Andrew. But where is Ashley?

"Where's Ashley?"

"She's not gonna be a problem anymore."

"What do you mean by..." You end up trailing off as you notice the blood on his hands.

"Exactly what I said." He replied.

What are you going to do now... how are you supposed to react to the news that Andrew just brought?

"Wh- ha?! What are we gonna do now?"

Andrew just rubbed his face, clearly tired.

"I'll think about it tomorrow." What sort of crap answer was that?! He just killed his own sister and the only one who could get visions. now what are you gonna do?

"I took the charm. We can still use it."

Oh... Well, alright.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

One of Andrew's arms held you in a headlock, and with his free hand, he was rubbing your clit in circles.

You try to keep your moans down, as you were embarrassed by the sound that could get out. Mind you, this was your first time being intimate with someone.

To your unfortunate surprise, Andrew gently bit and licked from the nape of your neck going upwards, which made you gasp loudly. He quickened the pace in with his fingers, making you get out small whimpers as you felt close to cuming. However, Andrew had other things in mind as he removes his fingers from your clit and gets you to to turn around and face him.

For a scrawny-looking guy, he sure had a lot of strength and stamina.

He hooked one of your legs around his waist as you held on to his shoulders, trying to keep yourself balanced. You feel his hand hold your lower back, and you feel the tip of his dick rubbing your clit before moving straight to your hole.

You slapped your hand across your nose and mouth to block out the sound that was gonna abruptly come out of your mouth.

"You're gonna fall like that." The first thing he said since you started this. Andrew guided both of your arms around his neck. "Now hold on tight." He warned before hooking your other leg around his waist. You quietly whine when you feel his member rubbing up and down against your walls as he moves you both to the bed.

Your back hits the soft mattress, your legs loosen up, and your hands go back to holding on to Andrew's shoulders.

Andrew pressed his face onto your shoulder and held your hips with both hands. Once again, you covered your mouth with one hand when he started moving and gripped his hair with the other.

At first, he moved at a slow pace as you had adjusted to his length. He soon picked up the pace, and his tip was hitting a specific spot, which made pressure build up in your lower stomach, which all released and spread warmth through your body when the tip hit that spot againg for the last time making you groan in pleasure.

Feeling numb and tired, you wanted to rest your eyes a bit, which ended up with you falling asleep.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"You mortals are really something else."

"Bah!" You jump in surprise only to see that it was Lord Unknown floating beside you. You also noticed you had your clothes on again, which meant you were asleep.

"At ease simple soul. As you are aware that you will receive a vision now." The being indicated to the door standing in front of you.

You nervously approached the door and turned the handle, getting it to open.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A/n: This is as best as I can do, and honestly, I'll just leave it at that. Hope you enjoyed it.

[pickingupmymercedes]

An impossible dream - Lewis Hamilton

request: "hey!you are so good in writing angst and I feel there's a lack of angst with lh and sometimes i just want a heavy heart 🫣 but i was listening to beyonce and her song best thing i never had made me wish to read something like that with lewis"

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angsty, Lewis being kind of a jerk (but not really)

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Sorry it took this long anon, but I hope it gives you all the feels, because it did for me.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The opulence of the Monaco in a Grand Prix weekend shimmered around as the warm glow of the setting sun bathed the city in its usual golden hue. Y/n and her husband cruised through the narrow, winding streets in his collection worthy of a car. The engine purred smoothly, a low, contrasting hum to the noise of her own mind as they made their way to a party very few could ever get close to.

Her husband reached over and took her hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. "You've been quiet" he said, glancing at her with concern. "Are you okay?"

She turned to him, managing a small smile. "Just nervous to be back in Monaco," she replied, barely above a whisper before she continued "I have a lot of past history in these streets" she admitted, her voice carrying a mixture of nostalgia and pain.

He nodded, understanding deepening in his eyes. "Is it because of your ex?" She hesitated for a moment before nodding and he squeezed her hand, a silent show of affection.

"I've seen how it affects you, still" he replied softly. "I'm happy to wait until you're comfortable to talk about it."

"Thank you for never pushing" she said, her gratitude genuine.

He smiled, bringing her hand to his lips for a tender kiss. "You’re really the best thing that’s ever happened to me" he said, his voice filled with love.

She saw him before he saw her, the man whose name once caused her heart to race faster than his car on the track and she instinctively tightened her grip on her husband's arm.

He noticed the man beside her, and then his gaze dropped to her left hand, where the large diamond ring sparkled under the golden lights. His expression turned unreadable, a myriad of emotions: shock, recognition, questioning, and even a composed understanding.

As the night wore on, and her husband was eventually pulled into conversations with some business magnates, she was left momentarily alone, drifting towards the balcony, seeking solace in the night breeze and the endless horizon of the sea. The memories of past sunrises in this very place, leaving a bittersweet and relentless feeling.

"Y/n." His voice was a soft murmur behind her, as gentle as the evening wind. She closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself before turning to face him.

"Lewis," she acknowledged, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

"Do you even remember those sunrises?" He took a step closer, the faint scent of his cologne bringing back a rush of memories.

She looked away, back towards the dark waters. "Please, don't." she whispered; her voice almost lost in the breeze.

"What's happened, Y/n? Why did you disappear?" His tone was soft, but insistent.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside her. "Some people need to grow up and stop chasing impossible dreams" she said, her voice more composed than she felt.

"Is that what you think we were? An impossible dream?" His eyes boring into hers, searching for the truth.

She met his gaze, her eyes betraying the pain she had buried. "I couldn't keep pretending, Lewis. Being a satellite to you, yet always on the outside... It was killing me. I needed stability, something real."

"Is that what you have now?" He nodded towards the crowd inside. "With him?"

"He makes me feel safe" she replied, her voice firm.

He looked at her, his expression a mix of sadness and frustration. "Are you happy, Y/n? Truly happy?"

Her heart ached at his words, but she forced herself to keep her composure "Happiness wasn’t a luxury I could quite afford. Not anymore."

He shook his head, stepping closer until there was little to no space between them, his perfume making her dizzy. "You deserve more than just safety. You deserve to be loved, completely and unconditionally."

"And you think you could have given me that?" A tear threatening to slip down her cheek, the tinge of anger to her voice just as she quickly looked up and closed her eyes.

"I know I could have" he said softly, his voice filled with conviction. "I loved you, Y/n. I still do."

She looked back at him, the weight of his gaze and words pressing down on her made her laugh. "Gosh, I wanted you so bad... But, it's too late now, Lewis."

"Don't you ever wonder what could have been?" He asked, his voice teasingly sweet.

"I used to. I’m through with that, though." she admitted, her voice trembling. "He is my life now."

He reached out, taking her hands in his just as she turned to look at him again. "You don't have to settle for safety, Y/n. Not when you could have so much more. It's never too late, you know?!"

"I'm pregnant." She blurred out; her voice steady but not above a whisper.

Lewis froze, his eyes dropping to her belly. He blinked, processing her words. 

"It's still early days." Her hand instinctively going to her still-flat stomach as she felt the need to explain herself, even after all this time.

He swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. "I just... Make sure your happy, okay?! This kid needs you at your best."

"I know" she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as he turned from her and she understood the cue.

As she rejoined her husband, she felt as if a piece of her heart had been left behind in the shadows of that balcony.

Her husband’s eyes lit up. Relief and affection evident in his expression as his arms encircled her. He kissed her head tenderly from the side, his lips brushing her hair. "Are you both alright?" he asked softly.

She nodded, forcing a smile as she looked up at him. "Yeah, someone's perfume made me nauseous, just needed a little breather."

Her husband smiled warmly, and she leaned into his embrace, seeking comfort in the familiarity and security he offered.

As they stood together, surrounded by the opulence of the setting, she couldn't help but glance back at the balcony, where Lewis remained, a solitary figure against the backdrop of their shared memories, his eyes still locked on her as they would always be, as long as they kept bumping into each other.

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[jezebelblues]

saturn bound | h.s

summary: in which the world ends in your point of view, alongside your husband.

cw: death, angsty-ish i guess? unedited, grammatically correct in upper case if that tickles ur fancy.

word count: approx 1.4k. she’s a shortie

| this is in first person! (perspective of you, as reader) i was iffy about a 1st perspective so i edited in both 2nd and 3rd, but 1st person felt right. sorry if u hate, ladies.

No one would remember me as YN, no one would remember my husband as Harry.

As the world crumbled into its final moments, you’d think that chaos would envelope everyone whole. That people would be running, screaming, fighting, as if they could somehow wrestle with the jaws of fate. Mothers clutching their children, fathers desperately barking orders to no one, families collapsing under the weight of hopelessness. Dogs howling into the wind after their selfish owners sped off, children sobbing as the air itself seemed to shudder with terror. A cacophony of fear.

You’d imagine fear cause these people knew their life was going to end.

And it was there undeniably, fear. Not the frantic kind, though. A different one—a quiet terror that settled deep in the bones, cold and ancient, like the Earth itself had finally whispered its last breath into our ears. It didn’t matter what was ending us—whether the dead were clawing from their graves, or if the sky had split apart and let loose the fires of heaven, or some disease had snatched us, unseen, from within. It didn’t matter. Not really. Because the truth was simple, inevitable: today, all life on Earth would be snuffed out, and we would become nothing—a floating spec of a forgotten afterthought.

There would be no future, no one left to carry the stories of humankind forward. No history books filled with our triumphs and tragedies. There would be no mourning of our extinction, the things we took for granted. Earth would be a blank—unknown, just one of countless casualties of time. If there was anyone out there in the universe with us, the children of this planet, would be memories swept away like dust, if even that. There would be no tears shed for us. The universe, so vast, would hardly notice our passing.

Some prayed. Desperation forced them down to their knees, begging for salvation, for some kind of afterlife, something more beautiful than their end. The thought of death so terrifying that they’d hope and pray they’ll end up in heaven—hell, even. Anything other than nothing, than eternal darkness. I understood, in a way, because nothing is scary—we’re alive, we’ve never experienced it—it’s impossible to wrap your mind around nothing.

Others drank. I joined them, a bottle of tequila in hand, the burn numbing me just enough to make peace with the fact that I would die today. And my Harry, the man that gave me his last name, would die beside me.

Harry Styles, the man the world adored, the man I called my husband—sat next to me, his head resting softly against my shoulder. We watched as Saturn, impossibly close now, loomed over us, over our home, like an executioner asking for our final words. Its rings shimmered, casting a glow that drowned out the stars. The air was thick with sobs, with whispered prayers. People clung to each other like lifelines, as if the touch of another human might hold them here, in this world that was no longer theirs. Some screamed, but most just stood and stared, watching death arrive with a strange, defeated calm—a cobra swaying in dance before striking its prey.

Harry’s hand found mine, gripping it tightly as if to stay grounded. He tried to pray, the fingers on his left hand trembling with the grasp of his cross pendant, but his voice cracked, breaking on the words. Tears ran down his face, but I couldn’t cry. There was nothing left in me to give to hope or fear. Once, faith could’ve been my anchor, but now it felt like a lie I might tell myself to feel safe. There was no safety here. There was no escaping this.

And so I watched, as those I had once called neighbors, friends, fought against the inevitable. They ran, though there was nowhere to go. They screamed, though no one could hear. They prayed, though no god would answer. It was almost pathetic, the way they clung to the last shreds of life. But maybe it gave them some comfort. Maybe that was all anyone wanted in the end—their last conjured thought to be at least I tried.

"You know-” he trailed off softly, his voice breaking the stillness between us, "I always thought we'd have more time. That mayb-” He sighed. “Maybe we'd get old together."

His words struck me like a blow. "I thought so too." I whispered, feeling the ache in my chest grow heavier. It felt so cruel, to have found this love, this overwhelming, all-consuming love, only to have it ripped away after two years of marriage. "We deserved more, H.”

My husband’s thumbs ran circles upon the back of my hand, his tears glistening in the glow of Saturn. His lip quivered, voice shaky. “We can be old now.” He sent me a sad smile, pressing a kiss into my temple. “Happy fiftieth anniversary.” He murmured, playing with the ring on my finger.

I couldn’t stifle the whimper that fell from my grin, nodding to his words. I stared at his wedding band that shimmered in the light before passing the bottle of tequila between us—a toast. To fifty years of marriage. That would’ve something to drink to.

One swig turned into three, three turned into five. It had helped stopped the tears eventually.

Harry turned to me, his face inches from mine, and I could see the weight of the world in his eyes—a humorous irony, really, now that we really are practically weightless as we pull into Saturn’s gravity. He raised a hand, cupping my face so gently, as though I were something precious that he didn't want to break.

"If I could choose how it all ends," he whispered, his breath warm against my lips, "I'd choose this—here with you. If this is the last thing I feel, the last thing I see, then maybe it's not so bad."

Alcohol couldn't stop the tears then. They spilled over, warm and unrelenting, because what else could I do? I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling as the world began to fall apart around us. The rumble of the Earth cracking, the low roar of Saturn's tug—it all seemed so distant, so unimportant.

"I don't want to lose you." I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

"You won't, YN." His voice was unwavering, as if he had the book of answers hidden in his pocket. His thumb brushed over my cheek while his lips parted once more. "You'll always have me. Always."

And then he kissed me. It wasn't desperate or rushed. It wasn't the kiss of two people saying goodbye, just an I’ll see you later. It was slow, soft, full of everything we had been to each other. His lips were warm, delicate, and for a moment I could pretend the world wasn't ending. I could pretend that all we had was time.

Saturn’s light bathed the earth in colors that had never seemed so tragically gorgeous—deep purples, blues, and grays, all spinning around the our dying planet. The rings twisted and churned in the sky, pulling our world apart piece by piece, and the wind howled as if it cried for us. The stars dimmed, one by one, turning away from the spectacle of our destruction, unable to bear witness. Maybe they chose to die along side us, not letting Earth go through it alone.—like they were the only ones who’d mourn our death. I silently thanked them, though inanimate, I swear I could feel their empathy.

Harry gripped my hand tighter, his skin warm against the cold air. I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. Our foreheads met again, a united front. His green eyes met mine, full of sorrow, of love, of things unsaid. I wanted every one of the five senses to envelope only him. Our last moment to be together, not watching the world collapse, but here, in this space we had carved out between us.

I kissed him. One last time. The taste of salt from his tears mingled with the liquor on my lips. “I love you.” We whispered together, our voices lost in the roar of the sky falling apart.

And then it was gone.

The cold sank into my bones, but it no longer mattered. My heart slowed, and the world around me faded. No more breath in my lungs, no more blood in my veins. Just the void. And as we drifted into that nothingness, I held onto one final hope—that there is some sort of afterlife, so I could find my Harry again.

Yet, the Earth was gone. It dissolved into the void like dust. The stars, too, blinked out one by one, and the universe spun on, indifferent. We were forgotten, nothing left to even decompose in our boundless grave. Perhaps the dead stars that’ll become something more will be our headstones—an indication we were once here.

But for now, it was as if we never existed in the first place.

btw if you feel like you’ve seen this before, i originally wrote this on wattpad in 2017. it was horrible :D but i liked the concept, so this is it readjusted. hope u enjoyed even just a lil <3

[twinsyy]

Why they think of you to help them sleep (Furina)

(4.5 archon quest spoilers)

warnings: angsty, kind of comfort at the end?

a/n: short cause i dont actually know her very well. i wanna go through the story quests again of characters im most interested in writing about to figure how to write them. that’ll take a while tho so i am basing it off what i remember from archon quests, events, and story quests i did a while ago

She needs to, because it hurts too much otherwise.

Everyday was another scene number. The endless play that is her life. A show that can never end, or Fontaine and its people are doomed to the flood. As she remains to cry on her throne. As the prophecy reigns terror onto the land.

So instead, she endures the weight of this responsibility in her lonesome. To be able to cry because of keeping everyone alive is a gift. Instead of crying because she succumbed to her weaknesses and letting them die.

The only solace she has is when she is finally allowed to be alone.

When it is just her in her room. The eyes are finally off of her, and the curtains come to a close. She curls up in her bed.

She shuts her eyes tight. Her brows knitted in concentration. Just so that she can conjure an image of you in her head. The creator.

She imagines you are in bed with her. That she is in your warm embrace. She falls asleep to the thought of you shushing her gently. Telling her she will be okay. How good she is doing. And how it will be over soon.

Only then does the tension in her body relax. Snuggling deeper into her pillow as if it was actually you. She is blissful enough to momentarily forget she has another performance due the next day.

She does this for a couple hundred years. Even after she was able to live normally after the death of Focalors.

She cannot sleep without thinking about the creator anymore. It is a necessity.

You are the gentle light that glows in the suffocating darkness that has trapped her. Even after she is free, your light will always allow her eyes to gently fall into a peaceful sleep.

[pursuitseternal]

“Bites in the Night, Part 2:” another Astarion x Reader Drabble from the road…

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Part 2: “You’ll have to keep quieter than that…”

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 1.2K of angsty smut

Summary: he drives you mad, your vampire rogue. All that flirting and sexual innuendo and glances and proximity… something has to be done about it. Hopefully not alone.

CW: NSFW, longing and angst, female masturbation, consensual fingering (with cold, undead, beautiful fingers), vampire biting

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The rain patters softly on the canvas of your tent. It should make you relax, after the long day you have had. Your body aches, legs sore from walking and fighting. But no spell will give you healing or relief from this sort of ache.

It is of a different kind. And he is the cause.

Astarion is always the cause of your every bruise and sore muscle, not that he has even taken you. No he hasn’t come asking for that, not yet. Though you know the thoughts have flitted in your own mind, and you suspect from the way his eyes skate over you every day, that he has been thinking the same. But not yet. No, just the way his words tease you incessantly as you journey, the way he tends to shove enemies towards you in battle, his eyes dancing over your every stroke. As if he wants to make it just a bit harder, to keep you fighting so he can watch. He wants to engage with you, if not fuck you yet.

His words all day have set a fire in your belly. No matter the double entendre, the not-so-subtle ways he makes you think constantly of sex.

It’s driven you near madness, so much so, you can’t lay your head down. Alone in your tent, you pace. Your bare feet tread on the carpet you have spread out to cover the dirt. You can almost hear him now: “Careful, wouldn’t want to wear a hole in it just because you wish me to fill your holes, darling…”

How? you grind your teeth. How could he torture you so much, you can even hear his dirty thoughts as if they were in your head?

You doubt it’s a vampiric power. More likely, it’s his own godsforsaken charm that has its fangs in your brain.

Taking a deep breath of air, you let the scent of fresh, wet dirt break your raging thoughts. There is something you could do about it, after all. Quickly, you slide off your breeches, stepping out of the tight suede and savoring the way your mound can finally cool. One foot raising to rest on the edge of a chest, you let yourself be touched, slowly easing your own hands where it hurts. So wet, so slick, you are thankful for the constant noise of the rain outside to cover the wet squelches of your own juices. Closing your eyes, you imagine those pale, dexterous and strong fingers inside your folds instead, imagining it is his cold touch that fingers your clit and gets drenched in your arousal instead of your own.

Nearly there, you sigh, a moan leaving your lips.

A moan muffled suddenly by a hand reaching from behind to cover your mouth completely. And the palm is large and cold.

Undead.

Astarion shushes in your ear, pulling you back against the chilling hardness of his body. Your stomach flutters, even as you can’t see him, except for the arm that wraps around your shoulders and hand that still silences you. “Sweet thing, you have to keep quieter than that if you don’t want anyone else to know what you do in the dark of night alone…” Something brushes over your belly, his other hand tracing his fingers lower and lower until they trace down your arm. “May I?” he breathes one more time as you nod vigorously. “I could smell it, you know, your scent from the next tent over…”

His icy touch travels down your arm, his hand and fingers threading into yours. Your hips buck to meet the added pressure, you can’t control them as they rock into his palm, the cold of his touch making you squirt all the more as he pierces into your swollen and heated folds.

Hand still covering your mouth, you moan into his gentle gag on you, feeling the little reverberations in his chest as he answers with some of his own. His breath tickles your ear, chilling as it courses down your neck, loud and deep and rasping. You feel his nose press against your temple, taking in your scent, your sweat and the perfume of your arousal that coats the air so thick, even you can smell it now.

His fingers play you, making you dance and writhe and grind into his hand. Your knees grow weak, bearing your body down into his touch more and more. With a grunt in your ear, he shifts closer behind you, catching your ass hard against his own body, cradling you on his thigh. You hear his breathing grow ragged, rough, his body more than strong enough to take you this way. As if you weigh nothing at all. And still his fingers stroke you, teasing in and out of your entrance, crooking inside to catch some secret spot even you did not know existed. Something prods against your ass, something full and hard. Cold as the rest of him. His own arousal strains in his ache for you. And he wants you to know it. He gives a little thrust of his body against yours, you aren’t even sure if he knows he does it. Not with the way his hand picks up it’s pace fucking you with his ice-cold fingers, or the way his breath whistles in your ear, rough and rasping in his throat.

The thought of his own arousal alone pushes you right to the edge, the catch of his thumb right over your clit sending you into a crashing wave of bliss. His fingers do now slow, no, they thrust deepest yet into your channel making your ride your climax on them until you are left as nothing more than a mewling limp body, resting against him.

“Good girl,” he purrs, withdrawing both hands to hug you against him still. “Now, if I may be so bold, may I feed? I’m fairly certain I’ve earned it, sweetest darling…”

You manage a nod again, unable to use your voice as the aftershocks of your orgasm still grip you. You barely feel the slice of his fangs into your neck, your tremors of pleasure still too great for any pain to even register.

You’re in some cold ecstacy, finally held and fed on, the ache he’s conjured between your thighs relieved at last by his own masterful attentions. You drift off like that, the soft sucking of his mouth on your neck, the tight, if cold, embrace of his arms around you. Heavenly, you finally find some peace.

The next thing you know, you wake tucked in your bedroll, your thighs covered in dried slick. You will need to bathe, but you don’t care how soon. Let him smell you again today, a nice little thank you for last night.

Slipping on your clothes, you make your way for breakfast, your eyes landing on Astarion as he leaves his own tent. He smiles at you, arrogant and lustful, raising his hand to his face as he licks his fingers.

Your belly floods again with need, and you groan. Just another day of this heated cycle of want.

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My other Astarion x Reader fics:

✨“Bites in the Night:” Part 1 “Go back to sleep, daring…”

🩸“The Rogue You Were: Welcome me… NSFW”

🩸“The Rogue You Were: Cleanse me… NSFW”

🩸“Just a Drop: a Drabble as he turns Tav”

[dimepdf]

★  𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. Just when you needed him the most, Miguel was the one to save you.

─── ☆ notes. I haven’t seen the new Spiderverse movie yet, so no spoilers, but my tiktok fyp is starving for Miguel, so just something short and kind of emotionalish leaning more towards the personal self insert. I don't know, sorry if its too selfish and angsty. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ genre and warnings. one-shot | not movie canon | hurt/comfort | angst | mentions of death | near death experience | crying | hugging | open-ended | we ignore typos here | taiyo vent fic posting again | title Inso from this song.

You were dying—well,  at least soon to be dead.

You couldn't grasp onto time as you continued to fall, windows flitting past your body as the wind carried you closer and closer to your demise.

You never would have thought the whole expression "life flashing before your eyes" to be something that you would have ever experienced, but there you were with the world's biggest migraine free falling from some ten-story building you got kicked off of just because you wanted to play the hero.

You were cutting through the air quicker than dead weight.

All you could do was stare up at your super mutant recent friends fighting for their lives, and it was ironic how you were the only one without the possibility of saving yourself.

You could see the moonlight above the clouds. The farther you plummet, the harder the building's rooftop is to see from the growing distance.

As the heavy breeze combed through your hair, your body felt numb, your fingers brushing through the air as your ears rang with each thud of your heartbeat.

You wanted to thank your emotions for washing away the fear as the tears blurred your vision. There was no point in fighting.

You were falling.

You were going to die.

Your eyes were closed before your body jerked through the air involuntarily. The cradle of your limbs smacked hard against someone's broad chest, leaving you grasping for more air in your lungs.

Two strong arms cradling you close from the whiplash of being snatched up in midair, you trembled in the strangers' hands, holding every nerve in your body fried as your bones felt as limb as the day you were born.

It was a shameless embrace of the familiar blue and red suit your brain somehow managed to recognize through its panic disguised as your guardian angel.

Tucking your head in the crook of their neck as they threw themselves through the sky, you held as tightly as your arms would let you, making a mental note to apologize for practically sobbing in Miguel’s ear.

He didn't seem to mind at all with his arm hooked around your thigh, only tightening harder as you could only manage to form a few broken sentences thanking him for saving your life.

You could tell how he actually felt; his reaction hid behind the blank, emotionless-eyed mask covering his features.

It wasn't until he had landed on the flat ground that you were able to fully collect yourself.

Your legs felt numb as Miguel tried to set you down as gently as he possibly could. You could only picture his annoyance when his hands reached out to brace you once more as your knees buckled.

In memory, you would no doubt feel embarrassed of yourself tripping face first into his chest, comparable to Bambi, as Miguel helped you stand on your two feet, who had disregarded his mask with a quick tug, his brown hair fluffed out.

His mean grimace was replaced with something of concern, and his dark, thick brows pulled together as his mouth parted from the permanent frown carved against his lips. 

"Hey, hey, look at me." Your stance stumbling as he yanked you out of trance, fingers tight dug into both of your forearms. "You’re okay, you're alive."

Crying was starting to become a bit tiring as another sob carried up from your throat, the tears forming a knot and stopping you from speaking even as his grasp traveled up to your face in a much more gentle and warming hold.

Miguel asses you once more and hesitatingly pulls you into his chest, your arms clutching onto him like your life depended on it as he's wrapped around your torso as you allow him to embrace you.

Sure, the pain that you felt wasn't at all physical, and the dull emotional ache that hammered your heart distracted you from asking why Miguel hugged you so tight.

🍀 ...

tap here to be added to taglist.

[milunalupin]

helloooo, 33centaurrii here! Decided to ask anonymously (though announcing myself beforehand defeats the entire point of being anonymous) because secondary blogs can't be used to send asks. I think that's rubbish and a hassle and it's borderline criminal that Tumblr hasn't found a way to optimize that in several years from its conception

I really liked your post-azkaban Sirius and was wondering if you could write something regarding him escaping Azkaban and reuniting with reader ...the catch is that he reunites with them in his animagus form — his fur is matted and growing in odd ways, he looks and somehow smells like he's contacted some kind of disease and he's panting like crazy as a consequence of his sedentary lifestyle in Azkaban. Reader doesn't know this! Heck, reader thinks he's someone else's emaciated stray dog :')

How angsty or how funny or fluffy this goes is totally free reign to you! I've been thinking about adult Sirius way too much for wayyyy too long that I just HAD to request it

— 🌿

ty for the request ily <3 i hope you like it !

— homecoming

post azkaban!sirius x reader ★ 1k words

With a wave of your wand, the sign on the door turned from 'open' to 'closed' and the potion shop was closed for the night. You did a quick walkthrough one more time to make sure you weren't forgetting anything, and stocked up on a few potions that you were running low on at home. Once more you flicked your wand about and the lights in the shop were off. You walked out the back door and locked up, buttoning up your coat as you started your walk home. The night was chilly but the skies were clear, allowing you to see your favorite star, the brightest in the sky.

The walk to your home wasn't terribly far, and you quite enjoyed the peaceful walks down the empty trail. Suddenly a high pitched whine stopped you in your tracks, your eyes going to a wiggling bush on the side of the road. You crouched down and got closer, just to find a bloody lump of dark matted fur, it's tongue lolling out with heavy pants.

"Oh Merlin, look at you! You poor thing, can I please help you?" you gasped, tears already forming as you looked at the weary dog. You held your hand out near it's snout to let it sniff you first, but the dog pushed its face into you hand, whining as it used all its strength to lick your arm.

"Where's your owner, sweetheart?" You frowned, only receiving another whine in response. You looked around for someone who might be looking for him, but the village had been practically empty the past few hours. The dog nudged your hand again, his dry tongue scraping against your fingertips.

"Hold on tight puppy, sorry but this may feel weird." You apologized, wrapping an arm around the animal as you whipped out your wand and quickly apparated home.

The second you arrived in your flat, you rushed around to collect your healing supplies, dropping them in front of the dog, whose eyes drooped tiredly. You were lucky you saw him when you did, his injuries were terrible and he looked like he was going to pass out any moment.

He had gashes and cut all over him, some rashes and boils the result of intentional poisoning. You muttered a quick Reparifors to revert any poison in his system, the dog letting out a large sigh and few coughs. You got up and ran to and from the kitchen to set a bowl of water next to him to drink, so you could get started on healing his other injuries while he rehydrated. You dabbed a cloth with some Murtlap Essence, gently pressing it to his larger cuts, mumbling apologies as he cried underneath you.

You managed to get the dog onto the couch on you were done with the initial healing and laid a blanket over him. His larger wounds were dressed and he looked a little better after a few bowls of water. You gave him a few scratches under his chin and picked up his bowl before walking into the kitchen to refill it. Walking back into the living room you stopped dead, the metal bowl falling from your hands and clattering to the ground, water spilling onto your rug.

On your couch sat a naked Sirius Black, the blanket thankfully laying over his lap. You stood frozen with your eyes wide, your heartbeat picking up as he sat there just staring back at you, anxiously biting at his chapped lips.

"What are you- I don't- How-" you sputtered, your breaths getting quicker as your eyes watered, unable to look away from the man in front of you. He was supposed to be in Azkaban, for Godric's sake, what was he doing here?

"Hey hey, slow down poppet, take a deep breath for me, will you?" Sirius was at your side in a second, one hand holding the blanket around his bruised hips while the other hovered over your shoulder, his tired eyes staring down into your own. "You're alright."

"I- Are you alright? How are you here, Sirius?" you sniffled, raising your hand towards his face, fingertips lightly brushing over his cheekbones as you tried but failed to hold back a sob. "Merlin you're real, you're actually here."

His arm came around you in an instant, his own body shaking as he pulled you close to him, pressing kisses into your hair. "Oh please don't cry, lovely girl."

Sirius held onto you until you became too tired to cry anymore, guilty and ashamed of the man - or rather, dog - he came back to you as. It wasn't easy escaping, no it was complete and utter hell. But the first place he thought of to go was to you, how could it not be. You had been the one to dry his tears the summer after his little brother had surrendered to the pressure of his parents and received the Dark Mark, the one who held him late at night in the astronomy tower when the letters with the Black family seal were too much to handle on his own. Of course, you were just being a good friend, maybe too good. Sirius could've never confessed his true feelings back then, he didn't know if he was stable enough to hold a relationship, and he wasn't going to risk losing you in trying, so he kept quiet. But twelve years later, your hands were still just as kind and gentle holding him, his tears dripping from the tip of his nose onto your head that held the most beautiful and purest mind he knew.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You whispered, teary eyes looking up at him.

He sighed softly and shook his head. "Tomorrow love, I think we're both a little tired after tonight."

You nodded and led him to your bedroom, where you lent him some clothes to sleep in and pulled the bed covers back, sliding in and patting the space next to you. He slipped in beside you and let out a blissful sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to relish in the silkiness of your sheets and the plushness of your pillow. The two of you laid facing each other, studying the other's appearance. You reached for his hand and squeezed lightly, a sleepy smile on your face.

"Welcome home, Sirius."

[hugshughes]

Summer Child C. Loveland

Colston Loveland x fem!Minter!reader

synopsis - When it's announced that Coach Minter is leaving Michigan, it heavily affects his eldest daughter's life. Especially since her boyfriend is a returning tight end for the Wolverines.

wc - 5k (CONFUSED NOISE????)

contains - UNEDITED SORRY! angsty :(, cursing, kissing, cuddling, crying, shouting, lying. people are mean to reader about it. mentions of a car accident! NO DETAILS!!! it's just a flashback!!! comfort (colston is the boyfriend of the year) heavy family issues, feelings of betrayal. it's kind of giving a found family moment? OHHHH COLSTON BEING HOT AS FUCK STICKING UP FOR READERRR, mentions of hickies? can we pretend that it was announced in like a month or so? cause in this universe CURRENTLY (January 28th) Colston like JUST asked reader to be his girlfriend. so maybe this was announced in late March? WORK WITH ME THANKS.

an - well shit writing this was kind of sad. THE TIMES TABLES DURING A PANIC ATTACK IS LIKE ACTUALLY ME. i had one at a party (so fun of me yes) in October my boyfriend sat with me and asked me times tables to calm me down. IT WORKS FOR ME EVERY TIME OKAY? ALSO do u guys realize that whenever Minter!reader calls Colston "Lovey" it's because 1. Loveland is his last name, and then 2. he's her love. IT MOSTLY STARTED BECAUSE OF HIS LAST NAME THEN MORPHED INTO HIM BEING THE LOVE OF HER LIFE. THATS WHY ITS CAPITALIZED WHEN OTHER TERMS OF ENDEARMENT ARENT!

-

you see all the flowers in the weeds.

Your phone rang loudly on your nightstand. Who was calling you so early? It was only 6:10 in the morning as you made your way from your bathroom, quickly grabbing your phone. Colston. What was your boyfriend doing calling you at this time? You slid to answer the phone, a large smile on your face.

"Hi Lovey, what are you doing calling me this early?"

You heard a sigh exit your boyfriend's mouth, your smile leaving you. Something was wrong.

"You don't know, do you?"

"What? What are talking about, Colston?"

"Look at Instagram."

You rolled your eyes, putting the call on speaker before sliding it away, opening Instagram. The screen reloaded before displaying an update post saying your dad was done with his time in Michigan. What?

you're scared of the dark when you sleep.

"No. He would've told me. No way, how do you know?"

"We just got off of a team call with him."

Your heart dropped even further than it had before. Not only was your father leaving, he hadn't even bothered to tell you. Your stomach was forming a pit, you didn't know what to think or do. You realized Colston might be upset with you, jumping to protect yourself.

"You know I didn't know about this, right? I can't believe he didn't tell me. I just- I don't even know what to do right now."

You felt tears in your eyes, why didn't he just tell you? You inhaled shakily. What the fuck? Your dad had touched on the subject of him possibly leaving Michigan to follow Jim, but didn't ever make a firm decision with it, not whenever you were around. Your whole family didn't tell you. You couldn't believe your dad, but even more so your mom, because you thought the two of you were supposed to be best friends. Obviously not.

you cover up your arms with your sleeves, even in hundred degree heat.

"Hey, yeah it's alright. I know baby, I trust you, okay? Are you okay?"

"I don't- I just, why didn't he tell me? He was acting like he wanted to stay. I mean, I don't care that he's leaving, why did he lie about it? He had to have made his decision weeks ago. What the fuck?"

You ran your fingers through your ponytail, you felt your usual front of nonchalance breaking. You swallowed hard, desperately trying to wipe the tears before they could fall down your face.

"Woah, baby, hey. Breathe, pretty. I'll be there in a second. 'M leaving right now. Just sit down and breathe, baby."

You nodded, sucking in a tight breath, mumbling out an agreement. You felt like you were having a panic attack, but it was different than normal. Usually your thoughts went a mile a minute when you had one, but it was like your mind was blank, like everything shut down.

You hung up the phone, two minutes ago you were perfectly oblivious brushing your hair. And now you were sitting on the edge of your bed with shaky hands and tear lined eyes.

You sat on your bed and stared at the wall, doing times tables in your head to try to distract yourself. You'd gotten up to the 17s by the time you heard your front door open, then fast footsteps to your room. Colston's heart broke when he saw you sitting there, teary eyed and breathing sharply. He quickly came to you, kneeling between your spread legs bringing his hands to your face.

"Hey, gorgeous."

You giggled, knowing you probably looked a mess. Your hair was in a now messy low ponytail with pieces falling and you'd only woken up a half hour ago. You melted into his hold before shakily responding.

"Hi, Colst."

"You breathin' alright, baby?"

You felt your breaths slowing and steadying, nodding at your boyfriend and trying to smile.

When you fully calmed down, you laid back on your bed with Colston while he held you. He pulled the hair tie out of your hair to run his fingers through it.

your father was awfully mean.

You couldn't even fully comprehend the situation. How could your dad not tell you? It made you feel like you were in high school again. During your freshman year, your sister had just been born, and your brother was barely two. Your parents were so focused on them that your relationship with them was severely damaged and strained. They just assumed their fifteen year old would be able to handle herself while they tried to wrangle two babies. They missed a lot that year, and it hurt. It had made you feel like you weren't apart of your own family, you felt too old and too different.

That relationship continued for the next two years, though it had ups and downs. It took until you were a senior in high school for your parents to realize they'd been neglecting you. One night after a football game at your high school you'd gotten into a car accident with your friends. No one was seriously or fatally injured, but you'd fractured your wrist. You sat alone in the emergency room with no way of going home because your parents wouldn't answer the phone. You were still seventeen so they couldn't let you go before a parent or guardian came for you.

You sat being pitifully comforted by nurses for over two hours before your dad called you back.

"Hello? What's up?"

You felt tears pricking in your eyes, the dull ache in your wrist adding to the whirlwind of emotions spiraling through you.

"I'm in the ER. I've been here since 9. Some car t-boned us going through the big intersection after the game. We're all fine, but my wrist is broken."

You let out a shaky breath, you hadn't spoken to your dad too much in the past week. It was football season so he was gone a lot, and there were also three children five and under running around your house all the time. You sighed as you looked down at the dark green cast on your forearm, hoping you could somehow wish yourself out of existence.

your favorite color is green.

"Oh shit, what? Sorry baby, I've been at the stadium all night. Did you call mom?"

"Only twenty times."

"She's probably been dealing with the littles. But what's going on? Are you alright?"

"I mean yeah, it hurts but whatever. I can't leave until one of you gets here. You have to sign some papers, I don't know."

Jesse Minter didn't know what to do. He felt like the worst dad.

"Well um, I'm leaving the stadium now. I'll call mom, if she answers I'll tell her to head there, since she'd be there faster than I can. I love you, sweetheart. Okay? I'm sorry, baby."

"It's whatever, dad. Love you too."

You hung up, sitting back in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, eyeing the brace on your wrist. You told the nurse someone would be there soon, and she nodded with a sad smile. Your dad showed up almost forty minutes later, giving awkward smiles as the ER staff gave him dirty looks. You felt so embarrassed. Your parents don't care enough to pick up the phone.

That night was rough, though it was technically the next morning when you got home a bit after midnight. Your dad informed your mom of what happened while you sat grimly on the couch, your legs pressed to your chest.

Your mom had a rough night with the littles, and hadn't had any time to check her phone before she fell asleep. You had felt like a stranger when they sat across from you on the ottoman. They apologized over and over, that night had come as a realization for the two of them. They'd realized that you were still growing up, that just because you were so much older than your siblings didn't mean they should feel good leaving you by yourself. You sat still as your mom hugged you for a while. You'd completely forgotten the comfort it was to be held by your mommy, it made you feel little again. You cried a lot, though the people pleaser inside of you still tried to tell your parents you were fine, what they did was fine. It wasn't. And you weren't.

it reminds you of the summer you turned three, running through sprinklers on your street.

Since then you'd been closer than ever before with your parents, especially since your dad started coaching at Michigan the same year you started. But this situation, it made you feel like all the progress had been pulled out from under you. It felt like you were still sitting in that waiting room.

You fell asleep in Colston's arms as his warm hands ran up and down your back. He didn't worry knowing today, Monday, both of you had no classes or anything else. Your mom called you while you slept, so Colston took the liberty to answer it.

"Hey, this is Colston."

"Oh, hi hun. Is she alright? I know it's not right but Jess just didn't know how to tell her."

Colston looked down at you, brushing hair from your eyes before replyig to your mom.

"She was not very good earlier. She had a panicky thing about it. But she fell asleep a while ago."

Panicky thing. That's what you'd always called them. Your moms heart ached but melted at the way Colston was taking care of you.

"She's not as upset about you guys leaving as she is about not knowing."

Your mom sighed, she knew her little girl. Jesse had begged her to let him tell their eldest daughter, but he couldn't get the courage. Sometimes even forty year old fathers are frightened by their nineteen year old daughters reactions.

Colston heard faint talking in the background of the call. 'Is that her?', and 'No it's Colston. Yes he's taking care of her. Yes she's upset, Jess.' Colston couldn't help but be upset with your parents, they knew this would hurt you, and they still let it happen.

Colston said a few more things to your mom, as politely as he could before ending the call, snuggling back into you and falling asleep.

You woke up groggily, with a headache. You immediately noticed the sleeping tight end beneath you, warming your heart, even if for just a moment. You grabbed your phone, checking the time. It was just past noon, you'd been sleeping for a while. You saw texts from your mom and dad, groaning internally. All you wanted to do was power off your phone, throw it in a drawer, and go back to sleep with your boyfriend. But, you knew you had to talk to your parents. You shifted out of Colston's gentle hold, silently leaving the room until you heard his voice behind you.

"Baby? Where are y'going?"

and you laugh, and you dance in the wind.

You turned to see him. He looked so warm and comfy, the sight beckoning you back to your bed. You fought off the temptation, sticking to your mission.

"I have to talk to my parents, Lovey."

He nodded, shifting around to get comfortable again without you.

"I love you, gorgeous. I'll be right here if you need me. Believe it or not, I feel prepared to be rude to your dad in your honor."

You faux gasped, a light laugh leaving your mouth. Although, it was rather adorable. You knew how much your dad usually intimidated Colston. Him willing to get on his bad side for you was insanely sweet.

"I'll be back soon."

Colston gave you one last wink before you left the room, settling on the couch as you started looking through the messages you'd recieved.

and you sway, and you hug, and you kiss.

Apologies, requests to talk, more apologies. You sighed, rolling your eyes. You called your dad, and there were barely two rings before he answered.

"Hey, sweetheart."

"Hi."

You felt a pit in your stomach over the silence that began looming. You felt the trust in your father that had finally regrown over the last two years being taken from you.

"I'm sorry."

"Well I'd hope so."

You were starting to feel angry, the longer you sat there in silence, the more you felt your sadness being buried by malice.

"Why didn't you tell me? That's completely fucked! You were talking about it like you had no interest in leaving. I don't even care, leave all you want. But don't lie to me! I thought we were all finished not telling each other stuff, I thought you guys were gonna start thinking about how I felt. Having to find out from an Instagram post is a low ass blow. How long have you known you were leaving? Is the house for sale? When are you guys moving to Los Angeles?"

Holy shit. You'd never snapped at your dad like that. Jesse Minter was confounded, he had finally pushed you to your limit, and the aftershock was brutal.

"Baby, please. I couldn't tell you. We feel horrible leaving you here."

"So, what? Were you gonna leave a note on the door for the next time I come over for dinner? 'To our daughter, sorry, we left, we live in Los Angeles now. Was nice knowing you!'"

"No! No, we were gonna tell you soon but then I found out yesterday I had to tell the guys this morning. You were supposed to know before everyone else."

"That's not true. You've known since the championship, haven't you? Obviously the coaching staff knew! I can't believe you and mom. How long have the kids known? How long has it been a 'little secret we're keeping from sissy'?"

You waited for answers, any answers. Answers that your father stuttered out, guilt lacing every word.

"Yes. Me and Jim talked about it a couple days after the championship. I've known that if the opportunity came up I'd go for a while. I'm sorry, baby. I know it's bad. There's no excuse I could make to make it alright. I just want you to know that I'm sorry, and I love you. I wish I had talked to you about it, seriously. I just truly didn't know how to tell you, it's gonna be really hard for me to leave you here. You're my girl, my baby. But I know that you have so many people here that love and take care of you."

Your anger was slowly dissipating, the overall sadness coming back to you. You'd be without your family within an hour of you for the first time in your life. That was so scary.

but there's darkness behind those eyes.

You weren't truly angry with your family, you were afraid to be without them. If you knew you would've told him to go and live out his dreams. You were just scared to drift from them.

After talking to your dad a little longer, then to your mom for a while, you hung up the phone.

You felt tears prick in your eyes as you pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. You took a few deep breaths, trying to figure out how you were gonna do this without them. You knew deep down everything would be okay, but that didn't stop the voices in your head from making you scared.

You heard light footsteps before seeing Colston peek his head around the archway. His eyes immediately softened seeing your position.

"Hey, coach. What's up, baby? You feel any better?"

You shrugged as he came to sit by you, sucking in a deep breath. His hand ran up and down your back, soothing you. You tried to give him a smile, but you still looked pitifully sad.

even when you smile.

"I don't know, Colst. It's just scary. My dad got the job here the same year I started here, so my whole family had moved here. I've never been far from them, I know it's immature but I'm scared."

oh, summer child.

"Hey, no. It's not immature, it's completely appropriate. You didn't get the homesickness of leaving your family when you came to college, and now that they're the ones going far away I know it definitely feels worse. Last year when we got here I was scared too. Especially after football ended and my parents weren't flying here every other weekend to see me play. I hated being alone. But, I found people that felt like family. I had the guys, other friends, this one really cute girl that barely gave me the time of day because she was way out of my league and her dad was one of my coaches."

you don't have to act like all you feel is mild.

You laughed, moving to hug Colston. He said the exact words you needed to hear. You thought about the people who filled your cup. Colston was obviously the first person who came to mind. But there were also all your other amazing friends, your best girl friend, a couple other football players, the group of girls you loved, and so many more.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Colston. I don't say that to you enough. My dad said on the phone that it was gonna be hard to leave me here but he knew there were lots of people here that love me and take care of me. I know he was talking about you. They love you a lot Colston."

you don't really love the sun, it drives you wild.

Colston was speechless. He felt real good about the fact that your parents felt comfortable to leave you in his care. They knew the extent of his love for you, and were in awe of just how perfectly he treated you. The princess treatment they knew their daughter deserved.

He squeezed you tighter, leaving a kiss on your neck.

"I love you, so 'm gonna take care of you. You mean more than anything t'me."

You mumbled the three words right back, holding him tightly.

you're a lying summer child.

-

You're laying in your bed. It's almost 8pm on Friday night and all you've done is rot since you got home from classes in the late afternoon.

It's been a couple days since finding out about your dad leaving. It's been a rough couple of days. You hadn't seen Colston since that day you found out, you were both so busy, and he'd had a large mix of practices, trainings, and physical therapy appointments over the last few days.

Colston texted, making you smile. He'd asked if he could call you, to which you immediately replied yes. You swipe the answer button the second the call popped up.

"Hi Lovey."

"Hi, gorgeous."

You could hear his smile, he was planning something.

"Would you like to go out tonight?"

"Like bar or date going out?"

"A date, coach, obviously. Can't take you anywhere, too many wandering eyes."

You laughed heartily, if Colston was with you you would've slapped his chest while his hands wandered below your hips. Ugh, is it obvious you missed his touch?

"Shut up, Colston. Thought you said you could fight?"

"Oh, of course I can. Don't doubt that for a second. I just don't appreciate other guys checkin' you out. But to be honest, they can look all they want and still won't be the one 'ya sleep with."

You told him to shut up again, your skin from your chest to your ears flaming. You talked to him for a little longer before he told you he'd pick you up in twenty five minutes, and to dress comfy and warm.

You were donning a large pair a sweatpants and one of Colston's hoodies when he knocked on your door. You opened the door with a giddy smile, immediately pulling him into your apartment.

"Hi baby."

You greeted him right before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. When you pulled away from him, you stepped back and realized you two were practically matching. Grey sweats and a navy Michigan hoodie.

"So you're trying to be me now?"

"Hello, you're in my sweatshirt, and my sweatpants? I'd say if one of us is copying the other, it isn't me."

"Actually these are my sweatpants, so."

Colston immediately turned you around, twisting the waistband of your sweatpants to look at the tag.

"Hm, that explains why there's 'C. L.' in sharpie on the tag."

Oh, maybe they were Colston's.

"Fuck you and your need to label all your clothing as yours."

You scurried away from him and back towards your room, opening your closet to pick out your shoes. You opted for your Ugg slippers, which of course were pretty much the same as the ones Colston had chosen to wear tonight.

One mirror picture of your matching outfits later, you were holding hands as you walked down to the car. It was early spring in Ann Arbor, but it still got pretty chilly in the night.

"So where are we even going?"

You realized you had no clue what you were doing, it reminded you of your first date. The drive in movie he surprised you with sent your heart soaring.

"It's a surprise, I know how much you love 'em."

You rolled your eyes playfully, thanking him as he opened the passenger door of his truck for you, holding your hand as he helped you in. You settled in and put your seatbelt on as Colston went around the hood, climbing in. His hand went straight to kneading your thigh once he'd put the truck in drive. Your wrapped your arms around his, as always pulling up his sweatshirt sleeve to trace over his tattoo.

Now whenever you drove with Colston, you kept staring when he turned to look. You didn't snap your head forward like a nervous tween girl, you'd smile deeply when he caught you looking, mumbling a greeting to him.

You drove for almost an hour, your music of choice playing through the car. Happy Instead by Zach Bryan played as Colston pulled to a stop in a rocky parking lot. You weren't really paying attention to where you'd been driving, but you smiled widely when you turned and saw the Lake Erie sign. He'd brought you to Stoney Point, where date #3 had taken place for the two of you, and now was a place where he took you every so often.

The small parking lot was semi-full, which was unusual, especially for this time of night.

"Know this week's been rough, sweetheart. Thought you'd like to come 'ere."

arent you way too busy, taking care of everybody, to take care of yourself?

You leaned over the center console, taking his face in your hands and kissing him.

"This is great, Colst. Thank you, baby."

You mumbled against his lips, kissing him again before turning to get out of the car. To which Colston reached and grabbed your hand, giving you a look that screamed, 'stay put.' so you did. Colston climbed out, going around the hood before opening your door, giving you a smile as he helped you down and out of the truck.

He held your hand as he guided you to the steps leading to the rocky sand. Once you got over the steps, your eyes immediately were attracted to the large bonfire a little ways down the shore. You saw the group surrounding the bonfire, before furrowing your eyebrows when you realized they were your friends. You turned to Colston, halting in your steps.

"What's going on, baby?"

"Well, we've all been thinkin' about you. We just wanted to hang out and be with you, sweetheart. Everyone's been wantin' to make sure you're okay."

when the sun goes missing, aren't the flowers just as pretty?

Your vision blurred with tears, you quickly turned to wrap your arms around Colston, thanking him repeatedly.

"You're so sweet, Colst."

He just laughed and kissed you, telling you you deserved it before pulling you down the shore. Once your friends caught sight of you, they were all shouting merrily towards you two.

Your best friend ran over, almost tackling you in a hug.

"Hi lovebug! Oh, I missed you so much!"

You felt the tears well up again, hugging her tightly.

"I missed you too, pretty."

aren't the oceans just as deep?

Once she let you go, you made rounds hugging everyone else, smiling especially wide when you saw some of Colston's teammates standing a little farther from the fire.

"Hi ladies."

You giggled as you approached them, JJ McCarthy immediately jumping to hug you tightly.

"Hey! How are you doing?"

"I'm alright, this has definitely improved my overall mood!"

You pulled away from him, going to hug Donovan, Blake, and Will. Colston came over to the five of you, wrapping his arm around your hips as you fell into conversation. You talked with them for a while before being beckoned over to a group of your girlfriends sitting in camping chairs on the opposite side of the fire.

As you walked away Colston's eyes followed you, his heart soaring seeing you smiling so brightly. The voice of Will across from him bringing his eyes from you.

the trees as green?

"Dude, you know we all like her and all. But, do you really think she didn't know about all of it?"

Colston's eyes darkened, his hand subconsciously pulling into a fist.

"What are you trying to say? That's she's lying to everyone? Fuck are you on, man?"

"Whoa, Will. Man, there's no need to be like that. She didn't know, that's why she's been so upset. Minter lied to her about it."

JJ talked Will down while Blake put his hand on Colston's shoulder, telling him to chill.

"Nah, bro. You don't come out here then pull this shit. We know you're fucking pissy he's leaving, don't try to be a dickhead about it. It's not her fucking fault. The only reason I'm not slapping the fuck out of you right now is because she's over there, and you're not about to ruin this for her."

and as for me, i'll watch you weep.

Colston turned and left his teammates, going to see what was up with the couple of hockey players that he'd invited.

You obliviously talked to your friends, smiling and giggling with them. You were pulled into one of your closest girlfriend's laps as you talked to them.

"Okay but seriously, how are you feeling? We felt horrible when Colston texted everyone about this."

"Honestly, I'm fine. I mean, I'm still really upset, but I'll get over it. I think it'll be whatever, I didn't think my dad would stay forever."

They nodded, sending sympathetic smiles your way. You gratefully accepted a Diet Coke from one of your friends as you continued to talk to them about everything. After a while, you got up and mingled with your other friends that were there. Your former dorm mate and the other girls from the old building stood with you for a little bit before you felt your hand being tugged.

You turned and made eye contact with Colston, smiling.

"Hi Lovey,"

You said it quietly, not wanting to interrupt the girls around you. He smiled, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

"what's up?"

He shook his head before nodding down towards the water. You nodded, silently following behind him, hands still locked together.

oh, summer child.

He brought you right to where the last dry sand was, the water lapping a dozen or so feet in front of you. You leaned your head against the side of his shoulder, overwhelmed by how warm he was even in the cold of the night. He smelled like how he usually did, the cologne he used called "cosmic cowboy", and the eucalyptus of his shampoo. On top of the usual aroma was a layer of smoke, it danced around in your head until you felt dizzy.

"I love you, Colston. The most."

Your eyes felt heavy as you stared out at the water. The moon was almost full as it glowed over the lake, accented by tiny stars.

"I love you more than anything."

Warmth grew in your stomach, spreading to your heart.

"You know it's okay to be real' sad about this baby? You don't have to act like you're okay, especially not with me. I know how much it hurt you, gorgeous. You don't have to act like you are only ever happy. I don't want you to brush off your feelings anymore."

you don't have to act like all you feel is mild.

He said the words quietly, and full of nothing but love. It was true that you were acting like it didn't affect you like it truly did. That's what you'd had to do since your baby siblings had been born, you'd had to pretend everything was fine, even when it wasn't, you weren't. You turned and wrapped your arms around Colston's waist, his arms immediately enveloping your shoulders. You felt tears prick in your eyes as your forehead pressed against his collarbone.

"Thank you for caring for me. Thank you for always being the one to be there. You don't know how badly I needed you, need you."

you don't really love the sun, it drives you wild.

"'M always gonna be here, gorgeous. Never leavin' you alone. Stuck with me."

"Wouldn't wanna be stuck with anyone else."

You stood there silently, hugging on the shore. You were sure your absence didn't go unnoticed, but you didn't really care. You interrupted the peace with a thought.

"Does my dad leaving mean I can give you hickies now?"

Colston's perfect laugh cut through the soft aquatic air. He pulled away from you just a little, shifting to hold your face.

"That's what you're thinking about? Markin' me up now that your dad won't see?"

"I mean, I've been marking you up where he can't see, so."

One of Colston's hand moved to pat your ass as he pulled you into a intoxicating kiss, earning awes and whoops from your friends up the sand. You decided in that moment that everything would be okay.

you're a lying, summer child.

[indigofyrebird]

A Tale of Brothers

820 words

Rated G!

Kind of angsty. Kind of sweet.

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"What, no hug for me?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Crosshair wished he could take them back. He hated the way it made him sound like a child, like he wanted a hug. He didn't. 

Echo's response made him cringe inwardly. "Depends on how good your intel is." Crosshair turned his head away from the other man's intense gaze, huffing out a dismissive breath. He didn't need Echo's approval. He surely didn't need a hug from him.

Dinner was awkward. Talk of Tech made the ache in his heart threaten to overwhelm him. His food tasted like sawdust. He offered what he could with information about Barton IV, his hand tremoring hard at the memories it brought up. They would leave in the morning. 

When Wrecker brought his armor kit out and presented it to him he could hardly speak for the lump in his throat. One glance up at the back of Wrecker's head and then the brief eye contact with Hunter had him turning away, heart feeling like it had dropped into his stomach. Why do I care what HE thinks? Crosshair cursed to himself. 

Omega lightened his mood immidiately. She was good at that. Reminding him that she was the older sister. Now that was funny. He smiled, the feeling foreign on his lips. 

------

Crosshair stepped out into the bright sunlight, adjusting his chest plate. His old armor was a little loose but he had to admit it felt good. It felt like home. Like all the memories of a childhood spent learning to fight alongside his brothers were held in each piece of armor. He would be forever grateful to Wrecker for keeping it safe for him. 

Looking up at the ungodly screeching, he watched the ice vulture circling overhead. Mayday's voice in his head combined with the frigid temperature sent a shiver through him. The sun coming through the clouds was nothing more than light, giving off very little warmth. 

Inside, the abandoned building was dark. Wrecker clicked on his flashlight. Echo's response to Crosshair's "I guess it served its purpose" with "sounds familiar" made Crosshair a little sour and he turned to explore alone. Does he have to remind me of my mistakes? To rub it in? The helmets when he found them did nothing to help his mood. Cast aside, their purpose served. The human beings that once wore them, long gone. Crosshair knelt to retrieve one of them. They had served their purpose hadn't they, he thought. I served my purpose. And how was I repaid? How were these men repaid? He clenched his fist and swore under his breath. 

Crosshair took out his anger on Hunter. He wasn't planning on saying those hurtful things to him, but once he started, the words wouldn't stop. "She went through what she did because you failed!" he said, more than a small part of him wanting to insert the word I. I went through what I did because you failed...but no. He didn't blame Hunter, not really. That was just his bitter, wounded heart talking. 

And then the wyrm came and they fought. Hunter falling through the ice sent a stabbing panic through Crosshair and when he screamed his name it was with the deep fear of losing someone close. But they beat the wyrm. They beat it and they caught their breath and they sat side by side. Crosshair thought in that moment that this was good enough. If his squad never accepted him more than this, a soldier looking out for a fellow soldier, this was enough. In his heart he knew this was a lie. These were his brothers. The only family he had ever known. 

Then, Wrecker grabbed them both in a hug so fierce that Crosshair could have cried. He rolled his eyes at Hunter from under Wrecker's arm and Hunter gave him a small smile back. Crosshair knew then that his brothers wanted him, maybe even needed him. 

----- 

Sitting in the quiet of the ship, Crosshair rested his head in his hands. He slept on and off, waking when he felt Echo sit beside him. "Cross..." Echo trailed off hesitantly. Crosshair turned to face him, rubbing his sleep filled eyes. "Listen, Crosshair, I just wanted to say...it's good to have you back." Crosshair looked at the other man carefully. Echo had clearly been wanting to say this to him. As if it were important to him. Crosshair nodded, embarrassed, not sure what to say in response. 

And then Echo placed his arm over Crosshair's shoulder and pulled him close in a warm embrace. Part of Crosshair wanted to resist, to pull back, but he didn't. He didn't want to be pitied. Somehow, he knew Echo didn't mean it as pity. He rested his head on Echo's shoulder, and when Echo moved back slightly, they placed their foreheads together gently. "Brother," Crosshair muttered softly. 

For the @summer-of-bad-batch prompt "hugs"