#idk if people still like these but i hope they brought you joy. in some form or another

[amystarrstuff]

part 5 (part 4)

[delulujuls]

i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18

am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me

he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him

summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way

warnings: none

pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll

The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.

Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.

"Here, you can have mine."

The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.

"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."

"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."

The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.

"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."

"Really?"

While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.

"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"

"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."

The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.

"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."

She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.

"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"

Y/N scoffed and shook her head.

"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."

"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."

She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.

"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"

"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."

Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.

"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."

She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.

"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."

"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."

"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"

He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.

"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"

"I'll try to meet that condition."

Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.

At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.

Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.

However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.

"There she is."

Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.

"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.

"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."

"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"

She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.

"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."

Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."

Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.

"Lance..."

Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.

"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."

He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Open the gift."

He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.

She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.

"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"

Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."

Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.

"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."

Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.

"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."

Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.

The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.

Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.

"Here you are."

The girl jumped, hearing his voice.

"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."

"I needed some fresh air."

Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.

"I can't believe we got tipsy."

Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."

Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."

Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."

The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"You could be my girlfriend."

Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."

The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.

"I love you, Lance."

With love.

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part six)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: y'all this part absolutely drained me. Idk what it was but I felt so stuck when writing this. I got it to a point where I can start part seven fresh, so fingers crossed whatever happened here doesn't happen again. I hope you all still enjoy it lol <33

part six: because I love you

Waking up in Hugh’s arms was heaven. He was still asleep when you first opened your eyes, his soft snores tickling your ear. You were grateful that he didn’t have those loud old man snores like some of your past lovers had, though you were sure you wouldn’t mind if he did. Gently lifting the arm that was wrapped around your waist, you carefully rolled over to face him. As you studied his resting face, you felt overcome with a deep sentiment of gratitude. He was just as handsome asleep as he was awake. The face that almost always carried a smile was at peace, lips slightly ajar. You adored his face, the deep lines showing a life of joy and laughter. Each nook and cranny aging him beautifully over the years. It made you sad in a way. You wished you could have experienced life with him, wanting nothing more than to have the ‘right’ life with him. A life where your relationship with Hugh made sense and was accepted- but you would gladly take whatever time you could get with him. 

You placed your hand on his cheek, sliding your fingers delicately over the course hairs that covered his jaw. Your chest felt warm. The feelings you had for the man who slept so deeply before you had grown stronger than you’d anticipated, but Hugh made it so easy to fall for him. And you had fallen for him, you knew that now. If one thing for certain came out of this time you’d spent with Hugh, it was that you were unbelievably in love with him. You had always found yourself falling too fast for the wrong people but you had good faith that for once it would be right. For once, you wouldn’t get hurt. You trusted him to protect your heart and to do right by you. You knew he would. 

As much as you wanted to stay and count every wrinkle that laid upon his face, you had to pee really bad. You gave him a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and wiggled slowly out of his grip. You gave him one last look over before heading down the hall to the bathroom. As you sat there, memories of the night before danced around your mind. The way he kissed you, touched you. He made you feel like you were worth something. It was a feeling you weren’t used to, always feeling used by other men and deep down you know that all you were to them was just some young girl to fuck. You never actually meant anything to them. Hugh was different. Being with him felt right. You couldn’t find any other words to describe the feeling. He hadn’t brought you here to have sex,  for once it was you who had made that decision. He bought you flowers and a cake to congratulate you on an achievement that no one else cared to celebrate with you. He cared for you in some capacity and it made you feel horrible, because even with all this confirmation, you still had doubts.

You’ve been fighting a secret battle since the moment he kissed you, the moment everything between you changed. Putting what you were feeling into words felt impossible. What you did know though, is that you were terrified that you wouldn’t be enough for him. Scared that he would snap out of whatever daze he was in and miss the life he had with his wife and kids, the life that didn’t involve you. The life that made sense. 

When you walk back to the bedroom you find Hugh sitting up with his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. His glasses were perched on the lower bridge of his nose, threatening to fall off any moment. His eyes peaked over the frames as he turned to look at you. “Morning baby. I was just about to text you, thought you left.” He sets his phone down on the bedside table as he speaks. “Mhm, just had to pee.” You walk over to the bed and climb up, straddling Hugh’s lap. “Why didn’t you use this one?” He jerks his head to the bathroom that’s attached to the room and you shrug. “I don’t know. The vibes of the thirst trap bathroom just feel different.” You joke. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” He asks, smirking slightly. You shake your head. “Absolutely not.” You affirm and it makes Hugh chuckle. “I was wondering if you had any plans for your last day in the big apple?” His hands rest on your exposed thighs and you become all too aware that you’re still butt ass naked under his t-shirt. “Uhh, not really. I was actually gonna ask if I could hang out with you today…” Your voice is shy. “I was really hoping you’d say that. I might have planned a few things for us.” Hugh smiles and you could feel excitement flood your body. “May I have insight on said plans kind sir?” You put on a posh voice that Hugh mimics. “I’m afraid not my lady, for each destination today is to be undisclosed until further notice.” You drop the bit but not without letting out a deep belly laugh at Hugh’s impressively good accent change. “Can I at least have a little hint so I know what to wear?” He thinks for a moment. “I’m giving you the proper New York tourist day, so wear something comfy.” He pauses. “Maybe wear something incognito. It might be harder to hide than it was the other day.” You hum in acknowledgment. “Do you think I could borrow some underwear or something? I’m feeling a little exposed.” Hugh laughs. 

Your fingers picked at the basketball shorts he let you borrow, tying the strings over and over again as Hugh made breakfast. Small conversation filled the large space and the domesticality of the situation made you flustered. “I’m kinda nervy about the tour. Are you gonna come support me on opening night?” He’s whisking the eggs in a small bowl with a fork and it was oddly attractive. “As long as my schedule allows it, I'll be there. I'd be at every show if I could be.” He looks up and sets the bowl down. “I’d do a lot of things for you, probably anything.” He adds before he turns around to start one of the gas stove burners. It ticks a few times before it catches. “That’s a lot of power to hold and you definitely messed up by telling me that.” You hold your hands up, each finger touching, as you wiggle them in an evil manner. Hugh looks back at you from where he’s moving the eggs around in the pan and smiles. “Don’t get too excited. I said probably anything.” You drop your hands and shrug. “That’s a lot more than I'm used to.” He turns back to the eggs. “Has anyone ever treated you the way you deserve?” The question takes you aback. “I’m not trying to be mean…After hearing some of the things you say and seeing how Pedr-..how he treated you, I’m not seeing anything good. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm confused on how a girl like you has never had anyone treat you right.” He plates the eggs and oils the pan to drop the turkey bacon as if he didn’t drop such a big observation onto you. 

“I uh-...I’m not really sure what to say…I mean I guess I haven’t really had a guy care about me all too much.” He turns to you, staying close to the stove. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You shrug. “I mean you’re not wrong. Everyone always seems to give up on me before anything serious happens…but hey that’s the price of being famous and having my taste in men I guess.” He flips the bacon. “I don’t know how I feel being your taste in men then. They aren’t really setting a good reputation.” He jokes but it stings a little. “Eh. I think you’re doing a lot better than any of them ever did. You’re sweet and kind…and unbelievably sexy.” You tried to steer the conversation away from its original content. It works, Hugh laughs. “You should go take a picture in the mirror again and post it. Your fans would love it.” He takes the bacon off of the pan and sets the pieces on a paper towel lined plate. “I didn’t post that for the fans babe. I posted that for you.” Your jaw drops and you draw a dramatic gasp. “I knew it was a thirst trap. Y’know next time you can just send it to me instead of posting it on instagram. I’d love a few more to add to my collection.” 

“Your collection?” He cocks an eyebrow up and you ignore his question. “Do you need my help with anything? I feel kinda useless just sitting here.” You ask as Hugh pulls out a container of strawberries. “It’s okay baby, I got it.” You hum, fingers going back to the strings on your shorts. Hugh washes a handful of berries and dries them one by one. “You’re good at changing the conversation.” He mumbles and lets out a small huff of a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You look at him with an innocent face. He’s silent for a moment, the only sound being the soft knocks of the knife hitting the cutting board. You watched as each slice of the strawberry fell over as Hugh worked. His hands stop for a moment and you look up at him, catching his eyes. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you and that I truly care for you.” His eyes focus back onto the cutting board. “I know that.” You mumble. “Then let that be a reminder. I want to hear the things you’ve been through. I want to know everything about you so I can be the best version of myself for you.” You didn’t know what to say, so instead you hopped out of the chair and hugged him.

–

After breakfast and after you followed Hugh around like a lost puppy while he got ready for the day, he drove you back to your hotel so you could do the same. You were frantically walking back and forth as you got ready, packing your suitcase as you went along. Hugh was sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone. You picked out a pair of baggy black denim cargo pants to wear but you couldn’t decide between the classic ‘i love new york’ t-shirt you bought your first day here or a maroon turtleneck. “Which one should I wear? I’m leaning towards the new york one but I feel like that’s too touristy you know?” You start speaking as you walk out of the bathroom and hold up both shirts. “If I wear the turtleneck then I can probably get away with not wearing a jacket and I can also wear the converse I have that are in the same color.” You stand at a mirror that is in the hallway, putting each shirt over your chest, comparing them. When Hugh doesn’t answer, you turn to see him staring at you. “Hugh did you hear anything I just said?” He’s sat up on the bed now, no longer in the starfish position he was once in. “Wear the new york one baby. You won’t be a tourist forever. There’s only a matter of time before the city becomes familiar.” He explains. “Mm. Good point. Thank you babe.” You throw the turtleneck on your open suitcase and just as you're about to throw the simple graphic tee over your head, Hugh speaks. “Wait..don’t put that on yet. C’mere.” The last part is mumbled as he holds his hands out for you. 

You set your shirt down as you walk over to him. Both his arms snake around your waist as soon as you step between his thick thighs. “You look delicious right now.” His arms loosen as he pulls you back, taking in your appearance. “Is me not wearing a shirt, turning you on Hugh?” You tease. You almost forgot that you were only walking around in a simple black t-shirt bra. It lifted your boobs surprisingly well for the style and you could tell it was getting to Hugh. “What if I said it was?” He asks, eyes moving from your chest to your face. “If this gets you going too easily, you’re gonna struggle when you see the outfits I perform in.” You laugh. “Mhm. I’m excited.” He growls with a smirk before plunging his head towards your cleavage, kissing up and down the exposed skin. “You’re such a hornball.” You let out in your fit of laughter. He rests his face in the crook of your boobs. You can hear him mumbling something but you can’t make out the words. “Babe, I have no idea what you’re saying right now.” He reluctantly pulls his face back. “I said that we could always stay in today instead…Wanna get another taste of you.” His hands grip your waist and you feel a pulse between your legs from his words. 

“As tempting as that is…and it’s really really tempting. I wanna go out with you today, have some normality before life goes back to normal tomorrow. Maybe we’ll have time before my flight…for what you said.” He smiles and pats your butt. “Okay baby. Finish getting ready so we can go.” You lean down with puckered lips, meeting Hugh’s in a sweet kiss. “I’ll be ready in like fifteen minutes.” You promise as you pick your shirt up and run back into the bathroom. 

Somehow in the short time it took you to get ready, Hugh convinced you to let him take you to the airport. You tried to refuse since you already had accommodations made for the early 3:30am flight but he fought back. He said that it would be easier and we could spend more time together before I left. You agreed, wanting to spend every single last second with the man you loved. He threw your suitcase in the trunk of his car and the two of you were off on whatever adventure Hugh had planned. 

The first stop was at Battery park to see the Statue of Liberty. Hugh surprised you with a ferry ride that took you from the park to Liberty island, then Ellis island. You thanked Hugh non-stop as you boarded the ferry. You were a big history nerd and being able to be around objects and buildings that have existed for many generations of people before you, excited you to your core. Hugh was watching your thrill with a smile, sneaking pictures of you when he could- you never noticed. You did ask him to take a few pictures of you as the ferry moved right in front of lady liberty herself. Your smile was wide, eyes crinkled behind your sunglasses. Hugh held you close the entire time, kissing the top of your head every now and then. He would take you all over the world if it meant he got to see you this happy all the time. 

The whole exploration took about four hours. You were very thorough in your wanding, not wanting to miss a single detail. You apologized to Hugh every time you felt like you were taking too long but he never seemed annoyed or upset, just happy to be with you. Once you were back on the mainland, the two of you were starving and started to discuss places to eat. “I think that Stardust place would be fun but I heard it’s almost impossible to get in.” You don’t mean for it to sound like it was something you really wanted to do. You were just thinking out loud. “I can get us in there baby.” Hugh says, shrugging his shoulders. “Hugh Jackman…are you telling me you’d name drop yourself for me?” You smile. “I told you, anything for you sweetheart.” He raises your intertwined hands to his face, leaving a kiss on yours. “As sweet as that is, I could probably name drop myself and get in.” You smile. “It’s probably not smart for you to go into a place full of theater nerds anyway since you’ve been on Broadway multiple times or whatever.” You joke. “You’re probably right. I am quite the Broadway star.” He jokes back. “Fuck it. Let’s just get pizza again. I've only a tourist for so long, remember?” “Fuck it.” He agrees. 

You find a different pizza shop this time, waiting in the car while Hugh goes in to order. You spent the time looking through your phone. You saw a few texts from Ashley and it made your heart ache. She was a terrible friend but you still grieved the good times you did have. Once you got back home, you knew it was probably for the best to talk to her, settle everything, and get some closure. You thought a lot about loose ends you needed to tie as you entered this new chapter of your life, Pedro being one of them as well. You wanted as clean of a slate you could get as you moved forward with Hugh. 

“God I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I walked in there.” Hugh says as he opens the driver door, sitting two styrofoam cups in the center console drink holders. “Do you mind holding this for a moment sweetheart?” He asks, holding up a small box that had a large brown paper bag sitting on top. You grab it and Hugh climbs into the car. “Would it be too cliche if we ate this at the great lawn?” You ask with a lazy grin. “Maybe a little bit but it sounds like a great idea darling.” He smiles back. 

The drive to Central Park was a short one. Finding a parking spot however, took awhile. Hugh drove through one of the nearby parking garages, going up and down until he finally caught someone pulling out. When the two of you finally reached the lawn, you were a little nervous at the amount of people there but you put it aside, hoping that your sunglasses would be enough to hide you from any possible fans. You found a spot, farther away from the larger crowds. It was peaceful for the most part, both Hugh and yourself to engaged in conversation and eating to care about anything else. When you were both done eating, you scooted closer to Hugh, who then offered you to sit between his legs as he leaned back. Your back was against his chest, lifting with every breath he took. “This is nice.” You say, looking up at Hugh. “It is.” He agrees, kissing your forehead. When you look forward again, a girl catches your eye. She’s sitting not too far off and she’s staring. It makes your heart stop, afraid that she might have recognized you or Hugh. Your suspicion is proved right, her eyes go wide and she lifts her phone, pointing it directly in your direction. “Babe, I think that girl is recording us.” You nudge Hugh slightly to get his attention. He looks in the girl's direction and sighs. “Let’s get out of here.” The two of you walk back to the car, hand in hand. 

“Do you wanna go home or are you still up for one more adventure?” Hugh asks once you’re both settled in the car. The way he says ‘home’ makes your heart flutter. You know it’s probably out of habit but it makes you wonder what sharing a home with him would be like, how being with him officially would be. “I’m down for more touristing.” You smile, trying to let go of the bitter mood that girl had put you in. You didn’t mind fans recognizing you but it always sucked when a good moment was taken away because of it- a moment that would have been normal if you and Hugh were ‘normal’ people. 

The sun was starting to set as Hugh drove and it was beautiful. Seeing the city lights take over was a sight to see. “I thought we were going somewhere else?” You ask in confusion as Hugh pulls into the parking garage of his apartment building. “We are but I thought we could walk, if that’s okay with you love. It’s not too far.” He parks the car in his designated spot. “Yea that’s fine.” His hand squeezes your thigh, a place it often sits as he drives. “Let’s go then.” 

You were convinced there wasn’t anything more beautiful than walking through New York at night. You were never fond of big cities, only living in Los Angeles because you had to for work, but something about nyc brings a sense of home you’ve never felt before. Almost like a sense of nostalgia, a longing for a place that felt right. 

The last stop happened to be Times Square. The second you found a good spot, you passed your phone over to Hugh to take pictures of you. It was a little over stimulating the longer you stood there, admiring all of the giant screens and billboards. You tried to tough it out as long as possible but your last straw was when some guy in a janky super hero suit tried to come up to you. Hugh was quick to grab you and lead you away. “I can’t make up my mind on what’s worse, the con artist in Hollywood or the ones here.” You joke, Hugh laughs agreeing. The streets started to empty the further away you got from the square and you were thankful for that. As you walked hand in hand with Hugh, you started to hum the melody of ‘New York, New York’ by Frank Sinatra. Hugh smiles down at you and releases your hand to pull you closer, his arm resting over your shoulder. “Ooo. Can we go in there real quick?” You ask, pointing at the small grocery market across the street. “Sure baby.” You can tell he’s confused so you answer his question before he can ask. “I wanna make dinner for you.” You look both ways down the street before crossing. “You don’t have to do that sweet girl.” The sliding doors open and you’re hit with the cool air. “I want to.” He doesn’t say anything else as he follows you around the store. When you hit the produce section, you lift the sunglasses that had been sitting on your face for most of the day, creating a makeshift headband. You gather a mix of yukon gold and baby red potatoes, as well as a few carrots and a stock of broccoli. “What are you making?” Hugh asks as you walk towards the meat shelves, grabbing a pack of two chicken breasts. “A spicy, maple chicken sheet pan dinner.” You explain, walking towards the next aisle. “A sheet pan dinner?” He questions. “You throw everything onto the same pan, shove it in the oven, and boom, you have dinner.” He laughs. “I guess that makes sense.” 

Hugh insisted on paying for everything but you refused. He had paid for almost everything else since you’ve been in New York and you had to remind him that you too had too much money than you knew what to do with. He complained about it the whole way back to his apartment, it was kinda cute. When you finally got back, you asked Hugh to gather everything you’d need: a cutting board, a large bowl, a peeler, a colander, etc. You wanted to make sure you had everything so he could sit and watch, just as you had with him this morning. “I could get used to this.” You look up from where you're mixing the veggies and seasoning in a bowl. “What, me cooking for you?” You ask, sarcasm present in your voice. “No, you being here with me.” Hugh smiles. “Oh..” You whisper as you dump the prepped veggies onto the parchment lined sheet pan. “Was that too forward?” You’re patting the chicken with a paper towel and placing them in the same bowl as he asks. “No. I like when you say stuff like that, it just makes me all nervous.” You drizzle the chicken in olive oil and add your choice of seasonings. “Why does it make you nervous?” His elbows are on the counter, hands resting in his hands. “Because someone like you likes someone like me, it’s crazy.” You place the chicken on the sheet pan before placing it into the already heated oven. 

Hugh stands up and walks behind you. His arms wrap around you as you wash your hands. “Is it really that hard to believe that I like you?” He asks, giving light kisses to your neck. “Sometimes.” You wiggle out of his arms to dry your hands on a towel that rests on the oven handle. “I must not be doing a very good job at showing it then.” You walk back over to him, where he’s leaning back on the counter. “It’s not you babe, it’s the voices.” You point to your head. “What are they saying?” You think for a moment. “Do you want the default answer or the real answer?” “The real one.” He responds without a second thought. “I think I’m just scared that all of this is temporary.” You say motioned your arms around. “I’m scared that one day you’ll snap out of whatever it is you feel for me and just…just leave and not want me anymore.” He pulls you into his chest. “I don’t know what I can say or do to break you free from that but I can promise that I won't just leave you. If there ever comes a time where I don't want to be with you, which is very unlikely, I’ll tell you.” You don’t say anything as he holds you. The two of you stay like that until the twenty five minute timer you set is going off. 

—

“Do you really have to leave today?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your back softly. After dinner, Hugh went down to fetch your suitcase out of his car. Both of you took showers, separately this time. Now you were straddling his lap, laying forward with your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Unfortunately..” You sigh out. “You can’t stay just a few more days?” He practically pouts and you can hear the sincerity in his voice.  “I really wish I could but duty calls. I jump right into work once I’m back.” This time he sighs. “I’m gonna miss you.” “I’m gonna miss you too.” You give his neck a few small kisses before speaking again. “When are you coming back to LA?” You lift your upper body and rest your hands on his bare chest. “I’m not sure. Got some stuff to deal with here, might take a while.” He lifts himself up, sitting up straight against the headboard, putting you both in the same position as this morning. “Hm. What stuff?” You ask, hands trailing down from his chest to his abs. “Divorce stuff. Ex-wife stuff.” He shrugs slightly and leans forward, his lips meeting your neck as he leaves his own kisses. “Oh..” It comes out more as a moan, Hugh’s teeth nipping at the skin right below your ear. “That must be hard, divorcing after so long together.” His lips falter for a moment. “Doesn’t matter.” He leans back against the headboard. His response made you feel weird. Hugh’s voice was distant. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You apologize, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “It’s okay, it would’ve come up eventually.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it Hugh, it’s okay.” 

“It’s something we should talk about though. It’s not fair to you. You’ve opened up so much to me, I should do the same for you.” You’re silent, not sure what to say. “Does it bother you?”  Hugh asks.

“Does what bother me?” You know what he’s asking but you weren’t sure how to answer. 

“That I was married?” He’s looking at you, but you're looking down at his hands. 

“No.” It wasn’t a lie. Him being married isn’t what bothered you. “Look at me baby.” His voice is stern, a tone that you haven’t heard before. When you look at him his eyes are quick to line with yours. “Does it bother you? Don’t lie to me.” You sigh, hands sliding from his stomach. You rest them on top of his own where they are placed on your thigh. “I wasn't lying. It doesn’t bother me that you were married.” 

“Then what’s up sweet girl? I can tell there's something going on in that pretty head of yours..” The way he’s looking at you makes your heart race. He’s looking at you like you're the most important person in the world, like you mean everything to him. 

“I don’t care that you were married…it’s just..this is gonna sound stupid but..I’m scared of how long you two were together and how recent your divorce was.” 

“What do you mean baby?” 

“Like I said earlier, I’m scared of this being temporary. That I’m just some…god I don’t know…that I’m a rebound or something. That the two of you will realize that being separated wasn’t the right decision.” Your posture breaks as you slump forward slightly. “I knew that she would always be in your life and I’ve been trying to make peace with that…but the thought of you leaving is too much.” You confess. 

“Y/n…What Deb and I had has been over for a long time. It was over years before we finalized anything. Everything now is purely about our kids. I’ll always hold love for her in my heart but it isn’t a romantic love anymore. That love is reserved for you sweet girl, all for you.” His fingers delicately lift your chin. “I’m a devoted man y/n. Once you have me, I’m yours. I promise.” His thumb rubs along your jaw. You lift your pinky and he chuckles slightly. He lifts his own and links it with yours. “Does that mean you’re finally gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?” His eyes widened slightly. “Are you ready to be my girlfriend?” Hugh asks, seriousness fills his voice. “I really want to be.” His eyes soften. “What’s stopping you from being all mine baby?” 

The question is loaded. The answer was full of worries you shoved deep down, hoping they wouldn’t come up as soon as they did. From the moment you walked into his home, you tried your best to ignore the family photos that littered his walls. Photos of him and his wife with wide smiles, their kids standing between them, smiles just as wide. You pushed down every feeling you had as he showed you the rooms he kept for his kids for when they would visit. His daughter's room hurt the most. You saw glimpses of your own teenage years that you’d excited only a few years earlier. His son’s room reminds you that that was the room of a man whose age was more appropriate for you. You’d been reminded non-stop that what you had with Hugh was wrong in the eyes of others, so wrong that you were starting to feel it too.

“Does it ever worry you that our relationship isn’t practical? That it doesn’t make sense?” He makes a face and he looks almost offended.“How doesn’t it make sense? I like you, you like me. You’re happy, I’m happy. What more is there to it?” 

“That’s the thing Hugh. When it comes to you, it will never just be you.” His eyebrows scrunch up. “I'm confused baby.” You sigh. “Hugh, you were married for decades, with kids. What is your ex-wife going to think about you dating a girl that’s thirty three years younger than you? Hell, better yet, what will your kids think Hugh? What are they going to think about you dating a girl that sits right in between their ages?” You rant. “What Deb thinks about us doesn’t matter. She’ll get over it.” His hands give your thighs a small squeeze. “And your kids?” He sighs. “I’m not sure what they’ll think but I’m sure that if I explain it to them they’ll understand. They’re old enough to where you won’t need to be a big part of their lives.”

“I know that babe but I don’t know how I’m supposed to fit into your life as it is. I can’t just show up to the family Christmas parties as your girlfriend. Do you know how fucking weird that will be for me, for them?” His face falls and you know he doesn’t take your words the way you intended. “It would be weird to be my girlfriend?” 

“Hugh, that’s not what I meant.” He goes to move you off his lap but you tighten your thighs to stand your ground. “Babe, you have to understand what I mean. I don’t wanna hide from your kids and Deborra. I want to be a part of your life completely and that includes knowing them.” He stops moving and sighs. 

“This isn’t going to be easy y/n. I know I have baggage and I’m sorry that this wasn’t something we talked about sooner. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave and have nothing to do with me.” Hugh lowers his head slightly. “Hugh, I don’t wanna leave you. I’m used to older men, just not ones with ex-wives and kids.” You try to make it lighten the mood, hoping to make him laugh. It doesn’t. 

“Everyone’s gonna hate us if we do this. The fans, your family, probably even my family if I’m being honest. The crazy thing is that I don’t care if everyone hates me but I don’t want to be the reason everyone hates you.” 

Those last words felt like a weight coming off of your shoulders. The words were so simple but had been so hard to say all this time. They were true. You didn’t care if fans turned on you, you didn’t care if your family disapproved, though you couldn’t imagine them disliking Hugh. Selfishly, you also didn’t care that much if Hugh’s family hated you. These were all miniscule issues when it came to you loving Hugh. As long as he was happy, you were happy. But the thought of Hugh experiencing any of that made your skin crawl. You didn’t want him to lose fans he’s had over the long course of his career, you didn’t want to put him through the burden of his family not approving of you and him having to feel the awkwardness every time you were around them. You couldn’t imagine him jeopardizing the life he had built all because of you. You were still building a career. Everyone around you has already experienced you dating men that have no business dating someone your age. You didn’t want to hurt him with the implications that came along with your name and age. 

“That’s not fair to say.” Hugh squeezes your hand. “You can’t put the weight of everything on yourself. If you decide that you want to be with me, then that’s how it’s going to be. You and me. We’ll figure everything out together.” You look off to the side because you know if you look at him the ache you’d been feeling in your throat will betray you. “Look at me.” The hand that isn’t holding yours reaches for your cheek as he attempts to move your face to look towards him. You refuse, already feeling a tear slip down involuntarily. “Baby please.” He tries again and you let him turn your face. A sob escapes, the pain in your neck finally relieved. “What’s wrong y/n? You gotta talk to me.” His voice is sweet and patient. All this man does is care for you in a way that you’ve never experienced before. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you and your family Hugh. I don’t want them to suffer, all because I love you.” You sob. “You what?” His hands drop down to your knees. “I love you, Hugh.” You try your best to get the words out through the steady stream of tears. “Do you mean that baby?” He asks softly as one hand comes back to your cheek, wiping a few tears away. “Of course I mean it, that’s why I can’t leave you. I feel so selfish because the smart thing would be to walk away so no one gets hurt but I can’t. I love you too much to let you go.” 

“I love you y/n, so much.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Really?” You ask with sad eyes. “I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the moment I met you baby. You looked so pretty that day and your voice was like a siren's call. I tried to fight the attraction but when you invited me to your album party, I didn't care anymore. I wanted you.” You grabbed his face at the confession, pulling his lips to yours. You both let every emotion spill into the kiss. “Does this make you my girlfriend now or are we still friends that hook up and love each other?” He asks jokingly with a dopey smile. “As much as I want to say yes, talk to your kids first. Please. I think it would make me feel a little better about everything.” He kisses you. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow.” 

—

Leaving Hugh felt impossible. Not knowing when you’d see him next and him being around his ex-wife without you here to distract him made you nervous. You trusted him but when it came to you or the woman he was married to for twenty seven years, it was hard to say he'd choose you. Even after his reassurance, you had a feeling she would always come first. 

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” You ask as you hug him, the two of you in the same hidden room from when he picked you up. “I really wish I could baby. I’ll try to get back out there as soon as I can.” He kisses the top of your head and the two of you stay there for as long as you can. “I should probably go.” You say reluctantly. “Yea, you should.” You give him a few quick kisses. “Don’t leave me waiting too long. I’ll be waiting for you.” You smile at him before giving him one last kiss. “I won’t, sweet girl. Text me as soon as you board and when you land okay?” You grab the handle of your suitcase. “I will.” You start to walk towards the door that leads out to the public but before you go out, you turn towards him one more time. “Bye Hugh.” You give him a small wave. “Bye baby. I love you.” The words make you smile. “I love you Hugh.” You give him one more wave before you walk through the door.

thank you for reading!

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

[seaheaded]

𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐄

cregan stark x fem!reader

synopsis: everything you had from the moment you joined the dance of the dragons was ash in the wind — a metaphor you remembered queen rhaenyra using. yet, even after the losses, you could not find in yourself the will to give up on the world so easily. surprisingly, the wolf of the north seemed to care about your thoughts.

7.4K words

warnings: mentions/descriptions of death and war, violence and blood (brief), fire and blood spoilers, light angst, some canon divergence, making out, english is not my first language.

notes: i wrote this out of nowhere idk i was bored and paused my other works to write some silly stuff. i hope you guys enjoy it :))

“His eyes find you with the ease a compass points North.”

If you were not familiar with the princess — even in familiarity there were limits to be found in your interactions at times — you would not have scoffed at the words when she said them. In truth, you were glad she found you to be an amusing companion, or you would find yourself in a complicated position compared to the one you were in now.

I found a friend in her. Those were the words she used to describe you to her grandfather, Corlys Velaryon, when she demanded to remain close to you during the time of your arrival at the Red Keep. She sat beside the bed you woke up on, with a gentle smile and a tray on her lap, that she passed to you with both enthusiasm and worry.

You fainted outside of the Gate of the Gods, she told you then, as you ate bread and cheese for the first time in so long, savoring it in silence.

After that, Baela told you about the euphoria taking over King’s Landing as she helped to dress your aching body in clean clothes. It was unexpected, the joy spreading across the city, and spoken about with bewilderment. However, you understood it. Growing up like the rest of the small folk — as one of the most fortunate ones before you lost your parents two years prior — , you could relate to the relief of finding something to believe in again. Hope, as faint and ephemeral as it was, meant a lot when you barely had reasons to keep you standing on the ground instead of lying below it. Their fight differed from the soldiers’, but they fought for life nonetheless.

It was strange to think that if you were still one of them, you would probably sing about the events you were now part of in taverns. Would you ever find amusement in such songs again?

Following the people and most of the dragons, the euphoria had died as well, by the hand of the subject of almost every conversation winding the halls of the Red Keep since his arrival: Lord Cregan Stark.

Indeed, he was the formidable warrior you had heard about. With his army, he marched into the castle, his large sword in hand and a scowl that displayed pure frustration, alarming all.

You could comprehend why he was mad. Time was precious, after all, and he had spent his coming to King’s Landing, only to meet crumbs of the battle he and his men were promised. However, Stark’s judgment poured like ceaseless rain from that moment on, and you deemed his behaviour overly brutish at times.

The only thing that comforted you in those days was the company of Baela and Rhaena.

You shook your head.

“He looks at me that way because he suspects me,” You replied, watching the skirt of your dress getting kicked with each step. “I’m afraid he wants to chop my head off.”

Baela paused in her steps, pulling you to do the same.

“Do not say things like that,” She frowned at you. “Out of all people, you are the least deserving of any sort of punishment.”

This matter had been discussed before. According to Baela and Rhaena, Lord Stark may have brought the harshness of winter with him and cast it upon all people residing in the castle, but you would not be a subject of his penalty. They would not permit it.

Unfortunately, even with their reassurance, you found yourself tense as you rested your head on the pillow. Aside from the fact that he was still considering taking the lives of those he deemed traitors, and you did not wish to give him a reason to think of you as disloyal — as Rhaenyra once did — , you were still cautious about trusting your unconsciousness at night.

Clicking your tongue, you resumed your walk, and Baela fell into step with you.

“I apologise,” You said. “I just feel… Well…”

The gardens were finally coming into view, and you raised your gaze to the colorful landscape. Something inside you turned. All you could think of was the way the grass looked after the lethal kiss of dragon fire that night in Tumbleton. The smell, the smoke.

Addam. Dear Addam, the best of you all.

You still saw him and Seasmoke at times, the image of bodies on the burned grounds unwanted, but constantly plaguing your dreams.

“Hey,” Baela’s voice was gentle again.

Her hands found yours. Only then, you noticed they were shaking.

“Harm will not find you here, okay?” She continued. “And the way lord Stark looks at you... I think it holds mere curiosity. He is interested in you. Do not fear.”

There was no denying that you were a different sort of creature, compared to the royals and soldiers he knew. You were a bastard descendant, turned into a dragon rider, turned into a knight. But what even were you entirely? And why would he care about that?

“How do you know?”

“I have eyes,” Baela teased you. She intertwined your arms again as you entered the garden. “Do you not wonder what he thinks? From what Jace told me, he is a reflective man beneath the rest.”

You snorted. “Oh, you mean the way he walks like a bear, and that frown he has that is more like two bricks above his eyes?”

Baela’s small laughter grew louder like the chorus of a song people would stomp their feet to, and you found yourself giggling with her.

She tossed her head back. “Bricks—”

“Good morrow.”

You jumped like two scared chickens at the sudden voice coming from behind, and the laughter turned into gasps.

Cregan Stark’s scowl was adamant, it seemed. Even in the presence of Princess Baela’s lively laughter, it did not quiver. You would only judge him for it, or maybe laugh at the precision of your previous comment, if you did not feel guilty. He had undoubtedly heard your jest.

“My lord,” The two of you greeted together.

Cregan Stark stared at you as if he expected something else to come out of your mouth, causing your blood to boil beneath your skin.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Baela’s drifting between you and the man. She had a small, close-mouthed smile adorning her face. You wanted to pinch her to drop it.

“I suppose my lord wants a moment alone with the dame?” She asked.

Cregan Stark blinked, turning to her.

“I would, princess. Thank you.”

“Is this even suitable?” You asked as your anxiety grew, but the whisper passed by like a needle falling into the sea.

Still, you took the opportunity of the lord’s attention on the princess while she walked away to make him out.

It was hard to notice anything about him with the fleeting glances you exchanged before, but now, the light breeze of the morning caused his brown hair to dance over his face, although he did not seem to mind. Part of being a northerner is becoming used to harsher winds, you supposed. He wore his leathers, heavy garments compared to the ones you saw in the south your entire life, but the fur cloak in which he arrived at the castle had been discarded. That way, the emblem of his house caught your attention more than before, gleaming under the sun.

You looked away from the wolf on his chest when he turned back to you.

“Dame,” He nodded in greeting.

Since you were knighted by the late queen Rhaenyra, the word was attached to you. You preferred being called by your name, the way you grew up used to, and the way Addam, Baela, Rhaena, and Prince Jacaerys did it — although the last one spoke it with some disdain for some time.

Perhaps, the dislike for the title showed in your face against your will, because the lord frowned.

“Have I offended you?” He asked.

“No, my lord. I have something else on my mind.”

“May I ask what that is?”

“You may, but I will not answer.”

The scoff he let out possessed a hint of mirth, and was accompanied by a squint of his eyes, wandering over your visage.

Once again, you turned your head away. This time, you picked a leaf from the large bush beside you and twisted it in your hand for a distraction.

You hoped he would simply say what he wished to say and be done with it.

He cleared his throat. “I have been meaning to ask you a few questions.”

“Go on.”

“But why would I ask questions that you will not answer?”

You shrugged. “I will not answer that question, but you can ask others.”

“And you will answer them?”

You pretended to consider. “Perhaps.”

He hummed.

“Did you expect the words that would be said about you when you became a dragonseed?”

That was the last thing you imagined he would ask.

Was he indirectly asking you if you had become one for the recognition? You hoped not, because you already felt bad enough for being the only one alive at times.

“What do they say about me?” You asked, but the question held no real interest.

“That it is a surprise that you are alive,” He paused, thinking. “They started to call you ‘the last dragonseed’ after you survived the battle In Tumbleton.”

There it was again, the unhappiness of recalling that event causing you to feel sick.

“Nothing special about that.”

“I would say there is.”

“Are you accusing me, my lord?”

He hesitated, blinking a few times. “What?”

Your exhale trembled.

“I am aware that my dragon did not interact with the battle the same way the others did, but it was not for the lack of trying. She protected me, and fought briefly.”

Even after almost turning on you after the clash with Vermithor and Tessarion, you could not think badly of Silverwing. She had not offered herself to be a weapon the way you offered yourself to be a soldier.

You feared her cries would forever echo in your mind.

“I will not ask about that,” Lord Stark said, strangely compassionate. “My curiosity lies in your journey to the Red Keep.”

“Well," You gathered yourself. "I went to different places. I tried to find my dragon, or a way to Princess Baela. To no avail, of course.”

“So, you walked back to King’s Landing.”

You nodded. “I thought I would find Queen Rhaenyra here. I wanted to share with her the details of my friend's brave deeds, but she was already dead, and so was her brother.”

"Your friend?"

"Addam of Hull."

He nodded.

After another silent moment, he spoke. “I did not mean to accuse you of deserting battle or fleeing, dame. I simply am not familiar with you.”

But you wish to? You thought. How strange.

“I see,” You picked the leaf apart with small pullings. How could you change the subject and stop talking about those damned days? With a lighter tone, you tried. “I thought you were judging me from the moment you saw me, honestly.”

He frowned. “What is there to judge you for? You fought hard. Or so I’ve heard.”

“From who?”

Cregan Stark shifted in place, taking one of the hands from behind his back and levelling it up against his ribs as if he was measuring something as tall as them. “A boy. Very young. He has a wild look in his eyes.”

“The Blackwood boy?”

“So, you are acquainted. ”

“Barely. We met briefly after the battle.”

You pulled a piece of the leaf again.

“He said you were not the most skilled soldier…”

Something was missing from his sentence.

“But?” You lifted your gaze to him.

“It is a rather memorable description.”

“Tell me.”

“He said something along the lines of you making up for the lack of prowess by swinging your sword around manically, the way unfaithful husbands do with their cocks. Only yours is deadly.”

At first, you did not even move, taking in the words that had apparently come out of a child’s mouth.

Then, the bark of laughter that left your mouth shocked both of you, and you brought both hands to your mouth to muffle the sound. You had heard real and hurtful insults before, so if this was supposed to be one, it did not affect you. It had the opposite effect. You could not stop laughing.

Like unfaithful husbands do with their cocks? What sort of menace was the young boy to talk about people this way?

You wheezed, letting the feeling subside before attempting to speak again.

“I apologise, my lord. This is the most ridiculous way someone has ever described me.”

The corner of his lips twitched, giving into a smirk that made him look younger and somewhat teasing.

“So you didn't,” He said.

“What?”

“Expect the words said about you.”

You smiled and shook your head. “No. Did you?”

“Of course not,” He said with a small laugh. “But you seem delighted to hear it.”

"I take no offense in it, my lord. I have always been better with a dagger, anyway. Never had the money to buy, or the time to practice with a sword before going to Dragonstone.”

“You have some skill with the dagger?” His curiosity seemed to have spiked again.

“Certainly not as much as you do with a sword,” You replied quickly, warning him. Then, you jested. “Don’t make assumptions about me so quickly, my lord.”

He did not answer for a few seconds after that and simply looked at you again. Yet, you could notice the weight of the thoughts running through his head. The coldness of his eyes had melted completely, replaced by a light you were not familiar with.

“Perhaps you should follow your own advice,” He said, quieter, as if you were not alone in the garden.

There was no bitterness or mockery in his voice.

Cregan Stark was a quick learner, you noticed. He did not break the walls around you with the sort of honesty that made you angry, he walked to the gates with the sort that made you comfortable to comply.

So he did hear it. You were both mortified and thankful he was not being mean about it.

“You are a strategist.”

“You keep up with it quite well.”

“I agree.”

He huffed another low chuckle.

“I believe we have both been studying each other,” He said. “But I would prefer it if we did it differently from this moment forward.”

“What do you mean?”

“Would you mind coming closer instead of running away from me?”

Your heart sang.

Cregan Stark was no bastard, but what a bastard he was for causing that.

“I would like that, my lord.”

The nightly breeze was a welcome remedy after a nightmare. It hit your sweaty skin like a bath of fresh cool water on a warm day.

Tonight, it felt cooler. Winter was indeed beginning to influence the weather. Even then, the breeze was not any less welcome than on other occasions.

You rested your forearms on the balcony, humming a song as you watched the city to prevent yourself from thinking about the memories that had recently tormented your mind and heart.

Oh, tell me Sabine

Are your leaves still green

What did you last see

The Stranger or Catherine?

Sabine, was she heaven?

Did her honey usher pleasure

They say you never relished me

But not why

You leaped into the sea

Your corse’s roots run

The ground bursts for dirt

Tell me where to hide

From your song

My worst wrong

Your first love was sow in barren

Yet your arms I see growing

Catherine you won’t reach

For your sake

Refrain from longing

Your humming was soon joined by the sound of steps coming from the dark hall, where you paced mere minutes ago, and when you tilted your head to find the owner of the sound, you quickly turned away so he would not see the giddy smile stretching over your face.

You would not admit it, but you expected it to be him. Not deep down, but all over. Painted on your face with warm cheeks, on your arms and back with a shiver.

When his steps came to a haunt with the squeak of his boots against the floor, you greeted him, still watching the scenery.

“My lord.”

He did not answer, but a couple of seconds later, he appeared beside you.

You had noticed before that Cregan Stark could be silent when he wished, but it did not stop surprising you when he was suddenly there.

“Was that you singing?” He asked.

“Humming a tune, not singing. But yes.”

“The Leaves of Sabine.”

His amused and mischievous expression came back when your gaze snapped at him with wide eyes.

“You know The Leaves of Sabine?”

“It is certainly not a northern song, but my late wife was infatuated with it.”

He stopped, wetting his lips, and you could see the recollection of a memory passing by him.

“She used to say she would sing it to Rickon, my son.”

The wind cooled your skin again.

You were never as informed about Cregan Stark’s life as someone from court or interested in gossip would possibly be, so the mention made your smile fade.

You thought about his little boy. Did his father sing to him?

Yours did.

At first, you wanted to step back from asking anything, but you remembered the eagerness to keep you close that the young man had exhibited these past two days. He did not have to speak for you to notice he wanted you there, but he never refrained from commenting either.

Not to mention the obvious…

Would you mind coming closer instead of running away from me?

“My condolences.”

“Thank you. It's okay, now.”

You swallowed. “Maybe you should sing to little Rickon, then.”

“Me?” He asked, incredulous. “It would cause the poor boy to cry, not to sleep.”

If a year ago, you were told that Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, would pour a newfound joy over your now shattered life and make you laugh freely around him, you would be careful to never cross paths with the person delivering the message again, for you feared people that spit crazy beliefs on others’ faces.

Now, there were you. Smile squinting your eyes and shoulders shaking.

“That only makes me want to hear you sing more, my lord.”

“Oh, no. I would do anything you asked but that.”

You bit your cheek. “Would you?”

He was already watching you when he agreed with a nod. Waiting, you noticed.

“Anything?”

“Go on.”

You thought. “No, but I will remember that, my lord. When I want something, I will tell you.”

“I will wait, then.”

You wished to know what went through his mind when you did not hold back from teasing him this way. He varied from holding everything inside or pouring it out in small but heavy amounts. You never knew what it was that he kept — though you enjoyed imagining it was the same you did.

“What brought you here in the dead of the night?” He asked, changing the subject.

The answer came meeker than you wanted to.

“Nightmares.”

“I see.”

He did not touch the subject, and that was something you appreciated.

You knew that he read you easily, the way you liked to believe you did him, but he did not hover, did not push you to speak of your pain. You wondered if he knew about avoidance as you did, having lost his family members in such a short period — for a man like him.

Aside from that, you wanted to know if he secretly waited for you to let your secrets out. Does he wonder what I have seen? Does he not know it already? All had heard of Hugh’s betrayal, of your and Addam’s escape, Tumbleton’s tragedies, and dragons dancing in the sky. In the company of young Benjicot Blackwood, he would certainly hear the details about those.

But your person? The life before? Your parents?

You caught yourself hoping he would be around for a long time, so you could both discuss intimate matters like those, and wanted to punish yourself for such desires.

Before you could attempt to shift the subject, he moved. His body was now turned to you, and you could see his hand finding something in the pocket of his pants.

He revealed a small, grey handkerchief.

“May I?”

Without thinking much of it, you nodded.

The fingers of his empty hand found your chin. His touch was lighter than the breeze. He tilted your head up just barely, and brought the handkerchief to your face.

You observed the way his expression became strained with attention, contrasting his hands as he patted your sweaty skin dry softly.

The fabric touched your forehead first, following a pat down to your cheeks. Then, he paused, turning the handkerchief around and passing it to his other hand, repeating the process on your other side. When he reached the area around your mouth and chin, his lips parted and his blue eyes met yours for a brief moment before patting that, too.

“There,” He sighed the word when he was done. “Your neck?”

“No need,” You mumbled, feeling shy. “Thank you.”

Then, he turned the handkerchief on his hand, folding it the way it was when he pulled it out of his pocket. Your eyes traced the movements.

“Would you…” You gestured towards the fabric “I could clean it for you.”

He shook his head.

“There is no need,” He said, placing the handkerchief back into its place. “I do not mind.”

“You don't mind the sweat?”

“Cleaning it myself.”

“Oh, right,” Find me, Stranger. I am ready. “Of course.”

He glanced back at the passage of the balcony, the moonlight casting shadows into the dark hall beyond it. His eyes then shifted to you, descending from your face to the hand that he was now reaching out for.

“My lady.”

Before you could protest, his lips pressed against your damp skin with a kiss.

You dared not move for the short moment that seemed to end it too soon for you to savor it, but when he released you, you pulled the sweaty hand back, covering it with your own.

The apology in your expression must have been evident, because Cregan Stark shook his head once again, and before taking his leave, he repeated:

“I do not mind.”

You stood on that balcony longer than you prided yourself on. Alone, catching the breath that had been petted and kissed away. Then, as your mind went back to his firm voice and gentle touches while you made your way back to your chambers, you realised…

He had addressed you as a lady.

It would be deadly silent if not for the sound of the thunder outside and Baela’s impatient pace, which without a doubt reflected the worry in her mind.

“He cannot do such a thing,” She said, “Aegon will be king. He commanded him to spare Corlys.”

“Sister,” Rhaena sighed.

The two of you sat at the round table, facing Baela.

Rhaena rested her arm on the table long ago, and now she lifted her hand to massage the spot between her brows. The meeting in the throne room had taken a toll on her the same way it did with you and Baela, but it revealed itself through exhaustion and anxiety, rather than restlessness.

You, on the other hand, rested both arms on the table, eyes fixated on the wood and mind drifting back and forth towards Corlys Velaryon’s honesty and Cregan Stark’s determination. What I did, I did for the good of the realm. I would do the same again. The madness has to end, were Corlys' words.

You did not doubt that the murder of Aegon II was not a bad decision. Yet, more than that crossed the mind of the Warden of the North.

Now, it was hard to think about him with affection. Your first impression had drifted back and covered him like smoke when he sat on the wooden bench in front of the throne and condemned Corlys to death.

You had not played the game as long as he or your beloved friends did, but you could feel yourself moving the pieces on the board as you had learned to do as one of the dragonseeds under Prince Jacaerys’ training.

There were still conclusions to be made, but you were certain of your decision when you first spoke.

Baela and Rhaena had spent the past minute discussing the current state of things, so your voice silenced them.

“I will speak to him.”

Your gaze shifted, from the table to the sisters, waiting for an answer. Their faces were confused. It was visible that they were not expecting you to come forward.

Rhaena called your name, extending her hand so you could hold it. Her thumb caressed its back, and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

“Do you think he will listen to you?” It was Baela who asked. It was not in a mocking manner, but rather a perplexed one. “He does not seem to enjoy being told what to do.”

Gathering all the confidence you had left, you shook your head.

“I will not tell him what to do,” You said. “I will speak to him, and let him know he is wrong.”

“I have a feeling that he would appreciate that even less,” Rhaena said.

“What other choice do we have?” You asked, caressing Rhaena’s hand back. “I do not want to see your grandfather die, too. I am not a princess, or a lady, but…”

Cregan Stark had called you a lady before. He had demonstrated affection and respect that night in the balcony, and on every other small interaction. You appreciated it, and wanted to believe he was better and smarter.

Baela approached you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“You understand that we both see your sacrifices, do you not?” She asked.

You were ready to reply, but she cut you.

“I do not speak of your growing affection for the lord as a sacrifice for us,” She said. “But the way you hold back from giving yourself to him entirely. I can see it. I know what it is like. But he… He might not be as you believe, and I do not want to see you hurt because of it.”

“Are you asking me not to try?”

She hesitated. “I am doing my best to think about your feelings. I do want you to try, but you are our friend, and I want you to remember that.”

“My apologies, but I do not see how you could convince someone so stubborn,” Rhaena said.

“Baela convinced him to spare her rescuers earlier,” You shrugged.

It was impressive. You were used to Baela’s intrepid nature, but seeing Cregan Stark smile and letting her ‘keep her dogs’ as she waved a sword around and threatened those trying to harm the men who had saved her raised your spirits.

“This is different,” Rhaena said.

You sighed. “I know. But Aegon’s wish to spare him has not been heard.”

There were no other ideas. All of you seemed to fall into a silent agreement that nothing else would grow in that soil.

“You will speak to him, and if he does not change his mind, do not let it break your heart, do you hear me?” Baela warned you. “He is a stubborn and cold man, beneath it all.”

Funny.

To you, it was the opposite. He was stubborn and cold outside, while the flicker of warmth and kindness hid inside.

But there was something to be doubted about Cregan Stark’s person, indeed: How far did that stubbornness, pride, and control go?

You nodded.

What was the threat of a broken heart to someone who had experience in putting it back together?

Ice, the sword, was magnificently frightening. Its blade was wider than your palm, and even on Cregan Stark’s back, the length did not contract to one less threatening.

Now, it rested over his lap.

“My lord.”

His gaze lifted from the blade he sharpened, ceasing his motions.

“My lady.”

“Dame.” You corrected.

He traced your face, trying to unmask the reason behind your sternness. In truth, you had planned to speak kindly, but you would be lying to yourself and him with false gentleness. You did not wish to lie today.

“Aye,” He said, carefully. “May I ask—”

“I would like to question you instead, my lord,” You said. You held your skirts, approaching the small sofa where he sat. You stood in front of him. “May I?”

“You may,” He responded immediately, but the puzzlement in his tone was clear.

“Are you aware that Corlys Velaryon opened the gates for you and your men even after the end, my lord?”

The confusion quickly became annoyance. Cregan Stark turned his head away from you, analysing your question.

When he lifted his head, he was scowling again.

“So, that’s what this is about?” He asked. “You are here to interrogate me on behalf of the traitor of kings.”

You frowned.

“Aegon II was a usurper and a threat to the realm.”

“What does that change about Velaryon’s actions?”

“It was not a simple betrayal. Do you know what Aegon was like?”

“This is not about Aegon II.”

“No?” You asked. “Why would it not count?”

“I would have to spare Lord Strong, and all the others if I thought this way.”

“It is not the same.”

“On that, we agreed. Corlys Velaryon’s betrayal was worse. At least the others were not turncoats.”

“Both times, I know he asked for peace. Is it not the same you are doing now?”

“I am serving peace, not asking for it.”

“This is what he did by poisoning Aegon. And it was not his direct action or command, either,” You shook your head. “It is clear to me now. You took control to make up for not being able to meet battle after deciding to march two years later, did you not?”

He got up then, laying the large sword on the sofa and turning to you with a posture less restrained than the one he usually had. Just like the day the doors opened to the large wolf of the north. Bitter.

“Do you feel remorseful for that, my lord?” You continued. “Is that the reason why you are so adamant—”

“My absence was justifiable, and so is my sentence for Corlys Velaryon. Do not toy with me.”

“The future king agreed to spare him.”

“He is a boy. The reason why he agreed was because of the whispers of his sisters.”

“His sisters seem to understand the needs of the realm, then.”

“Oh, indeed,” He said, sarcastically. His eyes sharpened. “They whisper in your ear too.”

You bit your tongue. “I am not a child.”

“Yet you let yourself be manipulated?”

“I do not let myself be manipulated, I chose to be here. Do you think I needed to be tempted to speak to you? That I was scared to come?”

“You seem out of place to me.”

“I am not,” You bit back. “Although, I can see you feed off the fear you have cast upon the others.”

He shook his head with surprise. “I am protecting the future of this land.”

“Yet you would let it bleed again!”

“In what way would I do that?!”

“The execution of Corlys Velaryon will only provoke revenge. His son, Alyn, possesses navy power and could easily blockade multiple cities. You know that. It should not be difficult to understand that this would only extend the war you wish to end.”

In the short absence of your argument, the sound of fire flickering in the fireplace became as loud as the storm brewing, mingling with both of your heavy breaths, which only now did you come to realize were closer than ever before — although not as close as once you had wished.

“Is that the point you came here to make?”

His voice was quieter now, thicker with hesitation. He was tired of speaking loudly as you were before.

You swallowed, drifting your gaze to the wolf on his chest.

You were tired too. For too long now, in fact.

“Yes.”

“If it was not for the good of the realm, would you let me proceed?”

You thought of Baela and Rhaena’s faces. The burnt scar across Baela’s cheek. My friends. Girls who had lost so much in this war, once again losing family and watching battles unfolding.

The understanding of such pain came with the will to not let it befall those you adored without trying to stop it first.

“I see your argument, my lord,” Your tone was hushed as well. You lifted your gaze to his. “If not for the good of the realm, the will to see you would be weaker, perhaps. But I would still be here. I have seen King’s Landing from places that you never had to. It is the main reason why I am here. But I care about my friends, too. I would never forgive myself for not trying to protect them.”

Not again.

“My last question is: as you look forward and see the deaths, do you care?”

“You forget that winter has come, dame.”

“Or do you? When my city becomes ruins, who do you think I will blame?”

That silenced him.

He took a step back, blue eyes slightly wider.

“If…” You fisted your skirts, shutting your eyes. When you opened, you did not let it waver. “If you would do only one thing that I ask for, my lord, let it be this. Do not sing for me, but let the city do it with songs of peace.”

The rain washed the blood of Larys Strong’s decapitated head, but it kept flowing from his body. Then, when you least expected, Cregan raised his sword again and sliced off his clubfoot.

For some reason, that made you hiss like you had not done when the head fell.

“Small favours, I suppose,” Came the voice of Benjicot Blackwood, who stood beside you. He looked up at you, raising his eyebrows. “Imagine having to worry about a foot in hell.”

You did not reply, but tilted your head at the comment.

“Who is it now?” He asked the other woman beside him. His aunt, Alysanne.

“The Velaryon,” She whispered, in a way you could barely hear above the heavy rain. “Now, shut up. His family is here.”

Her eyes met yours above the boy’s head, and she offered a polite smile that you tried your best to return.

Your lips trembled, and you knew it was not only because of the cold. If not for the rain, the tears falling down your cheeks, which matched Rhaena and Baela’s, would be a clear sign of your grief. Not only for Corlys Velaryon, but for the city you never grew to love, but learned to mourn for those who would never find anything better.

They would die there.

Rhaena stood between you and Baela, an arm intertwined with her sister’s, and her other hand holding yours. Her head was raised, but her eyes were cast down.

Baela, on the other hand, stood and stared. She was like a statue in place. On the receiving end of her piercing stare, stood the warden.

Cregan was soaked to the bone. His hair was glued to his face, and his cloak would protect his body if he had chosen to wear it, but he did not. The cold walked with him there.

He watched the body of Larys Strong be dragged away, then tossed his head up, lifting a hand to wipe his eyes from the downpour. He did not look tired, but the job was not welcoming in that weather.

Then, he turned around, and extended his arm as if to motion the guards to stop.

Everyone watched intently as he approached them.

“What is going on?” Benjicot asked for no answer.

Cregan then walked back to the center of the patio, raising his head for all to see him.

“The Sea Snake will not die today. As the hand of future king, Aegon III, I will grant his wishes to spare him.”

Immediately, the crowd erupted into enthusiastic and bewildered conversation.

Your head snapped to Rhaena. She let out a surprised cry, embracing her sister tightly as her hand pulled you closer to them.

“I thought you said you did not manage to convince him,” She said, loud only for the three of you to hear.

Baela smiled, victorious, hugging you with one arm.

“It was what I thought it happened,” You said, completely lost. “He was stubborn like you said.”

“What did you offer him, then?”

“Offer?” You frowned. “I… I didn't offer anything.”

When you looked back to find the man, he was gone.

You bolted through the halls.

The fabrics of your dress felt heavy in your hold, even heavier now that they were wet after standing under the ceaseless rain for a long time, and dripped water behind you as you followed the path from the previous evening — the one that led to Cregan Stark’s chambers.

That day had awakened dark, and so were the shadows being cast by the columns and window frames, limiting a bit of your vision as you tried not to misstep your way up the stairs.

There were no men outside his doors, so you pushed the heavy wood without knocking.

He walked out of the right side of the chambers quickly. He had Ice in his hands, but when he saw you, the desperation in your face, and the quickness of your breath, he lowered it.

His gaze studied you briefly, then he offered a polite nod, the same one he gave you the first time you talked.

“Dame,” He greeted.

You did not think before letting your feet take you forward. You did not speak, or greet him back. Instead, you welcomed yourself over him.

He froze when your arms embraced his shoulders, but you did not move away.

“Thank you,” You exhaled into his wet hair. Your head was nested over the covered space between his neck and shoulder.

You could not see him or his reaction to this, but you hoped it was not a scowl. Please, you thought. Although, you did not know what exactly you wanted either. Anything, perhaps. Whatever he had to offer.

You felt one of his arms wrapping around your middle, glued to his, and the other half of his body turning as he extended his arm. Then, came the sound of Ice’s blade, resting somewhere.

Lastly, his other hand found your head, caressing your soaked mane.

“You spared him,” You said, still stunned.

“You asked me to.”

You opened your eyes, exhaling in the comfort of his embrace. Then, you separated yourself from him.

His reaction was immediate, His arms rested beside him, and he stood erect and serious. The soldier he was.

“Did you spare him, and the city, because I asked you to?” You questioned, quietly. “I came to talk and make you see my side. I only pleaded for your mercy out of desperation.”

“You did,” His eyes darted between yours. “Make me see, that is. I apologise for my reaction, I… I think I am used to my authority and not to being told what to do.”

A tired smile crossed your lips before it fell.

“I did not tell you to do anything.”

“Yes, I know,” He agreed quickly, taking a step closer. “What I mean is that, even then, I find myself willing to do whatever you want.”

“I know you are no fool,” He continued. There was hesitance between his phrases, as if he was figuring out what he wanted to convey. “You see the way I look at you.”

The question flickered in his eyes. You responded with a nod.

“I also find myself thinking that this is not enough,” He sighed. “When you tried to convince me to spare Corlys Velaryon, I imagined you were being selfish for your friends. Then, you spoke of the city, of ruins, and I discovered the selfish one was me. I am not the best man in the world, and I will admit that much.”

“I am selfish, too,” You whispered.

He hesitated even longer this time. “For agreeing with my point about treason, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“That does not make you selfish. You are more considerate. You are kind. And… you were right.”

When your eyebrows shot up, he nodded.

“We got here too late. There was nothing left for my army. I was spiteful.”

“You were not entirely wrong for what you did,” You said. “You put an end to the war.”

“It would relent, if not for you pointing this out and making me understand,” He looked down. “I could not let myself be the cause of more destruction, nor your hatred. I did not come here to be that man.”

You closed your mouth, understanding it.

Deciding to consent to your wishes, you stepped forward as well, until you found him as close as he was on the previous night.

Your hands found one of his, enveloping it and bringing it close to you. Then, you lifted your head.

This time, there was no mirth, no confusion, and no anger. He was there as he was, and you could feel it in your bones.

“I am not the best person in the world, either, Cregan.”

His gaze fell to your mouth when his name came out of it.

“You are better than me.” His other hand came to rest on your face, and he smiled at you. “If I were you, that night on the balcony, I would ask you to be mine immediately.”

You mimicked his actions, removing one of your hands from his and bringing it to his face. “Well, you did spare Corlys Velaryon. In exchange, I would like to give you the only thing I have to offer.”

He understood your words instantly.

“I did not do that because I wanted something from you.”

You almost threw your head back, not being able to contain your laughter this time.

“That is exactly why I am here,” You told him.

“Tell me, then,” He asked. “That you want to be my lady.”

You hesitated.

“Will you listen to me when I talk about my nightmares and the person I was before I became a knight?”

“Every day,” He promised. “Will you let me take care of you and ask for your counsel?”

“I will.”

All that was left for you to do was mold yourself in his hold as his mouth searched for every bit of flesh and breath in yours.

His arm that previously held your middle was back there, pulling you tight enough to make you feel hot under the wet fabric, and his other hand rested on the side of your neck, tilting your head gently as your damp lips met with wet sounds that made you and him grunt softly whenever they collided perfectly.

Soon enough, he walked with you in his hold, provoking your hands to pull him by the shoulder and grip his hair.

Your backside found the heavy table of the room, but instead of sitting you on top of it the way you expected, Cregan rested his hands on your hips to keep you there, making arch your back as his mouth found your neck.

“Don't worry, for I will not take you here,” He said. “But, please...”

“I’m not worried,” You gasped, closing your eyes. “I would not mind if you did.”

He hummed, mouthing a spot on your neck continuously for a few seconds before raising his head.

“Not like this,” He kissed your lips once. “First, I will let you pass from a dame to a lady.”

You snorted, making him cease his movements.

“Are you mocking me?” He asked.

“No, I swear. It's just… I hate being called a dame.”

Cregan blinked. “You do?”

You nodded, laughing. “When I was knighted, I thought I was going to be called ser, like the rest. Then, Daemon Targaryen called me a dame. Oh, I hated it.”

The man laughed freely now.

“Every day,” He repeated. “I want to listen to you every day, my lady.”

The droplets of winter rain ran down your body, but in him you found warmth for a lifetime.

he licked his lips after kissing the back of her hand like a DOG!

wishing all of you a great day/night <3

unrelated, but i was thinking about making a character x bard reader fanfic. do you guys have any suggestions for what character should be her love interest?

[omegastation]

Hi. I haven’t used Tumblr in such a long time. It's kinda weird. Last time was two years ago...

I went to Valencia in Spain a few months later. Some parts of it reminded me of the Citadel. I wanted to write about it here, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t really come back here because I couldn’t play the game. I couldn’t concentrate at all, couldn’t finish a simple mission, couldn’t just “play”. I’m still in my first Legendary playthrough if you can believe it. I was losing something that brought me joy and didn’t really know what to do.

And the long story short about my time away: I got a Master’s degree while still working (evening & weekend classes). It’s fairly recent, I learned in June that I got a "Grande Distinction" (with great distinction? idk how to translate it well in English, it's just one of the highest marks). So that was nice :)

Less nice: I got a severe pulmonary embolism in November. My lungs are okay but I have to deal with daily hyperventilation now, which means I’m quite tired and need to make an appointment soon for respiratory physiotherapy. If you’re wondering, I don’t smoke and I’m fairly active. What else? I’m about to self-publish (finally!!!) my collection of short stories in French. Mom helped me yesterday, we ordered printed books. So I'm still writing. Reading and knitting all the time. And I’m still working at the same job I was working at, and I’m happy there, though it can be demanding and I have to be careful not to overwork myself.

In the end, I did manage to come back to the game and finish a mission. Not only that, but I played more missions, and that was a real "omg I can do it" moment. And the more I play, the more I want to talk about it. So there you have it, I hope I can come back and just try to enjoy myself in a chill way. I don't know how long, we'll see. I think time has helped me, at least, to look at things differently. I don't want to feel any type of obligation. I want to do things for fun because it's fun, and let that be enough.

It’s been so long, the fandom has probably changed a lot. Some people might be gone. I’ll reintroduce myself one way or another, but right now I’ll just find stuff I like to reblog and talk about all the ideas that come to mind. Bear with me if it has been said recently or so many times before. I just feel like starting all over again and I missed a lot of posts. My memory isn't what it's used to be either tbh...

Finally, I hope you’re all doing well. Thank you to the people who sent me messages. One person wrote that they missed me. I don’t know who they are, it was anon, but that really moved me, because I really did miss this community and all the discussions we had. I also miss, as always, Dustie who has been gone for a while now.

Anyway. Thank you.

[systemadministratorclu]

Y'all, I just HAD to share this, because holy shit.

A little background first:

I run the drive-thru cash register window at a fast food joint. One of the shittiest jobs there is because some of the rudest/stupidest people on the planet come through the drive-thru, and one must have near superhuman patience to deal with it. That said, there are customers who come regularly and are not hard to deal with at all. And then there are some-very few and far between-that restore your faith in humanity a little every time they come.

This is about one such customer.

This guy comes every day at about the same time with his grandson (6 years old when this started, recently turned 7) and gets the exact same thing every time. To the point where now either I see their car or I hear the guy say his name (whichever happens first) and I'm already ringing them up. Because of this, the kid now thinks I have weirdly specific psychic powers, and has said he prefers coming to the place when I'm there. He's also decided I'm the best employee this place has. The granddad talks to me like I'm a human, they're always smiling and happy to see me (which means a lot in this line of work, let me tell you) and even on my shittiest days, they've managed to make me smile. I genuinely look forward to seeing these people every day.

Recently, grandson was hella excited to tell me he had a birthday coming up. Reminded me every day "my birthday's coming!" as most 6yo kids do.

Maybe I was feeling a little holiday spirit or something, but one day after work, I went to the Dollar Tree near the restaurant. I picked out a kid's birthday card and a Christmas card. I wrote a message in the Christmas one about what I just explained above, thanking them for bringing some joy to my days, because y'know what? People need to hear that shit. Especially in today's world. And I wanted them to know how much this meant to me. I wrote a little joke in the birthday card about not forgetting the day. Then I looked in my wallet, saw I had a $10 and a $1, and stuck the $10 in the birthday card. Addressed the birthday card to the kid and the Christmas one to kid and grandpa. I give the cards to them on their normal drive-thru visit. They are of course surprised (kid starts yelling "thank you" even though he hasn't gotten to open it yet) but thankful. Then the line moves on.

Fast forward to today.

I see the car come in but I don't start ringing the order up, because it's WAY early for them. I give my usual greeting, then I hear a woman's voice, so I think it's someone in the same kind of car. But when she asks "is this Hal?" I then realize it's the kid's mother, whom he has told all about me and who has come through with him before.

I say yes, and she tells me she's not here to order anything, just to see me, since kid and granddad are sick. I tell her to come on to the window, she does, and hands me a card and a nicely wrapped gift. I asked her to tell them hi for me, she said she would and then the line moved.

I got off on lunch break and opened card and gift.

I was not prepared. At all.

This is the gift...

...the card (no writing on the front).....

.....and the typed note inside the card that actually brought tears to my eyes.

......I'm still not over this. I will be thinking about how this went on for OVER HALF A FUCKING YEAR and I had no idea.

This is the kind of stuff that makes this shitty job worth it. People like this....We need more of in this world. I'm going to hold onto that note so when I feel like shit or I don't matter, I can look at it and know there's a kid out there who I am so important to that he got his dad to write a whole-ass letter, to some random stranger he only knows through his son, inviting me to their fucking house. I'm tearing up again as I write this, just thinking about it.

If that doesn't say "you matter", idk what does.

(And yes, I will go at some point, because how can I not? I'm not gonna dash this kid's hopes and make myself look like an enormous asshole. This is the RL version of being handed a toy phone and told it's ringing)

[thegayloragenda]

Okay I want to put all of my current predictions out here (these are subject to change, of course):

• I think this show is going to get a little more colorful or a little bit more gay with each show because I think she’s running out the clock.

• I am CLOWNING for an eventual pronoun change during surprise songs.

• I think Karlie will probably show up again. And if she shows up for the rep announcement I will die dead.

• I’m also clowning for a rainbow variation of every outfit or perhaps a debutation variation if she plans to drop them together. Maybe a karma outfit. Idk. I don’t really know what is coming next in regard to music or if there will be anything (what if she just went black out for a year and then dropped rep next December 😂).

• I’m split because I think she’s either going to continue this Travis stunt until the Super Bowl or she’ll break up with him while on tour (if it’s real that’s totally fine but the way this relationship has been crammed down our throats gives me the ick so bad). I have no idea how that breakup will go down especially since they’ve made an entire Christmas movie about this relationship.

• I’m still assuming we’ll get a proposal / breakup.

Overall, I don’t think Taylor Swift would pander to this side of the fandom the way she has if she didn’t have a plan to blow everything up. I assume she’s a good person. I assume she’s supportive of the fans who see her. I’ve been in this fandom long enough to know what it looks like when she’s in the closet and when she isn’t. The closet isn’t even glass anymore. The closet is just invisible at this point so if she’s just a straight girl who loves rainbows, she’s absolutely diabolical in the very worst ways.

And before anyone comes for me, yes she can be bi or pan or whatever she wants to be. I don’t care about muses or labels. I notice patterns and I can’t help but connect the dots. I see bi and lesbian dresses and her calling attention to them so that’s where my focus is. I care about freedom for her (whatever that looks like) and I also think some clarity about who she actually is will help a lot of us decide if we want to keep supporting her and giving her our money. I’m placing my bet on her being who I think she is so I’m here to support her until the end of this roller coaster ride.

I will make a post on the final day of this tour but I just want to say this: I have had the TIME OF MY LIFE in this labyrinth. I have made lifelong friends because of this side of the fandom. Thank you to ALL of my friends on here who have followed me and commented on my posts and said such kind things. Thank you to everyone who has messaged me their insights and theories. And finally, thank you to my fans who have messaged me your homophobic, brain-rotted hate comments. Good luck in the aftermath!

And to Taylor (if you ever see this), thank you for keeping my mind so stimulated. I will probably never get dementia because of you. You have been so good for my brain health. Thank you for teaching me about my own history as a queer girlie. Thank you for helping me heal my relationship with my neurodivergent self. Thank you for being the “mother” who saw me when my own mother just talks about how gross and wrong gay people are. Thank you for being kind and strong and brave in the face of shame and fear and danger. Thank you for leading a revolution of New Romantics! No one does it like you, girl. I love you so much. I hope you got a giggle over the chaos and the wrong predictions. I hope this tour brought you joy and hope and peace and healing. I know I haven’t always seen eye to eye with some of your choices, but I do respect you and I do hope the rest of your life is sunshine and rainbows and you get to hug your mom forever and take really long naps with your person after all of this is over. Long live 💜

Update: I do think the election plays a big role in how loud she can be. @casuallycruel131313 pointed this out, too. We’ll get way more once Kamala has been elected! I think Canada shows will be wildddd.

[anotherandomcollection]

Perhaps in another life...

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≻─ ⋆✩ pairings: mavuika x fem!reader (can be read as gn!reader) ≻─ ⋆✩ warnings: some kind of fluff?, angst! - not beta read. probably ooc mavuika so... sorry in advance ≻─ ⋆✩ spoilers?: 5.0 Archon Quest (Act I & II) ≻─ ⋆✩ author's note: idk I feel like writing some angst so I may as well try with a new little idea I had... I also wrote this at like 2am with a sudden rush of inspiration...

I haven't written in a while and I'm completely new to this, I have never written on tumblr so forgive my formatting please. I don't know how to feel about this

≻─ ⋆✩ word count: 1.6K

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The traveler says nothing as they observe the Pyro archons family portrait, one that had been painted to her family's likeness. Apart from her parents and her sister, there had been someone else, clearly bearing no resemblance to any of the family, this someone had their arms linked around the archon - everyone smiling. The traveler notes how the archon can't seem to tear her gaze away from the portrait, before she snaps back to the situation at hand. Her eyes drift back to the image during their conversation and they wonder just how long the archon's duties had kept this archon away from her family. The answer was too long - longer than what the traveler had ever imagined.

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The day your love officially decides to sacrifice herself, was one you already knew was coming. There had been discussions for long before it had been finalised and you were just hoping that your darling wife could let a different archon do this... It's not like Natlan lacked in archons, with the possibility for any human to ascend to the seat. Sure, it was selfish, that much you knew but did she really have to be the one? It hurt to know that Mavuika had to be - to give up her life and return five centuries in the future. Five centuries and without you. And you would live the rest of your life without her.

There had been arguments and heated discussions that ended up resulting in everyone's anger and it helped no one, really. At some point, you had to accept it, before you sent off your love with anger instead of some final memories of love and joy. Her mind was clearly made up, long before the final announcement.

It was hard, of course. Hard to accept because suddenly your wife was a ticking time bomb. A set date and a set time, where she would cease to be with you and then she would be lost. She would die and sure, she would be resurrected later... But not in your life time. She would be gone and you would never see your wife alive again. It had felt almost like a doctor's diagnosis, when they give you a time limit. But at least people still had the hope of fighting off an illness and pushing through. This date was final and it was becoming so very real and closing in so very fast.

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The last of her days were spent easy and quiet. Away from the archon life and responsibilities - Mavuika had already ensured she completed everything before the announcement. She had her last days to be spent, after all.

You'd gone out together with her sister, Hine, travelling around Natlan one last time... There had been time spent curled up together, relishing in each other's warmth once more and the comfort found in each other's arms. Soon, sleep would not come easy for you. Too used to the warmth of your lover.

You'd brought her for a quick visit to Sumeru, though it had been rather uneventful and... A lot of sand. More than you'd ever encountered in Natlan and finer than you'd encountered. Dunes and dunes of sand in every direction and wind that blew the sand everywhere and it had stubbornly clung to everything. You spend time still getting sand out of your clothes and bags long after your darling has passed.

In the nights, quiet words of comfort are exchanged and promises made. Mavuika had already requested her wedding ring be kept somewhere... Somewhere she could find when she inevitably rose once more in the future. You cling to your wife, even in your sleep and you dream of a future that you will never be able to have with her.

At times, it feels like you are grieving the loss before it happens. But how do you not when you know it would happen already?

No matter how much fun and laughter is spent together in each day. No matter the soft kisses and tender touches... Your wife would die in a matter of days. And you were powerless to stop it.

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"Come on love, its time to get up", She whispers, though she doesn't shake you awake. The sun had long rose and the colours of the sky had shifted from the orange and purple sunrise hues into the bright sky of a new day. You looked ethereal - the sunlight catching in your hair and sprawled across the pillows. And so at peace, without the weight of a hidden grief that you carried over the last few weeks.

She supposes it was how you saw her when she set her hair aflame. 'it's beautiful, angelic even...', you'd told her once. If she brought up the comparison you would probably laugh. Something about how the sunlight in your hair could not compare to an archon's beauty. Her beauty. But still she watches as the sun dances across your skin with a wonderful glow.

"We don't have anything on today.", Is the only response she gets, your voice laced with sleep, before you bury your face into her neck, turning away from the sun's glare. You can feel her laughter as she runs her fingers through your hair and you are lulled back to sleep with the rhythmic and soothing quality of it. When you wake later, you find yourself still tangled with your wife and she too had been dragged back to the land of dreams.

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The day comes and... The moment your wife gives you the last kiss, last hug and last touch... It passed numbly. She hugs her family goodbye, final words are exchanged... and then she's gone. You had not been allowed to witness the actual sacrifice and you did not want to either ways. The feeling remains numb until it's night time and you're alone. Alone for the first time in... Years. Since you had married, she had always been home for bed, curling up together and relishing in the warmth that radiated through the house. Warmth of the person, in both the figurative and literal sense... And it was gone.

The dam breaks and you cry yourself to sleep. You wake exhausted, despite the full night of rest and it is painful. You force yourself to go about your day and life continues on.

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It hurts even more, when Hine, still young and perhaps she had not quite grasped the meaning of gone. She's inconsolable at first, but soon gains a kind of fire in her, insistent that there's some way of seeing her sister again in the future. Her determination would have been adorable, if you weren't already aware that living that long was impossible and just barely coping with your grief. And unlike your wife (ex...wife? No, she was your wife even if she had passed.) no one else really had that 'wayob ordained purpose' to rise again and protect Natlan from destruction so far into the future.

Five centuries was almost unfathomable to you. No one, short of gods and perhaps the Adepti you hear about in stories from Liyue could live that long. But you were no such mythical beast nor were you a god. You were as human as they got and so was Hine.

Regardless, you force a kind smile as you work together to theorise ways to live that long. To see her sister again and to see your wife again. It's not possible, you already know, and you hoped that her sister would see it before she was too far gone in her aspirations for the far future. She does, eventually, almost a full year later when the passion mellow and it finally hits that she's gone. You hold each other as you both cry and mourn the loss of a loved one.

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Five centuries later and Mavuika rises once more. She finds the wedding ring that she painstakingly stored and had a family portrait made. Painted onto her father's old armour, she describes her family to the best of her ability and she almost weeps at the likeness that the artist manages to capture.

She cannot mourn now, not really. She already accepted her fate in the centuries before and she knew what she was giving up. But if not her, then who? She had a duty to her nation. The grief hits her in the quiet hours of the night when she isn't the Pyro archon of Natlan but just Mavuika . No one fights alone - but why did she feel like this was a battle she was oh no lonely in. So far into the future and so much has changed since the past.

Unfortunately, little survives five centuries of erosion. She doesn't know exactly of what happens to her family. Her sister... Has some records and she pieces together that her younger sister managed to be an architect. Playing a major role in rebuilding the Scions of the Canopy.

But you... Some evidence points to you also became an architect alongside her sister. Helping to rebuild and design the children of the Echoes. Some say you died young, a mysterious disease that compromised your immune systems. Others say you eventually left Natlan to a different nation, which one is unclear but you never returned until much later in life. But all records are alike in stating that you never remarried and never took on another love.

And so Mavuika sits alone and she prays (to who? to who does an archon pray to?) that in the end, her sacrifice is worth it. That giving up everything had been worth it. And she hopes, so desperately that when her (second) human life expires, she can see you again.

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 15

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6.8k

Content: references to self-harm, description of self-harm scars, some chat about self-harm; oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, protected sex

A/N: I said I'd make it clear, so let's do that: IT'S THE END! THE FINAL ONE!! THE LAST CHAPTER! IT'S DONE!!! IT'S FINISHED!!! NO MORE!!! NO MAS!!!! FINIT!!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!!

I was so relieved to finish this yesterday and thought I would be glad more than anything to post this and finally (FINALLY!!!) bring the series to a close, but I honestly do also feel kind of sad it's over. We've been together over a year now, these characters and me; I've been actually writing them for a year but they first popped into my head 18 months ago. And now we're at the end.

Huge thank you to everyone who has beta'd for me, inc. for this chapter @quarter-life-crisis2 and @here2bbtstrash, @minttangerines, @blog-name-idk, and Amethyst

Thank you to everyone who has left comments and come along on this journey with me; it has meant SO much to me to have your investment in and enthusiasm for this story. It has made it so rewarding to tell and I hope you like their ending.

Without further ado...

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Chapter Fifteen - Spring

Chapter Fifteen - Spring 

You rested your head gently against the window, watching the people come and go. The cherry blossoms had fallen already, gathered in gutters and collected in corners. You were always sad to see them go, but this year, you felt like they had given you something. Summer, of course, as always: the heat, the sun, the long days, the blessed relief of an ice-cold drink and even colder air-conditioning. This year, the cherry blossoms had brought you something else. Truly like confetti, they had blown around you, whirled around you, celebrating your first week of From Now On.  

You didn’t say that you were getting ahead of yourself. Not this time. Because you weren’t that anxious about it, as much as that surprised you. You had all the anticipation of your first day at school with none of the nerves. The cherry blossoms had gone but they hadn’t left a hole; you couldn’t feel their absence because your life felt abundant. Last year, when you had watched them bloom and fall and fade away, you had been empty. All the joy they usually brought you couldn’t touch the sides of your despair. It hurt more to see them ushering in spring when you felt stranded alone in winter. But now you weren’t alone. Not even close. 

It was a fairly mild day, just the cool side of hot, and still. You had been impatient and got ready early, hence the sitting and staring. Yoongi wasn’t due for another five minutes, but you’d been there for twenty already. You imagined you might see him on his approach to your building and get to observe him, unnoticed. You wondered what he was doing right now – driving? In a taxi? On the subway? Was he already on his feet, close to you? Was he nervous? You thought he would be. His shyness recently reminded you of when you first met, those tentative overtures of friendship, the thrill you felt when he opened himself up to you. 

It was not unlike the thrill you felt now, waiting for him to pick you up for your very first date.  

When he was due in no less than two minutes, you stood and moved to your mirror. You had, initially, planned to wear something that you considered sexier – that is to say, more form-fitting, a little more scandalous, a dress that showed off a little more of what your mother gave you – and then you changed your mind. You didn’t need to do that, because Yoongi already knew. He had already seen what lay beneath and it was all for him now anyway. So you dressed a little more comfortably, in a dress with a little more give, a little more fabric and flounce. You looked cute; you wanted Yoongi to think you looked cute.  

Then, as you always did, you heard his footsteps. 

“Babe!” you cried, leaning out of your door to see him coming from the end of the corridor.  

But you almost didn’t manage to say anything at all because, whilst you had expected Yoongi, you hadn’t expected Yoongi in a suit, holding flowers. It stopped you short; you had been about to run out to him, jump into his arms, do something silly. Instead, you were flustered, grinning at him from your doorway, your heart going like the clappers and your blood roaring in your ears because god-fucking-damn, had he always been that handsome? 

“No!” he called back. “Go back inside! What are you doing?” 

What were you doing? Short-circuiting, a little. His hair was still long and you imagined it twisted between your fingers, soft and pullable; he was smiling, even as he scolded you, all his little teeth on display. You had always liked a man in a suit – you must have said it a thousand times – but you had not been prepared for how much you liked this man in a suit. You were going to have to get some kind of grip if you were going to make it through dinner.  

“I’m saying hello!” you called back, a little too loudly now that he was closer. “I was going to run out to meet you!” 

“Get back inside! I’m supposed to be picking you up! I need to knock on your door!” 

Truthfully, Yoongi would have loved to have you run out of your apartment and into his arms, even if he’d tumbled, you’d stumbled, you’d both fallen to the floor in a bumped, bruised heap. He’d have loved to have thrown all caution to the wind and run away with you. But all of that was still overwhelming, far too much good for a boy who still thought he was bad, and there was a process to be followed, procedure. He was clinging to that. Like a life raft.  

Yoongi had practised. In as much as you can practise speaking to a friend without actually speaking to them. He had forgotten, in all his anxiety about dating you, about being with you, being seen by you, that you were his friend. He’d had these feelings for you from the very beginning and they had never paralysed him like he felt they were now. He knew sex was not the (only) answer, that sooner or later, he was going to have to remember how to act around you. So he called each of his friends in turn to hang out with them, to remind himself, firstly, that he had them, that he was likable; secondly, that he enjoyed their company—he enjoyed company in general, more than he would ever let on; thirdly, that he could be good company: he got a laugh out of every one of them. That had to count for something.  

And he bought you flowers. Because they would provide a good distraction in case all of these remembrances fell out of his head the second he saw you. And because he wanted to, because that’s what you should do when you take someone out on a date. He knew you liked tulips and it was tulip season. It felt right. And it released a little of his impulse to shower you with things, to buy things for you and haemorrhage cash to make him seem worth it.  

For the longest time, money had been all he had. He had laughed out loud in his therapist’s office when he said that because, for the longest time, money was all he didn’t have. The not-having of money was the very thing that defined his life and set him on this path; it was the bedrock beneath the biggest of his life’s decisions. And then it became all he had. All he had to offer. He was still learning that maybe there were other things, too. 

You did as you were told and shut the door, palms pressed against it as you listened to your heart and tried to make it slow. Then you waited six seconds until you heard his first knock. 

“Oh my god, hi!” you exclaimed. “I had no idea you were here!” 

Yoongi pretended he wasn’t grinning and shot you a look. 

“Shut up,” he replied. “I bought you these.” 

Tulips. Your favourite flower. You didn't remember ever telling Yoongi that, but maybe he just knew. They were another reason that April was your favourite time of year. Seoul Forest was full of them, hundreds, thousands of them blanketing the banks. There was a rainbow of colour in every direction; tall heads on sturdy stems barely touched by breezes, swaying like a choir. It was like a pilgrimage; you went every year. Maybe this year, you would take Yoongi.   

“They’re beautiful, thank you.” 

You took them from him, not bothering to try to restrain your smile from splitting your face in half, and leant in to kiss him. Then you stopped. 

“Are we allowed to kiss?” you asked, one inch from his face. Then you moved away and started looking in cupboards for a vase you weren’t sure you owned.  

Yoongi looked confused.  

“Y’know, kissing on a first date?” 

He still looked confused. Then you remembered. You laughed. 

“Oh, of course, that’s right. You’re Mr Fucks on a First Date, aren’t you?” 

You expected him to be surprised; you hoped he would be a little flustered, hoped you would get to see that pink creep onto his cheeks in a way that was just too cute. Instead, he grinned and you felt your own cheeks heat. 

“Is that a promise?” he asked and your stomach swooped.  

You had found a vase, tipped flower food into it, and were gently arranging the stems. You abandoned them in favour of moving closer him, then a little closer, slowly closer, until your lips were almost on his.  

“Cheeky,” you muttered, eyes flicking down to his lips, amaranth pink and just a little pouty. You bit your own. 

Yoongi hummed. 

“So is that a yes?” 

“Only if you play your cards right.” 

You dragged your eyes up and slowly pressed a kiss to his mouth. His hands settled on your hips and you couldn’t stop yours from reaching up, tangling one in his hair, using the other to rake through the dark locks you hoped he never cut. It wasn’t exactly the kind of grip you needed to get, but every atom of your body was asking for more. It was intoxicating to be kissed by him. 

It was Yoongi who broke from you (you did not have the same level of restraint), his mouth lifting in a grin as he nodded his head slightly towards the counter, where your tulips stood in their vase. 

“Did I mention I got you flowers?” 

“You might need to tell me one more time.” 

You weren’t nervous. Not at all. On the one hand, you felt like you should be, because it was Yoongi and this felt enormous. When you stood back and looked at it, it was huge. He was one of your two (2) friends in this world and you were ruining your friendship good and proper. You could still remember the sharp-toothed despair that wound around you like a strait-jacket after what happened with Sungbin; you remembered the suffocating heartbreak of San leaving you. You knew that it could happen here. There wasn’t a guarantee that Yoongi was The One, that you were The One for Yoongi. It should have scared you.  

But it didn’t. It was too hard to be anxious sitting across from him at dinner, as if you hadn’t sat and done this very thing with him dozens of times before. It was impossible to worry about whether or not he liked you when he looked at you like that, when he smiled in that way that you had always suspected was just for you. You knew he liked you because he was here. He had asked for this date and bought you flowers and he was laughing and teasing and being exactly the person you knew him to be. That didn’t make you nervous.  

Yoongi had picked the restaurant carefully. Not too fancy, not too quiet, not too busy, not too empty, not too casual. He had spent a great many hours trawling the internet for reviews and photos and listings. He wasn’t usually this obsessive, but so much about it all had felt out of his control and this was in it. So he was going to get it right. 

Sitting across from you, he knew he needn’t have bothered. Because he knew you didn’t really care. He wasn’t even sure, sometimes, if you knew what you were eating, because you barely stopped talking to shove it in. You spoke around the food in your mouth and whirled your chopsticks around as you gestured. You picked things off his plate and dropped pieces of your own food onto it. You had this way of creating a world around yourself, such that he forgot where he was; he forgot there was anyone else around, anything else to think about. And he realised he could have taken you anywhere and it would have been just exactly this good. Because it was you. 

“Do you want to go for a drink or something? I looked up a couple of bars not far from here,” Yoongi said as he led you, your hand in his, from the restaurant. 

You leant up against him, shook your head and pouted. 

“No?” 

You shook your head again. 

“Ice-cream?” 

Not that either. 

“Ok... Do you want to go home?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Yoongi seemed surprised and you saw his eyes dim and realised—too slowly, clumsily for too much wine—that you had not exactly said what you meant. 

“I want to go home with you, please,” you clarified, still pouting up at him. 

“Oh.” 

It took Yoongi a couple of seconds to recalibrate, then he smiled down at you with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Miss Fucks on a First Date, is it?” 

You punched him playfully in the arm and he didn’t bother to act like it hurt.  

“Do you want a drink?” Yoongi offered as you slipped off your shoes inside his apartment. 

You shrugged. You would have one if he wanted, but you didn’t need one. You felt lush and warm and relaxed enough already. And truthfully, you were at home now, in the privacy of his apartment; you didn’t want to waste a minute with your mouth on anything that wasn’t him. 

You kissed him, soft at first, because you did want to fuck on your first date, but you weren’t an animal; you had some patience. Or, that’s what you thought as you pressed your lips against his, but the thought washed away like writing on the sand as soon as you tasted him. All your impatience, all your greed, all your excitement came rushing forward, into the fray, a tsunami of feeling, all good, all for him, all surging through you like a stampede. 

“I never,” you started, interrupting yourself with another kiss, one more. “I never want to stop kissing you.”  

“Then don’t.” 

You moaned into his mouth and pressed your body against his, suddenly too warm, hot, the fabric of your dress burning where it brushed your skin. You pushed Yoongi’s jacket off his shoulders and pulled at the knot of his tie. He laughed against your lips and pulled back. 

“You know you’re just making it tighter?” 

You whined and let him take over, deftly undoing the damage you’d done and loosening it properly, pulling it through the collar of his shirt and dropping it on the floor. You thought that was quite long enough to not be kissing, to not be held so tight against him, you could practically feel his heartbeat in your chest, but he held you back.  

When he started walking away from you, you rushed after him, grabbing his hand as he opened his bedroom door. 

“Cherry?” he called softly, padding over to the bed, where she was curled up on the pillow. “You have to get the fuck out of here, ok?”  

She ‘mrowed’ at him and rolled onto her back, exposing her exquisitely soft underbelly for strokes, purring when Yoongi put his hand on her. You thought to yourself that you would quite like to be the one purring under his touch, but had to accept that being jealous of a cat was insane, even for you.  

“Come on,” he said encouragingly, lifting her up and walking away from you yet again, taking her out to the living room and placing her on the sofa.  

“You mean you don’t even give her a free show?” you asked when he returned to the bedroom. 

Yoongi’s face flattened and he looked at you, pretending not to be amused.  

“Would you like to fuck in front of my cat?” 

You jumped up and skipped over to him with a giggle. 

“No, thank you!”  

You wrapped your arms around his neck and wasted no time reconnecting your mouths. Yoongi, now the cat was out of the room and the door firmly shut, seemed as impatient as you were, his hands sliding under the skirt of your dress and up, slipping beneath your underwear and squeezing at your backside. His mouth moved to your jaw and then your neck, sucking soft kisses into your skin, holding you firmly close to him. 

You were impatient because you wanted more, more, and even more of him and you wanted it now. But you also wanted each moment to last. Every time his lips met your skin, they felt softer; every time his tongue rolled over yours, he tasted sweeter; every time his hands squeezed, you felt your heart race a little faster. You wanted him immediately and you also wanted it to last forever. You couldn’t get enough of him. 

He moved his hands upwards, outside your dress, and made light work of the buttons at the back that had honestly taken you forever to do up by yourself. You hummed. 

“You’re good at that.” 

“Hm?” 

“Good with your fingers.” 

He chuckled and flicked you lightly with one hand whilst his other freed a button from its clasp.  

“Is that right?” 

“Shut up, you know what I meant.” 

“I know exactly what you meant.”  

You shivered, even in the warm room, in the bright light of the sun streaming in through the window, when he pulled your dress off and you let it pool on the floor. You didn’t have time to be self-conscious, even if you might have otherwise, because Yoongi was on you, pushing you towards the bed until you were flat on your back, his mouth exploring your body as if he’d forgotten every inch of it in the last week. He hooked his fingers around your underwear and tugged down; you shuffled in response, lifting your hips and wriggling out of it in a way that was less than dignified, and less than efficient, but you didn’t want Yoongi to move off you, didn’t want to sit and then stand so you could do the job properly.  

Naked, again, beneath Yoongi, fully-clothed, you held tight to his shirt collar and hoped he would let you know what he wanted. You wanted to let him lead. 

And lead he did. He pulled one of your hands to his shirt buttons and you experimentally popped one open. He led your hand to the next one. You worked your way to the bottom, pulling the ends from his trousers, kissing him: his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He wouldn’t look at you and you could see the red on his ears; if you pressed your hand against his chest, you could feel the thump of his heart like a hammer.  

“Baby,” you whispered as you slowly slid your hands under his shirt, his body warm against them, soft, not smooth.  

He gave no reply and you nudged him gently with your nose. 

“Baby, look at me.”  

It took seconds that felt like minutes before his eyes met yours. They were guarded, unsure, a little bit afraid. You kissed his lips and smiled. 

“We can stop here,” you reminded him but he shook his head.  

“Go on.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He nodded but his eyes were elsewhere again.  

You pushed your hands along his chest, around his shoulders, forcing the shirt to fall to the bed. You let your hands see him first, your lips still employed on his neck. He was soft and warm and the dip of his spine slightly damp with sweat. You felt them before you saw them, laddering down his arms, criss-crossing his chest, a handful near his hip that were rough and scabbed, still healing.  

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment that you had never seen Yoongi in a T-shirt. That he always wore long sleeves. You hadn’t noticed. Now you knew why. 

Yoongi’s face was pink now, a little pained, uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Yoongi wanted to burst into flames and drown himself both at once. He didn’t dare open his eyes because he knew he’d not be able to see for tears. He was holding his breath, waiting for something he desperately didn’t want to happen, even though it always had. The shock, the disgust, the reluctance, the holding at arm’s length. 

You took his hand and kissed his palm, kissed the single, thick, raised scar on his wrist and all the smaller ones that followed. You turned him around, guiding him gently so he lay against the headboard, so you could kiss him all over, each and every one of them.  

“Babe,” you called to him, crawling up his body until you hovered over him, resting on your hands.  

Then you lowered yourself on top of him, skin to skin, and stroked through his hair. 

“Hey,” you tried again and Yoongi nodded slightly. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

“Are you ok?” 

He nodded again.  

“Gonna look at me and say that?”  

When he looked at you, it was a Yoongi you had never seen before. Shy and defeated and embarrassed and sad and there was something hurt in his eyes that almost made you angry – because no one was allowed to hurt him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.  

You kissed him once and then again and he cleared his throat lightly. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yoongi...” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“No.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Some of the hesitation in his face left him then and he looked at you. 

“Have you changed your mind?”  

It was a little defensive, the barest hint of a challenge in his voice. 

“No,” you answered. “Why would I have changed my mind?”  

He looked away again, not answering, though you didn’t need him to. You both knew. But that would never have changed your mind. He could have been covered in slime or secretly a lizard-person and you’d have been just as soft for him as you were now.  

Though you were glad that he was neither.   

“It doesn’t bother me,” you continued. “Well, it does--” You noticed the clench of his jaw-- “because I know what it takes to do it...” You traced your finger lightly over the scars on his arm. “I know exactly how it feels and I hate that you know, too. I wish I could take it all away from you. So that bothers me. Because I don’t ever want you to feel like it’s something you have to do.  

“But-” you pushed yourself up a little, sitting on his lap and pressing your hands to his chest- “actually, also, they’re proof you’re still here, y’know?” Your hand circled his wrist and you pressed your thumb against the worst scar there. “You might not have been. Any one of these could have been the last one, right? But they weren’t. It’s like... every time you do it, it’s a little bit of effort towards staying alive because there’s something worse you could do but you’re not doing that. So it’s proof. Proof that you’re here and trying and you’ve been trying and I, for one, am very glad you are still here. More than glad.” 

He didn’t reply. You shrugged. 

“And you’ve seen mine. My body is not exactly unscathed.”  

“There’s nothing wrong with your body.” His voice was stronger, more like his own. 

“And there’s nothing wrong with yours.” 

Yoongi had to get out from underneath you, had to stop you looking at him, at least for a moment. He knew that it had to happen, that you had to know, but this was too much. Too much of what he didn’t want and not enough of what he did. He didn’t want to talk about it or think about it. His chest was tight and he felt unsteady and he so badly just wanted to get back to you: you, naked in this bed, with him. 

He sat up and his arms came around you and you relished the feeling of your skin on his, nothing but warmth between you. He kissed you, insistent this time, impatient again. He wanted you on his tongue, in his hands, enveloping him. He wanted to serve himself up on a plate for you, kneel and kiss your feet; he wanted to lose himself completely in the sound of you coming undone.  

You shuffled off him and fumbled at his belt, at his zip, pushing them to the floor. You barely noticed the skin there, that was really more scar than skin; you didn’t see the light lines and the dark ones, crossing and re-crossing, thickening, fading, all over. Because it didn’t matter to you. That he wasn’t fresh out of the box, perfect and unblemished. No one was. And you shared a pain; the pain that led to these blemishes, these marks, these scars, it was yours, too.  

So you didn’t see them as they were un-covered, as he stepped out of his clothes, as you took his cock in your hand. Hot and heavy, you pumped slowly, but Yoongi had other ideas.  

He lay you on the bed and spread your thighs, trailing kisses up one side and down the other. You shivered when his hot breath hit your core and again when his mouth met your lips, his tongue licking through your folds. The pleasure felt brand new as he drank you in and you felt the exact right amount of drunk.  

If you’d been sober, this would have been too quick; you’d have been too easy, too alert. It would all have been over too soon. But the alcohol blurred the edges, dulled your senses just enough to allow you to luxuriate in it: the soft, wet pad of his tongue brushing over your clit, then hard as it pushed inside you; the press of his kiss-plump lips, their seal as he sucked at your swollen bud. Like swimming through champagne, everything was fizzing and golden.  

The sun hit Yoongi’s head, so bright it made his black hair brown and it shone. You tangled a fist in it, pulling his mouth closer, tipping your hips and he flicked his eyes towards you. They were deep and glazed and only half-open, his tongue still pressed against you. You whined and rolled your hips, then did it again and he let you rut against his mouth until all your pleasure was coiling tight, down into a heavy ball in your core.  

Then he pulled back and shifted his weight, lifting a hand from your hip. 

“Good with my fingers, right?” he said, a lopsided grin on his face, mouth sticky and shining.  

“Y-e...eess.” 

You answer was punctuated with the slip of those fingers inside you, and your breath hitched by the curling of those fingers, the pressing of them against your front wall. Yoongi lowered himself again and put his mouth back around your clit, the suction hard and sure. You were squirming now, all your muscles tightening, everything drawing down, deep into your core before bursting forward in a wet rush of heat.  

You sighed as your limbs flopped against the mattress and your chest heaved. Yoongi wiped his mouth and knelt back, similarly breathless. He took a hand to his cock and squeezed lightly at the base, hissing slightly as he did.  

You slithered off the bed, to your knees, and tapped Yoongi’s knee, asking him to turn towards you, reaching for him, for his dark, heavy cock, your mouth growing wet at the mere thought of it.  

Yoongi looked hesitant. 

“You don’t have to,” he said. 

You tipped your head to the side and frowned. 

“But... I want to, though?” 

He hesitated a second longer and you thought he was going to say no, but he turned and you did nothing to hide your enthusiasm. You pressed a kiss to the tip and let your tongue lick at the pre-cum dripping from it. Yoongi grunted and you grinned because it had actually been a long time since you’d had this kind of fun. 

It had been a long time for Yoongi, too, since he’d had his dick in anyone’s mouth. He couldn’t even remember the last time. He’d forgotten the heat of it, the softness and strength of a tongue, the looking down at them looking up. It was frankly criminal, he thought, that you could be so cute with a cock in your mouth. It was every bit as good as he might have dreamt, as hot and wet as he might have imagined. You pushed forward and he could feel the back of your throat, see the tears sparkling in your eyes, caught on your lashes. 

He had to stop looking. He tipped his head back and studied the ceiling. He clenched his fists and tried to slow his breathing down because, god, it had been so long and it was you. It was you and you had kissed him all over and you were looking up at him with wet stars in your eyes and your mouth was doing all that to him and he closed his eyes. Then you moaned with the tip of his cock at the very back of your mouth and he almost lost all control. 

He swore, his throat tight, his thighs twitching. He placed a hand on your head and pushed back your hair, tugging ever so slightly to pull you off him. You wiped your mouth and grinned up at him; it was such a sweet, filthy gesture that he almost came again. 

“You ok?” you asked and Yoongi fell to his knees. He answered with a kiss, licking into your mouth, pulling you against him. 

“Yes,” he answered, mumbled against your lips. “Want to fuck you now.” 

“Yes, please.”  

And it was everything you had wanted. Everything you had forgotten sex could be. Yoongi held you close and fucked you slow and you kissed him and caressed him and the world could have fallen apart outside and you would neither have noticed nor cared.  

There was something tearing inside Yoongi and he didn’t know what to do about it. Because you were holding him tight, pulling him so close to you, kissing him and moaning into his mouth and no one had wanted him this close, this soft, this slow for a long time. Ever. He had tried to pace himself before, tried not to rush through it but it was a blur to him now, the frenzy and the nerves and the uncertainty of it all rendering it choppy and indistinct. Whereas this was full high-definition. This, you, the way you touched him and looked at him, the way you said his name... it was like a dream. Like something he never thought he would have. The luxury of your warm body so close to his; the indulgence of your lips against his and your eyes sparkling like you had never seen a sweeter sight than him. That you wanted him. That you wanted him and let him know it. That you wanted all of him, as you ran your hands down his arms, as you squeezed at his chest and pressed your hand against his back, pulling him closer.  

Because it wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just the thrust of Yoongi’s hips, his cock buried deep in your wet cunt; it wasn’t just the slap and slick of damp skin and arousal; it wasn’t just the pleasure you felt in your core expanding outwards, the heat in your blood, and tingling in your toes. It was all-encompassing; it was everything. It was this person who knew you, all the bad bits as well as the good, knew you and saw you and held you like you were precious. It was feeling safe and cherished and valued. It was knowing that your feelings were reflected, returned, reciprocated. It was the sweetness of finding someone who lit you up and being able to light them up the same way.  

When you lay, side by side, spent and sated, you felt like you were glowing. You rolled onto your side, into Yoongi, as he rolled into you and you kissed him again, for the hundredth time or thousandth, it still wasn’t enough. 

You slept soundly, without dreaming, without waking, until the sun was high in the sky again the following morning. You turned onto your back, throwing an arm behind you as you went, expecting it to hit Yoongi next to you.  

But he wasn’t there. You rubbed your face and pushed yourself into a seated position, assuming he was in the bathroom and would return momentarily.  

Then minutes passed and he was nowhere to be seen. You stood and scanned the floor for your underwear. Your dress was already picked up and placed over the back of a chair; Yoongi’s clothes, you could only assume, he had put in the laundry already. Your underwear was not hiding under your dress. You dropped to the floor and onto your hands and knees, to look down under the bed. 

“Aha!” 

“Aha, what?” 

You hit your hand on the bedframe as you quickly pulled it back and span to face Yoongi, standing in the door with an iced coffee in each hand and a paper bag hanging from his wrist. He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, bemused but charmed. 

You twirled your knickers on one finger.  

“Thought I’d lost them. They were under the bed.” 

Yoongi merely ‘ah’ed and nodded, placing breakfast on the dressing table and swapping his jeans for light pyjama trousers.  

“Did you bring me coffee?” you asked sweetly, knowing the answer. 

“And pastries.”  

You jumped to your feet and gratefully accepted his offerings, taking a long draw from the straw of a coffee so sweet and milky it might as well not be coffee anymore. 

“Do you know how much sugar is in those, by the way?” 

“Yep! That’s why they’re so delicious!” 

“They’ll kill you.” 

You shrugged. 

“Oh well. I died doing what I loved: drinking sugary coffee.” 

Yoongi chuckled and stepped forward until you were within arm's reach. You could feel his hesitation, so you took it from him, stepping into his body and offering him a kiss.  

“Thank you.”  

“Do you want to get back into bed?” 

You couldn’t imagine anything you wanted more.  

* 

You could hear something out in the hall, something maybe like a cat’s purr, but also not a cat’s purr. Some sort of buzzing, intermittent enough that you told yourself you were imagining it at first. But it just kept coming. 

“Do you hear that?” you interrupted Yoongi to ask and you held your hand up for silence as you listened for it.  

A jarring, quiet kind of noise.  

“Sounds like a phone vibrating,” Yoongi offered.  

“Oh fuck!” 

You scrambled, ungracefully, out of bed, still in just your knickers, and found your phone, buzzing against your keys, half falling out of your bag.  

Taehyung.  

“Hi, baby!” you greeted, overly cheerful because you hadn’t checked the time and you were almost certain he was calling because you were late. 

You had planned to have brunch and a debrief. You had forgotten all about it. 

“When are you coming home? I’m bored.” 

You pulled your phone away from your ear and, upon noting the time, realised that you weren’t late at all. Not even close. 

“What do you want, Teddy? I’m seeing you later.” 

“I know, but I’m bored now and you’re a dirty, little stop-out.” 

“Entertain yourself! I’ll be home when I’m home. I'm not leaving now just because you’re bored.” 

He sighed dramatically at the other end of the line. 

“So I suppose it’s love, then, is it?” 

The word made your heart skip a beat and you didn’t turn around, just in case Yoongi was looking at you.  

“Maybe.” 

“You sicken me.” 

“Fuck off. You’re happy for me.” 

“Yes, I am, babygirl. I’m very happy for you but I’m also very lonely and bored. Can’t you just come home a bit early? Yoongi will still be there tomorrow but I am fading away by the second.” 

“Dying from lack of attention?” 

“Exactly.” 

“I’ll be home when I’m home, Teddybear. Try to make it until then.” 

“Alright, but you’ll be sorry when I'm gone.” 

“Extremely. Now leave me alone!” 

He heaved another dramatic sigh before hanging up and you skipped back to the bedroom. 

“Everything ok?” Yoongi asked as you settled back in his arms. 

“Teddy’s being needy.” 

“Do you need to go?” 

“Absolutely not!” You snuggled in tighter and pressed your lips to his chest. “Not until the very last minute, please.” 

Love. You thought about the word when you left Yoongi’s apartment very late that morning. You wanted to say it then and there, tell him, but it felt like a lot. It felt like your usual Too Muchness coming back. You had only been on one date. It was a lot of pressure to put on a person and you didn’t want to pressure Yoongi. You didn’t want to push him. You didn’t want to take control and careen this fledging thing straight into a ravine.  

It felt natural. It felt easy. It felt like everything you had wanted. It felt so right that it was maddening to you that it had taken you so long to see it. But you also understood that that had to happen. The time it took you to see Yoongi like you did now was time you spent getting things wrong and hurting and healing the wrong way and then the right way and you knew that this, this happiness you had that made you glow, that made your steps feel light, it was a result of that time, that patience. So you didn’t want to rush. Didn't want to push. You would still love him tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that and on and on and on. It could wait. 

* 

Until six days later, when you were sitting on the subway on your way home from work and you snapped. You didn’t want it to wait. You wanted to tell him. And you knew you could. You could say it and he could not and you would survive that. You would understand. And it wouldn’t matter because you knew he was in this, knew he would get there if he wasn’t there already. You chided yourself for waiting at all, because love should never have to wait. Love should be shouted from the rooftops, shouldn’t it? 

So you got off at a different stop and changed lines and you walked as fast as you could to Yoongi’s building and you let yourself in. 

“Babe!” you cried as you hastily kicked off your shoes and rounded the corner into the kitchen, a little out of breath. 

“Are you ok?”  

Yoongi had his apron on, a knife in his hands, vegetables on the chopping board in front of him and it was so sweet, so domestic, a perfect vision of everything you wanted. He was looking at you with concern, as well he might, given you had just burst in, unannounced, in all kinds of a fluster. 

You nodded. 

“Yeah,” you panted. “I just had to tell you. I love you.” You moved closer to him; he put the knife down and wiped his hands on his apron and you held tight to it. “I love you. As in, I am in love with you. I love you so much. And I know, I know, it’s been no time at all and it’s too soon and it’s too quick and you don’t have to say it and I don’t want to put any pressure on but I just want to tell you. I have wanted to tell you and I wasn’t going to because- because all of the above! But I love you and I want you to know that I love you. I’m in love with you, Min Yoongi.”  

He blinked a little and then a bit more. 

“Oh.” 

He sounded surprised and you laughed because you were nervous and because you felt giddy and silly and so in fucking love. You tugged him closer with his apron and kissed him, firmly at first, then softer when he kissed you back and rested his hands on your hips.  

“I love you.” 

He said it quietly, his mouth still close enough to yours that you could feel his lips move with the words. You laughed again and kissed him again and whispered it back to him.  

“I love you.” 

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804 

[anyasathenaeum]

*KICKS DOWN DOOR* YOU ASK FOR ERIKS AND I SHALL INDULGE ok so what im gonna need is some where the reader thinks Vash (they were dating before everything went to shit) is dead until they blow into town with Woofboy and they do the whole Recognition thing yknow. Ok and so after all the Bad Shit gets dealt with and they have a moment alone to talk, he thinks that they're not gonna be in love with him anymore after all this time and might even be pissed at him for sort of "abandoning" them but they just express nothing but joy at having him back in their arms again and how they're soulmates and sappy stuff like that and its very sweet and emotional and raw because they missed each other so so much. And if you sprinkled just a little spice at the end I wouldn't mind cuz the long hair and stubble is so sexy on that man. Maybe it would be great part 2 bait idk I don't wanna put too much on you. Might be best to play that by ear.

Sorry this is so long I got excited when I saw ur post ily bye.

Across Time and Space (Part 1)

A/N: HECK YEAH ANON I AM SO HERE FOR THIS. ERIKS!VASH HURT COMFORT LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I'm mostly going off of 98!Eriks with some Stampede!Eriks mixed in hehe and this is gonna have to be split into 2 parts because I'm INSPIRED. This part is mostly set up and some hurt in the hurt/comfort part of things. :P Read the continuation in part 2 here!

Pairing: Eriks!Vash x reader

Warnings: Some slight violence, mention of nudity, literally just going off episode 18 of Trigun so potential spoilers, potential spoilers for episode 12 of Trigun Stampede, the "hurt" part of "hurt/comfort"

You brought your hand up to shield your eyes from the glaring sunlight as the tiny town came into view, the bus you were on finally arriving after what felt like an eternity and a half.

"Remind me again why we chose to come to this tiny town, Wolfwood," You grumbled under your breath, grabbing your backpack and strapping it to your back as you started to get ready to disembark from the bus.

"Cause we gotta see if we can find the Humanoid Typhoon here," The priest replied, shooting you a smile that you couldn't bring yourself to return.

"Vash is dead, Wolfwood," You snapped back, your heart tightening in your chest as you said his name for what felt like the first time in forever, "He's dead, and we're not finding him."

Wolfwood just stayed silent, watching you carefully as you let out a deep sigh, rubbing your face with your hands, trying desperately to brush off the pain that the mere thought of Vash had brought you.

Wolfwood wasn't a fool - he knew you and Vash had been in love with each other. He knew that you and Vash were more than friends, that Vash was everything to you. Wolfwood remembered how you seemed to stop living after the disaster in the city of July, when the city was turned into a crater and Vash was nowhere to be found. You had watched the man you loved fall from the sky and the city cave in on itself in a massive explosion of energy - there was no way Vash could've survived that.

When Vash died, so did you. You existed, sure - you walked and talked and drank and ate, but you had stopped living. It was heartbreaking to watch - both Wolfwood and Meryl couldn't stand to see you so broken, but nothing they did could bring Vash back. And so, you became silent, closed-off, and you never smiled anymore.

"I'm sorry, Wolfwood. I just... don't see the point in hoping for what can't be," You apologized, your voice quiet as you stared down at the floor, your heart aching in your chest as Vash's smiling face appeared in your mind.

Wolfwood sighed a bit and just stepped forward, throwing his arm around your shoulder casually. However, when he spoke, his tone was surprisingly gentle.

"It's okay. You're still hurting, (Y/N). Let's just get off this bus and settle in, yeah?"

You nodded, pulling up your hood to cover your head as you followed Wolfwood off the bus, shoving through all the people who were fighting to get on the bus you had just arrived on.

"What the hell is all that about?" You muttered, glancing at Wolfwood in confusion as you both watched the crowd of people swarming the bus, many of them shouting at the driver to let them on.

"No clue, but I have a feeling we'll find out real soon," Wolfwood replied, his shades glistening in the sunlight as he turned his head, gesturing towards a building not too far away, "Let's start at the saloon. If anybody's got information, they'll likely be there."

You just nodded and followed Wolfwood, keeping your head down and your face hidden - you didn't feel like starting a conversation with anybody who recognized you as new to the town.

However, that plan immediately went out the window the moment you and Wolfwood stepped foot into the saloon, as you suddenly found every person in the saloon pointing their guns at the two of you. You let out a stifled yelp and threw your hands up, your heart beating fast in your chest. You heard Wolfwood let out a small sound just like you had, his hands up in the air, too, sweating slightly as he glanced around.

Thankfully, after a few seconds, the townsfolk decided you weren't a threat and lowered their weapons. With that, you and Wolfwood slowly approached the bar, and you could hear Wolfwood chatting with the bartender. As he did, you walked over to the window of the saloon, gazing at the people walking by and watching the mob chasing after the bus you had arrived on.

'Man, what a weird place,' You thought to yourself, 'Feels so tense here.'

Suddenly, you watched the ground near the bus explode, sending people flying through the air and causing Wolfwood to exclaim, "What happened over there?"

The bartender explained that the town was overrun with bandits, and then you heard the name "Vash the Stampede" escape his lips and your heart just about stopped in your chest. However, you immediately recognized that the kind of violence being orchestrated by this gang being run by "Vash the Stampede" was everything Vash opposed. There was no way this was Vash's doing.

'Like it matters, he's been dead for almost two years anyway,' You thought to yourself bitterly, your mouth pressing into a thin line. You weren't listening to whatever the bartender was telling Wolfwood, but you found yourself glancing over at the entrance as you heard the door swing open.

All the patrons immediately had their guns pointing at the intruders, which in this case, happened to be a tall man with long, blonde hair wearing glasses, holding a young girl with short, brown hair in what almost looked like a chokehold. You found yourself reaching for your own weapon, readying to fight the man until you heard the girl speak.

"Uh oh. Hey, what's the big idea you guys?!"

You jumped a little at how loud she was, and you heard the patrons mumbling to themselves, "Oh, it's only Lina."

"What do you mean "only Lina"?! Let go of me, Eriks!" The young girl, Lina, shouted, freeing herself from the grasp of the tall, blonde man who simply let her go and watched her walk towards the bar, his expression surprised.

"Lina, what's the big hurry?" The bartender asked as the girl walked over, standing right next to you and Wolfwood. You studied the girl carefully, deciding that she couldn't be older than 12 at the most.

'She's very brave, I gotta give her that,' You thought to yourself, your lip twitching upwards a bit.

"I was wondering if you could hide me somewhere," Lina asked, a sheepish smile on her face as she asked.

The bartender looked a bit concerned as he inquired, "What did you do this time?"

"She doesn't know when to quit."

You jumped out of your skin at the sudden, new voice - the tall, blonde man, Eriks, had walked up to the bar without you noticing. You physically jumped, your hood falling from your head and revealing your face, not that it mattered - you weren't trying to hide anymore.

"Oh, sorry! Did I scare yo-?" Eriks began to apologize, turning to look at you as he did so, but his sentence died in his mouth as he looked at your face, his eyes widening behind his glasses.

"It's okay," You let out a jittery half-chuckle, just trying to recollect yourself, "I just didn't hear you walk up to the bar, just startled me a bit."

Eriks didn't say a word - he just continued to look at you, his eyes almost owlishly wide. You couldn't decode the expression on the man's face, and you began to feel uncomfortable at the level of intensity in his gaze.

"Um... is something wrong?" You asked, your voice making it clear that you were becoming uncomfortable.

That was enough to snap Eriks out of whatever stupour he was in, with him shaking his head a bit as though trying to clear it, his tone a bit embarrassed, "S-Sorry! No, nothing's wrong, you just... you look like somebody I knew once."

You found yourself wanting to smile a bit, but the words struck pain into your heart again and you just nodded, your lips pressing into a thin line once again.

"I see."

The man, Eriks, let out a nervous laugh before extending his hand to you for you to shake, "I'm Eriks. Sorry about startling you...?"

It was clear he was asking for your name. You just extended your hand and took his, shaking it firmly, "(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

You thought you felt Eriks' grip on your hand falter for half a moment, but you brushed it off - probably nothing of note.

"N-Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," Eriks replied, his voice breaking slightly. He was evidently very, very nervous.

"Are you okay?" You asked bluntly, "You look ready to pass out."

Eriks just nodded before letting your hand go, "Y-Yeah! I'm good, I'm fine. Just, um... Lina's in trouble."

You didn't entirely buy that sudden excuse, but you decided to go with it, "Uh oh, what did she do?"

That's when you heard Lina explaining that she thumped a bandit across the face and that the bandit was coming after her.

"What are you telling me?" The bartender asked, his voice full of worry and his expression becoming one of horror, "Oh, my dear..."

"Yeah... I'm afraid so," Lina confirmed, leaning on the bar with a sad expression on her face, "And they weren't real happy about it. But, at least I don't think they saw me come in here."

The bartender immediately began to yell, and before you had a second to process what was happening, the wall next to you exploded, causing you to cry out as you got thrown across the room.

"Hey... I wasn't done eating yet," You heard Wolfwood complain, and you groaned as you sat up from the floor where you'd landed. You could've laughed at the image of Wolfwood holding his knife and fork over his plate, which was now crushed by a piece of broken wall.

"(Y/N)! You okay?"

You looked up to see Eriks standing above you, offering you his hand to help you up, which you took gladly.

"Yeah, I'm okay," You replied, brushing yourself off as you got to your feet, wincing slightly as your back ached from the impact, "I'm probably badly bruised, but I don't think anything's broken."

The look of relief on Eriks' face didn't feel like it matched what it should've been for a stranger he had just met - he looked relieved as he would look if you had been one of his closest friends. It was weird.

However, before you had a moment longer to think about it all, you heard yelling coming from outside the bar - the bandit who Lina had hit, yelling to give her up or that he'd shoot again if they didn't.

You grit your teeth, anger surging through your body - how dare this bandit threaten a child? She may be feisty and fiery, but she was still just a child. You grabbed your weapon and began to walk towards the hole in the wall, but somebody stopped you in your tracks, putting their arm out in front of you - Eriks.

"No, wait. Let me handle this," He spoke, his voice quiet but very sure. A surge of familiarity coursed through you - where had you heard this before? That tone... that calmness... it unsettled you as you knew you'd heard it before, but where? You couldn't pin it.

That split second of you being thrown off by the sudden feeling of déjà-vu was all Eriks needed before he walked out of the bar, his hands in the air, trying to appease the bandit and stop him from doing further damage to anybody or anything.

"Wolfwood," You mumbled, coming up to the priest, "Is it just me, or does Eriks feel... familiar to you?"

The priest just looked at you carefully, "Familiar? Familiar how?"

"I don't know," You confessed, "Just... the way he spoke to me just now reminded me of-"

Your eyes widened and your words died on your lips as you realized exactly who Eriks had reminded you of.

Vash.

You didn't need to say anything - Wolfwood could see the immediate look of shock on your face, the realization dawning on you. You could feel your breathing picking up and your heart rate was starting to go through the roof - why did Eriks sound so much like Vash? Hadn't you suffered enough? To lose Vash once was agony. But to be reminded of him now? It was unbearable.

"Woah, (Y/N), woah, calm down, breathe. You need to breath."

You could hear Wolfwood's words, but you couldn't understand them, couldn't process them. You were bordering on a full-blown panic attack. The world suddenly became quieter, all sounds muted, as though you were underwater. You couldn't process anything else going on around you right now. All you could do was stumble to your feet and run to the hole in the wall of the saloon, your eyes landing on the blonde man who reminded you so much of the love of your life.

You didn't really understand what was happening - you could vaguely hear the tones and timbre of Eriks' voice and the voice of the bandit, but you couldn't make out the words. You watched as Eriks bowed to the bandit all the way to the ground, trying to apologize on Lina's behalf and diffuse the situation, but it apparently hadn't been enough.

The bandit yelled something at Eriks, to which he apparently agreed. To your surprise, you watched as Eriks suddenly... began to take off his clothes?

"W-What?" You mumbled, not understanding what was happening. All you could make out was the sound of Lina crying next to you, and Wolfwood comforting her as Eriks defended her, even at the cost of his pride.

When you looked back at Eriks, you suddenly felt as though you had been hit by a truck.

Those scars... that body... the missing arm replaced with a prosthetic...

All you heard before the ground came up to meet you and the world went black around you was the sound of Wolfwood exclaiming your name - "(Y/N)!".

You don't know how long you'd been unconscious for, but when you found yourself waking up, you didn't recognize your surroundings. You were in a rather large room, laying on what could've only been a hospital bed, right next to a large window. There were no other beds or patients in the room with you - it was just you. And-

"Morning, sweetheart."

You jumped, turning to see Wolfwood sitting at your bedside, a smirk on his face as his cigarette dangled between his lips crookedly.

"W-Wolfwood," You spoke, your voice strained, "W-What-?"

"You dropped like a stone," Wolfwood explained, standing from his chair and walking over to sit right next to you on your bed, "You saw Eriks' scars and I guess the realization of who he was was just too much for you to handle. Can't say I'm surprised, it's not every day you learn that supposedly dead love of your life isn't actually dead."

Wolfwood just grinned at you, but you just sat there, unmoving, eyes staring forward like you were a statue, not really seeing whatever you were looking at. The memories of what had preceded your passing out came back to you in flashes, and before Wolfwood could continue speaking, you were suddenly sobbing as you had never sobbed before.

All the pain, the sadness, the grief, the loneliness, the feeling of having part of you missing for so long overwhelmed you, making you feel every bit of emotion you had been repressing over the past two years. You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, crying your eyes out as you buried your face into your knees, unable to comprehend what was happening. Surely you were dead, or dreaming, because there was no way that Vash was really alive.

Unless...

"I'll leave you be," You heard Wolfwood say gruffly, before he stood up, patting your back and leaving you alone to confront your emotions.

After that, Wolfwood walked over to another patient's room - that of Eriks, or rather, Vash the Stampede. He had already spoken to Vash earlier, telling him about the fact that Millions Knives was still at large, but now... this was going to be a very different conversation.

Wolfwood didn't even bother knocking, just letting himself right into Vash's room, walking over to where the blonde young man sat in his bed.

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't straight up kill (Y/N)," Wolfwood started, a small smirk on his face as he sat next to Vash, who was just watching him carefully. He watched Vash's expression become one of concern the moment your name left Wolfwood's lips.

"What do you mean?" Vash asked, eyebrows furrowing at Wolfwood's statement - the last Vash saw of you was when he stopped you from taking on the bandit yourself, and you were fine, then.

Wolfwood sighed, "(Y/N) saw your scars, Stampede. It was too much for them to handle and they passed out cold. Smacked their head pretty bad on the way down, but that was my bad, I didn't expect them to go down."

"What?!" Vash exclaimed, his blue eyes widening in worry. He immediately began to try to get out of his bed, but Wolfwood stopped him.

"(Y/N)'s spent the last two years grieving you, Vash. They believed you were dead. This is a bigger shock than you know. They heard nothing from you and the last thing they saw of you was when July city imploded on itself."

Vash's eyes somehow managed to widen even more, and tears were beginning to well in them as Wolfwood explained the situation to him. Wolfwood told him everything he knew - about how you'd essentially become a living statue, not truly living beyond basic existence, about how broken you'd become, how closed-off and sad you were now. You'd been changed so badly that neither Vash nor Wolfwood were really sure if you'd ever rebound from this.

By the time Wolfwood was done explaining, Vash found himself crying silently, his heart torn to pieces at the thought of what this had done to you.

"They loved you more than anything, Vash," Wolfwood stated quietly, standing up as he went to take his leave for the second time that day, "I think you owe them an explanation and a very big apology."

With that, Wolfwood left Vash to his own thoughts, just as he had done to you earlier.

Vash sat there, just replaying everything Wolfwood had told him in his mind. He was telling the truth, Vash knew - he had seen the look on your face when he initially saw you as Eriks. Vash had been so taken aback by you when he took a good look at your face - you looked so much like yourself, but simultaneously so different.

Your face had new scars, and lines engraved in your skin from frowning and worrying rather than from smiling, as you used to in the past. Your expression was tired and somewhat empty, even as you greeted him, and your tone was dull and serious. And your eyes...

Tears began to course down Vash's cheeks freely, soft sobs escaping from his throat as pain jolted through him as he recalled your eyes.

Your eyes were utterly lifeless. Like you had died in every way except physically.

Vash had had to restrain himself from gasping loudly, sobbing his heart out and begging you for forgiveness when he'd looked at you for the first time in two years. He had wanted nothing more than to pull you into his embrace as he used to do before July then and there, but when you failed to recognize him, Vash knew that he couldn't do that to you.

'There's no way they still love me now,' Vash thought to himself, his pain intensifying and his cries becoming louder as he sobbed into his hands, 'I've destroyed them, too.'

You were the love of Vash's life. Nobody ever meant more to him than you did, and after the destruction of July city... Vash couldn't face you. He was a murderer, while you were innocent, pure, and good. He couldn't bring himself to look for you, or try to reach out to you, because he had wanted to keep you safe. Especially now that his bounty was 60 billion double dollars and everybody was hunting for him.

But when he saw you in that saloon... and he saw how damaged you'd become... he realized that he'd done had been wrong. So, so wrong. You'd loved him all that time, to the point where his supposed death broke you beyond repair, and it was all Vash's fault. In trying to protect you, he'd been the one to hurt you worse than anybody ever had before.

And now, he had to find the strength to face you. But how could he?

"Your gun! Give me your gun, hurry!"

Vash suddenly heard the frantic, panicked voice of Lina's grandmother, Grandma Sheryl, coming from downstairs. He focused in, wiping the tears off his face as he listened.

"It's Lina, they got her!"

The arguing continued, and Vash knew what he had to do then. Once he'd rescued Lina, he'd talk to you. He'd face you, and finally pay for his mistake.

As Vash dressed and exited his room, he found Wolfwood standing there, leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his lips once more.

"They got (Y/N), too, it seems like," Wolfwood stated, looking surprisingly calm despite having to deliver terrible news, "Guess they thought (Y/N) was a worthy hostage."

Vash's eyes widened, and his gaze hardened slightly, his heart twisting hard in his chest at the thought of you in danger - despite the two years that had passed, Vash still loved you more than anything in his life, and he still sought to protect you. He had thought of you every day, wondering where you were, what you were up to, if you'd missed him...

He had to rescue you and Lina as soon as possible.

With his teeth gritted and his gun holstered, Vash headed out with Wolfwood trailing in his wake.

"Then, let's go get them."

Wolfwood just smirked.

"There's the Stampede I used to know."

[betasuppe]

You know, I'm just some damn random anon for you but I've been following you since submas and your whole Arcane hyper fixation no wait even before with the villain from the big hero six series? Yeah

I've always loved your art and admired you so much, I think you're fun and talented, I love all the passion you put I to the characters you love.

I specifically love and admire so so much how brave you are to make OC's and little stories for them to interact with your fav characters even when you are drained from work and everyday life and responsibilities

And I just know I'm not the only one telling you how special and cool you are and deserving of love

And it is so sad to see you diminish yourself all the time. Like ALL THE TIME.

I am not mad, I want the proper tone of my words to get to you, I'm sad and very concerned that you deem our words as fake

Why would you think we lie?

Do you really think we could be so vile?

You are so deserving of love and care, you are deserving of every word of love, care and admiration you get, even if it's in your ask box.

I hope you get better, whatever you need for that I hope you get it, I wish to see you thrive and laugh and be happy

I really do

With all my heart

You brought so much joy to me with your art I wish I could give something back

I kind of tried but you closed off idk why maybe cause it was off anon?

And also I do not mean romantically but as a legit friend

I wish you find happiness and self love

Sending you hugs and cookies and warmth and your cool blorbos, anything that might brighten your day

Reach out to people too!!

I'm sure there are people who would love to hear from you

Please take care

You have no idea how happy I am to see you're still here as in, you're alive, idk if Tumblr is good for you, everyone's diff but I'm glad that for all those concerning messages you leave that you are still finding a reason to be another day and then another and then another

I hope you find a good reason forever

Sending a fuck load of trucks full of love and strength and healing your way, you better get them!!!

I'm begging you to take care, Emmet would like that, yk?

I love you so much, my anon friend♡

Thank you. I'll try. This means so much to me. I'm just so bad at receiving love or compliments & my brain automatically translates it as insults and lies and I wish I wish I wish it did not.

But so much love to you again. For putting up with me for years and for supporting me, sad sack tho I may be hah ha. Thank you thank you♡♡♡

[halfagone]

Heya Halfa!

I'm watch Hercules for the first time in a while and something about it made me think about your WonderBat dcdp fic, and gave me an idea to share with you for a fic with Diana being Danny's bio mom, could be WonderBat or not, idk, I'm still very much on a Danny/Jason kick so if it's not WonderBat that's open.

But essentially Danny was adopted by the Fenton's and maybe a checkup with Frostbite has Danny realizing there's more to his powers than being a halfa, but he doesn't know what exactly? So, I'm thinking he just tells the Fentons he wants to find his bio parents, not being out as Phantom, but Idk, and i trust your thoughts.

Basically, just Hercules as inspiration, not trying to stick to its plot, tho doing Dead on Main and Jason as Meg ajfjkshda it would be quite funny

Idk, just had to share this with you, hope it brings you some of the joy the thought brought me!!

Also have a pic of my roomie's bunny

GOSH I love Disney's Hercules! Hades is an entire mood, and I love him for it. Definitely one of my fave villains ever. But now that you mention the idea...

If we did base it off on bloodlines, where Danny is taken as a child (and like Hercules was taken from his parents in the movie), then we could always make this a Super-Wonder... Wonder-Super? Superman and Wonder Woman ship, but their relationship was very brief. This was before he and Lois had gotten together and got married. And they do canonically date sometimes, and even had a child together in at least one universe, so it wouldn't be super weird.

So basically, Danny grows up a quasi-god (quarter-god? Ugh, that's confusing-) and half-Kryptonian. Except due to his life style and exposure to ectoplasm, his Kryptonian powers don't kick in like a normal half-Kryptonians would. But he does have a measure of super hearing- which gets diagnosed as another symptom of his ADHD later. And he does have freeze-breath! Which is why people aren't super surprised if they catch some cold mist coming out of his mouth when he becomes a halfa, they're pretty sure he's just always been like that?

But for one reason or another, Danny leaves Amity Park for an extended amount of time. Oh! His family takes a vacation to a beach, somewhere nice and sunny. And then Danny gets irritated about something, or maybe there's just a fly bothering him and he glares at it from a distance only to shoot red laser eyes at it and promptly freaks the fuck out. His ectoplasm has never been red before!

He runs off to Frostbite and the Far Frozen as soon as he can, begging for the yeti to help him because there must be something wrong with him! Frostbite is awfully confused at first, and then he asks Danny if he showed any other habits or behaviors before he'd become a halfa. And so Danny explains how he could hear things most people couldn't, but he'd been diagnosed as neurodivergent, and that wasn't exactly uncommon, and then he explained how technology always worked a little funny around him even before his accident and that's why his parents never thought anything was off when their inventions were wonky around him now (he doesn't realize he has lightning manipulation from his bio!mom's side, thus accidentally zapping devices every once in a while), and a handful of other things and it all culminates into this:

Frostbite is pretty sure Danny has never been fully human.

Which would thus lead Danny onto a journey of self-discovery and self-fulfillment and oh yeah, there's a ghost Minotaur that wants to rip his head off his body and they've got a hostage to go along with them. In Danny's opinion, Red Hood makes for a very poor hostage, but he's not about to tell them that either.

I could probably go on eventually, but I adore this idea, so thank you very much for sharing it! :D <3<3<3

[idyllic-affections]

a letter from aphelion. ♡

a letter to all the people who have made my year in one way or another. there is no particular order to this post, and some of you may find that i don't have much to say, but all of you who are on this post are here because i can recall times i've enjoyed speaking to you or seeing you in my notifs or just existing within the same space as you. i hope you all have only the best year possible next year—it seems like most of us need and deserve a good year, hm? though i regard myself as quite a gentle and sentimental soul, i struggle with putting it into words. it's ironic, considering i am a writer. i mention this because even if the things i say in this post are quite silly and lighthearted, just know that i earnestly mean what i say and each and every one of you has contributed to my year in a memorable way <3 may we all have a good 2024.

       dear @lillonvia,

YOU!!!! YOU!!!!! HELLO. HI. MEETING YOU HAS BEEN SUCH AN HONOR AND SUCH A DELIGHTFUL PART OF MY YEAR!!! i love the little silly conversations we often have—i think it's probably a good thing that we share so many random fandoms. it's as if we lived somewhat similar lives growing up despite growing up in such vastly different environments <3 but anyway, i think the fandoms we share are really helpful in being able to have such fun conversations!! we have many things to talk about!!! despite the vast difference in timezones!!!! please go to sleep at normal hours!!!!!!! /lh

       dear @starryshinyskies,

HI AVERY <3 i was literally always so delighted to see you in my inbox back when you were still ⭐️ anon, and i still feel that kind of joy now! you have so many good and fun thoughts to share with me about things i've written and i love that... i hope moral injury ch. 2 will give you that same kind of brainrot again when it does finally come out!!!! if it doesn't that's okay too HAHA but i always love hearing your thoughts on... literally anything ever!! i have some fics of yours that i've been meaning to reblog btw, so maybe watch out for multiple essays in your notifications in the coming weeks LMAO

       dear @aroacenezha,

MAJI I AM SQUISHING YOU LOVINGLY IN MY HANDS or i can just look at you fondly if you don't want to be squished. i am okay with that too <3 i often think about how we met and i think it's both kind of funny and kind of nice. "baizhu would hate dottore" agreed so real so true that post was so correct in so many ways RAAHHH 🤝 the nice part of the way we met being my baizhu series. despite me having NOT updated it any time recently, has brought a lot of people into my inbox and sometimes into my life and i think it's very cool. i love when people feel seen. and furthermore please always send me your oc thoughts and your blorbo thoughts i love them so much 🙏🙏🙏

       dear @soleillunne,

ALYYY MY LOVE MY BELOVED you are so precious and treasured.... i love what you do, i think your writing is beautiful and has such a poetic quality to it. and i love when you appear in my inbox and notifs!!!! though tumblr is very mean to you and always eats your asks.... you are important to me and so many other people and i hope you always know that. genuinely. you are such a kind and wonderful person and you are always loved.

       dear @heiayen,

YOU. *GRABS YOU* *EVILLY* you. you are so. idk but YOU ARE. can't think of a good word. no words, only vibes. you are vibe-y. /lh you're another moot that has the most top tier responses to things, even non-fanfic posts. you just have Things To Say, and in the best way possible. your thoughts are so fun..... i interact with you rather often—more than some people realize, perhaps—and you are a dearly beloved presence in my life 🫶🫶

       dear @zeldadou,

though we haven't talked too much recently, i still think of you often! i love seeing your art and the way it changes and develops... and i love hearimg your thoughts about things or when you send me fun things you think i would like <33 you are a very kind person in my eyes, whether you realize it or not.

       dear @june-again,

i hope life treats you well, always. you don't deserve anything less. i think of you fondly! your kindness is and was very remarkable and treasured especially when i was first adjusting to tumblr and posting my fics and whatnot..... by the time we met, i was still very new, so i appreciated any kind interactions (i still do of course! it's just a bit different when you're new to a website like this haha)!!

       dear @kaixserzz,

I FUCK WITH YOUR THOUGHTS DUDE YOU SEEM TO COME INTO MY INBOX AT THE MOST RANDOM AND UNEXPECTED OF TIMES AND DROP THE MOST HEARTBREAKING ANGST POSSIBLE??????? HELLO?????????? ARE YOU. DOING OKAY??!???!!!! YOU WAKE UP AND CHOOSE VIOLENCE. ESPECIALLY WITH KAVEH. WTF (me too tbh 😇) /lh please always send me any platonic thoughts you have i will entertain all of them fr 💥💥💥 you have such good thoughts in that brain of yours 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

       dear @archonsbane,

i haven't spoken to you much, so forgive me if this seems or comes off as a sudden or jarring tag, but i do enjoy talking to you. fatui moot <3 you GET IT get it about the harbingers' dynamics. i hope we have more opportunities to speak sometime! (and if that sentiment isn't shared, that is totally fine. i would respect it either way 🫶)

       dear @lesanyanyas,

we only became mutuals recently, but i hope you know that i always thought of you as one of the "blorbo from my notes" kinds of people haha!!! i always saw and recognized you whenever you were in my notifications or my inbox and you always have such delightful and fun things to say <33

       dear @umgatochamadopercyval,

CLARA HIII you are such a remarkable person, you know? you've been nothing but kind and understanding, and you have such fun thoughts and ideas!! i love hearing about them sm. even if my responses are delayed, just know that you are always welcome to ramble in my dms about your ocs or your fic ideas and i will never find it to be annoying or anything. it isn't annoying. it never is.

                                                 sincerely,                                                                           aphelion.

there are people who did not make this list, and to those people, i hope we can become closer in 2024! if you aren't on here, it's truly only because i've hardly spoken to you. so... perhaps that is something we can do next year! i think of all my mutuals very fondly. i don't think of any of you as "less than" just because we haven't spoken mwah mwah <3

[sequinsmile-x]

hi! i have a prompt.. i don’t know if you’ve done this before but i kind of just thought of it and would love to see your version of this! idk if you just take random requests but here it is!

emily loses her wedding rings and she’s frantically searching and aaron finds her a mess on the bathroom floor and a sob breaks out when he asks her what’s wrong and he’s all patient and calm and it makes her more upset. but he gets her to stop crying and she calms down and he helps her tear the entire house apart. it’s only when the finally put jack to bed at night that they find them under his pillow! (idk how it got there—i think you could work that out)

hiiii friend!!

I love this prompt, and it immediately made my brain itch. It turned out a little differently than what you laid out, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

-x-

Threads of Gold

She puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief. 

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here. 

Emily Prentiss was dead. 

-x-

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: big feels, occasional cursing.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was the silence that she hated the most. 

The apartment she refused to call home was non-descript, the same as a thousand others in Paris. It had all the noise you would expect living in a big city. Neighbours who seemed to care very little for their possessions or the people around them. Mass-produced appliances that made noises that seemed to run like clockwork, the buzz of the refrigerator and the clunk of the air conditioning unit. The laughter of tourists as they walked the streets, happy and full of joy as they discovered the city of love. 

Everything surrounding her apartment was full of noise, of life. The very thing that had been torn from under her feet, everything slipping away so quickly. 

She was used to hearing Aaron walk around their house. His familiar footsteps part of the soundtrack of her life, a promise that he was never too far away. Jack seemed to be surrounded by noise, whether it was his laughter or one of his toys. He was only ever quiet in sleep, although even that would sometimes be interrupted by him walking suddenly in tears, memories of what happened to his mother warped even further by his subconscious, forcing him to seek out solace in her and Aaron’s bed. Safely tucked between the two of them. 

They had just managed to start their lives again, joy the overriding emotion in their home for the first time in a long time, when she got the call that Doyle had escaped. Everything turned back on its head, another thing they had to overcome. 

Only this time, they’d lost. 

She knew if she had to do it again she’d change nothing. She wouldn’t involve Aaron, wouldn’t have brought him into the situation she’d found herself in. The one secret she had never shared. 

She had vague memories of him visiting her in the hospital, dressed in all black from her funeral, his hand wrapped around hers as they both apologised for things neither of them could, or would, change. She’d saved his life by lying to him, by repeatedly saying everything was fine even though it clearly wasn’t. 

He’d saved her life by taking it away. 

Emily sighs as she pulls the door closed behind herself, and she checks the lock twice, a habit she had picked up from Aaron, before she moves further into the apartment. She places her bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, abandoning it for now, and walks the short distance to the couch. She sits down and tries to get her breath back. She was still recovering from what Ian had done to her, and even the smallest of tasks made her exhausted, her body pushed to its limit by something as simple as walking to the small store at the end of her street to buy some essentials. 

Her hands automatically reach for the long chain around her neck and she pulls it loose from her shirt, pulling it off completely before she goes for the catch, opening it so she can take the ring off of it. 

She holds the engagement ring in between her thumb and index finger, watching as she turns it, the low lighting in her apartment catching the diamond and making it sparkle. A flash of light across the dark night sky her life had become. 

She could wear it here, she knew that. There would be no harm, or risk, to her identity by wearing an engagement ring that she carried everywhere with her anyway. But it felt wrong, something making her pause every time she considered slipping it onto her finger, the joy she’d felt when Aaron asked her to marry him burning in her chest, yet another thing in her life that was once good turned to ash. 

She sighs, puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief. 

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here. 

Emily Prentiss was dead. 

___

They get married almost as soon as she gets home from Paris. Their wedding day a quick and desperate thing, an attempt to hold on to each other. To prove that everything would be ok. Their love for each other, and for Jack, never in doubt even in the hardest of moments. 

It takes a while. She’s a little too keen for her independence and Aaron a little too protective after losing her, but after everything, she thinks they are happier now than they were before. The joy in their day-to-day lives deeper, something that felt all the more precious. They’d made it. They’d survived. 

And now they were living. 

She smiles at the sound of Jack laughing from the living room, his video game on in the background as he plays. She finishes rinsing out the wine glasses from dinner and places them on the draining board before she drains the sink, wiping her hands on a towel. The sound flowing from the living room comes to a stop and it’s quickly followed by Jack’s footfall, the noise dulled slightly by his socks. She turns just in time to see him in the doorway, a curious look on his face. 

“Where’s Dad?” 

She leans against the counter as she smalls at him, “He’s in his office, he had some work to finish whilst I did the dishes.” 

“You do the dishes because Dad cooks!” Jack says, repeating back the words they’d told him more than once. 

She hums and nods, “Exactly, although one day I might cook just so he has to do them instead,” she laughs as a horrified expression crosses the young boy's face, and she walks over to him, pulling him into a hug he gladly accepts, “Ok, I won’t cook.” 

He sighs in relief and leans against her, and she holds him tighter, taking a moment to appreciate that she had this again. She hears her phone chime from the dining room and pulls back to smile down at Jack, ruffling his hair before she steps away from him.

“You go get ready for bed, ok?” She says before she kisses his forehead, “It’s your dad’s turn to tuck you in tonight.” 

“Love you, Emily!” Jack says and it makes her heart swell, her smile so wide her cheeks ache. 

“I love you too,” she replies. She hears her phone chime again and she heads to the dining room to pick it up. There are two text messages from Penelope on the screen. 

Girl's night soon?

Sorry if I interrupted you and the boss doing some baby-making. 

Emily shakes her head, “I’ve really got to stop telling her everything.” 

She replies as she types out a response, ignoring the second text completely as she confirms her availability for a girl's night. Her friend's mention of her and Aaron’s plans to expand their family makes a mixture of anxiety and joy bubble in her stomach. Hope followed her around like a shadow these days, on the edge of everything she did, lingering in every corner as her future was laid out in two distinct paths. 

One where they had more children, expanded their family and had the life both she and Aaron had always wanted but had been denied. The other where they didn’t. Where this didn’t happen for them for one reason or another. 

She knew which one she wanted, that she’d be disappointed and heartbroken if the went the way she feared, but ultimately she knew she’d be happy with what she had in the end. 

No matter what her future looked like, Aaron and Jack were there with her, and that had her feel luckier than she ever had before. ___

She’s just finishing up her nighttime routine, running her fingers over her skin as she rubs in a moisturiser that claims to slow down ageing, when she notices. Her eyes honing in on her left hand, her ring finger bare. Her chest seizes with fear, her breath catching against her ribs as she looks at her hand, her eyes fixed on the pale band of skin where her rings usually were. 

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, as she takes a step back, her eyes furiously scanning the bathroom counter as she desperately seeks out her rings. She pulls the products she’d used out from the spots she’d slipped them back into, showing no care for the usual order she tried to keep their home in. 

She rushes into the bedroom with the clothing hamper in her hands, tipping the dirty laundry onto Aaron’s side of the bed. She tries to ignore the shake of her hands as she riffles through the clothes, taking the time to check the pockets of the pants she’d taken off before she started to get ready for bed. 

“Fuck,” she exclaims again, more desperate this time as she runs her hands through her hair. She bites at her thumbnail as she tries to think, trying to remember when she was last wearing them. 

They had become a part of her. As soon as it was safe when she came home, when Ian was dead and her photo removed from the memorial wall, Aaron had asked about her ring. She’d shown him the necklace, the cheap chain she’d bought on her first day in Paris, and he’d smiled. Taking it off her before he tipped the ring into his palm, and slipped it back onto her finger, the same reverence and love in his eyes as he’d had the first time. It was barely two weeks later when her wedding ring had been added alongside it and she’d put his on him. The gold rings a solid symbol of their love for each other when everything else still felt so unsteady. 

They had become a part of her. 

She rushes downstairs, sure she’d had them on when she got home, and walks into the kitchen. They aren’t in the usual place she leaves them near the sink if she ever handwashes anything, and her panic deepens, the room becoming blurry as her eyes fill with tears she doesn’t expect or understand. She pulls the dishwasher door open, steam escaping around her as she interrupts the cycle. She winces as she starts to pull the dishes out, the heat of them pressing against her skin as she stacks them on the counter, any hope that she had somehow accidentally slipped them in along the plates they’d eaten their dinner from disappears as she empties it completely. The familiar shine of her rings nowhere to be found. 

She stands up straight and covers her mouth as a sob she can’t stop escapes. Grief and guilt and something she knows to be panic making her stomach churn. She’d never been a person who was too attached to material possessions. She’d moved too much when she was young for that. She remembered teasing Aaron when they moved into the house, softly calling him a hoarder because of his reluctance to let go of the simplest of furnishings. There were few things that she owned that could make her feel like this. 

A photo of her and her dad from her high school graduation. A card Jack had drawn her for mother’s day. 

Her wedding rings. 

Her engagement ring was the only part of Aaron she’d had with her in Paris, and that was only because she’d been wearing it at the time. Ian had mocked her for it, compared it to the ring he’d once given her. 

The ring had become so much more than what it initially met. It was a reminder of what she had at home, what she spent months dreaming out and hoping she’d have again.

And she couldn’t find it. 

She leans back against the counter and covers her face with her hands, crying in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

“Sweetheart, is there a reason you dumped all of our dirty laundry…” Aaron trails off as he walks into the kitchen, his joyful tone turning serious as he strides over to her, his hand on her shoulder, “Emily, baby, what's wrong?” 

He pulls her into a hug and she leans into him, her face buried against his neck as she wraps her arms around him, her hands grasping at his shirt. She tries to breathe him in, to remind herself that she has all of him now, that his love for her is more than a white gold band and a diamond that held them together across an ocean. 

Aaron holds her close, his hand running up and down her back, and he looks around the kitchen. His eyes flick over the dishes that were still wet from the dishwasher haphazardly piled on the counter, water dripping down onto the marble. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, why his wife has torn their bathroom, bedroom and apparently their kitchen apart or why whatever it has her close to hysterical. 

He places his hand on the back of her head and encourages her to tilt it back just far enough that she can look at him, her eyes red and shining with tears that were still tracking down her face. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asks, moving his hand to cup her cheek.

“No…I,” she chokes out, shaking her head at herself, fury at herself for not being able to control her emotions clear, “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” He asks, remaining endlessly patient despite his concern for her and the way it burned at his insides. 

“I lost my rings,” she says, the words catching in her throat as she acknowledges it out loud for the first time, “I’m sorry I must have taken them off to wash the wine glasses and-”

“Em, sweetheart,” he cuts her off, digging his hand through his pants pocket before he opens his palm to her, her wedding rings shining in his hand, “Jack had them.” 

It feels like every part of her has frozen in place, fear replaced by confusion and relief, “What?” 

He smiles softly, “He picked them up from the counter and took them to his room,” he says, running his hand down her arm so he can hold her left hand, carefully slipping them back onto her finger, “Apparently he was planning on taking them to school for show and tell tomorrow,” he chuckles, shaking his head at his son, “We had a chat about taking things that don’t belong to us without permission.” 

She nods, staring at her hand, her heartbeat returning somewhat to normal as she looks at her rings. She breathes shakily before looking up at her husband, smiling tightly at him.

“Thank you.”

“It’s ok,” he replies, wrapping his arm around her again to pull her closer. He waits a few seconds to see if she was planning on saying anything else, if she was going to give him an insight into why she’d been so upset, but she doesn’t. “Em-”

“My engagement ring was the only part of you I had in Paris,” she explains, cutting over him as she hugs him, her cheek pressing into his shoulder, “I wore it on that necklace every day and…for a long time I thought it was all I’d ever have of you. I lost it and I panicked.” 

Aaron sighs sadly as he kisses the side of her head before he rests his chin on top of it, holding her tightly in the way he knew she needed whenever she was reminded of her time in Paris. 

“I’m right here,” he promises her, “I’ve got you.” 

She smiles and nods, pulling back so she can look up at him. She stamps a quick kiss against his lips, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again. “Why don’t you head up, I’ll put everything back in the dishwasher and then come up to join you.” 

She frowns, “Honey-”

“Go,” he says, cutting off her rebuttal to him re-doing her usual chore. She smiles and nods, kissing him once more before she disconnects from him to go back upstairs. 

By the time he joins her, she’s put the laundry back into the hamper and is curled up on her side of the bed. He quickly changes and does his own nightly routine before he lays behind her in the bed. He wraps his arms around her and presses his chest into her back before he links their fingers together, the cold metal of her rings making them both smile.

“Tomorrow, I’m buying you rubber gloves.”

She frowns, turning her head to look at him, not entirely sure what he means, “What?” 

“I’m buying you rubber gloves,” he repeats, kissing her cheek, “So you don’t have to take your rings off when you’re doing the dishes.” 

She beams at him, her love for him threatening to overwhelm her as she turns in his embrace, kissing him fiercely as she cups the back of his head, holding him in place. 

“I love you so fucking much,” she says, still kissing him as she talks until she’s practically laying on top of him. 

“Because I’m buying you gloves?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as he follows her lead, his hands trailing under her t-shirt.

She pulls back to smile at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “Because you love me enough to understand why it’s important.” 

She kisses him again, and they lose themselves in each other, both of them trying to keep quiet, their love for each other just for them in their home. 

-x-

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[my-name-is-bunnyfoxy]

MY TOP 10 FAVORITE TMNT 2012 CHARACTERS

10) Shinigami

9) Hamato Karai/Miwa

8) Hamato Yoshi/Master Splinter (I CAN'T GET OVER HOW HE SMILES I LOVE IT)

7) Leatherhead

6) Michelangelo Hamato

5) Renet Tilley (RISE MY RENETENGELO FANS)

4) The Salamandrians (I CAN'T PICK SO YOU GET ALL 3 OF THEM LMAO)

3) April O'Neil

2) Raphael Hamato

1)Leonardo Hamato

-

TMNT has been a huge part of my childhood. It was all because of TMNT 2012, a.k.a the iteration I grew up and am the most familiar with. This show gave me so many memories and happiness. Getting to rewatch and relieve this show is like the best thing ever. I remember back when me and my big bro were younger, when we both got home from school, we'd grab ourselves something to eat for breakfast, plop on the couch, turn the TV on and watch Nickelodeon and watch 3 of the shows that aired at that hour and one of them was TMNT 2012. It was one of my favorite memories and I loved watching it. I got excited whenever I saw a new episode I haven't see of it and binge watch it. I never realized the show came out when I was LITERALLY 3 YEARS OLD. It shocked me when I did the math to see how old I was when it aired. Idk if I did actually watch the premiere my memory sucks lmao- But I still grew up with it either way. Now that I am older, this show brings me tears and makes me wanna cry. I never realized how much I would relate with them later in life. These guys brought me so much joy. Yeah sure, there are many flaws which stops it from being a ''perfect'' show, but I choose to just enjoy a show I love while okay maybe sometimes part take in some funny slander for goofs XD Okay if it's bashing then I ain't partaking into it- The fact that it is my current obsession makes me so happy because I can relieve all of the glory memories, and 2012 was also the one that introduced me to new TMNTs that I would at this current age in my life look to check out and learn more about the other TMNTs. TMNT 2012, I do not have enough words to describe how much I love you. You mean so much to me and you made me so happy. Your characters gave me comfort, episodes gave me comfort, I was happy and I remember being so happy and excited when it was on. You were one of my favorite shows when I was younger and you are once again. I love you so much and even if I grow up and stop obsessing with TMNT for a while, you will still be apart of my memory and the first TMNT I think of. I love you much, you made me happy, you gave me comfort, you made me realize some things about myself, I just.... I love you so much. Shout out to everyone who has worked on this show. Ya'll are amazing people (at least I hope so) who did the best they could to give out a decent show that many kids of the 2010's ended up growing up with, including me.

Happy Birthday TMNT 2012, You will always be my favorite TMNT and have a special place in my heart.

[petrichoraline]

Omg Petri! I saw the concert and it was awesome!! I love seeing Seventeen perform, they really give off such good vibes and happiness!! 🩷🩵

It was shorter than the original concert, they def cut some songs and parts of the ments out. And I saw what you meant about catering to non-fans 😅 but I thought it was well edited to show how fun they are, although I kinda wanted them to zoom out from the closeups sometimes. And I definitely cried too!! 😭 the ments always get to me!

There were more people in the theater than I initially thought were gonna be there which was great to see! Not a full house but still. Everyone was mostly quiet though. The two girls next to me were so quiet and still that I was shy about waving my lightstick (I had the light off) and moving and cheering but as the show went on other people made noise and laughed out loud at the jokes so I felt more comfortable.

One other girl in my row brought her lightstick too and I could see her waving it and by the end of the show she was cheering so I felt better about doing it too. After the show we talked about how since we were the only two like that we should’ve sat together and cheered together 😄 and this other girl came up to me and said she sat behind me and seeing me wave my lightstick brought her joy cause she was too shy to bring hers 🥹

You’re right, Jun and Wonwoo definitely caught my eye! Mingyu and S.Coups are my biases but it’s impossible not to look at how gorgeous they all are 😍 I was squealing on the inside so much! My sister is Jun biased and was bias wrecked by DK 😁

It was overall just such a fun time! SVT bring me so much joy!! I wish I could do it again!

aaaa Karen thank you so much for coming back with a report!!! makes me so happy!!

I'm so glad you felt more comfortable and even got to talk to others, that's the best part about fandom 🥹💞

with mingyu and coups as your biases idk how you handled lalali, that was smth else 🤧 but yess, everyone was stunning

(I get your sister, that bright smile with that hair was an amazing match)

IM SO SO GLAD YOU HAD FUN!! and I really hope you get to see them live 💖💞🥰💗💓💕🥹