#ride like the wind grim

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Western

@wolfstarmicrofic July 1, word count 956

Sirius dropped to the ground. His horse stood still as he knew he would. He may have been the hardest horse he’d ever had to tame, but it had been worth it. They had a bond so close he’d trust his boy with anything. 

He slid the reins over Grim’s head and led him to the small stream beside them. He started unbuckling the girth and removed the saddle and cloth, putting them on the ground near where he intended to light his fire. 

Grim came over to him once he’d drunk his fill and butted at Sirius’s hands until he removed his bridle. Sirius waited for Grim to drop the bit and then patted the majestic black horse on the neck with a loud thwack. The horse snorted as he wandered away to find the sweetest shoots of grass to graze on. 

Sirius walked around his makeshift campsite, picking up as many dry bits of wood as he could find. He dumped them all in a pile beside the saddle and then went scouting for dinner. 

He spotted fish swimming in the stream. He was sweating from the heat, so he decided to strip off and try his hand at fishing. 

He immersed himself in the chilly water, sighing as the day’s dust washed away in brown ribbons into the flowing water. He stood perfectly still, waiting for a fish to go by. 

It took longer than he expected. Those fish were slippery suckers. He heard Grim nicker but didn’t think anything of it. His eyes caught sight of a silvery fish heading straight for him. Just a bit closer, just a bit closer. He chanted internally. His hands wrapped around the fish in a vice-like grip and he tossed it onto the bank. At the same time, Grim screamed. 

Sirius whipped his head in his horse’s direction to see a tall slim man jumping on his back and attempting to ride him away. Unlucky for him, the only person Grim allowed to ride him was Sirius. Grim reared up, his powerful front legs cutting through the air and the man slid from his back with a hard thump. The man stayed low and covered his head as Grim’s back legs kicked out. Sirius watched the man quickly roll away from the steel-clad hooves. One kick from one of those and he’d never get up again. 

Sirius sauntered over to the would-be horse thief and put his hands on his hips, only then realising he was completely bare. Oh well, might shock the idiot into thinking again before he tried to steal another man’s horse. 

“And just what do you think you are doing?” He asked, Grim, coming to stand behind him, his head resting on Sirius’s shoulder, snorting unhappily. Sirius reached up and stroked the disgruntled stallion’s mane. 

The man sat up, keeping a wary eye on Grim. Sirius took in his battered form and his ragged clothes. 

“Sorry,” The man apologised, brushing his unkempt hair out of his face. “I thought you were one of the men who captured me, but I can see now that you’re not. Please accept my apologies, I was only trying to get far enough away that they wouldn’t bother trying to find me.” He looked so pitiful that Sirius took pity on him. Not something he did lightly. 

“Why were you captured? What did you do?” Sirius asked, trying to get a better idea of what kind of man he was. 

“My father owed a debt to a bandit by the name of Fenrir Greyback, and he took me as payment. I’ve been with them for three months. I finally managed to get away when they were ambushed by another gang, but I’m sure they’re hot on my trail.” He dropped his head. “I can’t go back to them, I just can’t.” Sirius fought against himself and groaned as he realised he couldn’t leave this man behind. 

“I’m Sirius, Sirius Black and this here is Grim. He’s the fastest horse in the State. We’ll soon put some distance between us and those bandits of yours, even with the extra weight. What do you say, Grim, up for a bit more riding before the sun sets?” Grim whinnied in answer and Sirius offered his hand to the man on the floor. The man took it and let Sirius help him to his feet. 

“My name is Remus Lupin.” Remus told him, still eyeing Grim. “I’m sorry for trying to steal you, Grim, I promise I won’t do it again.” Grim nickered. He approached Remus and snorted at him when he didn’t raise his hand to pet him. When Remus got what he wanted, he tentatively stroked down his long nose, patting him gently. 

“I think he likes you, Remus. Could you keep an eye on him while I get packed up and we'll go?” Remus nodded, not looking away from the horse. 

Sirius dressed quickly, he’d spotted a dust cloud in the distance and was afraid it was made by numerous horses thundering towards them. He collected the fish he caught and the firewood he’d collected and stored it in his saddlebags. They might need it depending on where they settled in for the night.

He tacked up Grim and hoisted himself into the saddle. Grim pawed at the ground, eager to be off again. Sirius leant over and helped Remus onto Grim’s back, seating him in front of him.

“Now, lean forward, Remus, we’re going to go fast.” He wrapped his free arm around Remus's waist and kicked Grim on. Grim threw his head back and charged forward. His hooves barely made contact with the ground he galloped so fast. They’d lose those thugs in no time.  

[queenendless]

💀🎃👻This Is Halloween👻🎃💀

A/n: Sequel to Spooky Greetings

Overblot Bois and Skully x Fem Reader. SPOILERS FOR THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS event. Especially THE END.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN~! 🎃

The ups and downs of being in a place like Halloween Town was quite the experience.

Despite the detour you encountered.

Like being nabbed by Skully for witnessing him kidnapping his dear Skellington and holding you and Grim captive in a literal walking bathtub to Spiral Hill. Yet he was the nicest kidnapper there ever was.

“Please enjoy these and make yourself comfortable, my love.” Skully’s kiss on the lips made you too tongue tied to eat the snacks he left behind. Leaving Grim to eat them instead.

Thankfully it didn't take long for a rescue. As in Sebek, Jamil and Leona dueling Skully as the others came to your side, totally put off by how unharmed you are. Immediately gobsmacked as you ran to a blushing crying Skully having a meltdown over his own personal issues and hugging him out.

If his idol and you could console him on his limited views on this spooky holiday and forgive him so easily, then of course he'd start bawling for joy.

“There there you precious boi.” You're cooing as you hug him and brush his white locks, Skully’s wet face nuzzling your flushed neck, to the flabbergasted faces of his rivals for your affections. And in that moment he won.

Finally the time had come to throw the yearly spooky celebration.

Hearing all your fellow schoolmates singing a tune tickled the back of your brain at the familiarity of said song.

“Sweets for you, my greatest treat~” Riddle showed up in the walking tub with Lock, Shock and Barrel, handing you a pumpkin faced treat with a smooch to your cheek.

“Let me fill your dreams with frightful delight~” Leona purred in your flushed ear, embraced you from behind as he kissed the top of your head from above, with Zero the ghostly dog bopping you on the nose with his tiny glowing pumpkin one.

“Your screams are music to my ears~” Azul's octo strength made it that much easier for him to twirl you around in his arms, dancing across the town, pecking your forehead.

“I'll be there for my lady fair.” Jamil assured as your hair like his and Sally's blew from the chilly winds; the autumn leaves flying on by, as he dove in to smooch your nose.

“Ride with me in the dead of night.” Hugging Vil securely as he modeled with ease on the flying broomstick gave you quite the view, turning around a bit to leave his kiss on your other cheek.

“My heart screams for thee!” Idia presented a heart in a jar to you given to him by Dr Finkelstein made your own heart want to pop out in fear and yet it was oddly sweet, especially cause your zealous boi smooched your neck, possessively marking your neck.

“Our Halloween Queen.” Malleus easily swoops you atop the Mayor's car he was driving at the moment, carrying you bridal style, gifting you a full on kiss to your lips, smiling mischievously against your own.

“In this town we call home, everyone hail to the Pumpkin song.” Holding your gloved hand in his own, you and Skully waved along with everyone else as Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King, rose from the town fountain, pride emanating from him as everyone cheered at the finale.

Too bad you all forgot about it.

Until you were back at school, when Headmaster Crowley presented to you all a very rare portrait of a NRC alumni from centuries ago. Aka the King of Halloween that made such a holiday what it is today in all of Twisted Wonderland.

Despite no memories of the strapping young man, you all felt drawn to him and his influence, inspired to make this the best Halloween yet.

But while everyone else was getting pumped up by it, you were feeling odd. Like you were missing someone you had never met in the flesh and bone.

Seeing your admirers blushing red at your costume, appearing in a rag doll inspired couture dress with a ribbon collar to boot, it was time to begin Halloween Week.

And yet, for some reason, you felt eyes on you throughout the whole week. Tingly touches to your hands that felt like brushing kisses. Even on All Hallows Eve, the ghost-like press of the lips all over your face made you on edge during the float parade.

Running by the portrait in the midst of your anxious worried state. Those eyes following you unbeknownst to you all. With the moon full and the party still going strong in the distance, you felt drawn to the tombstones littered around Ramshackle Dorm. Instinct, another voice, your feet moving on their own will, call it whatever you will, for you moved to a particular worn-out grave. Atop a hill.

Watching the spectral form of the King of Halloween himself appear before you coming out of the grave, bowing graciously before you, as he offered his skeletal gloved hand out to you, his teary eyes and smitten smile unveiled to you, it all made a sudden wave of emotion hit you hard in the feels.

“Y/n, welcome back.”

While the mind was still fuzzy of your recollection due to the magic of the book, something else more primal awoke in you the moment your eyes locked onto his. Your feet moved before your mind could.

As physically as one could embrace a ghost, you still felt traces of warmth amiss the cold. You were surprised to feel physical arms hugging you in return. The bridge between the living and the spirits was blurred tonight so …

The longer you two stayed that way, the more the fog in your brain began to depart. The flash of your last moment together made you realize the reason for his choice of words.

“Skully.” You softly wept, clutching onto him tighter, when he cupped your face to kiss away the tears. His face, his mouth, they all feel so warm. “You're really here.”

“It's been far too long, my love.” He confessed.

That prolonged deep kiss began ebbing away the mist. Gently licking your bottom lip to get you to open. Smiling smugly as you returned it sincerely, humming at your hands running through his wispy hair. His phantom self became solid and lean, heart beating right up against your chest, his scent became more potent as they were the sweet and spicy of Autumn nature.

“I'm home.” He whispered against your luscious lips, nuzzling his nose to yours, smiling all lovesick at your giggling self.

The ghostly trio residents watched on with hearts in their eyes as you got lost in bliss, slowly dancing with the founder of their spooky dorm. Engaging in lip lock once more. Floating off the ground, basked in the stars of this special spooky night.

For you, his Queen, danced with him, your Pumpkin King.

[badathumanemotions]

Hey could you do a Spencer NSFW fic where you end up trapped in a confined space with him (maybe hiding from an unsub) and all your personal space is gone and stuff gets heated yk and then maybe it’s carried on later in a hotel room that they had to share (dom spence, degradation, size kink etc) whatever you want to do really 🫶🫶

Hidden Feelings

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI MasterList Category: Smut CW: Smut, Oral Sex (fem), Praise, Dirty Talk, Use of Good Girl and Sweet Girl, Riding, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Aftercare, Love Confessions. WC: 7,194 My brains been foggy lately so it's taking me longer to write these. Sorry guys. Also because of the long breaks I totally forgot to add everything you asked for and my Dom Spencer's a little rusty. Sorry anon. (Not Proof Read)

In the heart of a long-forgotten industrial district, the abandoned restaurant stood, a relic of a bygone era. The team had received an anonymous tip, a whisper on the wind that led them to this desolate corner. You and Spencer Reid drew the short straws, tasked with investigating the eerie structure.

Peeling paint and shattered windows cast a grim pallor over the faded sign that swung lazily in the breeze. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you approached, your footsteps echoing against the cracked pavement. Spencer, ever the intellectual, rattled off facts about the place's history, trying to fill the silence with something other than the heavy tension that hung in the air.

Inside, the restaurant was a maze of dust-covered tables and chairs, the smell of stale grease clinging stubbornly to the air. The kitchen was a jungle of rusty pans and forgotten spices, the floor sticky with a layer of grime that had built up over the years. Despite the emptiness, it felt as though you were intruding on a place where secrets had been left to fester in the dark.

The tip you received was vague, hinting at suspicious activity in the area. You and Spencer moved methodically, your eyes scanning every corner for the faintest trace of anything could help with the case. You weren't quite sure what you were looking for – a clue, a sign, anything to justify the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach. Spencer paused every so often, his sharp mind analyzing anything out of place.

It was in the kitchen that you stumbled upon the horror. The ticket holder, once used to organize orders, now held a different kind of queue – a series of surveillance photos of the victims. Each face hauntingly familiar from the case files you've studied. The sight of their images, captured unknowingly by the monsters you were hunting, sent a cold chill through your system. Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, his voice barely above a whisper as he pointed out the meticulously laid out schedules scattered around the kitchen counters. It was clear that these Unsubs had been stalking their prey, plotting their every move.

The two of you withdrew your weapons now on high alert. You continued clearing the place, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a reminder of the lives at stake. You could feel Spencer's tension beside you, his breaths shallow and eyes darting around the room as he searched for any sign of the trio.

Approaching a back office, you pushed the door open with your foot, not taking any chances. The room was a time capsule of forgotten paperwork and dusty filing cabinets. A desk sat in the centre, with a table beside it covered by a faded tablecloth.

The papers scattered across the surface looked like they had been abandoned in a hurry. Invoices, receipts, and pay stubs lay in a disorganized heap. You squinted in the dim light, trying to make sense of the dates. They were from before the restaurant had closed, a mundane record of a business that no longer existed.

Then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echoed through the empty dining area. You and Spencer froze, your eyes locking for a split second. The blood drained from your face as you both realized the gravity of the situation. The Unsubs had returned and you were out numbered.

You caught a glimpse of four men, their silhouettes looming through the dust. At least two were obviously armed, their weapons glinting in the sliver of light that pierced the dimly lit space. They were getting closer and you had to think fast.

With a burst of adrenaline, you grabbed Spencer by the arm and pushed him down onto the floor, under the protection of the dusty tablecloth. He tumbled backward, his eyes wide with surprise, and you quickly followed, landing on top of him in a desperate attempt to hide. Your heart hammered against your ribs as the fabric of the cloth billowed around you, threatening to give you away with every breath.

With quick hands, you pulled out your phone and silently typed a message to Hotch, your thumb hovering over the 'Send' button. The footsteps grew louder, each step bringing the danger closer. You hit 'Send' and shoved the phone into your pocket. You could feel Spencer's body tense beneath yours, his muscles coiled like a spring, clearly thrown off by you sitting on top of him.

He begins to squirm, and you knew he was uncomfortable, not just from the fear of being discovered but also from your proximity. The cramped space made it impossible not to be aware of every inch of your bodies pressing together.

Spencer tries to sit up, but you're quick to react. You place a hand firmly on his chest and push him back down, shaking your head.

Suddenly, he whispered, his voice strained and urgent, "We should change positions, it's not…ideal." But before he could finish, you clamped your hand over his mouth. You didn't know if the Unsubs had heard you, but you couldn't take that risk.

"Quiet, we don't want them to hear us."

You felt Spencer's body stiffen even further as your breath danced against the sensitive skin of his neck. You could feel his pulse racing against your chest, a frantic drumbeat matching the tempo of your own heart. You shifted slightly, the movement pressing your ass against his growing arousal. His breath hitched beneath your palm. It was an accident, but one that sent a jolt of heat through you.

The voices grew louder, the Unsubs seemingly oblivious to the danger hiding in the shadows. They talked in hushed tones, their words muffled by walls between them and your hiding spot. You strained to listen, hoping for some clue as to their plans or identities. The words were indecipherable, but the tone was one of excitement and anticipation.

As the moments dragged on, the tension in the air thickened, coiling around you and Spencer like a serpent. His body was taut beneath yours, the fabric of your clothes the only barrier between you. The adrenaline had shifted gears, no longer just a fight-or-flight response but a potent cocktail of fear and desire.

You felt his hands grip the back of your thighs, knuckles almost white with restraint. The heat of his body was intoxicating, and the friction of your movements was setting something alight between you. It was a dangerous dance, one that had no place in the middle of a horror show, but your body didn't seem to care about the setting.

Spencer's eyes searched yours, looking for a sign, a silent question. Was this real or just the situation playing tricks on you both? But the desire was unmistakable, a palpable force that seemed to fill the air in the tiny space. You drop your head down, your nose brushing against his cheek, and for a heart-stopping second, you thought about what it would be like to kiss him right then and there.

The sound of the Unsubs grew closer, their footsteps echoing in the hall outside the office door. Spencer's hands slid from your thighs to your hips, his grip tightening. The heat of his touch seemed to burn through your clothes, setting every nerve ending alight. The fear was still there, a live wire running through your veins, but it had morphed into something more primal, something that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat.

You met Spencer's gaze, and in that fraction of a second, everything changed. The hunger you saw in his eyes was raw and undeniable. It was a look you'd never seen from him before, one that made your heart skip a beat and your body respond in ways you hadn't anticipated. For a moment, the horror of the situation was forgotten, replaced by the all-consuming need to touch, to taste, to claim.

Your hand slowly slid from his mouth to cup his jaw, feeling the stubble that had formed over the past few days of non-stop work. His breath was hot against your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on either of you, but in the face of the danger lurking outside, it seemed to be the only thing that made sense.

Spencer's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. The sound of the Unsubs' footsteps grew fainter as they moved away from the office, but the intensity between you only grew stronger. His hands slid up your back, tangling in your hair, and you both leaned in, lips almost touching.

Suddenly, salvation in the form of a vibration. Your phone. The team had gotten your message. You felt a rush of hope as you realized that rescue was on the way. The vibration against your leg was a silent shout of reassurance, a beacon in the dark.

You both knew that you had to keep it together, to keep the facade of professionalism until the danger had passed. The text message seemed to sober you both up, the urgency of the situation slapping you back into the stark reality of your predicament.

You glanced down at the screen, noting the time since you'd sent the SOS. It felt like hours, but it had only been minutes. The message was simple: "In position. Hold tight." Spencer's eyes met yours, understanding passing between you in a fraction of a second. The weight on your chest lifted slightly, the fear ebbing away just enough to allow you to breathe again.

The sound of the Unsubs grew fainter as they moved away from the office. You dared not speak, not even a whisper, as you both listened intently for any clue to their whereabouts. Spencer's hand slid from your hair to the small of your back, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your spine. You shivered at his touch, the line between terror and passion blurring further.

Suddenly, the air was pierced by the sound of shattering glass. The Unsubs had been spooked, and the cavalry had arrived. The SWAT team, alerted by your message, had come crashing through the restaurant's front windows, the shards raining down like a crystal waterfall in the dusty room. You could feel Spencer's body tense beneath you, his muscles coiled and ready to spring into action.

You both took this as your cue to come out of hiding. With a silent nod of understanding, you slithered out from under the tablecloth, drawing your weapon as you went. Spencer was right behind you, his eyes sharp and focused, scanning the room for any sign of the quartet. The office door was slightly ajar, and the sound of chaos outside grew louder with each passing second.

As you emerged into the corridor, the scene that met you was one of organized mayhem. The SWAT team was spread out through the restaurant, their movements precise and calculated as they secured the area. You saw Morgan taking down one of the Unsubs with a well-placed tackle, the man's body hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

The other three Unsubs were already in cuffs, their faces a mix of shock and rage as they were read their rights. You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized that it was over, that no one else would suffer because of them.

He approached you and Spencer, his gaze sweeping over the two of you with a practiced eye. "Are you both okay?" he asked, his voice low and steady. You nodded, still trying to catch your breath, and Spencer managed a tight smile.

Morgan's eyes lingered on the two of you, and for a moment, you wondered if he could see the unspoken tension that had arisen between you during the standoff. But he said nothing, only nodded and turned back to the rest of the team.

The wrap-up was a blur, a flurry of activity that seemed to happen in fast-forward. You watched as the Unsubs were led out of the building, their heads bowed in defeat. The SWAT team secured the perimeter, and the forensic unit began their meticulous dance of collecting evidence. Your heart was still racing, the adrenaline from earlier lingering.

Before you knew it, you were in the back of an SUV, the cool leather pressing against your heated skin. Spencer was sitting beside you, the two of you trading glances. The silence between you was deafening, charged with the electricity of the kiss you had almost shared.

You couldn't help but wonder if it was the adrenaline that had pushed you both over the edge, or if there had always been something more simmering beneath the surface. The team was busy around you, talking and filling in the gaps of what had just transpired. But all you could think about was the way Spencer's body had felt beneath yours, the way his hands had explored you in the dark.

Once back at the precinct, you were just going through the motions. While the majority of the team interrogated the Unsubs, you found yourself cataloguing evidence with a sense of detachment, your mind replaying the events in the abandoned restaurant.

The almost kiss kept playing in your mind like a record on repeat. You couldn't shake the feeling of Spencer's breath against your skin, the way his eyes had searched yours for something unspoken. Each time you reached for a new piece of evidence, your hand would tremble slightly, a reminder of the intimate moment you had shared.

The touch of his fingers on your spine had been electric, sending a shiver down to the very core of you. You found yourself acutely aware of every point of contact, every brush of skin on skin, feeling as if you were still entwined under that dusty tablecloth. The memory of his arms around you was a comforting embrace that seemed to linger.

You froze for a moment as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks: you were sharing a room with Spencer tonight. The implications of what had almost happened weighed heavily on your mind as you continued to process the adrenaline-filled afternoon. You'd been partners for so long, so close, yet this was uncharted territory. You couldn't help but wonder how this would affect your relationship, both personally and professionally.

The case was wrapped up. Everything else was left for the locals. You and the team had done your part, leaving the cleanup to the local law enforcement. The Unsubs were behind bars, and the victims could now find some semblance of peace.

As you and the team divided into cars, you found yourself paired with Morgan and Prentiss. Spencer ended up in the car with Hotch, Rossi, and JJ, his eyes meeting yours briefly before the doors slammed shut, leaving you to wonder what might happen next. The drive to the hotel was a blur of city lights and the muffled chatter of your colleagues. You were lost in thought, replaying every heart-pounding moment in the abandoned restaurant.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, the lobby was a bustle of activity. The team checked in with weary efficiency, the gravity of the case still weighing on everyone's shoulders. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as Spencer's gaze didn't seek you out among the crowd. Perhaps it was better this way, you thought, a chance to cool off and sort out the tumultuous emotions that had taken hold of you.

You headed up to the room, the elevator's slow ascent feeling like an eternity. You were sure that the conversation that was bound to happen would be a letdown. It had to be the adrenaline, you reasoned with yourself. It was the only explanation for the way your body had responded to his touch. But as the doors opened and you stepped into the quiet corridor, the memory of his arms around you seemed to follow you.

You fished the room key out of your pocket and slipped it into the lock, turning the handle with a click. The door swung open, revealing a space that felt too small for the emotions you were carrying.

Standing in the middle of the room, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before Spencer joined you in your shared hotel room. The walls felt closer than they should, the air filled with the anticipation of an unspoken conversation that loomed. You studied your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out any signs of distress, hoping to maintain a facade of calm.

As the lock clicked open, the sound echoed through the room. Your entire body tensed, not ready for what the night might hold. Spencer stepped in, his eyes briefly scanning the room before they settled on you.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the silence stretching out between you. His face was a mask, revealing nothing. You searched his gaze, desperate to find some clue, some hint of what was going through his mind. But Spencer was a master of poker faces, and he wasn't giving you anything to work with.

Then, without any warning, Spencer closed the distance between you, his hands coming up to cup your face. His touch was surprisingly firm, yet gentle, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw as he leaned in. His lips met yours in a kiss that was as intense as it was unexpected, stealing the breath from your lungs. You felt your knees wobble as you kissed him back with an equal fervour.

You gripped onto Spencer's shoulders, your nails digging into his shirt as you tried to keep yourself tethered to reality. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his hands splayed against the small of your back.

He broke the kiss abruptly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. "Tell me you want this" he growled.

"Yes," you assured him, the word coming out as a breathless whisper. "I want you," you clarified.

With frantic movements, you both began to undress each other, the fabric of your clothes seeming to dissolve away in your haste. Buttons popped and zippers hissed as the barriers between you fell away. You could feel the heat from his skin as your shirts were discarded.

Spencer reached around and unclipped your bra with an ease that made your stomach flip. He took his sweet time peeling the fabric away, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He didn't waste a second before his mouth found them, his lips closing around your nipple with a gentle suction that sent a jolt of pleasure through you. You gasped, your back arching, pushing your chest closer to his face.

With a groan, he began to suck, his tongue flicking and teasing the sensitive bud as you tangled your fingers in his hair. His hands followed suit, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the peaks as he played with your nipples. He switched to the other side, giving it the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Each nip and suck sent electricity through your body, making your legs threaten to give out.

Once he had his fill, he moved on to your trousers, taking them and your underwear down with a gentle urgency. You stepped out of the fabric pooled around your ankles, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He knelt before you, marvelling at the sight before him, his eyes dark with desire. You felt a blush spread across your cheeks as he looked up, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul. "All mine to taste." He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as his eyes travelled down your body.

With a gentle but firm tug, Spencer's hands slid down to the back of your thighs, urging you closer. You stepped into the embrace, feeling his warm breath against your sex. The sensation sent a shiver through your body, and you bit your lip to hold back a whimper of need. His fingers dug into the flesh, gripping tightly as if he needed the anchor.

He leaned in, his tongue tracing the seam of your pussy. You felt his hot breath against your clit, the anticipation making it throb with desire. He circled the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue, the touch so light it was almost maddening.

You moaned, your hands finding their way into his hair, gripping the soft strands as he began to apply more pressure. Spencer's eyes never left yours as he started to devour you, his mouth working magic on your clit, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were grinding against his face, desperate for more.

He chuckled darkly at your eagerness, his hands moving to grip your ass, pulling you closer until you were practically riding his face. His tongue plunged into your wetness, tasting you deeply, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and vulnerability that had you teetering on the edge.

"That's right, sweetheart," Spencer murmured, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Cum for me. Let me feel you come apart." His words were a command, a demand that sent a thrill through your body. You could feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten, your orgasm building in your core.

Obeying his urging, you began to rock your hips, grinding your clit against his tongue. The pressure was exquisite, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. His eyes remained locked on yours, his pupils blown wide with desire, his mouth wide open collecting your juices. His hands tightened on your ass, his fingers digging in, urging you to move faster, to give him what he wanted.

And then, with a final, needy grind against his mouth, you shattered. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you leaving you trembling and gasping for air. You could see the triumph flash in his eyes as he felt you come apart. He didn't stop, though, continuing to lick and suck until your legs gave out needing him to catch you.

With a firm grip on your waist, he guided you to the bed, his movements sure and decisive. The mattress dipped as you sat down, and he didn't waste a second before he was beside you, his body pressing into yours, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was as possessive as it was hungry.

"Good girl," he murmured against your lips, the words a dark praise that sent a thrill through your body. He pushed you back onto the bed, his body following yours, his weight a delicious pressure that made your heart race even faster. You felt the heat of him, his arousal pressing against your thigh, and it was all you could do to keep from reaching down and taking him in your hand.

Spencer sat up, his eyes never leaving yours as he removed the rest of his clothes. Each article of clothing fell away, revealing more of the toned body you had only ever seen glimpses of. His chest was bare, a blush trailing down it, and his erection was clear through his boxer briefs. He watched your reaction, a smug satisfaction in his gaze as he revealed himself to you.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he pushed the last of his clothes off. "How hard it was to keep my hands to myself while we were hiding." His hand slid down his body, gripping his cock, giving it a slow stroke that had you biting your lip.

The admission sent a bolt of desire through you, making your heart race even faster. You had known there was something between you, something that went beyond friendship and partnership, but to hear him voice it so bluntly was exhilarating.

Spencer climbed over you, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered in your ear, "While you were on top of me, I couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have you riding me like that, taking me deep inside you." His words were raw, unfiltered, and they sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat of his arousal, his cock pressing into your thigh as he spoke.

He trailed kisses down your neck, each one a silent promise of what was to come. "I wanted to rip your clothes off right there," he confessed, his voice a low growl that resonated through your body. "To feel you wet and ready for me, to hear you scream my name as I made you cum."

The words alone were almost enough to push you over the edge again. Your pussy throbbed with need, your inner walls clenching around emptiness, desperate for his touch. A moan slipped past your lips, and you threw your head back, giving him full access to your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, and you felt a shiver of pleasure that went straight to your core.

"Please," you begged, the word a breathy whisper that seemed to hang in the air. "I need you inside me." Your voice was ragged with desire, your eyes never leaving his as you made your plea. The raw need in your eyes seemed to be all the permission Spencer needed.

With a final, lingering kiss, he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. "Don't worry, sweet girl," he murmured, his voice low and dominant. "I'll take care of you."

He slammed into you with a force that made you gasp. The feeling of being filled by him was almost painful in its intensity, but the pain quickly gave way to pleasure as your body adjusted to his size.

Spencer's eyes were hooded with desire as he watched your reaction, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm. His hands gripped the headboard, the wood creaking under his grip as he thrust deeper and deeper, his whole body taut with the effort.

You could feel the mattress shift with every pounding stroke, the springs groaning in protest beneath you. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had you panting and writhing beneath him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him deeper.

Spencer took your cue, his hands moving from the headboard to your hips, his grip unyielding as he set a rhythm that had you seeing stars. His hips snapped against you, his cock filling you completely, the sensation of fullness making your eyes roll back in your head. He was a force of nature, a storm of passion that you had unleashed, and you were helpless to do anything but ride the waves of pleasure that he brought.

You could feel the headboard knocking against the wall with every thrust, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. Each time he pushed into you, your breath hitched, a whimper escaping your lips. His eyes watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face, his expression one of fierce concentration.

"Look at me," Spencer demanded. You obeyed, locking your gaze onto his, unable to look away as he claimed you, body and soul. His dominance was intoxicating, the way he took control of your pleasure, leaving you powerless to do anything but submit to his will.

With a slight adjustment of his hips, he angled himself just right, and you felt the electric sensation as his cock hit your g-spot. A shocked yelp escaped your lips, your eyes widening with surprise. The intensity was almost too much, but you didn't want him to stop.

The sound of your moans grew louder with every thrust, filling the small room. Spencer smirked, his eyes dark with arousal as he leaned in close, his hand coming up to cover your mouth. "Quiet," he whispered, his voice a seductive rumble in your ear. "We don't want them to hear us, do we?" It was a playful reminder of your earlier words.

You moaned against his hand, the muffled sound only serving to add to the intensity of the moment. The heat from his palm was like a brand on your skin, searing your lips as you fought to keep your noises contained.

As the pleasure mounted, he slowly switched to putting his thumb in your mouth while the rest of his hand cupped your cheek. The act was both innocent and incredibly erotic, a silent plea for more as your teeth grazed his skin, your tongue swirling around the digit.

The sound of his groan filled the room, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very air. It sent a bolt of electricity through your body, making your pussy clench around his cock. Spencer's eyes darkened with need, his thumb pressing deeper into your mouth, his hips moving faster, his strokes more urgent.

"So fucking tight," he murmured, his voice a low, guttural growl. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?" His words went straight to your pussy, your body responding instinctively to his words. You nodded, unable to form coherent sentences as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

"Tell me," he demanded, his hips grinding into you, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust. "Tell me how good it feels." You moaned around his thumb, the sound muffled and wanton.

"Am I fucking you so good you can't answer?" he taunted, his voice low and full of smug satisfaction.

You could only nod, the words caught in your throat as he hit that spot again and again. The feeling was so intense that you could feel yourself climbing towards another orgasm.

With a sudden shift, Spencer rolled over, flipping onto his, and you straddled him, his cock still buried deep inside you. "Fuck, I need to see you ride me," he grunted.

Wasting no time, you immediately got to work, arching your lower back and slamming your ass down against his pelvis. The pleasure had your eyes rolling back in your head. Each downward thrust was met with an upward surge of his hips, filling you completely.

Spencer's fingers dug into your hips, his grip tightening with each bounce, leaving the promise of bruises in his wake. You could feel the pressure building again, his cock stroking your g-spot with an almost punishing precision that had your toes curling.

"That's right, be a good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Ride my cock just like that." The words were a command that had your pussy clenching around him, desperate to please. You picked up the pace, the slap of your ass meeting his thighs growing louder with each passing second.

Spencer's eyes never left yours, his gaze a mix of hunger and admiration. "Look how much you want it," he said, his voice a dark whisper. "Look how much you need me to fill you up, to make you scream." His words were like a drug, sending a rush of pleasure through your body.

"You like me praising you," he murmured, his eyes flicking down to where you were joined. "Calling you a good girl?" His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin gently as his hips began to move again, his cock still buried deep inside you. "I felt the way your cunt started squeezing me," he continued, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction. "Every time I say it, you get wetter, don't you?"

You couldn't help but nod, the truth of his words evident in the way your body was responding. You felt the heat of his palm on your cheek, the gentle pressure of his thumb against your skin grounding you.

With a growl of pure need, Spencer brought your face down to meet his in a passionate kiss that was both possessive and tender. His tongue claimed your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. You moaned into the kiss, the sensation of his cock inside you making your head spin.

Both his hands grabbed your ass, the firm grip of his fingers digging into your flesh. He used the leverage to slam your hips down onto him, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. You could feel the muscles in his arms tensing, the power behind each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself tightening around him, the beginnings of another orgasm building deep within you.

Spencer's voice was a low growl in your ear, his words a mix of praise and need. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "I want to fill you up, have you dripping with my seed." The thought of his release inside you had your pussy clenching around him, the walls quivering with the anticipation of his climax.

"Will you let me, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer. The question was loaded, filled with a mix of hope and desire that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, waiting for your permission.

You nodded, the word "yes" barely escaping your mouth before it was swallowed by his kiss. Spencer's hips bucked up into you, the urgency of his movements increasing. He broke the kiss, panting. "I need to feel you come around me," he groaned.

The frantic pace continued, your bodies moving in perfect synchronicity as you raced towards the peak of pleasure. Spencer's grip on your ass was bruising, but you didn't care. You needed this, needed him to make you feel alive in a way you never had before. His cock slammed into your g-spot over and over, causing non-stop pleasure.

Your kiss grew sloppier, tongues tangling and breaths mingling as if you were trying to breathe each other in. The taste of him was intoxicating. You felt the pressure building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to break at any moment.

"Cum for me, sweet girl," Spencer begged, his voice strained with his own need. And as if those words were the key to your release, your body obeyed. You felt the orgasm crash over you, a tidal wave of sensation that had you throwing your head back and screaming his name. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body spasming on top of him, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice.

The sight of you, lost in the throes of ecstasy, was too much for Spencer. With a roar, he reached his own climax, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his cum. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of pleasure and relief that had him seeing stars. His hips jerked upwards, his body shuddering with the force of his release, his hands gripping you tightly.

You moaned at the feeling of him cumming in you, the sensation of being filled sending you spiralling over the edge into another orgasm. Your pussy clenched around him, milking every last drop from his cock as he emptied himself inside you. The feeling was primal, a deep-seated satisfaction that resonated through every part of your being.

As the last tremors of pleasure passed, you collapsed boneless against him, both of you trying to catch your breath. Your cheek was pressed against his chest, his heart pounding against your skin. You could feel the stickiness of your juices between your legs, mingling with his seed.

Spencer's hand came up to draw patterns across your spine, the touch gentle and soothing. His fingertips traced the contours of your back, moving in a lazy pattern. You leaned into the caress, the tension in your body slowly beginning to melt away.

For a while, you both lay there, just breathing, the sound of your harsh pants slowly evening out as your heart rates returned to normal. The silence between you was conent, a shared understanding that didn't require any words. You felt the warmth of his body, the steady thump of his heart, and the sticky warmth between your legs.

Spencer was the first to move, cupping your cheek gently and turning your face to look at him. His eyes searched yours, a soft smile playing on his lips as he brought you into a sweet, lingering kiss. When he finally pulled away, the words he whispered were filled with wonder and a hint of disbelief. "I can't believe I finally have you," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

The truth of his words hung in the air, the weight of them heavy on your chest. You had both crossed a line, one that could never be uncrossed. But as you stared into his eyes, the warmth of his gaze and the tender way he held you made you feel that this was right. That this was what you both needed.

You felt his cock begin to soften inside you, the pulsing subsiding as your bodies slowly calmed from the intense climax. The feeling was strange, almost bittersweet, as if your body was mourning the loss of his hardness. Gently, he pulled out, his movements careful and deliberate, mindful of your sensitivity. A gush of warmth accompanied his exit, leaving a wetness that was both a reminder of what had just occurred and a promise of what was to come.

Spencer looked down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he brushed a stray hair from your face. "Come on," he prompted. "Let's get cleaned up." He offered you a hand, helping you to your unsteady feet. Your legs felt like jelly, weak from the pleasure he had wrung from your body. You took his hand gratefully, allowing him to lead you to the bathroom.

Spencer turned the shower on, the sound of rushing water filling the small space. He stepped in, testing the temperature with his hand before turning back to you with a nod, extending his hand once again. You stepped in, the warm spray cascading over your bodies, washing away the sweat and semen.

He took a washcloth soaking it in the warm water, and gently began to clean you. You watched him, the tender way he moved the cloth across your skin, wiping away the sweat and slick. His eyes were focused on his task, the intensity of the moments before replaced by a softness that made your heart ache.

You leaned into his touch, your body relaxing against his as he took care of you. Each stroke of the washcloth was like a caress, soothing the ache in your muscles and the throb of your pussy. He was thorough, paying special attention to every inch of your skin, as if he was worshipping your body.

Once he was satisfied that you were clean, Spencer quickly cleaned himself and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist before turning his attention back to you. "Let me dry you off," he murmured, his eyes gentle.

You stepped out of the shower, the warmth of the water leaving your skin glistening. Spencer took a towel from the rack, his movements methodical as he began to gently pat you down. Starting at your face, he moved down your neck, taking special care around the sensitive areas.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost reverent, as if he was afraid to break the spell that had been cast between you. You felt his hands on your shoulders, sliding down your arms, and around to your back, his touch feather light as he dried your skin. Each brush of the terrycloth cause goosebumps to break out.

Once Spencer had you thoroughly dried, he wrapped the towel around your body, tucking it in tightly, almost like he was afraid to let you go. He took your hand, leading you to the second bed. The mattress dipped under your weight as you sat down, the softness a welcome relief after the intense moments that had passed.

He took a seat beside you, his eyes searching yours. "I need you to understand something," he began, his voice serious. "What we just did, it's not just about the case or the adrenaline. It's not just about the physical attraction we have."

Spencer took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to cover yours. "I want you, not just your body, but all of you," he confessed, his gaze never leaving yours. "I want to know every part of you, every thought, every fear, every dream."

You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way his heart was laid bare for you. "This isn't just about scratching an itch," he continued. "It's about connecting on a level that goes beyond anything I've ever experienced." His words were a declaration, a promise of something more substantial than the fleeting moments of passion you've shared.

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the shower still clinging to your skin as you searched for the right words. "Spencer," you began, your voice a whisper. "I feel the same way." The confession felt like a weight lifted off your chest. You had been holding it in for so long, the fear of ruining your friendship and professional relationship had kept you from saying what you truly felt.

His eyes searched yours, the intensity in them making your heart race. "Do you mean it?" he asked, his voice hopeful yet tentative.

"Yes," you whispered, the word a promise that seemed to echo through the quiet hotel room. "I do." Spencer's hand tightened around yours, his smile growing as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It was a kiss that spoke of relief and joy, a silent acknowledgement that he wasn't alone in his feelings.

As the tension between you dissipated, you both got ready for bed, moving with a newfound ease. You slid under the cool sheets of the second bed. Spencer followed, his body fitting against yours as if he had been made for you.

You were so giddy with the intensity of what had just transpired that you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep. Yet, as you cuddled against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, the comfort of his embrace began to lull you into a peaceful slumber. His arms tightened around you, his warmth seeping into your very bones.

As the night passed, you both slipped into a deep sleep, your bodies entwined like lovers lost in each other’s embrace. The tension of the case and the passion between you had drained you both, leaving nothing but peaceful rest.

[novaursa]

Hello! So grateful you have opened up your requests 🥰

Could I get one of cregan showing his wife, targ!reader, the wall for the first time?

The Wall

- Summary: Cregan takes you to see the Wall, and Silverwing comes with you.

- Pairing: (wife) targ!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is bonded with Silverwing.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

You feel the northern chill in your bones the moment you step foot beyond Winterfell. The air grows heavier, colder, as if the very breath of the Old Gods wraps around you, sinking its icy tendrils into your flesh. It is a different kind of cold—more relentless, more biting than you have ever known in the southern lands of your birth. But then again, you expected nothing less when you agreed to accompany Cregan Stark to the Wall.

Your husband rides at your side, his fur cloak draped over broad shoulders, a sight that fills you with warmth. His face is set with the solemnity that marks his heritage, but there’s a softness there for you—a softening of his eyes whenever they meet yours, a gentle squeeze of his hand on your arm when the wind howls too sharply. His presence beside you feels like a shelter, a warmth against the harshness of the North.

“I’ve waited long to show you this,” Cregan murmurs, his voice low but carrying over the wind. There’s a rare lightness to his words, a pride that makes you smile, despite the cold biting at your cheeks.

“You speak of it as if it’s something magical,” you reply, teasing him gently, though you feel a hint of excitement bubbling beneath your words. The Wall is something that has lingered in stories and songs, a place you’ve only heard about. Yet now, you are about to see it with your own eyes.

“Some might say it is.” He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, sending warmth down your spine. “It’s a sight unlike any other. Even your dragons have their limits when it comes to the Wall.”

Your heart gives a little tug at his words, reminding you of Silverwing, the great she-dragon bonded to you since your youth. You’ve heard the stories too—of how Silverwing, despite her strength and size, refused to cross the Wall during the reign of Queen Alysanne. The tales had puzzled you, and a part of you wondered whether the creature you shared a bond with would behave the same when you reached the ancient barrier.

As the hours stretch on and you grow closer to your destination, the Wall finally emerges on the horizon—a towering monument of ice and stone, glowing eerily under the weak northern sun. The sheer size of it takes your breath away. You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, as though it will shield you from the awe that grips your chest.

“There it is,” Cregan says softly, his hand brushing against yours. His voice holds a note of reverence, as if the Wall itself is something holy. “The edge of the world.”

You stare up at it, the enormity of it humbling you in a way nothing ever has. The Wall stretches impossibly high, a barrier that seems to separate not only land but realms themselves—the living and the dead, the known and the unknown.

But what captures your attention more is the sound of wings cutting through the cold air. You turn your gaze upward just in time to see the massive shadow of Silverwing circling above. Her pale, silvery scales shimmer in the dull light, a contrast against the grim, grey sky. Yet, even as she soars closer to the Wall, you see the familiar hesitation in her flight. She slows, wings beating in slower arcs, her great head turning toward the ice as if sensing some invisible barrier.

“She remembers,” you whisper, half to yourself, half to Cregan.

“Aye,” he agrees, watching with you. “The Wall holds a power older than all of us.”

You urge Silverwing with a thought, your connection with her as strong as ever. She flaps her wings harder, drawing closer to the Wall’s towering height, but just as before—just as the tales told—she stops short. Her massive body hovers in the air for a few moments, and despite your urging, she will not go any farther. The invisible force seems to push back, a resistance neither of you can break.

A quiet frustration stirs within you. “She won’t cross it,” you murmur, though you already knew this might happen. You watch her large, majestic form retreat just enough to hover out of reach.

Cregan, who has been observing quietly, steps closer to you. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his warmth. “Perhaps she knows something we don’t,” he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. “The dragons have their wisdom, even if we don’t understand it.”

You nod, leaning into him. His presence calms you, as it always does, and you relax into his embrace. But then, something shifts.

A low, rumbling growl echoes through the air, and you turn your attention back to Silverwing. The dragon’s wings beat harder, her growl growing into a roar that vibrates through your chest. She lowers her body, as if preparing to charge, and you feel her agitation through your bond—a new determination, a will that wasn’t there before.

“What is she—” Cregan begins, but you hold up a hand, silencing him.

Silverwing surges forward, her massive wings flaring as she approaches the Wall once more. This time, there is no hesitation. The invisible force that once stopped her seems to buckle under her will, and you watch in astonishment as Silverwing pushes through the barrier. The cold air whips around you, stinging your face, as her great form crosses over the Wall, her wings carrying her higher into the northern sky.

“She did it,” you breathe, hardly able to believe what you’re seeing. You can feel her triumph, her exhilaration, as she soars over the frozen wasteland beyond. It is as if the Wall’s ancient magic has finally yielded to her strength—or perhaps to something deeper, something connected to you.

Cregan’s hand tightens on your waist, and when you look up at him, you see the awe in his eyes. “You’re the first Targaryen to make it past the Wall,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Silverwing wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.”

Your heart swells at his words, at the pride you feel through your bond with Silverwing and the warmth of Cregan’s affection. You turn in his arms, your fingers brushing against his cold cheek before you kiss him. His lips are warm, soft, a contrast to the sharp cold around you.

“Perhaps she knew it was time,” you whisper against his lips.

“Or perhaps she follows her rider,” Cregan replies, his voice low and tender as he pulls you closer.

You stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in his embrace, as the Wall looms behind you. Silverwing’s triumphant roars echo in the distance, and for the first time, you feel as though the North has truly welcomed you.

[ventique18]

And then, May 15 arrived--

The first years are waiting at the entrance, as instructed... Near midnight. Wondering what kind of ride they're getting...

Suddenly a huge gust of wind blows! A carriage is right before their eyes before they knew it!

Ace: "Wait. This carriage... isn't drawn by a horse, huh?"

Ace: "It's huge like a horse, but it has wings and a face that of a bird's... Isn't this a creature we only see in magical beast zoology books?! No way... These really exist in Briar Valley? I thought those beasts in those books were fantasy. Haha..."

THE BEAST IS TALKING?! LMFAO

Beast: "Mister Ace Trappola, Mister Deuce Spade. Mister Grim... And, Yuu."

THEY WERE SO SURPRISED IT WAS TALKING LMAOOOO! You thought only Grim could talk?

Deuce: "Amazing! This carriage is ripping through the sky at top speed!"

Grim: "Let's go to Malleus' Party!"

Everyone's already gathered, but somehow it feels off. I mean, why is this place covered in thorns? Grim remembers this place; isn't this where they met Malleus' egg for the first time?

Yuu: "It's just as ramshackle as Ramshackle when we first arrived..."

Ace mentions that Trein discussed this yesterday. This castle once belonged to the Kingdom of Thorns, but it was sieged by various powers throughout the centuries. Now it's regulated by the International Magic Council and belongs to no country.

???: "Hmph. I see you've been studying, humans!"

Sebek: "Castle Wildrose... may have lost some of its splendor, but it still exudes such indomitable nobility. To choose this location for a party... Truly, I expect nothing less of waka-sama!"

SILVER IS FALLING OVER FROM SLEEPINESS LMFAO

[grugruel]

Let the Light in

Pairing: priest!Bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: On the day of your wedding, you excpect to love your husband, not fall for the priest.

You'd never been a believer. But when your marrige spiraled into darkness, you had to find light elsewere. So you asked the Lord for help, and He answered.

Ironically enough, He gave you a most devout follower, the priest.

Word count: ca 4k

Warnings: fluff, angst, blasphemy, soft!priest!bucky, pinv sex, oral sex (f receiving), passionate sex, fingering, thigh-riding, adultry, praise (m receiving), priest kink.

AN: its been proof read! I dont understand how yall read it before the fact, my misspellings were crazy. I also edited it a bit, gave yall about 200-300 words more.

I stod silently on the sidewalk, with my back to the road. Numbly observing the scene in front of me as I waited. Cars were rushing past behind me, slowing as they noticed the crowd.

The chilly autumn winds blew my coat off of my stocking clad legs, revealing them to the elements. I couldnt be bothered to care.

The cold did not affect me anymore, I was strung out on feeling.

I watched my husband struggle, and the guests scramble to help him. They got him on his feet, and his best man slung an arm around him to keep him from falling again. My eyes brimmed with tears, ready to fall any second now.

I felt a hand touch the small of my back in silent support. A palm pressed firmly into the arch below, fingertips curling, rouching the fabric of my dress. I closed my eyes and all my troubles were wisked away for but a second, until I heard the guests approach and the hand left me. I opened my eyes to a grim sight.

We met in college, my husband and I. He'd been lovely and attentive when we first met, he made me fall in love with him. He proposed to me on our graduation, and i'd never been happier.

Unfortunately though, it didnt last that long.

As we were fresh out of school, both with stellar scores and brand new degrees. We got our dream jobs, and bought ourselves our dream home.

Everything was perfect, until he got fired. Why? He wouldnt tell me, he left me in the dark, refusing to tell me himself.

Naturally, I grew suspicious.

So I called his former boss, who told me that they'd caught him with his secretary bent over his desk. They said he'd gotten a reputation within his business and would be experiencing difficulties in finding a new job for himself. My crying increased gradually through out the call, this was the first time hed let me down after all. His boss was very apologetic and so was my fiancé.

He found me sat on the floor with phone in hand, a complete mess of tears and running mascara. Immedietly showing worry, 'Whats going on, whats happened?' He asked, thinking somebody died. But when I glared at him, repaying his silence with my own, he understood. He stuttered an apology, his words a flurry of explanations and sorrys, sounding truly regretful.

So I forgave him, silly me.

With time, bitterness manifested within him. Resentment over the fact that I was well liked and did good work at my own job. It led him down a pityfull path, finding solace in alcohol, resentment turning into lousey drunkeness. I should've left him, but chose to forgive him. I loved him, despite all.

Eventually he found a new job, nowehere near the prestige of his old one. But it calmed his drinking.

When he sobered slightly, he apologized continously. Telling me he promised to get better and told me he wanted to have our ceremony, because I deserved it. Foolishly, I belived him. He stayed sober several weeks before the wedding, and I thought it could be a new start.

But here we are now.

I stood behind the doors of the nave, inhaling and exhaling big shaky breaths, trying to gather strength for what I was about to throw myself into.

The priest, father Barnes. The one who would be marrying us, came to me before I walked down the aisle.

'Miss.' He began, his eyes pleading as he took my hands into his, 'Its now my place, I know. But your betrothed-'

'Youre right, its not.' I cut him off, the idea of discussing my fiancés indiscretions with the priest was not appealing. 'I apologize father.' I sighed and met his eyes, 'Hes drunk isnt he?'

The priest tilted his head to the side, realising I was already well aquainted with the vice, 'Well, yes. . .' He said, sounding apologetic.

I nodded my head, deep in thought, 'Alright, lets not waste anymore time then.'

'You're still going ahead with the wedding?' He asked me, an incredulous expression shaping his face.

I looked down, studying the intricate details of my wedding dress. Id picked it myself, my favourite flowers covered it. That man of mine doesnt know my favourite in anything, nor would he notice them on my dress.

A melancholic smile covered my lips, 'You must think me foolish father.' I whispered under my breath, chuckling quietly.

He shook his head and moved one of his hands to my chin, tilting my face to meet his. The other grabbed my hands, and squeezed them, 'I think youre strong.' He told me, a reassuring smile on his lips.

'He promised me he would get better.' My voice was meak, a tear streaking my face.

'You're a good woman.' He breathed, letting go of my hands to cup my face. He leveled his head with mine, his tall stature forcing him to hunch as his eyes locked with mine, 'Too, good.' He whispered, 'And, Its not my business, thats true. . .' Another tear fell, and he gently stroked it away with his thumb, 'But he does not deserve your kindness.'

My cheeks burned hot, a blush crept up my face. I had not heard such kind words in a long time. I could not controll my crying any longer, unstoppable tears came rolling down my cheeks, 'I have to believe him, father, I have to try.' I told him quietly, hating how desperate my voice sounded.

'I love him.'

He cringed at the words, furrowing his brows 'I admire your devotion.' He said gently, 'Do you want more time? Im sure we can wait a little longer.' He tried, but I shook my head.

'No, I dont want to keep the guests waiting.' I took a deep breath, 'Do I look ok?' I asked him.

He nodded, but pulled the cuff over his hand and dabbed my cheeks dry.

His eyes flickered over my face, studying my features, my wet eyes and rosy cheeks. He leaned in, kissed my cheek and whispered 'Angelic.' His hands fell to my bare shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

He turned around and as he was about the leave I grabbed hold of his wrist, carefully tugging him back. He faced me and I let go of him realising that perhaps it wasnt appropriate of me. 'I just-' I began, but my voice broke. He met my eyes and pulled me into his embrace, 'Thank you, father.' I whispered against his chest.

He rested his head on your shoulder and rubbed your back gently, holding onto the fabric of your dress, rubbing it between his fingers. Studying the beautiful pattern. He slid his hands up your arms, feeling a sudden urge to kiss the bare skin beneath him. He pulled back hastily, clearing his throat as he silently rebuked himself.

'I must take my place dear.' He said, stroking a piece of hair behind my ear. He gave me a last smile, then left, taking his place by the altar.

I heard the music starting and the muffled sound of the crowd standing up. I sighed, steadied my breathing, and opened the doors to the nave. Everyone turned around, looking at me. Whispers rumbled through the crowd as I began walking, their stares were making me nervous.

Through the gloom of the church, light shone through the windows at the altar. I looked at him for comfort, handsome as he was, I met his eyes and found it within them.

He could not tear his eyes from you, you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, courageous and proud, you walked down the aisle. When your eyes met his, he smiled proudly. Hoping you would find some comfort in it, and you found it.

As I approached the altar, I tore my eyes from his and looked at my fiancé. His best man holding him upright, otherwise slumping over. He smiled sloppily at me, I gave him a strained smile back.

The ceremony was over quickly, my husband stumbled through his vows and his kiss tasted of smoke and whiskey. In fact, the entirety of him was drenched in the odor.

I smiled and thanked everyone as they congratulted us, and carefully, tiptoed around the subject of my husband.

I hurried to change into my reception dress, it was all black. Black coat, dress, heels and stockings. Fitting, I thought. As this felt more like a funeral than a wedding, burrying the woman I once was.

People were drinking, laughing and dancing. The reception was doing a wonderful job of keeping everyone cheery, everyone except me. I sat silently by our table, watching my husband as he kept drinking and his men trying to calm him down. He had barely spoken a word to me, he was to drunk to stand, to drunk to have our first dance. I felt myself sinking into oblivion as my polite smiles and thank yous were running out.

But someone approched me, snapping me out of the darkness. I looked up, and the light returned.

He reached his hand out to me, 'May I have this dance?' He asked, his white collar stark against his black shirt.

'You may.' I smiled, the first genuine smile I'd given anyone since the night begun.

I laid my hand in his and he led me to the edge of the dance floor, somewhere we could be at peace. In our dark colors we went unseen, tucked away from prying eyes.

I snaked my arms around his neck and his arms circled my waist, pulling me tightly against him. A bit unorthodox perhaps. But I didnt mind and neither did he, it seemed. I leaned my head against him as we swayed to the music, basking in eachothers prescence.

He sensed that you werent interested in talking, but rather needed a shoulder to lean on. Someone to hold you up, as your ungrateful husband couldnt even do that for himself.

For several songs, we just held eachother. Until the evening began winding down and we had to depart.

'I think this was a mistake.' He whispered.

'Which part?' I asked, and he sighed.

'Dont hesitate to come to me if you need anyhting.' He said quietly, 'Please.' he pleaded. I nodded, thinking id never take him up on his offer.

Now, I stood on the street. Still feeling the priests hand on my back although he'd already taken a few secure steps back.

I watched as my husband being carried to our car, as we were headed for our honeymoon. Two weeks in rome, I wish I could truthfully say I was excited. They shoved him into the back, and once again congratulated us with cheapish smiles. I walked around the car and opened the door, about to sit down when a hand slid into mine. I looked up and my eyes met his beautiful blues once again. He assisted me into the car, lending me his strong arm for support as I sat down. His hand slid out of mine, and a note was left in my palm, reflexicely I closed my hand around it. 'Anything.' He whispered and backed away, closing the door gently.

Our car drove off as the guests were waving us of, but all I could think about was the priest disappearing in the distance.

I opened the note, written down was his number and adress along with a few intricately drawn flowers.

I smiled to myself, quickly stashing it away in my pocket, afraid my husband would see. But as I looked at him, I realised. He was dead asleep, snoring even.

I opened my hand, tracing my fingertips along my palm. Trying to recreate the feeling of his hand in mine, his gentle, yet firm touch on my skin. I sighed, feeling my tears returning.

I cried silently, afraid to wake him. The driver looked at me through his rearview mirror, I met his eyes and quickly averted my gaze, crying even harder, but I couldnt even do that in peace. God, what had I done. I leaned my head against the seat, closing my eyes. When suddenly, I felt fingers on my knee. I shut my eyes harder, begging for it to be my imagination. But it wasnt.

'My, beautiful wife.' He drawled, tracing a finger along my jaw as his hand slid up my thigh. He sat forward, leaning towrd the drivers compartment and shut the hatch.

I opened my eyes and faced him, 'Aw, crying of joy sweetheart?' He asked, he was so delusional it was scary. I nodded, and feigned a smile which he returned lazily, then leaned in to kissed me.

I closed my eyes again, canceling out the taste and smell of liqour, shutting my ears to his voice.

And when his finger reached under my dress, It no longer felt like him. My husbands face was no longer my husbands, his voice and touch was someone elses.

All of a sudden my core was aching for more.

His kisses on my skin felt like heaven, his touch like fire and when he pulled me on top of him. I opened my eyes, and was met with blue, black and white.

Weeks went by and my thoughts never left father Barnes, whenever my husband made love to me, I made love to a priest.

Eventually his drinking subdued and he started taking care of himself, but grew more distant by the day.

It did actually make my existence bareable.

But there came a day, when I got home from work early and things were not as they should. The were heels in the doorway and clothes strewn on the floor. As I followed their trail, I found my husband and his secretary at the end of them. Naked, sweaty and monaing, in our bed, in our home. I was quiet, lost for words, but they mustve noticed my presence.

Because they stopped and threw the sheets over themselves, covering up. 'Sweetheart, its not what it seems.' He managed, struggling to clme up with an excuse. God, the stumache on that man. I felt like screaming, like cursing him and his entire bloodline. But he wasnt worth it.

I turned on my heel and he scrambled out of bed, dragging the sheet with him as he followed me out of the house, apologizing prefusely.

I shut him out, rage filling me as I got in my car and drove away. I drove to the only adress that came to mind.

I walked up to his house and knocked on the door, a few moments passed and he opened.

With wide eyes he looked at me, unable to hide his surpise. 'I uhm, I-' I stammered, my own surpise catching up to me. I hadnt had time to think this through, I acted on pure instinct. 'He cheated on me.' I got the words out, finally taking a breath as I finally understood their meaning. Misery overtook my rage, and my eyes welled as I tried to explain myself. 'I apologize for barging in on you father.' I started, 'Ive been thinking about you and I-' rambling, all my thoughts and feelings poured out of me. In the doorway of this poor mans home.

He reached out to me and pulled me into a hug, backing away from the door and let it fall shut behind me. He rested his head on top of mine as one of his hands held my head against his chest, stroking my hair. The warmth of his home embracing me.

'Can I confess something father?' I asked him as I laid my arms around him, much like our dance a few weeks ago.

'Anything.' He answered, kissing the top of my head.

'Ive sinned.'

He pulled back with a confused look on his face, but didnt let go. 'Lets hear it.' He ordered patiently.

'Ive. . . Been thinking of another man.' I whispered, looking deep into his eyes. 'During actions that should only take place between husband and wife.' I told him quietly, and his face grew pale. 'Ive had an emotional affair with this man, unbeknownst to him.' My breathing turned heavy, as my gaze switched to his lips, 'But, me and this man. Were both bound by vows you see.' I said and let go of him, understanding my words as I said them, and stepped back. Suddenly regretting coming here, as I felt rejection was imminent. 'Mine are already broken, but his are not and he cannot break them. He would not.'

'You should let the man speak for himself.' He said, serious in tone. His gaze locked in on me, as he stepped closer. 'I havent been able to stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I've tried.' He whispered, laying his hands on my hips. 'Ive never seen a woman so beautiful walking down the aisle, god himself mustve blessed you.' I snaked my hands around his shoulders, burrying them in his hair. 'Im hoping he would bless us, too.' Leaning in, his lips were a ghost over mine. 'I would care for you, in a way your husband never could. He does not deserve you.' He leaned his forehead agagaist mine, 'I'd work everyday to deserve your love, your kindness, your presence.' He said quietly against my lips, planting a gentle kiss on them and pulling back slightly to give me room. But I chased his lips, returning the kiss feverishly. Grabbing a fistful of his hair as I pulled him impossibly closer. His hands roamed my back, reaching under my shirt to undo my bra. It fell to the floor and he pulled my shirt over my head in one quick motion, making me gasp.

I removed the collar of his shirt with my teeth and ripped his black shirt open, burrying my head in the crook of his neck, 'Youre not a beginner, are you father? I asked, between kisses. Breathing heavily as I latched onto his skin, sucking at the sweet spot between his neck and collarbone.

He moaned, a smirk shaping his lips, 'Saints also sin from time to time.' he breathed, his hands falling to my ass and lifted me into his arms. I chuckled, letting go of his neck and circled my legs around his hips. I pushed my bare breasts against him and he burried his face in them, in turns taking them into his mouth. 'Where?' His voice came muffled by my skin.

'Everywhere.' I answered.

I could feel his grin against my skin, as he nipped my nipple with his teeth, making me yelp. He walked us toward his bedroom, and laid me down on his bed. He stood back, studying me as he took his shirt and pants off. I unbuttoned my own pants and shimmied out of them, raising myself onto my elbows, watching him as he took me in. His eyes roamed my body, thighs, hips, stumache, breasts. He loved all of me, 'Youre perfect.' He said, lust in his eyes as he climbed on top of me. 'I need you.' He whispered.

'You'll have me.' I told him and flipped him over. Positioning him against the headboard as I stradled his thigh, grinning wickedly and leaned forward, kissing his jaw. 'But first-' I whispered against his ear, 'I want to test your self control.' He looked confused, and I began grinding my clit against his thigh, a whimper escaping me. His hands flew to my hips to help me along, but I grabbed them and led them up to the headboard. I leveled my face with his, ghosting my lips over his as I had him hold onto the board, 'No touching.' I whispered and pecked his lips. I leaned back and my grinding resumed, I grabbed his thighs for support as the heat from the friction was making me swoon. I leaned my head back, biting my lip from the pleasure and when I looked back at him, he was holding onto the board for dear life. The muscles in his arms and jaw clenching as he fought himself to stay still, his eyes were running up and down my body.

The way your hips swayed and breasts bounced, it was sucking all the restraint out of him. His hands were itching to touch you, to just feel your skin under his fingertips for a moment. It would keep him fed for the rest of his life.

I hummed, 'Im- im gonna-' I stammered, my breaths frenzied as I was closing in on my orgasm. The crazy in his eyes made me smile devilishly, I felt evil, in the best way. My hips stuttered against his thigh, my ruts becoming faster and shorter as I was approaching my release. When I looked at him, his eyes were pleading, begging for permission, but it was to late. I rushed over the edge in a second, collapsing onto him, panting hard as I was catching my breath.

'May I?' He asked, his voice strained.

I kissed his chest and answered, 'Yes, please. You did so good.' He grunted at the praise, surprising me. He grabbed my ribs and threw me under him, hurridly kissing his way down my body until he reached my thighs. Spreading them, he kissed his way up the inside until he reached my panties. Without a second thought he ripped them apart and burried his face in my cunt. Tasting me, licking my juices, sliding his tongue through my folds and kissing my clit. A string of curses fell from my lips, as he pushed a finger inside of me, carefully sliding it in and out. Then adding another, and eventually a third, he thrusted them into me, my moaning telling him he was on the right track. He curled them into my spot and I nearly screamed.

'Just like that, good job.' I breathed and he moaned against my clit. What fun. He reached into his boxers and stroked himself, the sight made me mad. And for the second time, I came tumbling over the edge. He was not far behind, coming into his own hand, drenching himself in his seed. I grabbed his arm and pulled his hand closer to me, licking a stripe of his hand. He grunted at the sight, spurring me on as I took his fingers into my mouth. Sucking him clean as he watched, furrowing his brows, he became plagued by lust.

I pulled him closer to me, meeting his lips in another kiss as he pulled off his boxers. I reached down, stroking him as I lined him up with my entrance, 'You did such a good job, father.' His head perked at the praise, like a puppy being told hes a good boy. Gratefully pecking my face, cheek, chin and jaw, below my ear and neck. He put his weight on me, we couldnt possibly get any closer to one another. 'I need you in me father.' I told him bluntly, and leveled his head with mine, sliding inside. Kissing me mean while and I moaned into his mouth, sharing my breath with him. I laid my hands on his hips, telling him to move by pulling and pushing. Helping him set a gentle but firm pace, he lowered his head to the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. 'Let me hear you father, dont hold back.' I whispered and appreciatively he grunted against my skin, moaning in my ear. It was fiendish, it was fantastic. 'Deeper, please.' I asked, pulling on his hips to drive him deeper and using the weight of his entire body he thrusted into me, in rythm with his grunts as our bodiess moved together.

'Tell me im good, please.' He begged, nuzzling his face into my neck.

I smiled, 'Youre being so good for me father.' I whispered into his hair.

'Thank you.' He whimpered, putting even more force to his thrusts as he traced my collarbone with kisses, all the way to my shoulder, repeating "Thank you." Over and over again inbetween his kisses. His thrusts were coming faster as he was closing in on his orgasm, driving me over the edge with him. 'I- im- im close.' He stuttered faintly.

'So am I, almost there father.' His pace hastened as his hand slithered between our bodies, finding my clit and circled it. 'God' I moaned, spots specking my vision as the priests thrusts became frenzied. He pinched my skin in warning, reminding me not to take the lords name in vain. Then we came together, and he collapsed on top of me.

'Im sorry for swearing, father. You bring it out of me.' I whispered.

He chuckled, 'Youre forgiven.' Throughout the night, we made love on the couch, the floor, the kitchen table and shower.

Eventually, we got back into bed. Holding eachother tightly as we drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up late the next day, there was a vase of flowers on the bedside table with a note under it, the letter "-B" was written on it.

I unfolded it and he had written me a message, "I had to go to church, but didnt want to wake you. I hope on seeing you later, please stay if you want to. Id love to come home to you. -PS, Your favourites."

I smiled happily and smelled the bouqet of tulips, a soft, warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

For a long time love had felt dark to me, it had felt cold and lonely, but now. . .

I had let the light in, he was my light.

[reixona]

Yuu's Daily Life: With Grim!!

I already have this kind of idea for quite some time now, but only these past few days that I got time to write and do such stuffs.

Anyways, every 'chapter' of this Mini-Series will feature a different TWST character and/or multiple characters.

without further yapping, here comes the Story.

Happy Reading!!! or not

====================

The rain pounded against the windows of Ramshackle Dorm, turning the outside world into a a different shades of grey. The wind howled through the cracks in the old walls, making the wooden structure groan under its force.

Yuu pulled their blanket tighter around their shoulders and sighed, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace.

It had been a long day, longer than usual, even by Night Raven College standards.

Morning classes had been tolerable, but the afternoon had spiraled into chaos. Ace and Deuce had gotten themselves into trouble again, dragging Yuu along for the ride.

Crowley had conveniently disappeared when they needed him the most, as he always did.

By the time Yuu had returned to Ramshackle, exhausted and soaked from the rain, they barely had the energy to light the fire and collapse onto the couch.

Grim, on the other hand, was as lively as ever. The little cat-like monster sprawled out on the floor, his tail flicking lazily as he stared at the ceiling. “Ugh, this rain’s been goin’ on all day,” he grumbled, rolling onto his back. “If I get any wetter, I might just melt! Do ya know how hard it is bein’ this fluffy?”

Yuu chuckled, shifting in their blanket cocoon. “I’m sure it’s a great burden.”

“It is!” Grim huffed, rolling back onto his belly. “You wouldn’t get it, bein’ a human an’ all. You don’t gotta deal with fur maintenance.” He lifted a paw and inspected it dramatically. “That’s serious business, ya know.”

Yuu smirked. “Oh, really? Then maybe I should stop brushing you after baths.”

Grim bolted upright, his ears twitching. “Oi! That’s different!” His voice was gruff, but his tail gave a little wag. “Yer not bad at it, so I guess I’ll allow it.”

Yuu snorted, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. He leaned into their touch instinctively, though he would never admit it. The fire crackled in the silence, filling the room with a gentle warmth. Outside, the storm continued to rage, the wind rattling the old windows.

For a while, they sat in comfortable quiet. Grim eventually curled up on the floor again, tail wrapped around himself like a fluffy cinnamon roll. Yuu leaned back against the couch, staring into the fire.

“You know,” they started after a long pause, “when I first got here, I thought I’d be alone.”

Grim’s ears twitched, and he lifted his head. “Whaddaya mean?”

Yuu sighed. “I mean… I don’t belong here. No magic, no way home. Everyone else has their own place in this world, but I’m just…” They hesitated. “I figured I’d just be some extra in everyone else’s story.”

Grim was quiet for a moment. Then, with a huff, he stood up, walked over to the couch, and, without hesitation, plopped himself right onto Yuu’s lap.

“Yer not alone,” he muttered, his fur warm against their legs. “You got me.”

Yuu blinked down at him in surprise. He wasn’t looking at them, his gaze focused on the fire, but his tail was curled around their arm, and he was making a soft, barely audible purring sound.

They smiled, gently stroking his back. “Yeah,” they murmured. “I do.”

For all his bravado, Grim wasn’t the type to say things like that outright. He was loud, mischievous, and always ready to boast about how great he was.

But he had been there since day one, since the moment Yuu had woken up in this strange world. Even when everything else felt uncertain, Grim was a constant.

Yuu leaned back against the couch, relaxing for the first time that day. Grim shifted slightly, making himself more comfortable, and let out a long sigh.

“…Since we’re havin’ a moment an’ all,” he muttered, voice muffled against their blanket, “ya gotta admit somethin’, too.”

Yuu raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“That I’m the best thing that ever happened to ya,” Grim declared proudly, turning his head to look up at them. “C’mon, admit it!”

Yuu laughed, shaking their head. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Grim puffed out his chest, pleased. “’Course I am.”

The storm continued outside, but inside Ramshackle, everything felt warm. Safe. Right.

[merakiui]

ahhhhh thank you for answering my ask!!!! i have even more!!!! (this is both the anon from contractual fwb and the milking anon TT i was super tired when i sent that in lol. if you don’t have an eepy or sleepy anon feel free to dub me. also ignore the spelling mistakes my fingers are moving slower than my brain) btw this brainrot is not based on my last asks, but more on the canon of what you wrote. it’s been bouncing in my mind all day.

you thought that since azul didn’t want your relationship to be known when it was first starting that he’d not want it to be shown off either when it’s official. but you’re dead wrong! (500 mora on the fact that he just wanted to keep it on the dl so that way no one could try and break y’all’s contract up.) but no, bitch you work in the monstro lounge and you best believe that every single person who walks through those doors knows you ride his dick with how much he lets you get away with. you mess up an order? it’s met with a sigh instead of a lecture. a tables being rude to you? doenst matter how busy yall are, they’re going to someone else. you’d like to order food after last call for workers? he’ll make it himself.

ruggie’s poor ass even commented one time on how yall act like you’re married. he called you azuls work wife and all azul heard was “wife” (listen people, i don’t care what gender you are because work couple names are gender neutral. only reason you’re the so called wife in this scenario is purely because id love to call azul my husband. got it? good.) and so now azuls on this whole thing about how you’re his wife and you’re married and he refuses to respond to anything other than “my husband.” it’s a bit tiring to explain to random strangers that yes, you are too young to be married, and no, you’re not actually married to this crazy tako. but don’t worry, his silly little nicknames are still used.

you’ve practically moved into octavinel’s dormitory at this point. you sleep there nearly every night. of course you occasionally go back to ramshackle because of any slight disagreement you get into (and also ace and deuce are tired of having to babysit grim every night and that cat ain’t going near the fish dorm with a ten foot pole) which means you get woken up to a flushed azul with flowers and a roundabout half apology. you forgive him every time.

back to the marriage thing. yall really do act like you’re already married. you’ve even started helping him sort out his papers in his office instead of being in the floor. (this definitely started because you wanted more of him and he was busy so you were like fuck it i guess im in) you’re his proof reader for his contracts. he has yet to make a mistake. and if he’s in back of house you run the front, even if jade and floyd are there! he’ll never tell you this but it’s somehow a super long winded plan he created through a careful game of 5d chess to get you to own a business together that’s completely unnecessary because you would’ve said yes to co-owning a restaurant.

he’s so happy his pretty work wife wants to run the lounge with him. and it’s definitely not so he can tie you down more to him because we know he’d love you to live the sugar baby lifestyle—oh no not at all. his tells his mommy about it and she ends up requesting to meet you. he wouldn’t sent her a quick no if you didn’t put your hand on your hip and raise your eyebrow. he finds it just as sexy as you batting your pretty lashes up at him but he’ll never tell you. he has a thing for boss lady’s.

(bbg if you want more i’ll deadass ramble to you about how i think meeting his mom would go. i have sooooo many thoughts on this au it’s genuinely concerning)

AAAAA EEPY ANON!!!! You have blessed me with your brilliant thoughts once more (that milking ask was so delicious btw.... I need him clinging to me!!!!!).

Handing over that 500 mora to you because you're right LOL. Stingy tako did not want to share or publicize your relationship because he just knew in his soul that someone would try to get in the way of your contract...... he covers all of his bases in the most meticulous ways. >_< so silly...

AAAAAA THE WORK WIFE/WORK HUSBAND DYNAMIC WITH HIM!!!!! This is so true!!!!! He spoils you so much. Ruggie is very right to make that observation. <3 Azul is so lenient with you and it's so obvious he's down bad for you. Insisting on making food for you even though you were just planning to take leftovers. So quick to forgive you if you make a mistake, and Floyd whines about how Azul's not like that whenever he messes up. >:( you really are his work wife and one day hopefully his real wife and it will say so on the legal documents and you'll get his surname and and and !!!!!!

Omg Azul and his 5D chess plans........ oh, he is so over the moon when you show interest in the lounge and wanting to help out... he melts if you give him a shoulder massage while he writes up contracts. >:D can he just marry you right now already!!! OTL I love the idea of him folding whenever you do something he finds attractive. Batting your lashes, hands on your hips, every playful glance, etc etc....... somehow he ends up folding so hard for you that it gets you a trip to the Coral Sea to meet his parents, and his mother and the restaurant staff fawn over you and Azul's partnership. Such a cute couple. They adore you. Azul thinks this is the most blue he's ever looked because he's so embarrassed, yet you soak in their attention like a thirsty flower. Even more embarrassing when you're sleeping in his childhood room and you tease him for it. He is definitely fucking you in that cramped sleeping nook and you're going to fall asleep wrapped up in his tentacles, the both of you clinging to each other.

(please ramble as much as you want!!!! I love these thoughts so much,,, contractual fwb with Azul will always be one of my favorites hehe. I need to know how the meeting with his mother goes...... AAAAAAA)

[lonesomedovescry]

Why did the grief taste like salt and iron?

You washed gritty bits of sand out of your mouth with a slug of whiskey. The burn warmed you from you deep in your stomach, spreading to your half-frozen toes. Your tent did little to nothing to spare you from the Grizzly chill, and your blankets cared just as much to keep you warm.

It had been months since the fallout of the San Denis Bank robbery. The camp fell into chaos and in your hurry to find Arthur yourself, you had lost everyone in camp as well as your lover. Your friends. Your family. They were as good as gone. Your search of Shady Belle proved fruitless, and your hunt for folks had turned you North.

Not a whisper. Not a word.

You stood up, back popping with satisfying cracks, and began to dress for another day’s ride. Off to strawberry, to sell the wolf pelts that lay rolled on the inside of your tent. The last buckle is fastened and you step out into the chill moisture of dawn, where a watercolor wash of blue tints the landscape.

You approach your mare with whispered words of greeting and feed her the remainder of your apples. You’d have to go to the grocery store while you were there as well. A twinge of pain as you remember the last time you were there with Arthur — he had bought you a new pair of boots. Deep brown leather, ornate stitching, and slightly pointed at the toe.

A small ‘A’ was branded onto both heels.

The ride to Strawberry was peaceful despite the distant roar of bears. Unlike the chaotic streets of San Denis you rarely had to concern yourself with the danger of passing people. It was the wolves and the mountain lions you had to be wary of, and it was easy enough to put a bullet between their eyes before they got too much meat off of you.

Men had a hunger for much more. In the wild, you can trust that the animals only want one thing.

You told Arthur as much on one of the evening rides to a nearby wildflower meadow the both of you were fond with. His grim agreement sent chills down your spine, the dark flickering of rage in his eyes, a look you so rarely had seen before.

You thought of his face as you stowed away your wares from the grocery store. The boyish sweetness he had somehow clung onto despite years of robbing and killing. The softness of his turquoise eyes whenever he looked at you, the shape of his sinful mouth. The scars that flecked his aging skin. Every fine line was perfectly where it should be.

He would laugh riotously when provoked. The sound of it had always brought water to your eyes.

“Hey, you!”

A voice snapped you at your of your daze. A haggard looking man strode down the narrow street, pock marked face flush with the kiss of liquor.

“You lookin’ for somebody?”

“Who’s asking?” You replied.

“Some gentlemen paid me to keep an eye out for you.” The man replied. “Told me to tell you all roads lead back to Valentine.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What’d this man look like?”

“Tall. Brown hair and beard. Blue eyes.” The man got a faraway look in his gaze, as if he was going back to that very moment. “Scar on his chin. Paid me quite a lot, told me to lay off the booze in the meantime so I wouldn’t miss ya, but I found ya didn’t I? Ole’ Itchy still sharp as a needle even a pint deep. I always had a —“

But you stopped listening, the roar of blood in your ears. He was talking about Arthur.

He was looking for you.

You have Itchy a quick thanks and freed your mare from the post before launching yourself into the saddle. A quick press of your heels and the mare was barreling forward and out of the streets of Strawberry, dust and curses of townsfolk on her tail.

You could’ve wept from the joy. You could’ve wept from the relief.

But you didn’t. You kept your face as hard as stone as you worked your mare as hard as you could, sweat lathering on her flank, hooves drumming a rhythm into the ground. The ground between Strawberry and Valentine was devoured and soon the smell of lanolin and manure came onto the wind.

The blur of the train station. The shape of the hillside church.

You ground the mare to a stop and tied her near a trough to let her cool down. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Where could he be? You looked around you, eyes darting left and right, taking in everything yet nothing. You barely saw the faces of the people around you yet you knew none of them was Arthur. You’d know him if you had died.

“Y/N?”

That voice. You snapped around, heart in your throat.

“Arthur?” You called, still unseeing. Your voice was shaking as if afraid. Adrenaline was turning your blood to sugar water.

“Y/N!”

There, at the end of the street, racing past the saloon. His face was red and puckered by the sun, and his hair was much longer, but it was him. It was Arthur. You felt like flying suddenly — weightless. The closer he came to you, the more you couldn’t move.

When he was only a few paces away your knees buckled and you fell to the ground, knees hitting the dirt with a bark of pain, and then he was there with you. Warm hands grabbed the sides of your face and beheld you for his searching gaze. The desperation and relief in his features broke the damn inside you and you began to cry.

“Arthur.” You whimpered, and reached for him. Arthur laughed breathlessly and kissed you hard, teeth clashing. Again. And again. And again. He kissed your face, drew his arms to your waist and crashed your body against his. One large hand cradled the back of your head, the other on your waist, and for a moment you both sat together in the street and trembled in relief.

—-

YEARNING

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part ten

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Ten - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2.3k

"Look at that, yeah. See them big old hands coming through? Is there not a one-hundred-nothing inside that?" Or at least that’s what I think he said. It’s hard to tell over the roar of the wind whipping through the open windows, his thick accent muddling the words, and the cramped space in the backseat where Logan and I are squeezed together. My focus is elsewhere, drawn to Logan, who stares out the window with that familiar, distant expression, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He always seems to have something on his mind, and I can’t help but wonder what it is this time.

The car ride to Cassandra’s lair is pure chaos. Elektra grips the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity, her eyes sharp as she navigates the treacherous terrain. The engine growls in protest as we barrel down the uneven road, jostling everyone inside. Laura, Blade, and Gambit are crammed into the backseat with us, their bodies pressed against one another, while Wade rides shotgun, his usual irreverence barely contained.

Up ahead, Johnny flies through the sky, a streak of flame cutting across the clouds as he scouts for any signs of trouble. His flames cast flickering shadows on the ground below, illuminating the path as we race toward our destination.

Deadpool breaks the tense silence, his voice cutting through the wind. “What Gambit’s trying to say is getting Juggernaut’s helmet ain’t gonna be easy. I’m just making stuff up with this.”

Blade doesn’t miss a beat. “Gun.”

Deadpool glances back, spotting the massive firearm Blade has in his hands. “Where do you get that little beauty?”

Elektra’s voice is cold and steady. “That’s the Punisher’s ’84.”

A split second later, the car jolts violently as Blade fires the gun out the window. The force of the shot nearly deafens me, and I flinch as the blast tears through the giant, skeletal hands of Ant-Man, shredding them into a shower of bone fragments. The car skids to a stop, screeching to a halt within the crook of his shattered arms, which now lay lifeless and splintered around us.

We all clamber out of the car, the scent of gunpowder and burnt metal lingering in the air. As we gather ourselves, my eyes are drawn upward to the horde of mutant variants that have gathered to protect Cassandra. They stand like an army ready to defend their queen. High above, Cassandra watches from the eye of a massive skull, her silhouette dark and menacing.

Blade’s grin is feral, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Gambit cracks his knuckles, a wild gleam in his purple eyes. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Whoo, I’m about to make a name for myself here.”

Logan’s expression darkens, and he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, his knuckles brushing against my elbow. I return his gaze with a sad smile.

“I don’t think you guys walk away from this,” Logan mutters, his voice low and filled with a grim certainty.

Gambit grins, unperturbed. “You just make sure people know what happened here today. When you get out of here, you have a drink for me, yeah?”

Blade steps forward, his tone commanding. “You guys stay on our six, get inside. We’ll make sure you get the package.”

Elektra nods, her gaze steely. “Then we’ll get our ending.”

As if on cue, Johnny lands beside me, his flames flickering out as he touches down. “They’re toast,” he says with a smirk.

I cringe at his words. “You did not just say that.”

He just laughs, but the laughter is cut short as the shouting begins. The battlefield erupts into chaos, a cacophony of clashing blades and explosive gunfire. I charge into the fray, my blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. I sweep my legs over an opponent, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone as I drive my blade into their chest. The adrenaline pumps through my veins as I move with deadly grace, each strike calculated, each move precise.

A vision flashes in my mind, warning me of an enemy approaching from behind. I pivot on my heel, spinning just in time to deflect their attack and drive my blade into their heart. The battle rages on for what feels like an eternity, my body moving on instinct as I cut down one foe after another. Azrael appears before me, his eyes burning with a malevolent fire. We clash again and again, the power of our strikes sending shockwaves through the ground. But I’m faster, and after a brutal exchange, I manage to land a few hits, weakening him just enough to create an opening.

Wade, Logan, and I sprint through the chaos, slipping past the front lines and into the mouth of the skull, where Cassandra awaits. The interior of the skull is dimly lit, the air thick with the stench of decay. Cassandra reclines in a chair, her posture relaxed, a delicate cup of tea in her hand. She looks every bit the picture of calm amid the storm raging outside.

“You three escaping I could live with,” Cassandra says, her voice dripping with condescension. “But coming back, willingly. You’re so silly.”

Deadpool’s voice is strained, his usual bravado tempered by exhaustion. “I just need to get home.”

Cassandra’s smile is cold and devoid of warmth. “Well, that’s not on the menu, I’m afraid. It’s death or enslavement, a la carte, of course. Up!” With a flick of her wrist, Wade is flung into the air, his body slamming into the ceiling with a sickening crunch. He crashes to the floor, groaning in pain as Cassandra turns her gaze on me.

“I think you may be of use,” she muses, her eyes narrowing as she studies me.

Before I can react, she flicks her wrist again, sending a searing pain through my skull. I fall to my knees, clutching my head as the agony intensifies, my vision blurring to white. My mind feels like it’s being torn apart, but just as quickly as it started, the pain stops, leaving me gasping for breath.

“Stay,” Cassandra commands, and I feel my muscles lock into place, immobilizing me where I kneel. My head and neck the only thing I can move.

“It’s nice to give someone else a chance to talk,” she says, motioning towards Wade, who is still groaning in pain on the floor.

Logan’s eyes blaze with fury as he charges at her, claws extended. “Not my strong suit,” he growls.

But Cassandra is faster. With a wave of her hand, she redirects his attack, forcing him to stab his own legs. Logan collapses, blood seeping through his jeans as he gasps in pain. I flinch, unable to bear the sight, and turn away.

Cassandra circles Logan, her curiosity piqued. “You are an interesting one, aren’t you? I do feel like you get lost behind all of this,” she says, gesturing vaguely around her. “Deadpools are a dime a dozen here in The Void. But you, what’s going on in here?” She taps his forehead lightly, her fingers pressing into his skull.

Logan’s pained screams echo through the chamber as she delves into his mind. I close my eyes, trying to block out the sound, but it’s impossible. The anguish in his voice cuts through me, and I grit my teeth, fighting against the hold she has on me.

“Not what I expected back here,” Cassandra murmurs, her tone almost gentle. “You’re hiding from them, from all the ones you let down. So much pain. My little animal.”

Her words ignite a fury deep within me. Logan has spent his whole life being treated like an animal, caged and forced to fight for survival. The anger surges through me, and I struggle against the invisible bonds holding me in place.

I catch sight of Laura throwing down a bag, and Wade, now healed, slowly approaches it. My heart races as I realize what he’s about to do. I stop resisting, instead focusing on keeping Cassandra’s attention on Logan as Wade retrieves Juggernaut’s helmet. I hold my breath as he steps closer and slams the helmet onto her head, gripping her arms tightly as she screams in rage, recoiling from Logan.

Wade’s voice is a deadly whisper. “You’re gonna send us home, then I’m gonna twist your fucking head off.”

Cassandra laughs, the sound sharp and grating. “Why are you laughing?” I ask, a cold dread settling in my stomach.

“I can’t send you unless you get this thing off my head,” Cassandra explains, her voice dripping with malice. “And as soon as you do that, I’m going to boil your brains on an atomic level whilst flicking my bean. Either you kill me, or I kill you. Both wonderful options.”

Deadpool tightens his grip. “You want me to do it?”

Logan shakes his head. “No, I’ll do it.”

Deadpool scoffs. “I have her neck right here, it’s really no problem.”

Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade, his words sharp and unyielding. “You’ll screw it up.”

Deadpool rolls his eyes, exasperation lacing his tone. “Oh, come on, Mr. PG-13, it’s the last one.” His usual bravado feels almost forced, like he’s trying to break through the thick atmosphere hanging over the group.

Suddenly, a gunshot rips through the air, loud and jarring. My heart lurches in my chest, skipping a beat as the sound reverberates around us. 

“No, no, no,” I whisper, my voice trembling with panic. The horror of what’s just happened begins to sink in.

Pyro stands there, his hand still clutching the smoking gun, his expression a mix of defiance and desperation. He’s shot Cassandra. The blood spreads quickly across her clothes, a stark contrast to her pale skin.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” Pyro stammers, his voice shaking as he tries to justify his actions. “Day after day, ‘shovel the shit,’ ‘fetch the meats.’ I have spent my entire exist—”

But Logan doesn’t let him finish. With a brutal efficiency, he silences Pyro with a single, powerful punch. The force of it sends Pyro crumpling to the ground, his words cut off as his body hits the floor.

Logan’s eyes are cold, almost detached, as he looks down at Pyro. “Not everyone gets a speech,” he says flatly, his tone devoid of any sympathy. “She’s gonna die.”

Deadpool, trying to diffuse the situation, steps forward, his voice taking on a slightly desperate edge. “Okay, hey, if I take this helmet off, you promise you won’t kill us?”

Cassandra, even as she bleeds out, doesn’t miss a beat. Her voice, though weaker, is still laced with that same venomous edge. “I promise I will kill her first.”

Logan’s growl is low, menacing, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. 

Deadpool throws up his hands in frustration. “Why are you like this?”

Cassandra sighs, the sound almost wistful. “I wish I knew.”

“Take it off,” Logan orders, his voice brooking no argument.

Deadpool looks at him, confused. “What?”

My eyes dart between Cassandra and Logan, anxiety gnawing at my insides. “Logan, she said she’ll kill me. I don’t like that idea.”

But Logan remains calm, his gaze steady as he meets mine. “Trust me. Take it off.”

Deadpool presses, his voice tinged with doubt. “Why?”

I take a deep breath, the tension in the air almost suffocating. After a moment, I nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Take it off.”

Deadpool hesitates, his usual confidence faltering. “This is our only chance to fix our shit.”

Logan snaps, his patience fraying. “Take it off! I am wearing this suit. And that means a lot of things, but most of all, it means I’m an X-Man. I am the X-Man. And I know your brother. As much as I want to fucking kill you—every bone in my body wants to fucking kill you—he would not let me stand here and watch you die. Take your hands off. This is for him. This is for Charles.”

With deliberate movements, Logan removes the helmet, the gesture heavy with significance.

Cassandra’s expression softens, her voice losing some of its harshness. “My brother loved you.”

Logan nods, his voice quiet, filled with a deep, unspoken emotion. “He loved all of us.”

Cassandra sighs, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “Hmm. Must be nice.”

Logan’s voice is steady, filled with quiet conviction. “He would have loved you too. If he knew about you, if he knew where you were, he would have torn a hole in the fucking universe to bring you home.”

Cassandra’s smile turns bitter, her eyes darkening. “This is home.”

Logan’s gaze is intense, almost pleading. “Then at least let us save his.”

Cassandra’s eyes flicker with something almost like understanding. “You wanna hear something crazy?” she says, her tone shifting. “An amateur magician roamed through here a while back. I killed him, of course, wore his skin around for four days. But I found this little trinket on his lovely fingers.”

With a flourish, she begins to open a portal, the swirling energy forming a glowing circle.

Deadpool’s eyes widen in amazement. “Strange. Marvel’s sparkle circle.”

Logan eyes the portal warily. “What is that?”

Cassandra smirks, the glint of mischief returning to her gaze. “This is your way home. I do owe you for saving my life, but let’s keep things interesting. I’d say you have about four seconds before your life’s through.”

Wade grins. “Race you!”

Without hesitation, the three of us bolt toward the rapidly closing portal, the adrenaline surging through my veins. We leap through it just in time, the sensation of free-falling overwhelming as the portal closes behind me, leaving us to face whatever awaits on the other side.

Next Part

A/N: Boring chapter imo but i have big plans tehe

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[gs29]

Red Light, Green Light: Baby Edition

Squid Game Master list It was a surprisingly calm afternoon on the island. The usual haunting echoes of silence were replaced by the soft sound of wind rustling the leaves and the distant laughter of Joon, your baby, who had managed to make the playground his new domain. He had already explored every corner of the sandbox, taken a ride down the slide, and made several attempts to climb the swing set. He was a curious little thing, always on the move, much to the dismay of the usually stoic guards who were tasked with watching over him.

Today, the guards had decided to introduce a bit of fun into their duties. They had witnessed your son’s growing energy and curiosity and figured—why not teach him a game? Red Light, Green Light.

The idea had come from one of the younger guards, who had remembered how his siblings used to play the game back in the day. The thought of getting a baby involved in it was definitely a stretch, but they were willing to give it a shot. After all, Joon’s giggles and innocent eyes had made the otherwise grim island seem just a little bit brighter.

The guards, lined up at one end of the playground, stood in their typical formation—rigid, military-like. But today, they weren’t standing at attention, ready for combat. No, today, they were ready to play. And they were going to teach Joon the rules.

"Okay, so here’s how it goes," said one of the more senior guards, crouching down to Joon’s eye level. The baby, crawling toward him with a curious gaze, had no idea what was going on but clearly loved the attention. "When we say 'Green Light,' you move forward, okay? And when we say 'Red Light,' you have to stop."

The baby giggled, his little hands reaching up as if trying to grasp the guard’s explanation. He looked like he was ready to start moving, but the guard, unsure how much the baby actually understood, just smiled gently and ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, Joon, you got this,” said another guard, equally as amused by the situation. He was always the more lighthearted one of the group, and his teasing tone made it clear that this was a fun break from their usual tasks.

At the opposite end of the playground, another guard stood, hands on his hips, trying to make the “starting line” official. "Alright, Joon," he called out. “We’re ready when you are!”

Joon, who had already started crawling towards the nearest toy, paused, looking up at the group of towering, masked figures. For a moment, he seemed to understand the importance of the game—at least, he recognized that everyone was staring at him. A tiny grin spread across his face, and with a determined squint, he began to move toward them.

"Green Light!" the guards called out in unison.

Joon, delightfully oblivious to the rules, crawled forward at full speed. His little legs wobbled with excitement, and he reached the halfway point of the playground with impressive speed. The guards, who had expected a little more confusion, found themselves laughing as Joon powered ahead, determined to "win."

"Green Light!" one of the guards cheered, only to be met with Joon speeding up, as though he were in an actual race.

"Red Light!" another guard shouted, and everyone froze in place.

The baby, caught mid-crawl, looked up in complete confusion. He had no idea what just happened but was perfectly happy to keep moving. His little legs gave a few more determined pushes forward, but when he noticed that everyone had stopped, he too halted, looking between the still figures and the empty space ahead of him. The sight was so innocent, so pure, that it made even the toughest of the guards chuckle.

“Joon, stop!” one of the guards called softly, trying not to laugh. But the baby seemed to be doing his own thing. He remained frozen for all of two seconds before a loud giggle escaped his tiny lips, and he started crawling again, completely ignoring the "Red Light" command.

"Green Light, I guess," another guard said with a smile, unable to contain his laughter. "He’s just too fast."

The moment was heartwarming, the guards struggling to keep up their stoic appearances while watching Joon's unfiltered joy. The rules of the game didn’t matter to him—he wasn’t playing to win, he was simply playing for the fun of it.

“Alright, alright,” the senior guard said, shaking his head with a grin. “Let’s try it again.”

The group readied themselves, calling out, “Green Light!” in a sing-song manner. Joon, now fully aware that he was the center of attention, started crawling again, but this time, he turned his head to look back at the guards. He paused and giggled to himself, then turned and slowly, dramatically, started heading toward the slide instead of the line of guards.

“Red Light!” a guard shouted quickly.

But Joon wasn’t listening. Instead, he moved around the playground, climbing toward the slide as though the game didn’t apply to him. The guards exchanged confused looks.

“Where’s he going?” one of the guards asked, still crouched down.

“Maybe he thinks he’s the one in charge now,” another guard said, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh.

The baby, now fully at the base of the slide, tried to pull himself up. His tiny hands grasped the metal structure as he made little determined grunting noises.

“Guess he’s trying to start his own game now,” one of the guards remarked. “That’s not how it works, buddy.”

But instead of stopping him, the guards only watched, entertained by how Joon was turning the situation into a spectacle all his own. After a few more moments of climbing the slide, Joon looked back at them with that same adorable grin, as if to say, “This is more fun than the game!”

“Alright, I think we’ve lost him to the slide,” the guard chuckled. “But at least he’s having fun.”

As they all circled around, unsure whether they should keep playing or let Joon have his way, Gong Yoo appeared from the distance, walking toward the playground with you by his side. The sight of Joon at the slide, with the entire squad of guards standing around, their hands on their knees, clearly exasperated but happy, made you both pause.

You exchanged a look with Gong Yoo, then smiled, your heart swelling with love. "Well, I think he's having a good time."

“You know, he’s definitely the one in charge here,” Gong Yoo said with a small laugh.

The guards, still trying to get Joon back in line, were now laughing openly, enjoying the chaos more than any drill they’d ever been part of. Joon, ever the little leader, sat proudly on top of the slide, glancing down at the world below.

One of the guards raised his hand. “I think we need more practice.”

Another guard nodded solemnly. “Yeah, maybe next time we should teach him the rules before we play.”

And so, the game continued with more laughter and little Joon running the show, completely unaware of the world around him. The island, for once, didn’t feel like a place of cold rules and grim faces. It felt like a playground—warm, filled with the sound of innocent joy, and full of moments that made everyone, even the most hardened guards, feel just a little bit more human.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Country Rose 1

Warnings: age gap, power dynamics, creep behaviour, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

The train ride leaves you stiff and sleepy. You couldn’t sleep on the long trek, your eyes devouring the scenery as it shifted from urban to rural, from the grim hues of morning to the pale tones of a stolid afternoon. Time and distance skews together and you step onto the platform thoroughly disoriented. If you can call it that. 

The country dust tickles your nose as the lazy winds stir. The station is old, its wooden panel outdated and crooked, and the slats beneath your feet are splintering. You’re the only passenger to depart at that outpost. You’re not surprised. 

What surprises you is that you’re all alone. The station is empty and the landscape is flat and sprawling. The train chugs away without a care. You give a sheepish cringe and look back and forth aimlessly. Well, then. 

You take out your phone and shield the screen from the sun. You’re a bit paranoid you got the wrong stop. You turn this way and that as the bars in the corner flicker. Great, no signal. 

An engine rumbles from afar and you squint as you lower your cell. Down the grey road, rolls a large blue pickup truck. As it pulls up, you spot the scatter of dirt across the paint and the dents in the bumper. It’s a farm truck if you ever saw one. 

You stare at it as the gears crank and the vehicle shakes as it idles. A man pokes his head out the window and calls your name. You bat your lashes as you perk up. His dark hair is neatly trimmed yet the lock at the front can’t help but spiral over his forehead. His blue eyes compete with the shining coat on the truck. 

“That’s me,” you hitch up your pack and cross the dirt. 

“Sorry, there was a cow in the road,” he snorts as he hops out and approaches, hand out, “I’m Clark.” 

“Right, Clark,” you smile as you shake his hand. When your aunt said he was her friend, you expected someone older. Especially with that name. 

“You’ll have to call Jeanette when we get to the farm,” he says as he stops before you, staring expectantly, “I’ll take your bag.” 

“Oh, right, thanks,” you swing it off your arm and hand it over. He takes it effortlessly and carries it to the bed of the truck. You’ve heard that farmers are wellbuilt but damn, he’s huge. “So, how did you know my Aunt?” 

“Funny, I bought a quilt off of her. She came down this way with a quilting show. You know, I have a bunch my ma made me,” he drops your bag over the side into the back of the truck, “but she’s got arthritis and can’t do much sewing anymore.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Not your fault,” he rounds the hood and beckons you after him. He’s as old-fashioned as everything else around here as he opens the door at your approach, “she’s doing well otherwise.” 

“Hm, well, thanks for... having me,” you grab onto the door and lift yourself into the cabin, “oof, uh,” you fall into the seat and look at him, “I know it’s kinda of... awkward.” 

“Stars align is how I see it,” he shrugs. “My farmhand took off to get married to some gal in the city and you need a job.” 

“Well, that’s a nice way of putting it,” you snicker. 

He smiles and nods, “watch yourself.” 

You tuck your limbs in as he shuts the door. He strides around to the driver’s side and gets in easily. He shifts into gear and spins the wheel to back away from the tracks, “well, what’s the not nice way of putting it?” 

“Ah, uh, I... my parents told me I need to figure out what to do with myself and Aunt Jeanette overheard so... guess you got the call.” 

“No school?” He wonders as he straightens the wheel and steers back to the road. 

“Not anymore,” you exhale, “I liked it, really, but my grades weren’t... exceptional.” 

“Don’t need school to make a living. Not if you can find a good skill,” he assures. “I got a journalism degree, you know? Lotta good it does me on the bookshelf.” 

“Journalism?” You echo, “that’s... exciting. I was trying to do biology but think I may have done better as an arts student.” 

“Biology, wow,” he comments. “Well, you know, you’re young, you got time to figure it out.” 

“Yeah, I hope...” you murmur, “so, ahem, what exactly am I doing? I don’t know if I’m built to throw hay bales.” 

He laughs, “you leave that to me. As long as you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, you’ll do just fine. I mean, if you came all the way down here, I take that as a good sign. That’s dedication. A step in the right direction.” 

“That’s very optimistic of you,” you give a brittle chuckle. 

“You city girls, you’re all so cynical,” he muses. “Take everything so serious. Things don’t move fast enough to be serious around here.” 

“Mm, I guess not,” you sniff, “so, erm, your mom, she live with you?” 

“She does,” he answers, “she needs a lot of help. I’m sorry, er, did Jeanette not explain--” 

“Explain? She said I’d be helping out with your farm.” 

He smiles, tight-lipped as he drives into the sunlight, “you will be, yeah. Mostly, with my mom, she needs company.” 

“Makes sense,” you nod. “That’s fine. I mean, I’m kinda relieved. I don’t know about horses. They look like they bite.” 

“They can,” he scoffs, “just keep your hands flat.” 

[luckymousey]

Thoughts about Ace's dream (parts 245-248) (mostly things I liked)

THEY FINALLY UPLOADED ACE’S DREAM BABYYYYYYYYYY

First of all, to be honest, when I first saw the snap in Tumblr I thought: wait, didn’t the Stitch event end already?🤨 and then I realized it was his dream.

Let’s start!

⚠️ English is not my first language, and there are spoilers⚠️

There might be some spelling mistakes

Cater filming everything with his phone through the whole ride, I just love how he’s still himself (Honestly, I feel that not a single student of Heartslabyul would feel dizzy because of the traveling, yk, they’re based off Alice in Wonderland, and Alice fell through a hole, I’m sure they would feel dizzy by others things, not something that’s similar to a roller coaster ride) and then he says: ah, but Grimmy was shouting too loudly and the wind is annoying, I need to put music to hide it 😔

I also love the fact that he takes photos of everything even knowing that the photos aren’t in his real phone (I hope they find a way to recover the photos for Cater)

When Sebek asked if Ace is from Sunset Savanna I was like: wait, weren’t they friends? How could he not know? And then I realized i had been looking at too many fanarts of the first year gang *slaps forehead*

Honestly, I’m impressed by how much knowledge this guys have, when Deuce said that Ace lived near the capital of the Kingdom of Roses, Leona started talking about how it was not possible for them to have an ocean near (maybe I’m too dumb to know things like these, maybe not)

Grim getting disappointed that it was a dream, he really wanted to have holidays the 365 days of the year 😂 (my baby son is so cute)

Cater saying that he knew skateboarding and surfing, I don’t know, I just LOVED that fact, even more, I’ve a headcanon of the TWST actor AU I wrote some time ago that says that both Leona and Cater use their brooms like surfboards while filming because they go surfing together during summer.

I love that we got to know more about Cater

Idia’s comment right after Cater explained why he liked those hobbies, he’s like a narrator inside the book, but instead of talking to the public, he talks to himself

AND RIGHT AFTER THAT HIS OWN BROTHER SNITCHES ON HIM, HAHAHA, I just couldn’t stop myself from laughing when he said Idia also made himself a small boat (the video I saw was in Spanish and it said “barca”, which means boat in English, I’m not sure if the game referred it as a literal boat tho) (but the reference is good tho)

And Idia’s wish? Riding a shopping cart through a home goods store? I also wish for that, Idia, a lot of people wish doing that, you’re not alone, my man.

When Idia got scared because Cater reminded him of the time when he kidnapped Riddle and others with a smile, he just started stuttering, so cute (his actions weren’t cute tho)

ACE MAKES HIS APPEARANCE, YES BABYYYYYYYY (I love him so much 😭)

Idk why, but I just love when the characters shout at people, like calling them from afar, and Ace nailed it

It seems like the Lilo and Stitch event doesn’t happen in the original timeline, because everyone was so surprised (even Yuu has the option to make a comment about his shirt or his sunglasses)

Honestly, I never, EVER, thought about the fruit that was on Ace’s shoulder until Grim pointed it out, I swear to you all that I started laughing once I imagined someone having to walk with those and couldn’t stop until I remembered I still had to watch the episode (and now I got another headcanon for the actor AU 😈)

AND NOW RIDDLE APPEARSSSSSS

I loved when he went like: “don’t overdo it, got it, Ace?” And then everyone was like: “YOU ARE ALREADY OVERDOING IT!” I think they thought Ace’s imagination was too powerful

When Cater pointed out that Riddle was showing his bellybutton, it reminded me of that meme of: SHOW US YOUR ANKLE, SHOW US YOUR ANKLE (we’re talking about Riddle here, I wouldn’t be surprised if he got flustered about naked skin)

I realized that Riddle is kind of naive, because he says: “Ace told me this was a formal attire for an island” and he just did as he was told, my poor boy, one day, you’re getting pranked

And then he slowly approaches Cater and whispers (which made him look sooooo cute) him if he looks weird (NO MY BABY, YOU DON’T, 10 OUT OF 10, YOU’RE SLAYING MY QUEEN), HE LOOKED LIKE A BABY ASKING HIS OLDER BROTHER FOR ADVICES

Considering both Silver and Sebek are in the same club as Riddle (in one of Ruggie’s cards, Sebek even got punished by him while doing club activities) their surprise is understandable

One thing I didn’t really like is that we didn’t get to see fake!Trey or fake!Cater wearing new outfits 🥹

I know they all wear makeup, but for someone reason my eyes couldn’t stop looking at their eyes, they are all so fucking gorgeous, ugh

Honestly, does someone here knows if Cater is rich or not? Because they also mention that Cater was the one who rented the private island (I know it’s a dream, but who knows) maybe it’s because of his father’s job?

And Cater immediately getting into his role, he knows what he’s doing, he’s so smart, I love him.

When Ace suggests getting changed because he doesn’t like seeing the school uniform Leona said (I’m not quoting from the game): “we’re BUSY” I felt it was more like: “I want to get over this bullshit and take a nap”

THE WAY ACE WAS SMILING WHEN HE ANNOUNCED THE REASON OF THE CELEBRATION, that is the same smile he has when something good happens to him, but knowing what’s going to happen next, I just couldn’t help it🥲

I also realized how much I like when a lot of characters shout at the same time, it’s nice to hear

The part where Ace denied when Trey said how they would get sad talking about Yuu leaving, I know you’re just a tsundere, accept it, Trappola I’m still not prepared for that part

In the video Idia says: “I could be hit by a extroverted lighting” I’m just loving everyhting Idia says

I got sad when Ortho said there was no point in attacking him, I wanted to see Ace getting bullied (don’t hate on me, it’s just karma doing its job)

I would’ve loved if Jack and Epel were there too

Ace was talking like a salesman: “we got pink shirt here, and then a yellow one, and then a blue one” I just can’t with him 😂

We can’t see what is really happening between the characters (like, two characters could be hugging but we aren’t able to see it because this is not an anime, yet) but I believe Grim took Ace by his hair, pulled it and shouted in his ear to make him clear they were in a dream, YOU’RE DOING GREAT BABY, SHOW HIM WHO THE REAL BOSS IS

Aaaaand, we made it until here, no matter how many times I say it, I’m not prepared to reach that part

[novaursa]

Legacy (the pyre)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: castle black

- Next part: of snow

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal

The icy air of Castle Black was sharp and biting, but it did nothing to temper the fire in your veins. The courtyard was eerily silent, save for the crackling of the massive pyre that had been constructed in its center. Snow fell gently, the flakes catching the golden glow of the flames that now licked at the edges of the wooden platform.

Before the pyre stood the men who had betrayed Jon Snow—Alliser Thorne, Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwyck, and the boy Olly, along with several others who had participated in the mutiny. Their hands were bound, their faces pale and tight with fear. Some muttered prayers to the Seven and the Old Gods; others stared ahead defiantly, their fates sealed.

Above them all loomed Viserion, her pale gold and cream scales glinting in the firelight as she shifted restlessly, her massive wings stirring the air. Her eyes burned with an intelligence and ferocity that made the gathered men tremble. The dragon’s low growl reverberated through the courtyard, a promise of what was to come.

You stood tall before the pyre, your silver hair whipping in the wind, your violet eyes cold and unyielding. The snow melted as it touched the heat of the flames, steam rising around you like a shroud.

“This is justice,” you declared, your voice carrying over the crackling fire and the muffled sobs of the condemned. “You betrayed your sworn brother, a man who sought only to protect you. You plunged your blades into the man I called my son. And for that, you will burn.”

Alliser Thorne, standing at the forefront, glared at you with unbroken defiance. “You call this justice?” he spat, his voice hoarse but strong. “This is vengeance. You’re no better than a Wildling queen, riding a beast of flame and fury.”

You stepped closer, your expression hardening. “You think yourself noble, Alliser? You who killed a man in the dark, surrounded by cowards? You think you can shame me with your words?” You gestured to the pyre. “This is mercy compared to what you deserve.”

Olly, the youngest among them, whimpered, his eyes wide with terror. His fear tugged at something deep within you, but you pushed it aside. He had made his choice, just as the others had.

Raising your voice, you called out to your dragon. “Dracarys!”

Viserion let out a deafening roar, her neck arching gracefully as she reared back. The air grew unbearably hot as fire erupted from her maw, a torrent of golden flames that engulfed the pyre and the men bound to it. Their screams pierced the night, a terrible, haunting sound that echoed across the Wall. The flames danced higher, consuming everything in their path, as the snow melted into slush beneath your feet.

The assembled men of Castle Black stood in stunned silence, some looking away while others watched with grim faces. Justice, vengeance, or horror—it was all the same to them now.

As the screams faded and the fire roared, Davos Seaworth burst into the courtyard, his face pale and drawn, his breath visible in the cold air. He pushed his way through the onlookers, his eyes wide with urgency as he called out to you.

“My lady!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the crackle of flames. “You must come back inside! At once!”

You turned sharply, the cold expression on your face softening into confusion. “What is it, Ser Davos?”

“It’s Jon!” he exclaimed, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place—fear, hope, disbelief. “The Red Woman… she’s done something. You need to see this.”

Your heart lurched, your breath catching in your throat. Without another word, you spun on your heel and began striding toward the keep, the heat of the pyre and the cold of the night forgotten as you followed Davos back inside.

Viserion let out a low rumble behind you, her wings folding as she settled near the smoldering pyre. The crowd parted as you passed, their eyes lingering on you with a mixture of awe and fear.

Inside, the air was heavy with an unnatural stillness. You could feel it in your bones as you ascended the stairs to Jon’s quarters, your footsteps quick and determined. Davos stayed close behind you, his expression grim but focused.

When you reached the room, you stopped short at the doorway. Melisandre stood at Jon’s side, her hands outstretched over his still body. The ruby at her throat glowed faintly, pulsing with a dim, otherworldly light. The air around her shimmered, as if the very fabric of reality bent to her will.

“What have you done?” you demanded, your voice sharp and filled with suspicion.

Melisandre turned to you, her face serene but lined with exhaustion. “What I was meant to do,” she said softly. “The Lord of Light has not abandoned us.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding as you stepped closer to Jon’s lifeless form. His face was pale, his chest still. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing had changed. But then, you saw it—a flicker of movement, the faintest rise and fall of his chest.

Your hand flew to your mouth as your knees threatened to buckle. “Jon…” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks as you reached for him. “Jon.”

The room held its breath as you watched, the faint pulse of life slowly returning to the man you had thought lost forever.

The halls of Dragonstone were quiet, save for the soft patter of servant footsteps and the distant crash of waves against the rocky cliffs below. Tywin Lannister sat in his solar, a fire crackling in the hearth as he reviewed reports from the capital and updates from his emissaries scattered across Westeros. The weight of governance was a familiar burden, one he bore with ease, yet tonight his focus was fractured.

The absence of his wife weighed on him—not as a distraction, but as a variable. Her sudden departure to the North, riding Viserion under the cover of darkness, had left him both irritated and uneasy. She was strong, fearless, and determined—but also unpredictable. It was a trait he admired, even if it vexed him.

A sharp knock at the door broke through his thoughts. Tywin’s sharp green eyes lifted from the parchment. “Enter.”

The door creaked open, revealing a flustered young servant carrying a squirming Damon in her arms. The boy’s face was red and tear-streaked, his small fists balled as he wailed loudly. The servant, clearly out of her depth, struggled to soothe him.

“My lord,” she stammered, her voice trembling, “the young master… he will not settle. He misses his mother, and none of us can calm him.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to the boy with a mixture of irritation and something more subtle—concern. He set down the parchment and rose from his chair, the firelight casting his imposing shadow across the room.

“Bring him here,” Tywin ordered, his tone even but firm.

The servant hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, gently setting Damon on his feet in front of Tywin. The boy’s cries quieted slightly as he looked up at his father, his violet eyes were wet with tears, which only made pale green flecks in them more pronounced.

“Damon,” Tywin said, his voice softer now but still commanding. He knelt slightly to bring himself closer to the boy’s level. “What is the meaning of this?”

Damon sniffled, his bottom lip trembling as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Mama’s gone,” he whimpered, his small voice cracking. “I want Mama.”

Tywin’s expression remained stern, but his gaze softened imperceptibly. He placed a steady hand on Damon’s small shoulder, his touch firm but not unkind. “Your mother will return,” he said firmly. “She has important matters to attend to. In the meantime, you are here, under my care. You are a Lannister. Do you know what that means?”

Damon blinked up at him, his sobs quieting as he listened. “It means… I’m strong?” he said hesitantly, his small voice unsure but hopeful.

Tywin’s lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smile. “Yes. It means you are strong. And strength is not shown by tears but by how you endure. Do you understand?”

The boy sniffled again, nodding slowly, though his tears hadn’t completely stopped. “But I miss her,” he said softly, his voice breaking again.

Tywin’s gaze remained steady. “Missing someone does not make you weak. But letting it control you does. Your mother would not want to see you like this.”

Damon’s small fists unclenched, and he wiped his face again, this time with a little more determination. “I’ll be strong,” he said quietly, though his voice wavered. “Like you.”

Tywin straightened, his hand still on Damon’s shoulder as he regarded the boy. “Good,” he said simply. “Now, come. Sit with me.”

He led Damon to the large chair by the hearth, lifting the boy effortlessly and setting him on his knee. The boy leaned into his father’s chest, still sniffling softly but beginning to calm. Tywin picked up the parchment he had been reading earlier, holding it in one hand while his other arm rested around Damon, steadying him.

“Do you know why your mother left?” Tywin asked after a moment, his tone conversational.

Damon shook his head. “To punish bad men at the Wall,” he said, his small voice uncertain.

Tywin nodded. “Yes. She went because she believed it was the right thing to do. She acted with purpose and conviction. That is what it means to be a leader. To put the needs of others before your own desires. Do you understand?”

Damon tilted his head slightly, his small brow furrowing in thought. “I think so.”

Tywin allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. “Good. Because one day, Damon, you will be a leader too. Dragonstone, Casterly Rock—they will be yours to command. You must be ready.”

Damon’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of those words dawning on him. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Tywin replied, his tone firm but not unkind. “You have the blood of lions and dragons. Never forget that.”

Damon seemed to draw strength from his father’s words, his small hands curling into determined fists. “I won’t forget.”

For the first time that night, Tywin allowed himself a moment of quiet pride. He returned his focus to the parchment, the boy settling against him as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

The servant lingered near the door, watching the scene with a mixture of awe and relief before quietly slipping away. Damon remained nestled against his father, his small breaths steadying as sleep began to claim him.

And for a moment, the weight of the world outside the walls of Dragonstone seemed a little less pressing.

The morning sun was barely visible through the dense fog rolling over Dragonstone. The air inside the war council chamber was strained but orderly as Tywin Lannister stood at the head of the table, his sharp green eyes scanning the map of Westeros spread before him. Jaime Lannister was sitting nearby, arms crossed, while Varys lingered in the shadows, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

The quiet hum of conversation among the assembled lords and knights was abruptly shattered as the heavy doors to the chamber burst open. Two of Tywin's men, their faces pale and their breaths ragged, stumbled inside, their armor clinking with every hurried step.

"My lord!" one of them exclaimed, his voice filled with panic. "Dragonmont… there's something inside. Something that attacked us!"

Tywin straightened, his gaze narrowing. The room fell silent as every pair of eyes turned toward the men. "Speak clearly," he commanded, his tone icy but composed. "What happened?"

The soldier swallowed hard, sweat beading on his brow despite the chill of the castle. "We went to prepare food for Viserion, should the lady return with her dragon. But something else was there… something smaller, but just as deadly. It—it killed one of our men, my lord. Ripped him apart before we could do anything."

A ripple of unease spread through the room. Jaime stood up, his golden hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "What do you mean, something smaller?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.

The second soldier, his hands trembling, spoke up. "A dragon, Ser Jaime. It was about the size of a horse, but it moved faster than anything I've ever seen. Its scales were dark—black, maybe, with streaks of red. It burned the others alive before taking flight deeper into Dragonmont."

The weight of those words settled heavily over the chamber. Tywin’s expression remained impassive, but his gaze flicked to Varys, who raised a brow in faint amusement.

"A second dragon," Varys mused, his voice smooth and measured. "How curious. Could it be that one of Viserion's eggs hatched after all this time? Such a creature would be far too small to have been here before."

Jaime frowned, his gaze shifting between Varys and Tywin. "If it was one of her eggs… I didn’t think any were viable. That’s what we were told."

Varys offered a faint, knowing smile. "Tales of dragons are often filled with mysteries and half-truths. Perhaps the heat of Dragonmont was enough to awaken the dormant life within one of the eggs. Or perhaps something else entirely is at play."

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered the implications. "You’re suggesting that this dragon, if it truly exists, is newly hatched?"

"It would seem so, my lord," Varys replied smoothly. "A creature of such size could not have been hidden here for long without discovery. If it is indeed from one of Viserion’s eggs, it raises… intriguing possibilities."

The soldiers shifted uneasily, their fear still palpable. One of them ventured hesitantly, "My lord, what should we do? That beast… it’s dangerous. And if it’s still in Dragonmont—"

Tywin raised a hand, silencing him. His gaze was cold and calculating as he addressed the room. "If there is a second dragon, it belongs to my wife—and by extension, to House Lannister. Its presence here may be unsettling, but it is an asset, not a threat."

Jaime stepped closer to Tywin, his expression skeptical. "And what do you propose we do with it? You saw how difficult it was to control Viserion, even with Y/N. Another dragon, unbonded and unchecked, could be catastrophic."

"Which is why it must be secured," Tywin replied evenly, his tone brooking no argument. "I want a team sent into Dragonmont immediately to confirm the creature’s presence and ensure it does not escape."

"My lord," the first soldier stammered, his voice shaking, "with all due respect, no man will willingly go back in there. Not after what we saw."

Jaime smirked faintly, though his humor was grim. "So much for Lannister bravery."

Tywin’s glare silenced him. "If none of you have the spine for it, I’ll see to it that others are brought in who do. This dragon will not roam unchecked."

Varys tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "Might I suggest that, should this dragon indeed be viable, we consider how best to use it? Dragons do not merely symbolize power, my lord—they are power incarnate. To possess a second would tip the balance in our favor."

Tywin didn’t reply immediately, his mind clearly working through the layers of this revelation. Finally, he turned to Jaime. "You will lead the effort to secure this creature. Take only those you trust and proceed cautiously. I will not have any more unnecessary losses."

Jaime nodded, though his expression remained doubtful. "As you command."

The anxiety in the room remained as the soldiers were dismissed, their relief evident as they hurried out. Tywin turned back to the map, his fingers tracing the edge of the parchment as he considered his next move.

"If it is true," he said quietly, almost to himself, "then House Lannister’s strength will grow tenfold."

Varys inclined his head, his smile faint but knowing. "And with it, your enemies’ fear."

Jaime left the room to begin his preparations, his steps purposeful despite the uncertainty etched on his face. Tywin remained behind, his gaze fixed on the map as the implications of the morning’s revelation took root.

Far below in Dragonmont, the shadows stirred once more, and the low growl of a young, hungry dragon echoed through the depths.

The dim light of the candles in Jon Snow’s quarters flickered as though trembling in anticipation, the air heavy with an almost suffocating silence. You stood frozen near the door, your hands trembling despite the warmth of the room. Ghost, normally a calm and watchful presence, paced uneasily at Jon’s side, his red eyes glowing with something primal and unsettling. His low growls filled the room, vibrating through the wooden floor beneath your boots.

On the table lay Jon, his chest rising and falling faintly, the stillness of death having given way to something impossibly fragile—life. His pale skin seemed to glow under the dim light, and his dark curls were damp with sweat. Beside him, Melisandre stepped back, her face unreadable but her eyes flickering with the faintest glimmer of something resembling awe.

Behind you, Davos Seaworth lingered, his presence steady but subdued. His voice broke the silence, a soft and reverent murmur. “He’s breathing, my lady. He’s alive.”

Your breath caught, a lump rising in your throat as you stepped forward, the weight of the moment pressing down on you like a storm. Jon Snow, the boy you had raised as your own, the man you had grieved for, was alive—but at what cost?

Ghost let out another growl, his ears flattening as he stood protectively over Jon’s prone form. His unease mirrored your own, a gnawing fear that this miracle carried a terrible price.

As you approached the table, your voice trembled. “Jon?”

Jon stirred at the sound of your voice, his head shifting slightly on the table. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing his grey, haunted eyes. His gaze was unfocused at first, his breaths shallow and uneven. But then his eyes met yours, and something shifted. Recognition dawned, faint but unmistakable.

“Mother,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and weak, yet filled with a depth of emotion that broke something inside you.

A sob escaped your lips, and before you realized it, you were at his side, leaning over him. Your hands cupped his face, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his cold, clammy skin. “Jon,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Oh, my sweet boy… you’re alive.”

Jon’s gaze softened, though it was still clouded with confusion. “You… came,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I… saw you. I think I saw you. In the dark.”

Tears streamed down your face as you leaned closer, pressing your forehead to his. “I’m here,” you whispered. “I’ll always be here.”

Your arms wrapped around him gently, pulling him into a careful embrace. His body was weak and unsteady, but he leaned into you, his breaths shallow but real. The relief that flooded through you was overwhelming, a tidal wave of joy and anguish that left you trembling.

Behind you, Davos remained silent, giving you the space to grieve and rejoice. Melisandre watched from the shadows, her ruby pendant faintly glowing, her face serene yet enigmatic.

But even as you held Jon, a storm raged within your mind. He is alive, you reminded yourself over and over, clinging to the joy of it. But the voice in your mind, the one that whispered truths too dark to ignore, would not be silenced.

"At what cost?" it asked, gnawing at the edges of your relief. You thought of the flames roaring in the courtyard, the screams of the traitors as they burned alive. The thought made your stomach churn. Was that the price?

You pulled back slightly, your hands still cradling Jon’s face as you looked into his eyes. “Jon, do you know what happened? Do you remember anything?”

He shook his head faintly, his brow furrowing. “I… I was in the dark,” he said softly. “It was cold. Empty. And then… I heard voices. Yours.” His gaze flickered with uncertainty. “And hers.”

Your jaw tightened as you turned to Melisandre, your tears giving way to a sharp glare. “What did you do?” you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. “What price did you pay for this?”

Melisandre met your gaze evenly, her voice calm and unflinching. “I did what the Lord of Light willed. Life was taken, and life was returned. The flames of the traitors were accepted as a sacrifice.”

You stiffened, your mind racing. Her words rang with a grim truth, and the memory of the pyre flashed before your eyes—the heat, the screams, the finality of it all. “You’re saying that burning them made this possible?”

“Yes,” Melisandre said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of conviction. “The Lord of Light requires balance. Death for life. Your act of justice in the courtyard satisfied the flames. It allowed me to call him back.”

You clenched your fists, your body trembling with anger and unease. “You used me,” you said, your voice cold. “You waited for me to carry out your god’s will without telling me the truth.”

Melisandre inclined her head slightly, her expression serene but unapologetic. “It was not deception, my lady. It was fate. You made your choice, and it was the right one. The Lord of Light guided your hand.”

You stared at her, your fury mingling with confusion and unease. The room seemed to grow colder, the weight of her words pressing down on you like the icy winds beyond the Wall.

“I will never forgive you for what you’ve done,” you said finally, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you ever try to manipulate me again, I will ensure the flames take you next.”

Melisandre said nothing, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before shifting back to Jon.

Jon stirred again, drawing your attention back to him. He looked at you with a mixture of weariness and gratitude, his lips parting as he whispered, “You saved me.”

“No,” you replied, your voice softening as you stroked his hair. “You saved yourself, Jon. You’ve always been stronger than you know.”

Ghost, still uneasy, let out a soft whine, his red eyes fixed on Jon as though sensing something neither of you could. You placed a reassuring hand on the direwolf’s head, silently promising that you would protect Jon, no matter what.

In the quiet of the room, you held Jon close, your tears falling freely as the storm inside you raged on. Joy and grief, relief and fear—they swirled together, leaving you raw and vulnerable. But one thing was certain: Jon was alive. And no matter the cost, you would ensure he stayed that way.

The cavernous tunnels of Dragonmont were dark and suffocating. The air was filled with the sulfurous stench of the volcano’s dormant power, and every step taken by Jaime Lannister and his men seemed to echo endlessly in the vast emptiness. The group moved cautiously, their hands gripping swords, spears, and crossbows as they ventured deeper into the mountain.

Jaime led the way, his expression a mask of determination. The stories brought back by Tywin’s terrified soldiers had been troubling enough, but the idea of a second dragon hiding within Dragonmont was something that could not be ignored. If it truly existed, it was both a threat and a potential asset, but Jaime couldn’t shake the unease settling in his gut.

“This place is cursed,” one of the soldiers muttered under his breath, glancing nervously at the darkened passage ahead.

“Quiet,” Jaime ordered, his voice low but firm. “Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. If there’s a dragon in here, you’ll hear it long before you see it.”

Another soldier, younger and less disciplined, whispered, “Do you really think it’s a dragon, Ser Jaime? Couldn’t it just be some… creature from the depths?”

Jaime shot him a sharp look. “You heard the men’s accounts. It’s a dragon. The question is how large and how dangerous.”

The group pressed on, the tension mounting with every step. The tunnel began to widen, the walls shimmering faintly with deposits of obsidian. The heat grew more oppressive, beads of sweat forming on the soldiers’ brows despite the chill of fear running down their spines.

“Tracks,” one of the men said, kneeling near the ground and holding his torch closer. The faint indentations in the dirt were unmistakable—clawed feet, larger than any normal beast, but still small enough to suggest youth.

Jaime crouched beside him, studying the marks. “It’s fresh,” he said grimly, rising to his feet. “Whatever it is, it’s close.”

The sound of heavy breathing broke the silence, a low, guttural rumble that sent a shiver down everyone’s spine. The soldiers froze, their eyes darting around the chamber as the noise grew louder.

“Form up,” Jaime ordered, his voice steady despite the mounting tension. The men moved quickly, forming a semi-circle with their weapons raised, their breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps.

From the shadows ahead, two glowing yellow eyes appeared, narrowing as they focused on the intruders. A low growl rumbled through the air, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath their feet.

“Hold your ground,” Jaime barked, drawing his sword as the creature stepped into the torchlight.

The dragon was small—about the size of a horse—but no less menacing. Its sleek, black scales glinted in the dim light, streaked with veins of deep crimson that pulsed like molten lava. Smoke curled from its nostrils, and its sharp teeth gleamed as it opened its maw, letting out a piercing roar that echoed through the cavern.

The men faltered, their grips on their weapons tightening as the beast reared back, its wings spreading wide and casting long shadows against the walls.

“Steady!” Jaime shouted, stepping forward to rally his men. “It’s just a beast. Remember the plan.”

The dragon lunged forward, its talons scraping against the rocky ground as it advanced. The soldiers held their positions, waiting for the creature to step into the trap they had carefully laid—a series of reinforced nets and spiked restraints designed to hold even a young dragon.

“Now!” Jaime yelled, signaling for the men to spring the trap.

The nets shot forward, ensnaring the dragon’s wings and pinning it to the ground. The creature thrashed wildly, its growls turning into enraged roars as it struggled against the restraints. The soldiers moved quickly, driving iron spikes into the ground to anchor the nets.

For a moment, it seemed as though they had succeeded. The dragon’s movements grew more frenzied, but the nets held, and the men began to cautiously close the distance.

Jaime held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Wait,” he said, his eyes fixed on the dragon. “Let it tire itself out. Don’t get too close.”

But the dragon was far from finished. With a deafening roar, it surged upward, the muscles in its powerful wings straining against the netting. The iron spikes began to creak and groan, and before the men could react, the restraints snapped free.

“Fall back!” Jaime shouted as the dragon burst from the trap, its wings unfurling and sending a gust of hot air through the chamber. It lunged at the nearest soldier, its talons raking through armor and flesh with terrifying ease.

Chaos erupted as the soldiers scrambled to retreat, their shouts of panic echoing through the cavern. The dragon turned its fiery gaze toward Jaime, smoke billowing from its nostrils as it prepared to strike again.

“Hold your ground!” Jaime roared, though his own heart pounded in his chest as he raised his sword.

The dragon reared back, its head darting forward with a hiss, and Jaime swung his sword in a wide arc, the blade narrowly missing its snout. The creature roared again, its massive wings sending rocks and debris clattering to the ground as it leapt toward the shadows.

“Regroup!” Jaime shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Back to the entrance! Now!”

The soldiers obeyed, retreating toward the relative safety of the tunnel, their faces pale with terror. Jaime lingered for a moment longer, his eyes fixed on the dragon as it disappeared into the darkness, its growls echoing ominously.

As the men gathered near the tunnel’s mouth, gasping for breath and tending to their wounds, Jaime turned to them, his jaw clenched. “This isn’t over,” he said grimly. “We’ll trap it again. And this time, we’ll make sure it holds.”

But as the dragon’s distant roars echoed through the mountain, Jaime couldn’t help but feel a flicker of doubt. This creature was no ordinary beast—and it wouldn’t be subdued so easily.

[cherriecove]

Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader (Part 3)

Summary: As Rhaeynera Targaryen’s only daughter you always knew that your hand would be given to whomever aided your mother and her cause. It was something that you accepted but naturally you always dreaded the day your mother would send you to your future husband, fearing whoever it would be to be cruel and old. Fortunately your worries were unfounded as your twin brother Jacaerys suggests a potential union with the Lord of the North. Cherrie's note: Use of she/her and mention of Lucerys death Masterlist | Previous Part |

As you returned to the hall, a quiet understanding lingered between you and Cregan. The warmth of the North’s hospitality was beginning to feel familiar, but there was a solemnity in the air, knowing that peace would be fleeting. The tension between your mother’s claim and Aegon’s usurpation of the throne loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon.

Later that day, as you and Jace prepared to show Cregan and his sister Sara what it’s like to ride dragons, a raven arrived with grim news—Lucerys had been slain at Storm’s End. The message was a cruel blow, draining the warmth from the day. Jace froze as he read the letter, his hands trembling. His eyes, dark with fury and grief, met yours, and in that moment, you felt the overwhelming weight of the war pressing down on both of you.

Grabbing the letter from your brother’s hands, you quickly read its contents. Lucerys, your younger brother, was gone.

"No..." Jace’s voice was barely a whisper at first, then broke into a snarl of raw anger. "Aemond did this. That wretched—" His words turned into a snarl, his hands curling into fists. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, your own heart heavy with sorrow.

"Jace..." Your voice was soft but firm, trying to pull him back from the edge. "We need to be strong now. For the boys. For mother."

But Jace couldn’t contain his rage. He turned away, pacing the room with wild, furious steps. “He will pay. I swear by the gods, Aemond will pay with his life!”

Cregan, watching from the side, approached cautiously. His usual calm was now replaced with a hard resolve. “I grieve with you,” he said steadily. “This is a grave offense, a violation of all honor.”

Jace nodded, doing his best to remain composed in front of company. “We leave for Dragonstone,” he announced, his voice sharp with decision. “Our mother will know how to respond. And when she calls for war, we will not hold back.”

You nodded, though your heart ached with the knowledge of what was to come. Lucerys had been kind and innocent, and his death seemed senseless in the brutal game of thrones. The thought of your mother learning this news, already weighed down by grief, felt unbearable.

Cregan stepped closer to you, his expression serious but his voice gentle. “Princess Y/n, if you wish to remain here for your safety, you are welcome. I understand if—”

You interrupted, shaking your head. “I must return to Dragonstone with Jace. Our mother will need us both.”

Cregan’s eyes searched yours for a moment, and in that brief silence, there was an unspoken bond—a promise of support that went beyond politics. He nodded solemnly. “Then the North will stand with you. Whatever aid you need, Winterfell will be ready.”

Before long, you and Jace mounted your dragons. Vermax was restless, sensing the turmoil within Jace, while Mithrax remained steady, her presence a comfort amid the storm of emotions swirling around you. As you took to the skies, Winterfell’s snow-covered landscape faded into the distance.

The flight back to Dragonstone was fraught with silence, your thoughts consumed by what awaited you. The winds howled around you, reflecting the tempest inside your heart. When you landed on the blackened shores of Dragonstone, the weight of the news you carried settled heavily upon you. The castle loomed ahead, its towers dark and foreboding against the stormy skies.

Jace dismounted first, his face a mask of determination as he strode towards your mother’s chambers. You followed close behind, your heart pounding with dread. Inside, your mother was seated before the fire, but as you and Jace entered, her eyes turned toward you, and her face softened.

“Mother,” Jace began, his voice tight, “is it true?” His words hung heavily in the air.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched, and for a moment, her grief was overshadowed by the sight of her children before her. She swiftly came to you both, her eyes glazing with unshed tears as she pulled you into a tight hug. "No..." he whispered, her voice breaking. "Not Luke. It's all my fault."

You shook your head at Jace’s words. “We share this blame, Jace. It is not all on you.”

Your mother stroked both of your faces, frowning at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “No, my sweets, it was not your fault.”

The three of you stood holding each other as you cried for your loss. Your heart felt heavy with the knowledge that there was no turning back now. The drums of war had begun to beat, and soon the realm would be consumed by fire and blood.

The air in Dragonstone crackled with tension and purpose as preparations for war escalated. Soldiers trained relentlessly, and ravens flew in every direction to gather allies. Yet amidst the looming conflict, one piece of business could not be ignored—your impending union with Lord Cregan Stark. After the devastating news of Lucerys’ death, celebrating anything felt out of place, but alliances were forged in both battle and marriage, and the bond between the Targaryens and Starks was crucial.

Queen Rhaenyra, though consumed with grief, recognized the importance of the wedding. It would solidify the North’s loyalty, and Cregan Stark was already proving to be a valuable ally. One afternoon, you and Jace were summoned to the hall. Your mother sat at the head of a long table, surrounded by councilors and key advisors. Cregan was there as well, standing tall and resolute, his northern attire a stark contrast to the more elaborate garb of the Dragonstone court.

“My children,” Rhaenyra began, her voice steady but marked by the strain of recent events, “we must continue planning for the war, but we cannot neglect the importance of this marriage. The alliance with Winterfell strengthens our position, and Lord Stark has been gracious enough to expedite the preparations despite the tumultuous times.”

You exchanged a glance with Jace, who gave you a small nod of encouragement. It wasn’t lost on you that your marriage to Cregan was not just a personal matter but a political necessity. Still, as you looked at Cregan, standing steadfast and serious, you felt that this union was more than a mere contract between houses.

“I understand, Mother,” you replied, your voice measured. “Lord Stark and I are prepared to proceed as soon as arrangements are made.”

Cregan’s voice cut through the room with a deep, respectful tone. “I know the timing is difficult, Your Grace, but I assure you that the North stands ready to honor this alliance and to aid in the coming war. The wedding will only solidify our loyalty to your cause.”

Rhaenyra regarded him with a measured look. Despite her loss, she remained sharp and resolute. “You’ve proven yourself a true ally, Lord Stark. Your father’s oath is strong, but your personal commitment has only strengthened it.”

Cregan nodded, his grey eyes meeting the queen’s. “The North does not forget its oaths, Your Grace. We will fight alongside you.”

The queen turned to her council. “We will organize the wedding as swiftly as possible. Winterfell must see their lord married before the battle begins, and our enemies must witness the unity between the North and the Targaryens.”

The decision to hold the wedding in Winterfell surprised many. Dragonstone had seemed the obvious choice, closer to the center of conflict, but Cregan insisted that the North needed to see the union firsthand, to feel the strength of their lord’s bond with House Targaryen. Rhaenyra agreed, though it meant sending you away, far from Dragonstone, just as the war was brewing.

Preparations for the journey north began at once. You had expected a grand procession, but the looming war meant the wedding would be swift and without the usual fanfare. A small retinue traveled ahead of you and Jace to Winterfell, alongside Cregan, who had gone ahead to prepare for the wedding. Meanwhile, your mother and the rest of her forces remained focused on preparing for the battles to come.

Winterfell loomed on the horizon, its towering grey walls shrouded in mist and snow. The journey had been long, but the sight of the Stark stronghold filled you with a strange sense of anticipation. This was the heart of the North, the seat of the man who would be your husband. As you entered the gates, the people of Winterfell gathered to greet their lord’s bride. There were no extravagant festivities—just the solemn acknowledgment of the importance of this union.

The cold winds bit at your skin as you dismounted, but the warmth of the great hall beckoned. Cregan was waiting inside, standing beside his sister, Lady Sara Snow, who had taken on the task of preparing Winterfell for the arrival of her brother’s bride. The hall was austere but grand in its simplicity, the smell of burning wood and pine filling the air.

When you saw Cregan, his eyes met yours with that same steady intensity you had come to rely on. There was no need for words—his presence was enough to reassure you. He approached, his fur-lined cloak brushing the stone floor, and took your hand.

“Welcome to Winterfell, Princess,” Cregan said, his voice a deep rumble that echoed in the hall.

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” you replied, your voice softer but no less certain.

The wedding was held in the Godswood, beneath the ancient weirwood tree, its red leaves stark against the snow-covered ground. The ceremony was simple, as was the northern way, but powerful in its meaning. You and Cregan exchanged vows before the old gods, your hands bound together with a strip of cloth as a symbol of your union. The cold air bit at your skin, but the warmth of Cregan’s hand in yours kept you steady. This was not the grand spectacle expected in King’s Landing or Dragonstone, but it felt right, grounded in the traditions of the North.

As you spoke your vows, you felt the weight of the moment—not just the personal bond you were forging with Cregan, but the political alliance this marriage represented. The North and House Targaryen were now bound by blood and honor.

After the ceremony, you returned to the great hall for a modest feast. The lords of the North, gathered for the wedding, spoke of war and loyalty. Cregan, ever the leader, reassured them of his commitment to Queen Rhaenyra’s cause.

“The North will not forget its promises,” Cregan said, raising his cup. “We stand with the true queen, and with the strength of our alliance, we will see her seated upon the Iron Throne.”

The men cheered, their voices echoing through the stone walls of Winterfell. You felt a surge of pride as you looked at your husband, now bound to you in both marriage and war.

Later, as the fires burned low and the hall emptied, you stood with Cregan by one of the tall windows, gazing out at the snow-covered courtyard.

“The North is ready,” Cregan said quietly, his breath visible in the cold air. “When the time comes, we will march south.”

“And I will be by your side,” you replied firmly, meeting his gaze.

Cregan’s hand tightened around yours, but he shook his head. “I need you to remain here.”

You scoffed and pulled your hand away, narrowing your eyes at him. “No, I will do no such thing.”

His voice softened as he reached for you again. “Princess, please—”

“I’ve been married to you for less than a day, and you’re already trying to order me around?” You glared at him, your voice sharp. “I am fire and blood. I have a dragon. I will help my mother defend her birthright.”

Cregan sighed, his expression conflicted, but after a pause, he nodded. He spoke carefully, choosing his words. “I do not mean to control you. I know you are capable, fierce, and brave. I only wish to protect you. As long as you allow me by your side, to fulfill my duty as your husband, then I will be content.”

Your face softened at his words. After a moment, you leaned in and kissed his cheek gently. “Very well, my lord. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Cregan’s relief was palpable as he pulled you into a warm embrace. Together, you would face the war ahead, united in fire and blood.

[helionpegasus]

loml

Cassian x Reader

summary: reader and Cassian had a happy marriage, 'till their love wasn't enough. inspired by loml by taylor swift.

warnings: angst.

words count: 3338

author's note: this is big and sad :)

Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway.

Me and Cassian have been riding on the line between acceptable and an official couple recognized by the priestess and The Mother for a long time. 

I don’t know when exactly it started. It couldbe when we met for the first time on a Day Court Ball, and we both couldn’t hold our laughter after one of the courtiers slipped during the dance. It could be when i spent my first Starfall as a Night Court member, and he told me that he was gonna “Teach me how to properly drink”, but ended with the two of us drunk enough to sleep sitting side by side in the hall of the House of Wind. Or it could be when he arrived of the Illyrian Camps directly to my room and with tear in his eyes, saying that his heart could not handle seeing how children and females were treated there maintaining a stone face.

We embroidered the memories of the time I was away.

The first time we kissed was when I returned home hurt from a mission. Cassian stayed the whole night by my side, telling me things that happened when I was away, or tracing random shapes with his finger on my hand and arm.

“I was scared that we would lose you. I would lose you.” He said almost whispering, like he was telling me a secret.

“You’ll never lose me, Cass.” I said back to him.

I was staring at the window when I felt him pull his hand away. Once I turned my head back, our lips met. It was so gentle. The hands holding my face, and his lips silently asking if he could deepen the kiss or not.

I remember stopping to breath and giggle like two teenagers, just to look at each other with love eyes and start kissing again. And again, and again, the whole night.

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed

“You’re not gonna officialize things?” Mor asked one day.

“What do you mean?” Was my answer.

“You and Cassian. Everyone sees the way you look at each other, and we also know that you crossed the “only starring” line. And if you want me to be honest, I think you two would make each other really happy.” The blonde said, bumping her shoulder onto mine. We were having tea while sitting on the House of Wind’s balcony.

“I don’t know… Cassian is a good male, Mor, and I’m not the only one that sees this. I think I’m just afraid, perhaps. Or just too insecure.”

“About what?”

“Maybe I will not be enough for him. He can find someone better, that maybe would match his soul, and I’ll not be able to endure that kind of heartbreak.”

“That sentence is full of maybes. Do you even know how he looks at you?” She asked. “There’s love in his eyes. There’s love in his body language when he’s next to you, and love in every single word he says toward or about you even though ‘love’ is not one of them.” Mor placed my tea cup on the table next to her to hold both my hands with hers. “Don’t waste a chance of happiness just because you’re afraid.”

I felt aglow like this. Never before, and never since

After that talk, it did not take a lot of time for me to build the courage to phrase my feelings to him. And it was a surprise - at least to me - that he felt exactly the same.

If you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary

“Did I ever tell you?” Cassian asked me some weeks after we started dating.

“What?” I closed my book to give him my full attention. My legs are still resting in his lap while we are on the couch.

“That I fell in love with you the day we met?” He gave me one of those grims.

“Like those teenage romance books?” I asked, mirroring his smile.

“Yeah. I think it was when one of Beron’s sons asked to dance with you but you said no, and you put him in his place when he tried to talk shit about you.”

“That would have started a war.” He both laugh.

“You are the most incredible female that I know.” His hand squeezed my calf, like he was reassuring his words. “You are smart and so strong. I’m really lucky to have you.”

You and I go from one kiss to getting married

Nervous was too little to what I was feeling at the moment. 

“Your entrance will be in 3 minutes.” Mor said before returning inside.

My hands were sweating, my stomach was hurting and I felt like throwing up. But I didn’t have time to overthink how anxious I was feeling, because within seconds the double doors opened.

It was a small wedding, only close friends invited. My eyes immediately searched for him, and he was beautiful as always.

In the middle of the entrance, my eyes met our friends, and I swear I saw Rhysand shed a tear but he will never admit it.

We both agreed to have a quick ceremony, not having enough patience for something too long or with too much bureaucracy. But the little time was enough for him to say things that will be marked in my heart to the rest of my life.

“People can say that the way that led us towards this moment roamed quite rapidly. But right here, on this day that will be remembered forever by both of us, even though we have hundreds of years after us, I promise to love you ‘till we are nothing more than dust traveling in the universe.”

I couldn’t control the river of tears that I cried hearing his vows. It didn’t take a long time for us to feel a burning sensation on our wrists. The image of a little firefly, so small that it could go unnoticed, but a forever sign to the biggest decision of our lives.

You said I’m the love of your life, about a million times

Our eternal happiness lasted the whole three years. Then Under the Mountain happened.

Who’s gonna tell me the truth when you blew in with the winds of fate?

“Cass, this is a lot for all of us. We’re all scared and worried, but I can’t help you ease your tension or worries if you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.” 

We were twenty years into Under the Mountain.

“And could you even understand?” He stormed out.

“I can try.” I answered ignoring how his words felt in my heart.

“Rhysand is my family. And he’s in such a dangerous situation that he prohibited us from reaching him. How could I not feel worried and angry?”

“I know, because I am worried too. But I’m also your family, and you can share with me how you’re feeling, you don’t have to carry this all by yourself. We don’t have to carry this all by ourselves.”

“If we were mates we didn’t have to. We would just feel.”

I couldn’t hide my hurt expression this time. Of course I knew that we were not mates, even though we had a beautiful relationship that everyone claimed would be a Mate one, it’s been almost thirty years that we’ve been together and no bond clicked.

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” His expression softened once he realized what he said. “We don’t have to be mates. It’s really rare after all, and we have a perfect relationship.” He hugged me and I had to hold back tears. “And most importantly, we love each other.”

When your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fake?

Thirty years later we met Feyre.

And everything seemed to be perfectly fine, like the sun before a storm. And I wish my heart was only warning me about the war coming.

And all at once the ink bleeds

Cassian returned from Archeron's house a little air-headed. So I was trying to be really careful on how to approach him with questions about how it went.

“So, everything worked well?” I asked massaging his shoulders trying to ease the tension.

“Yeah, yeah. It was fine I guess, we sent the letter. Why?” His eyes were closed, voice soft.

“Nothing. You just returned, seeming a bit unsettled, so I thought something may have happened.”

I could feel his shoulders tense up again.

“Attor showed up there. I guess that just took us by surprise, but everything ended up fine, don’t worry, sweetheart.”

His response made total sense, so I tried to forget about it. It was a surprising threat, and a long trip flying back home, I thought.

But when we went to the Queens meeting, my heart felt a bit uncertain again.

There was something about how he looked at Nesta, a look that I could not translate. And also how he uncomfortably kept switching his weight to one leg for another everytime she was next to him or even just spoke.

She was certainly capable of saying some hateful words, so I was just thinking that maybe they had a wrong start. At least that was what I was trying to convince myself.

But I felt a hole, like this. Never before and ever since

“She is his mate isn’t she?” I asked Mor when we were alone.

I felt terrible by putting her against the wall, even more after everything that just happened in Hybern. But my heart was hurting too much for an answer.

Mor looked at me with wide eyes, trying to wrap her mind whether to tell me the truth or not.

“What?...”

“I saw the way you looked at her and then between both of them. And I think Cassian also knows, for Mother’s sake, I think already felt. So, please, tell me.”

“Yes… I believe so.”

I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. The hot tears fell down my face. And I wondered if the King’s power also didn’t affect the middle of my chest from how much pain I was feeling at the moment.

I didn’t see Mor kneeling besides me, didn’t feel her arms wrapping around my shoulders, and didn’t hear her comforting words trying to console me at my worst moment. All I felt was pain.

If you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary. What we thought was for all time, was momentary.

The conversation with Cassian was nothing close to easy.

He admitted that he felt the bond the first time he saw her. And once she turned fae it only got stronger.

“Do you want to end things to try to pursue something with her?” It took me a while to be able to ask this. Not only because it hurts, but also ‘cause I couldn’t stop crying.

“No. Definitely not. We’ve been married for fifty four years, I’m not gonna just throw it all in the air. It will be hard to endure the feeling, yes, but we’ll keep our relationship. I love you, and that’s a forever promise.” He grabbed my wrist to caress his finger on the ink that sealed his vows.

Still alive, killing time at the cemetery. Never quite buried.

The next two years were not easy ones.

The plans we had for our future never made out of paper and conversations, because the whole situation never seemed to get better.

When Rhysand and Feyre announced that Nesta was coming to live with us, I felt like all the blood in my body freezed. Mor tried to help with the situation, proposing other ways to deal with her, since she was the only one to know, but her efforts had no success.

And once she started living with us, Cassian’s feelings got harder and harder to hide.

“Did you lose a bet with one of your brothers?” I asked one night. A smile already pulling up my lips at the thought of it.

“No, why?” He seemed confused.

“This one is new.” I traced my finger at the new ink on the end of his spine.

His whole demeanor changed when I said that. And he was quick with putting a shirt to sleep, a thing that he never does.

“What is it for?” I asked, scared for the answer.

“Nothing important.” He said going to bed. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You shit-talked me under the table. Talking rings and talking cradles. I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all.

I quickly got up the couch in our room once Cassian opened the door.

“Hey, are you ok? Rhys told me that you three found a Kelpie, anyone got hurt?”

I rushed in his direction. My eyes scan his body for any scratch.

And then I felt the smell, like a slap in my face, making me stop in my tracks.

“No… No, you didn’t.” I started to go backwards. My vision started to get blurry with tears forming.

“I can explain.”

“Oh, yes.” I said with a sarcastic laugh. “Please explain to me why you had sex with another person while you’re married.”

“Don’t make this even harder for me.”

“Hard for you? Have you ever thought about how hard this situation is for me?” Tears were going down my face copiously. “I gave you an option, Cassian. Two years ago I asked if you would like to end things, for the sake of us both. And you said no, you said that we’ll keep going with our marriage, we had to try. But did you tried?

We had plans, Cass! It’s been fifty six years. We talked about buying our home, having kids! It’s been two years since you said for us to keep going but honestly we just stopped in our tracks.”

“Don’t do this to me. You know how much I wanted a family. You know how much I love you. But do you know how hard it is to fight this feeling? I feel like I’m going mad.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? I made myself so open for you to seek your happiness, whether it was with me or not. But today you chose to cheat on me, and that hurts more than if you called to end things.”

Are they second-hand embarrassed that I can’t get off the bed? ‘Cause something counterfeit’s dead

It’s been three weeks since Nyx borned. 

With everything happening no one had time to process what happened properly. Rhys and Feyre immediately offered to let me stay in the River House with them. But I had to find my own way again, and after many days of not leaving my room, I was on my way towards the High Lord’s office.

“Hello, what a relief seeing your face again. How are you feeling?” He asked once I sat on the chair in front of his table.

“A bit better. Still a long way to go, though. How’s your almost a month of being a father?”

“It’s less tiring than doing this office work, I promise.” I laugh at his words, the first one in days. “But Feyre is definitely more tired than me, I try to help her all I can.”

“I came to say goodbye. It’s time for me to go to my own place, I’ll see Feyre after this.”

“Did you find a place in the city? We told you that you could have the Town House.”

“I actually decided to go back to Day Court. I already talked with Helion.” I said and  a shocked expression appeared on Rhysand’s face.

“If you think we’ll pick a side and that you’re not welcome here, you’re completely wrong. You are part of this family.” He says with a serious face.

“It’s nothing of that. I just think that I need some space and time to clear my mind of everything. I’m so grateful for all of you, but I need to do this for myself. I’ll be available for any help you need, though.”

It was legendary. It was momentary. It was unnecessary. Should’ve let it stay buried

Mor wanted us to have our last drink at Rita’s together. So here we are, at one of the tables with our drink in our hands.

“It surprises me that the vows mark stay there.” She said looking at my wrist. I look at it too.

“Love can come in different ways, and he didn’t specify.” We both laugh.

“I don’t think he’ll ever stop loving you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him either.”

“I’m sorry.” She said and I gave her a confused look. “You were right all those years ago, about him finding a soul match.”

“Unfortunately, I was.”

“Why a firefly?”

“I always asked myself this. But now with the outcome, I think it makes sense. Wanna know a fact about fireflies? They only live about 56 days. And our marriage lasted 56 years.”

Oh, what a valiant roar. What a bland goodbye

“Hi.” I said when I saw Cassian make the corner of the living room. “I’ll be quick. Just didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”

“Go?” His brows scrunched.

“I’ll go back to Day Court.”

“You don’t have to.” He says surprised. His body came closer like he was ready to stop me.

“I know. I want to. I’ll visit after some time, I have to see Nyx growing up afterall.”

“You have to see everyone. We’re your family.”

I’m combing through the braids of lies. I’ll never leave, nevermind

I was back in Velaris after a whole year. It wasn’t in my plans to stay away for this long. But I really needed the time.

It was Nyx’s birthday party, and I was slightly surprised that the High Lord made it only for the family. I was expecting for the most pampered baby in Prythian to have a whole festival for his first birthday, but his parents clearly had other plans.

“I loved your hair.” I heard someone beside me, and found Elain sitting on the chair next to me in the garden. “You fit the short hair really well.”

“Thanks, I had to cut it. Hair holds memories.” She only smiled at my answer and we kept observing everyone in silence.

“Did Cassian always have been good with kids?” She asked, looking at him playing with Nyx.

“Yeah, he always dreamed of having kids.”

“Well good thing his dreams are coming true, then.”

“I’m sorry?”

She looks at me wide eyed, like she just told the Night Court highest secret.

“You didn’t know? Nesta's pregnant.”

My world spinned for a moment. When I really thought I was over it. Will I ever get over it?

“If you excuse me.” I gave her a fake smile and got up to get inside.

Feyre and Mor must have seen me, because they walked behind me right after I entered the house.

“You didn’t tell me.” I turn to both of them.

“Would you come if we did?” Feyre asked and I couldn’t answer.

“I just… I thought it didn’t hurt anymore.” I started crying. And Mother, how I started hating seeming so vulnerable. “I really need to get over it.”

I felt them both hugging me. A warmth passing from their heart to mine.

“No one expects you to get over more than half a century of memories in such little time.” Mor says.

Our field of dreams engulfed in fire

“Do you think I’ll be able to find something like this again?” I ask but cut them in the middle of their thoughts. “Don’t answer, I’m scared of what it will be.”

The only thing they could do was hug me harder and stay there with me for the whole ten minutes that allowed me to have a weak mind.

And I still see it, until I die. You’re the loss of my life.