#the bird is sad :c

[luxcruor]

IT'S JUST CRASHES AND SCREAMS. / / the scorpion faunus's sick laughter bounces around the huntsmans head as he gazed out the window of shade academy. rubble crashing and BOOMING as the upper city of atlas came crashing down on mantle. qrow blood runs just as cold the moment clover's voice is heard and shoulders HARDEN in defense. . damnit but, those delicate eyes of clover's BORE a hole through qrow, isolating him from everything just by being seen. only clover had the power to do this. at first meeting qrow would compare it to a spotlight, EXPOSING but in truth it was the sun, warm. with a hesitant turn qrow catches a glimpse of the top of clover's scar. like a cloud cover blocking out the light he was far from any hope. with a sunken heart and sullen tone he answers.

" which part ? lotsa' GREAT of places to start. "

vacuo was hot. for a huntsman who had spent most of his life in the cold, it was a drastic change. even moreso in the process of recovery with his wounds still healing. but that had not stopped clover from exploring, wandering the warm hallways of shade academy, taking slow steps so as to avoid aggravating his wounds. the worst of the grimm had been staved off, and for now, salem as well. not that clover would have been any help in this state.

not that he had been any help in any state, he thought bitterly.

the hallways had been relatively quiet, most people preparing in other parts of the academy for future battles. clover had not expected to run into anyone in this wing, but it would be just his luck that it was none other than qrow branwen.

"qrow." clover murmured, giving the other huntsman a nod of his head. "how are you holding up with... all of this?"

@luxcruor

[awkwardandeccentric]

Stolas C-PTSD supremacy

[flameishstudios]

I miss prison duo so much

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[hellishgayliath]

...

[thecryptidwizard]

waiting for my peppercorn cauliflower to finish baking ^-^

birds eye veggies I LOVVEEE YEEWWWWWWWW

[1796samuel-seabury1729]

me rn because i just realized i got a sixty on a major project in art and i only have two days left [ im still passing with an a - this does not affect me at all but it still made me upset ]

[pig3oink]

How am I supposed to draw different angles and dynamic poses?? 😭😭😭☹️☹️

The character as a model for this practice: Red (Angry birds)

[pixlokita]

Painful wing fanart incoming but you already knew about it and colored it so like -w- hiding it for the gore and blood tho >>

I feel like it was less gory in black and white but honestly 👀✨ aight don’t mind me I’m going to the tag now

BEHOLD!!! AN ART TRADE!!! @pixlokita it is time!

Caution, do not click read more if you do not intend to read. This is 12,192 words. And no, I'm not kidding. This is so much longer than most of the stuff I write. That being said, enjoy!!!

Evan said Michael was sick, which worried Jeremy. Being sick should not mean Michael would try so hard to avoid Jeremy, especially since he knew it would make Jeremy worry about him more.

But the main part Jeremy was worried about was the way Evan’s new wings kept fluffing up. Was Michael mad at him?

Don’t worry about it, Jeremy, he told himself. If Michael’s mad, he’ll tell you eventually.

It just stung. Evan and Gregory were wandering around the house, trying to see if their wings would allow them to do various things. Evan’s were too small to do much, and Gregory still hadn’t gotten used to them yet, but at least they had something to do while Mr. Emily tried to figure out what could possibly cause this.

“Ugh!” Gregory exclaimed, plopping down on the sofa next to Jeremy. He took the soda from Jeremy’s hand and took a giant sip. “These things suck.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, unsuccessfully trying to retrieve his Coke.

“I mean,” Gregory scowled, taking another sip, “that wings are stupid. They don’t even bend the way I want them to.”

“Well…” Jeremy said thoughtfully. “They are just extra limbs, right? With bones and joints and stuff?”

“I guess so.” Gregory finally gave Jeremy his soda back. “But they don’t move how I want-“

“You couldn’t do much when you were a baby right? Learning to crawl?” Jeremy chugged the rest of his Coke before putting the empty can down. “It’s an accomplishment when babies get their heads off the floor on their own, you know. And rolling and stuff.”

“Oh.” Gregory clearly hadn’t thought about it that way. “But Evan’s got excellent control already.”

“He’s had them longer.” Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe he’s just a quick learner. Or maybe, there’s less wing to work with. Could be a bunch of things.”

“But…” Gregory sighed. He inched closer to Jeremy on the couch, his wings refusing to bend in a natural way.

Jeremy awkwardly looped a comforting arm around Gregory. “You’ll get there eventually.”

“They just hurt. All the time.”

“I can’t help with that,” Jeremy chuckled.

“Sure you can! Mike did this thing once, where he…” Gregory chewed his lip. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what he did.”

“You want me to pet you?” Jeremy said in disbelief. “Nuh uh. Go ask Evan. That’s not… No.”

“Why’d you make it weird?” Gregory shook his head. “It was like…”

“Like a shoulder massage,” Evan interjected helpfully. His wings flexed, expanding fully as he explained. They barely went past his shoulders, but the point got across.

Jeremy admired the confidence with which he showed them. He’d personally be too worried about people calling him a freak. Which, thinking about it, was not likely to happen in this house. Everyone was too nice here.

“Mikey went like this,” Evan said, pulling Jeremy’s arm back to get to Gregory’s wings.

Gently, Evan messaged the inner edge of Gregory’s wings, right where they extended from his back. Gregory’s wings convulsed, the claw on one nearly hitting Jeremy in the face. “I think they get itchy,” Evan mused. “We might have to just do this more often.”

“No kidding,” Gregory said with a sigh, his eyes closing and his shoulders relaxing. “But Mike’s still better at it.”

“Wonder where he got his practice,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it still came across that way.

Evan winched, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he kept focused on his task. Gregory sighed absently. “Wings are a lot of work.”

“Seems that way,” Jeremy replied.

Gregory folded and unfolded his hands while Evan worked. “I just…”

Jeremy spared him a glance as he went to get another can of Coke. “Something on your mind?”

“His girlfriend,” Evan said absently.

“Cassie’s not my girlfriend!” Gregory said, straightening. His wings fluffed up as he said it.

“Oh.” Jeremy had no idea what to make of that. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know!” Gregory replied. He ran a hand through his hair to try to make it lay flat. “She was at Evan’s party, and she looked really bad. I think Mike took care of it, but he didn’t really say anything about it afterwards.”

“She’s probably at the hospital, Gregory,” Evan replied, trying to be soothing. “We can visit her once we figure out what to do about this first.”

“Stupid wings,” Gregory grumbled. “Making everything harder.”

Jeremy didn’t know how to reply to that. He cracked the can open and took a sip. “Have you asked Mike?”

“He’s sick,” Evan answered for Gregory. His wings fluffed up again.

“Maybe we should check on him then. He’s been resting all week right?” Jeremy asked, trying to be casual about it. Evan had been very guarded about his older brother this whole time.

Jeremy came over every day, and every day, Evan said the same thing. “Mike’s sick. He can’t see anyone right now.”

It had been happening since the day Gregory’s wings had burst through his skin. Jeremy was more than a little concerned. Sure, he hadn’t reacted well to the wings at first, but none of them had. He’d been more supportive when Evan’s had burst through later that same day.

But Michael’s expression became very guarded for the rest of the day, and the next day, he was “sick” and couldn’t see Jeremy. And Evan was very good at shooing Jeremy away when he tried too hard to see him.

“Shouldn’t he eat something?” Jeremy asked.

Evan frowned. “Mikey told me that there’s not much he can stomach right now.”

“Crackers always work,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he tried again. “What about water? Maybe he’ll start feeling better with some fluids.”

“I��� guess…” Evan seemed less sure. Conflicted, he looked at Gregory and then glanced at the closed door to his cousin’s room.

“I can get it. You keep helping Gregory,” Jeremy said quickly. He didn’t want Evan to change his mind.

Evan relented, nodding slightly. “Okay. Make sure to get him a big glass. And don’t be loud. And-“

“I know how it works when someone’s sick, thank you.” Jeremy set his Coke down and rushed back to the kitchen to grab a glass.

Evan had not been exaggerating. When Jeremy crept into the room with the glass of water, Michael was curled into a tight ball on the bed.

“Mike?” Jeremy whispered into the quiet room.

Michael groaned in response. He rolled over to face Jeremy, exposing the hair plastered to his face with sweat.

“I um.” Jeremy swallowed. He felt a little foolish now. Michael was just literally sick. He wasn’t mad at Jeremy or anything like that. “I brought you some water.”

Michael opened his eyes, feebly reaching for the glass.

“Are you strong enough to hold it on your own?” Jeremy asked.

Michael had to consider that for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“Here-“ Jeremy sat next to Michael on the bed, helping pull him into an upright position so he could drink the water.

Michael leaned heavily against Jeremy, eagerly drinking the water. Jeremy had to brace himself against the wall to support the extra weight. Then abruptly, Michael pulled away.

“J… Jeremy,” Michael whispered weakly. He gripped at Jeremy’s jacket, burying his face in Jeremy’s shirt. “I…”

“It’s okay, Mike-“

Michael seized in Jeremy’s arms, sobbing heavily. His hold got tighter and tighter as his body shuddered with pain. Jeremy tried to set the glass on the bedside table, but he barely had it on the edge and water soaked into the carpet as he pulled Michael the rest of the way into his lap. “I got you,” Jeremy said into Michael’s hair.

“It hurts,” Michael cried, still shaking.

“You’ll get through this,” Jeremy mumbled.

A tearing noise broke through the sound of Michael’s sobs, even as they intensified. “JEREMY!!!” Michael wailed.

“I have you, Mike. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Dimly, Jeremy registered the large wings erupting from Michael’s back. Oh. Oh. This was happening now. Bloody feathers spread out, wrapping around Jeremy to return his comforting gesture.

Gradually, Michael’s crying ceased, and Jeremy was left holding an exhausted teenager with bloody wings. “I am sorry,” Michael whispered, pulling his hands back, the wings retracting slightly. “I did not mean to, uh…”

“It’s okay, Michael.” Jeremy tried to smile at him. He was determined not to squirm in discomfort from all the blood currently soaking into his jacket.

“I… should go shower,” Michael said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” Jeremy wriggled uncomfortably in his jacket.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I can wash that if you want.”

“It’s not the biggest deal,” Jeremy said.

“It is if you go home wearing a jacket covered in blood,” Michael replied. “It’s only fair that I clean it, since that’s my blood.”

That wasn’t how Jeremy saw it, but he figured he wasn’t getting out of this. “Okay.”

Michael shifted carefully, putting his feet on the carpet. Almost instantly after taking his weight off the bed, he completely lost his balance. His wings flew out, trying to redistribute the weight, but Jeremy didn’t realize that as he caught Michael by the waist. Both of them tumbled off the bed, Jeremy hitting the carpet with a soft ‘oomph.’

“I am sorry. This was not my intent,” Michael said from above Jeremy.

“They take some getting used to, huh?” Jeremy replied, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.

It hadn’t been much on the bed with Michael clinging to him like a lifeline. But on the floor with Michael on top of him, pinning him to the ground, Jeremy was suddenly aware of how close Michael was to him.

Michael smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to walk on my own right now. I don’t know how I’m going to wash all this blood off by myself.”

“Maybe your uncle could help?”

“He’s probably back at the library again,” Michael mused as he crawled off Jeremy.

Evan wouldn’t be able to handle it, Jeremy knew that much. And he couldn’t ask for Gregory’s help without alerting Evan to the amount of blood that coated them both.

“Do you want me to help?” Jeremy asked, feeling the heat more intensely in his face. Please say no. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

“Really?” Michael chewed his lip, considering it. “I would not want to be a bother… But if you are offering…”

Jeremy’s heart quickened at the prospect. “R-right.”

“Help me up?” Michael asked.

Jeremy pulled Michael to his feet, unprepared for the wings to wrap around him again. “Um.”

“Sorry. I don’t have much control over them yet,” Michael replied sheepishly.

“Do they want me to carry you?” Jeremy gauged the idea of carrying Michael to the bathroom. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever come up with.

“It’d probably be less awkward than walking there like this,” Michael agreed.

“So I’m just going to…” Jeremy twisted around in the space the wings allowed him. Michael hissed out a pained breath, but soon he was behind Jeremy. “How well can you jump?”

Pretty well, apparently. Jeremy barely needed to adjust for the weight of Michael on his own back, hands linked beneath Michael’s knees. “Okay. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“I am not a child, Jer,” Michael said wearily. Still, he pressed the side of his face into Jeremy’s hair. “I am sorry to be such a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Mike. You’re my friend. I’m absolutely willing to help you out when you’re in need.”

“Mmmmm,” Michael sounded almost mournful. But he didn’t argue.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “So, I’m thinking they might need a decent soaking, right? Birds like to be fully submerged when they clean their wings right?”

Michael blinked at him from where he sat on the toilet lid. “What are you even saying?”

“The blood.”

“It is not dried yet. Not completely anyway.”

“So what? You were planning to just wing this whole thing, weren’t you?” Jeremy shrugged off his jacket.

Michael snorted. “I was planning to shower, Jeremy. But I guess I was planning to wing it, considering how I have wings now.” His wings stretched as he spoke, emphasizing his point. “I just don’t have the strength to stand there long enough to wash them off.”

“I-“ Jeremy sputtered. Clearing his throat, he tried to skip over the accidental pun he’d made. “Just going to let the water do the work?”

“That’s the goal.” Michael frowned. “There’s just a few problems.”

“Such as?”

“My shirt isn’t going to come off the same way it went on this morning.”

“Are you particularly attached to that shirt?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. Could try to just-“ Michael pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll go grab a pair of scissors,” Jeremy said as Michael pulled experimentally at his shirt again.

He had to be careful walking by the couch, noticing Evan curled up for a nap. Gregory was nowhere in sight.

Returning with the scissors, Jeremy nearly dropped them upon seeing Michael. “What happened? I was gone for two minutes!”

Michael’s shirt was hanging off his body in shreds. When Jeremy looked closer, he could see sharp claws on Michael’s hands. “I…” Michael shrugged sheepishly. “I thought I could tear the fabric and take it off myself.”

Jeremy’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let himself laugh. “Okay. I don’t think you did a very good job of it though.”

“It seems as though I failed…”

“Here, let me just…” Jeremy carefully reached around Michael’s head, one knee resting between his legs. It felt strange to be cutting through Michael’s shirt, but as the fabric gave way, Michael seemed to relax a little more.

Jeremy recalled Gregory and Evan both sitting on the couch as Michael measured the shape they needed cut from their shirts for the wings. Perhaps Michael needed a few of those done as well. Something to keep in mind for later.

“Hey, why is there blood all over-“ Gregory’s eyes widened as he peered into the bathroom.

Michael straightened quickly. Jeremy pulled back, hiding the scissors. “Hello.” Michael waved awkwardly, his wings stiff and very clearly exposed.

“You… you have them too?” Gregory’s voice seemed so small.

“Yes, it appears as though we will match.”

Gregory swallowed harshly. “I can help. I know how to get blood stains out of fabric.”

“I would really appreciate it. Thank you, Superstar.” Michael beamed at Gregory, who flushed a deep red.

“It’s no big deal…”

“Not to you,” Jeremy said softly. “But it helps more than you realize. Thank you.”

Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He scratched his neck as his wings fluffed up, finally saying, “I’ll be quick. It probably won’t be good if Evan finds out.”

“It would be best if he did not know how messy the process is,” Michael agreed.

Gregory nodded, smoothing his hair down before hurrying out of the room.

Michael wadded the scraps of his shirt into a ball and tossed it to the floor. “Now that that’s sorted…”

Jeremy determinedly kept his eyes from wandering as he helped Michael stand. His friend leaned heavily against him for support as he attempted to undo his pants.

Jeremy belatedly realized that the only way this whole thing would work was if the shower ran over both of them. I’m going to be drenched, he thought sorrowfully as Michael muttered to himself in frustration.

“You could probably just sit while I wash the blood off,” Jeremy said when Michael finally stood there in his boxers. “Since it would be less exhausting for you.”

Michael blinked. “I suppose you are correct. I should have thought this through more.”

“It’s no big deal, man. You’re probably dealing with blood loss or whatever.”

“Still…”

“Hey, it’s fine. You spend all this time taking care of everybody. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you, right?”

Michael chewed his lip. “I suppose.”

“Okay. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time, Mike.” Jeremy said, smiling supportively. Michael tentatively smiled back.

As it turned out, it was a lot harder to clean up Michael than Jeremy initially thought. He kept twitching away, hissing out noises of pain at Jeremy’s touch.

Michael clenched his fists in his lap. “Okay. Clearly this is not the proper solution.”

“I can’t do this when it’s clearly hurting you, Mike. I just…” Jeremy leaned forward to rest his head against the back of Michael’s.

“This is nothing. I have endured much worse before.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Jeremy.” Michael said calmly, wringing water out of the washcloth. “I am sure it has become clear to you that things are not how they should be. The wings are only one part of it.”

“Yeah? What I’m hearing is that your father is abusive.” Jeremy wearily took the washcloth back, dabbing it gently against the space between Michael’s wings. At least like that it didn’t seem to hurt him.

“Well, not in the way you would think. Actually, I was thinking more of the comparison between growing limbs and losing organs. I think losing organs is still a more painful experience than this.”

“So you want me to just ignore your pain?” Jeremy asked, trying to decipher Michael’s meaning.

“I am saying I can handle it. I can be a man about this.”

No one is doubting that, Jeremy thought grimly to himself. “Maybe I can’t.” He tentatively rubbed at a clump of blood in the inner edge of Michael’s wing.

Immediately, it swung at him, throwing him against the sink. Pain flared throughout Jeremy’s entire body as he hit the floor. Faintly he registered that his face was bleeding.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked, twisting around. “Are you alright?”

“Nnnnngh,” Jeremy groaned. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

“I am so sorry. It appears that the wings are more sensitive than I thought.”

“No kidding.” Jeremy pressed his fingers to his cheek. He was lucky. The clawed joint of Michael’s wing had hit him just below the eye. Any higher, and he might’ve lost it completely. “Now what?”

“I suppose I should just sit under the water and hope for the best.”

“I think Gregory and Evan mentioned messages working out the soreness. Maybe I could at the very least-“

“I think we should avoid that for now,” Michael replied, his voice sounding stiff. “You have already been hurt once today.”

“Michael.” Jeremy tried to make his voice sound stern. “I knew the risks when I offered to help. So let me help.”

“Fine. Just do not do anything that will put you in danger again.”

“Don’t lie about how much it hurts next time,” Jeremy shot back. “Still gotta get all that blood out of your wings, you know.”

Michael clenched his jaw, but he only stared down into his hands. He couldn’t face Jeremy with the nasty cut on his face any longer.

Jeremy was lighter after that. He knew that even pressing a little too hard would make the wings spaz, and over the course of the next few hours, he succeeded with minimal interruptions.

Gregory popped in near the end to check on the progress. “Henry’s back. Do you want me to tell him about this?” He gestured at the entirety of the bathroom.

“I believe he should be informed. Please ensure that my brother does not come to investigate before we are done here.”

“And maybe grab him a dry set of clothes while you’re at it,” Jeremy said. As an afterthought, he looked at himself. “Maybe grab me something too, if you would.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How much does it hurt?”

“I suspect that I should be in more pain than I am,” Michael said, considering the question. “But Jeremy has done an excellent job of making sure the process is less than agonizing.”

“Uh, okay?” Gregory shot Jeremy a look.

“I can’t hardly touch him without the wings reacting,” Jeremy explained. “Nearly lost an eye the first time I did that.”

“So it’s bad.”

“It’s bad,” Jeremy agreed.

Gregory shot Michael a look loaded with concern, but he gave Jeremy a thumbs up. “I’ll ask Henry if he can get you guys some dry clothes. Maybe I’ll just imply that something else is going on in here if Evan asks.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Jeremy’s face burn.

“Gregory-“

But Gregory had already ducked out of the room, laughing quietly to himself. Jeremy sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable glares he’d get from Evan.

Michael sighed softly once Jeremy finally went to smooth out the wings. “That feels really nice.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jeremy said softly. “I think we got all the blood out.”

“Is it time to turn the water off then?” Michael asked, his eyes closing.

“I’d say so.” Thank goodness, Jeremy thought as he turned the dials back and pressed the tab down. “Now you need to dry off a bit.”

“Mmmmm….” Michael hummed to himself as Jeremy stepped into the tub with a towel and started rubbing Michael’s head with it.

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at Jeremy. “You really do like taking care of me, don’t you?”

Jeremy huffed out a sigh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”

“I thought you just stuck around to steal our Coca Cola.”

“That too. But I do enjoy your company, Mike.”

The smile broke into a full grin as Michael tugged the towel out of Jeremy’s hands. “That is wonderful news, Jeremy.”

Did he really not know? Jeremy wondered.

Before he had a chance to answer, Henry peered into the bathroom, assessing the pool of water on the floor. He raised a tired eyebrow as he observed the two boys in the bathtub. “I wasn’t inclined to believe Gregory before, but seeing it for myself…”

Jeremy’s face ignited with heat. “I was just helping clean blood from his wings. Nothing else happened, I swear.”

“I was referring to the fact that Michael grew wings. What did you think I meant?” Henry’s eyebrows scrunched, and Michael gave Jeremy a funny look.

“I thought Gregory might’ve said something else,” Jeremy replied, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

“Are you alright, Jeremy? You look a bit feverish…” A frown tugged at the corner of Michael’s mouth.

“I’m going to go grab some more towels. And you two will be wanting a dry set of clothes, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded quickly.

Henry hummed at them before walking back out of the room.

“I am grateful for both you and Gregory,” Michael said, using the towel to dry the rest of his body. He slowly rose to his feet, finally able to stand on his own.

Jeremy determinedly did not stare. Instead, he wrung water from his hair.

“I would offer you the towel, but I believe it is too wet to be any real help. Seeing as your clothes are also drenched, the best course of action is to wait for Henry to return.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Michael stepped out of the tub, hanging the towel back on the rack after he went. Jeremy could admit that the wings looked pretty good on Mike. He’d been weary of it when he’d first seen the wings on Gregory, and he knew that Gregory was defensive about it now. But maybe seeing him help Michael would help.

“Do you need a bandage for your face?” Michael asked, making eye contact with Jeremy through the mirror above the sink.

“Oh, I uh.” Jeremy blinked at him. “It doesn’t… It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Michael’s mouth twitched. “I understand that me being like this must be unpleasant for you, but that does not mean you do not need assistance with that cut.”

Being like this? Was Michael phrasing things like that on purpose? Was he talking about the fact that he was in his boxers or the fact that he had wings? Jeremy crossed his arms before remembering that his shirt was soaked. He uncrossed them and simply said, “There is no problem. I just don’t need a Band-Aid.”

Michael walked back over, and Jeremy tried to take a step back before remembering he was standing in a bathtub. Trapped, Jeremy stood stiffly as Michael ran a thumb over his scratch. Don’t flinch, he told himself, but it still stung. The cut was pretty deep.

“You likely do need a bandage, despite your claim otherwise,” Michael replied. “I can help, if you need assistance.”

Michael gently wiped blood from Jeremy’s face and went in search of medical supplies. It stung when he cleaned the wound, but Jeremy found himself too fascinated by Michael’s cautious care to really notice. The tiniest furrow in Michael’s eyebrows appeared when he put the bandage on Jeremy’s face, and his hands lingered on Jeremy’s jaw for just a moment too long.

He almost seemed sad when he stepped back from Jeremy. “All better. See?” Michael smiled so quickly Jeremy wondered if he’d imagined the pain in Michael’s eyes.

“Y… yeah. Um. Thanks.” Jeremy touched the bandage, surprised by how big it was. “I didn’t realize the scratch was that big.”

“I still feel terrible for doing that to you. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Michael asked.

Unable to come up with anything to say other than a request for Michael to kiss him, Jeremy shook his head and turned his attention to Michael’s wings. “Do they still hurt?”

“Not as much as they did,” Michael flexed them experimentally. Jeremy smiled faintly, recalling that Gregory was having immense difficulty controlling his own wings. Perhaps the size made it easier.

Michael made a face. “It appears that moving them still hurts, however.”

“Evan mentioned something about messaging the muscles earlier. He was doing it for Gregory.”

Michael brightened. “I suppose I shall have to ask for Evan’s help with that endeavor then. Thank you for the reminder.”

I could do it for you, Jeremy thought desperately. He didn’t want to just have to leave after everything. This was the most time he’d spent with Michael before, and the guy was just so chill about everything. But being in the same space as him, watching him interact with his brother and Gregory made him want to stay so much longer. Michael Afton was the most compassionate person Jeremy had ever met, and he wanted to be able to help the man who tried so hard to help everyone else.

It didn’t help that Jeremy was also hopelessly in love with him.

As Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, Henry returned with the changes of clothes. Michael turned his attention away from Jeremy to thank Henry and apologize for the water all over the floor, and Jeremy was left to awkwardly collect the pile of bloody clothes on the floor to offer them to Henry.

Henry stared at the rags for a moment, his face paling significantly. “These were Michael’s clothes?”

“Yes.” Michael was separating the clothes to split between himself and Jeremy, and he was hardly focused on Henry. “I could not find a way to safely remove my shirt without causing more pain, so Jeremy helped me cut it off. I am afraid blood does not come out of denim very easily, so my jeans are also a lost cause.”

Brightening, Michael put a bundle of clothing into Jeremy’s arms. “You can change in Charlie’s old room.”

“Why can’t you both change in here?” Henry asked, sounding confused.

Pressure built in Jeremy’s throat as he tried to answer that question. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of himself. Not by any measure at all. He just knew it was dangerous, what he was. People didn’t exactly approve of people like him, after all. Especially not here.

Michael gave Henry a scathing look as tears built up behind Jeremy’s eyes. “Maybe we don’t want to change in the same room.”

Henry blinked in surprise, but he glanced between the two boys for a moment before making his exit. Michael patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “I can go to Charlie’s room instead, if you would prefer to change in here.”

Jeremy still couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. The gentle way Michael nodded back at him filled his body with a strange warmth. A few moments later, Michael was gone, and Jeremy could finally change out of the sopping wet layers he’d been in this whole time.

Half-way through changing, Jeremy noticed that most of the clothes were baggy and easy to layer over each other. There were almost too many options. A jolt ran through him when he considered that Michael had sorted through the clothes. Either Michael was very particular, or he knew.

Hurriedly, Jeremy finished changing and practically ran to the bedroom where Michael said he’d be changing. He basically flung the door open to a startled Mike, who had jeans on but no shirt. “Is something wrong?” Michael asked.

His wings and hair fluffed up, like he’d been expecting a threat, but his expression was one of concern. Jeremy knew he was shaking, knew he wouldn’t be able to speak for a moment, but he stood there and just stared. Why did Michael have to be adorable in everything he did? The way his mouth curled into a frown made half of his mouth seem to vanish, like he was biting on it constantly distracted Jeremy from what he wanted to say.

He let his eyes wander over Michael’s bare torso as he tried to find the words to speak. The worst of his secrets was surely out already, and if Michael figured out his feelings, it would be less painful than him knowing the other secret.

Fascination over the jagged scar across Michael’s chest sprouted in his heart. Jeremy had seen it before, of course. He’d seen it in the bathroom, but he’d been trying not to stare before.

“Jeremy?” Michael looked worried now. “Are you alright?”

Maybe Michael didn’t know. Maybe he just hadn’t grabbed a shirt at all, since they had to be cut specifically for the wings anyway. Jeremy was probably just overreacting. And even if he wasn’t, it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to bring it up. “Uhmm. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Michael relaxed. “I’m quite alright, Jeremy. I’m not as weak as I was before. The shower certainly helped.”

“You’re um. You’re very fluffy right now.”

“Am I?” Michael ran a hand through his hair, feeling where it stuck up all over the place. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks for talking to Henry back there.”

“It was nothing.” Michael blinked at him, wings twitching. “Gregory did a good job cleaning up.” He gestured at the carpet and the bed.

The bed was made very neatly, corners tucked so much better than Jeremy could do on a good day. There were only faint hints that someone had been bleeding there, and they were only visible because Jeremy was looking for them. “Yeah. He certainly did.”

A fond smile crossed Michael’s face at that. “He’s so sweet.”

Jeremy didn’t really believe that, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t want Michael to stop smiling for anything. It was so much better than his frown in every possible way.

“We should… I um. I think we should probably head back to the living room,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

“Right, yes. I suppose it is almost time for you to head home too.” Michael blinked, like he was shaking himself out of a daydream. “Or maybe you could stay for supper?”

Jeremy smiled. “I would love that.”

Evan was awestruck when he saw his brother’s wings. “They’re so big!”

“Soft too,” Jeremy said, trying to encourage Evan’s excitement.

Gregory made a noise in the back of his throat before saying, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Jeremy stared at him, mouth opening and closing without words coming out.

“No softer than yours, I’m sure,” Michael said, trying to keep the peace. There wasn’t even a hint of a blush on his face at Gregory’s words. Were the jokes just going over his head? Maybe Jeremy was reading too much into it.

Shaking his head, Jeremy plopped down on the couch beside Gregory. “What happened to your face?” Gregory asked quietly.

“I wasn’t careful enough,” Jeremy answered, glancing at the two brothers as they talked about Michael’s new wings. “And Mike’s wings pack quite the punch.”

“Oh.” Gregory’s eyes widened with understanding. “That could’ve been bad.”

“You’re telling me, kid.” Jeremy shook his head, taking a sip from his can of Coke. “What were you and Evan up to today?”

“Videogames mostly,” Gregory replied. “Although everything here is so old.”

“Old?” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Nah, my parents are worse. You’re probably just picky. A bunch of this stuff is newer than anything my family could afford.”

“Your motorcycle is cool though.”

Jeremy smiled. “It is pretty cool.”

“Can you take me on it sometime?”

The smile faltered slightly. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“C’mon, please? All the stuff here is pretty boring, and I know Evan tries to be fun, but you can only play the same game for so long before it’s lame. And I don’t want to have to tell him it’s lame. It’s awful when he cries.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to make of that. “Maybe we could play a board game or something.”

“I wanna go on your bike sometime.” Gregory stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Or I’m going to tell Mike you have the biggest crush on him and-“

“Okay, okay! I get it. But you’ll have to wear a helmet,” Jeremy said, looking away and tugging at his shirt. “And long pants. Just in case.”

“Okay, Dad.” Gregory rolled his eyes.

“Well, you’re the one who said it’s awful when Evan cries,” Jeremy shot back. “And I’ve already seen how Mike cries, and I don’t want to see that again. No thanks.”

Gregory flinched at that. “I…”

“Not to frighten you, but it can be dangerous.” Jeremy sighed. “There’s only so much you can be safe. Not to quote my mom, but ‘I’d rather you be late than dead.’ It’s just that kind of thing.”

Seeing Gregory’s expression, he softened. “I’m a firm believer in the fact that both of us are going to get lectured by Michael when he finds out. So, when he tries, we’re going to tell him that I already told you all the risks and you still wanted to do it. Unless I’ve changed your mind.”

“No, haven’t changed my mind.” Gregory scooted closer to Jeremy. “I bet I’d survive a crash better than you.”

“No way,” Jeremy laughed. “With the way you’re built? No offense, but you’d be a splatter on the cement.”

“Rude.” Gregory scoffed. Not subtly at all, he tried to steal Jeremy’s Coke from his hand.

Amused, Jeremy let him. Gregory immediately started downing what was left in the can. At that moment, Michael glanced over and gasped. “Gregory! Is that Coke? Are you encouraging this, Jeremy?”

“He took the can out of my hand. I didn’t do anything,” Jeremy smiled cheekily. “Not my fault he’s so fast.”

“Mmmmm,” Gregory squinted skeptically at the can. “This is Coke?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy looked confused. “Why? Does it taste weird to you or something?”

“It’s better than I remember.”

Michael sighed, removing the can from Gregory’s hands. “That is because Coca-Cola has different flavoring in it than you remember.”

“Are you talking about the whole cocaine in Coke thing? Because I thought that was a myth.”

Michael shot Jeremy an exasperated look. “That is not what I am talking about. Anyway, Gregory does not need caffeine in his system at this time of day. He won’t get any sleep at this rate.”

“Whoops?” Jeremy held his hands up in surrender. “Look I-“

“It does not matter.” Michael shot Gregory a meaningful look. “So long as he doesn’t keep Evan up with his extra energy, it should be fine.”

Evan peered at them all from behind the sofa. “How did he even take it from you? I thought you kept a tight grip on those at all times.”

“Caught me by surprise?” Jeremy shifted his weight as Michael gave him a skeptical look. “He’s faster than he looks, I swear.”

Evan snorted, climbing over the back of the sofa, much to Michael’s despair as he said, “Well, that gives him a one-up in physical games I guess.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I totally crush at Fazblock!” Gregory crossed his arms. “I had more blocks than you did.”

“Gregory, you’re supposed to get rid of the blocks, not keep them on the screen.” Evan shook his head despairingly. “I would’ve explained the rules if you’d asked-“

“It was different than what I’m used to, okay?” Gregory rolled his eyes. “I could totally beat you at Fazzy Kart.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Evan replied. “I still think you made it up.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Okay, that is enough.” Michael shook his head, smiling faintly. “Gregory did not make it up. Fazzy Kart just has not come out yet.” He ruffled Evan’s hair before walking away with the empty Coke can. “And I have something for you two to do when I get back!”

“A task?” Gregory asked.

“A task.” Evan snorted. “Ah yes, my brother typically assigns me tasks. No, Gregory. He’s sending us to do chores or something. Usually he’s more mean about it though.”

“No one understands my jokes.” Gregory’s wing twitched irritably.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jeremy replied. “He still laughed, even if he didn’t get it. Be nonsensical! Nobody cares as long as you’re funny.”

“That’s a terrible line of logic. I refuse to believe that people willingly follow your example,” Michael said, returning with a sheet of paper. “Evan, Gregory, I am trusting you two to find everything on this list and bring it back here.”

“We don’t have money,” Gregory said, but he still took the list from Michael’s hands. “And aren’t we supposed to stay inside until we figure out what to do about our wings? And wait, is it safe to-“

“You worry too much, Gregory. We can just ask Uncle Henry for help.” Evan peered at the grocery list. “What are you making, Mikey? This looks like spaghetti sauce, but you don’t use half this stuff normally.”

“Wait and see,” Michael said cryptically. His own wings twitched as he spoke, even seeming a tiny bit ruffled.

“With the overabundance of clothes Henry seems to have, maybe he has jackets you can just throw on over the wings or something,” Jeremy said, slowly rising from the couch as Gregory and Evan stood to examine the list closer.

“We can handle this,” Evan said with full confidence. “And we’ll try to be fast so you can get started sooner.”

“Thank you, Evan.” There was a deeper tone of relief in Michael’s voice at that. “My heroes.”

Jeremy smiled wearily at them all. “I should probably get going.” It felt like intruding to stay this long. Sure, they all tried to include him, but Michael probably had other things he planned to do while Evan and Gregory were gone. Perhaps he needed to talk to his uncle more or something. Regardless, Jeremy had overstayed his welcome.

“I thought you said you could stay for supper.” Michael sounded wounded. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”

He pressed his hand against Jeremy’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“I’m fine, Michael. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?” Jeremy ducked away from Michael’s hand and kept his gaze on the carpet. “Especially if you’re all going to be busy.”

“I won’t be busy until they get back,” Michael replied as Gregory tugged on Evan’s shirt to lead him away. “And even then, I won’t be too busy to talk. You can sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”

“Yeah but…” Jeremy hesitated, combing a hand through his hair. “Look, I just don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be,” Michael insisted. He sat down on the sofa where Gregory had been sitting before. Patting the cushion next to him, he waited for Jeremy to sit back down.

When Jeremy sat down, Michael gestured for him to scoot closer. “What are you doing?” Jeremy asked nervously.

“Your hair is a mess,” Michael replied. “I’m going to fix it for you.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy frowned, patting his hair self-consciously.

“It’s all tangled. That’s going to be a nightmare to brush out tomorrow if you don’t take care of it tonight.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked away. “It shouldn’t be your responsibility-“

“My wings shouldn’t have been yours,” Michael countered. “Let me do a nice thing for you. Please.”

“I helped with your wings because I wanted to spend time with you. Not because it was a burden, Mike.”

“This isn’t a burden to me either. Let me help. Maybe I want to spend more time with you too.”

Jeremy didn’t have a counter to that, so he reluctantly sighed. “Just… be gentle on it, okay?”

“Of course.” He blinked, seemingly surprised that Jeremy gave in so easily. “I do need to go grab a brush and a comb.”

“Naturally.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as Michael got up.

What was he even supposed to say to Michael? He hadn’t expected to get this far, and now faced with the opportunity to have a casual conversation with him, Jeremy panicked.

When Michael got back, the hair brush he carried had long strands of dark brown hair in it, and both the brush and the comb were shining with water. “I hope you don’t mind,” Michael said awkwardly. “But I know that hair gets really, really tangled, so I just wanted to make sure I could get the tangles out without hurting you.”

Oh. That was… surprisingly considerate. “And the water is supposed to fix tangles?”

“Better than a dry brush.”

Jeremy just stared. The most he’d been able to do with his hair was to throw it into the world’s worst ponytail when he needed it out of his face. All this talk of the more effective way to brush through his hair without making it hurt stirred something in his chest. There was nothing Michael would do that could possibly hurt more than the way he was currently doing his hair.

Michael sat back down and got to work. It was strange. Jeremy hadn’t had anyone brush his hair in a long time. His mother had been too busy with work to even notice that he needed help with his hair. Or anything really.

“You have really thick hair,” Michael mused softly.

“Yeah. Makes it a real pain sometimes,” Jeremy replied.

Michael was so gentle with it, apologizing softly when the brush scraped his ear or a snag was too rough. Eventually, though, he set the brush aside and started dividing his hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your hair,” Michael replied as he started braiding it. “I assume you don’t have a hair brush for yourself, or maybe you just don’t have much time to do your hair every day. But at the very least, braiding it back at night prevents most tangles from getting worse.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff, dude?” Jeremy wondered. “Like, you know more about this than I do.”

“I…” Michael hesitated. “Evan’s not my only sibling. I had a sister. Elizabeth. Her hair was more of a nightmare than this.”

“Oh.” Jeremy fidgeted. He didn’t know what to do with that information.

“And, there!” Michael twisted a ponytail into the end of Jeremy’s hair. “Less problems for later, see?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy touched a hand to the braid, smiling softly. “Thanks, man.”

“It’s nothing.”

“But I say it is something. Come here, Mike.”

Michael’s wings fluffed up ever so slightly, but he did as Jeremy asked, unprepared for the tackle-hug Jeremy gave him. He gasped in alarm as they ended up on the floor, but when he looked up at Jeremy, it was with what Jeremy could only describe as adoration. Then he was suddenly pressed completely up against Michael as his wings wrapped around them both.

Of course, that was also the moment Evan and Gregory came back from their shopping trip with the supplies Michael had asked for. Letting Jeremy up, Michael immediately accepted the groceries from Evan and went straight to the kitchen. Gregory and Evan were left staring at Jeremy, who was sitting with a ridiculous grin on his face.

“Might need some help preparing this!” Michael called.

Before any of them could move toward the door, however, Henry walked by to go help Michael. Which left Jeremy to get teased by the two younger boys.

“What was that about?” Evan asked, picking a long blue feather out of Jeremy’s hair.

“What were you doing on the floor?” Gregory asked.

“Mike did my hair,” Jeremy replied, gesturing at the hairbrush that now had long strands of gold intertwined with the brown.

Evan looked thoughtful as he fiddled with the feather. “I didn’t know Mikey knew how to do hair.”

“Didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Gregory asked, picking a smaller, brown feather from Jeremy’s shirt. “He could’ve done her hair once or twice.”

“Maybe…” Evan didn’t sound very sure. “Mikey wasn’t… I don’t know. Maybe he did. I never knew, though.”

“He did mention it when I asked…” Jeremy said, suddenly embarrassed to know more than Evan.

Evan fiddled with the feather more. “He seems to like you a lot.”

“Mike?” Jeremy asked, even more embarrassed now.

“Yeah. He smiles when he talks to you.”

“Except that one day,” Gregory interrupted. “He came inside and cried.”

“That was something else, I think,” Evan responded. “I think the Nightmares finally got to him.”

“So I take it Mike doesn’t usually talk about his issues then?”

“Not usually.” Evan squirmed, his wings puffing up. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shook his head and finally got off the floor. “Do you want to try playing Kings in the Corner again?”

“Ugh, that’s so boring,” Gregory replied, but Evan was already rushing off to get the cards.

“I need a second. I’ll be right back,” Jeremy said, slipping into the kitchen to grab another can of Coke.

Michael glanced over from where he was cutting an onion and just sighed. “Jeremy-“

“I know, I know. It’s bad for me or whatever. But I need it, okay?” Jeremy took a long swig from the can. “Better than some habits.”

“Still…”

“It’s fine dude. Cut your onion or whatever.”

Henry said something that Jeremy didn’t catch as he rushed back to the living room. “Okay, are we ready to start?”

“This game is stupid,” Gregory grumbled. He was holding his seven cards, and Evan had already laid out the board.

“I dealt, so Gregory goes first,” Evan replied, ignoring Gregory’s comment.

“Lucky,” Jeremy said, eyeing the board.

“I don’t even know how to play,” Gregory complained. “This game is for old people.”

“I guess we’re old then.” Jeremy’s eyes twinkled. “You have to play a card from your hand onto one of those four cards.” He pointed at the two of diamonds, the king of spades, the four of diamonds, and the seven of diamonds respectively. “You want it to be a lower rank, or less points than the card on the stack. And it’s gotta be the opposite color.”

“Oh.” Gregory stared at his hand for a moment.

“You gotta tell him about the kings, Jeremy.” Evan shook his head. “If there’s a king, you can move it into the spaces between the four other cards, and put a new foundation card down.”

“Huh.” Gregory frowned. “This is too confusing.”

“It really isn’t,” Jeremy laughed, taking another sip from his Coke. “If you really want, you can add your cards back to the foundation pile and watch me and Evan play a game.”

“I’m just going to do that.” Gregory stuck his cards back in the bigger stack.

“Suits don’t matter,” Evan said helpfully. “Only color does.”

Jeremy set off to move the king, and the game begun. Evan went out on his first turn.

“Okay, that was a bad example,” Evan said with a grin.

“You didn’t shuffle very well,” Jeremy said accusingly.  “That was- arghhh. We’re playing another game so Gregory can actually see how the game works.”

“Are we doing points?” Evan said innocently.

“We will once Gregory joins in,” Jeremy replied, collecting the cards from the board. “These are warm-up rounds.”

“Riiiiight,” Gregory replied with an amused snort. “You just got destroyed.”

“Thank you for the obvious and accurate commentary, Gregory.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.

When he flipped the four cards over, three of them were kings. Jeremy let out an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing and Evan grinned at the board. Just like that, he was down to one card. Jeremy scowled at his own cards as it became his turn.

“All four kings on the board in the first turn,” he grumbled.

“Now who’s bad at shuffling?” Evan replied, watching Jeremy’s hand drop to three cards.

“Oh, shut up.”

Evan snickered as it became his turn. “I almost wonder if you were trying to let me win.” He took the ace of diamonds and placed it on the two of clubs that Jeremy had missed during his turn. “Do you have the hang of it yet, Gregory? We may need a third player or this are going to be some very quick games.”

“Ha ha.” Jeremy said as Evan gathered up the cards again. “I’m just used to people who aren’t paying attention nearly as much as you do.”

“I’m just playing the game,” Evan said with a cheeky grin. “You had a six of spades in your hand? You could’ve played that on the seven-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jeremy sighed, exaggerating his grief as he drank from his can. “You have eyes like a hawk.”

Evan just hummed at that, his eyes twinkling as he shuffled the cards again. “What do you say, Gregory? Want to try and give it another shot?”

“Sure. Can’t be any worse than Jeremy, right?”

“Alright, I get it.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess this game isn’t as awful as you want to claim it is, huh?”

“We’ll see.”

Evan pulled out a baggy filled with little red chips and shook it for a moment. “I didn’t have a chance to grab paper, so we can just play with chips, right?”

“Let’s give Gregory one trial run first,” Jeremy said as Gregory stared blankly at the chip bag. “Let him get a feel for the game.”

Gregory’s first round went okay. He managed to play half his cards in the first go, but he failed to notice that he could’ve moved the king to the corner right away, and Jeremy took advantage of that. Humming to himself, Jeremy quickly went through his turn and waited for Evan.

“That is absurd,” Gregory said, watching Evan put down cards and move piles around rapidly. “There’s no way you’re not cheating.”

“It’s all natural, Gregory,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re just mad because I’m better at games than you are.”

“Grrrrrr….” Gregory scowled as Evan tapped his own card against the table. He put down his one card and waited for Jeremy to go.

Adding another person really did slow down the game a lot, Jeremy thought to himself. This was the first round someone had actually had to draw a card. Evan hummed, but he also needed to draw a card. Unlike Jeremy, however, Evan couldn’t play his. Finally, the game was even again.

Gregory scowled at his cards. “What do I do if I can’t play?”

“Draw,” Jeremy said. “We’ve both done it.”

Grumbling, Gregory drew a card. He brightened as he realized he could play it, and then it was Jeremy’s turn. Jeremy sighed in relief as he was able to play a card on Gregory’s queen, and then move a ten on top of that. Moment of truth, he thought to himself as Evan studied his hand. Michael’s brother shook his head and drew another card. And promptly played it.

Gregory and Jeremy both groaned at that. “See, but now things get interesting,” Evan said cheerfully. “We’ve all been drawing cards and actually have to pay attention to the board.”

“Don’t you always have to pay attention to the board?” Gregory asked as he drew another card. “Ugh.”

“Depends on how close,” Jeremy said smugly, laying down his one card. “I win this round.”

Evan sighed wearily, but he said nothing as Jeremy collected the cards to shove them at Gregory. “Your turn to shuffle.”

Gregory pushed the cards back at Jeremy. “I don’t know how.”

“I guess I can do it for you. But you’re still dealing, alright? Seven cards to each of us.”

Gregory nodded as Jeremy shuffled, and Evan quickly explained how chips worked. Everyone put one chip in at the beginning. Then, when you drew a card, you’d put another chip in. Each card at the end of the game still in your hand was another chip, except for kings. Kings were ten chips.

They all put one chip in the middle as Gregory passed out cards.

“Ready for your first real round, Gregory?” Jeremy asked, looking over his cards.

Gregory huffed, but he nodded anyway. “This is still dumb.”

“What if we made it a bit more fun?” Evan asked. “I’ll put in this feather.” He held up the blue feather he’d picked out of Jeremy’s hair.

“We’re playing for feathers?” Gregory asked. “But we both have feathers.”

“Not just any feathers. Michael’s feathers. I know him better than you do, trust me. He wouldn’t just give those away.”

Gregory considered it for a moment as Jeremy bit his lip. It seemed plenty easy to get feathers in his opinion. Michael shed two of them while Jeremy hugged him before. “Deal. I’ll put in this one.”

Gregory set the brown feather on top of the three chips. Evan did the same with the blue feather. Both of them glanced at Jeremy expectantly.

“I don’t have any. You both took those from me in the first place.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. The feathers were cool, though.

He kind of wished he had some of his own, maybe to braid through his hair or something. But that required winning this game. And since Evan was really good at Kings in the Corner, and also used all the chips in the box, it was really unlikely that he’d win them at the end.

“How about…” Jeremy put twenty more chips in the pot. “I know it doesn’t balance out at all, but you two seem to really want those feathers.”

Evan grinned, and so, the game began.

Gregory surprised them all by nearly going out in his first turn, but Evan still won the first game. They played in relative silence, too busy concentrating to hold a proper conversation. Evan crushed them in the first few rounds, but Gregory eventually got a win when Evan had 6 cards in his hand, resulting in a somewhat decent counter-balance.

It did nothing for Jeremy though. He looked nervously at his dwindling pile of chips every time the game ended and knew it was very unlikely that he’d win. It wasn’t impossible, sure, but it was incredibly unlikely.

“This is eight, Gregory,” Evan said absently, after Jeremy had already played his first turn. “We can play it, but you should pay better attention.”

Jeremy bit his lip at that. He was losing really bad. He really needed a win, and he needed one where the other two were struggling. Accidentally starting a round on eight cards was not a great way to start that.

“How did you even notice that?” Gregory asked.

“Eight feels thicker than seven.”

“How much do you play cards? Jeez,” Jeremy asked as it became Gregory’s turn.

“Enough,” Evan said with an amused smile. “I usually play alone.”

“This doesn’t feel like a game you can play alone,” Gregory muttered.

“You can. It’s just not as fun. But I don’t play this,” Evan said as Jeremy had to draw yet again. “I play Solitare.”

“Right, silly me.” Gregory shook his head. “Dude, how are you losing the game you suggested?”

“It takes a lot of luck, Gregory.” Jeremy sighed, having emptied his can of Coke long ago. “I’ve already accepted my fate. Now it’s just a matter of wondering who wins overall.”

They all fell quiet again as they settled back into their concentration. A few tense rounds went by as they all drew cards. When Evan finally played a card, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d last another round.

Or… maybe not. It was a close thing, that balance between drawing and playing. “Are we going to go through the whole deck?” Gregory eventually wondered.

“Maybe,” Jeremy replied wearily.

The pot was massive at this point. Evan’s brow was continuously furrowed, and even his wings were stiff with concentration. There’s no strategy that trumps the good cards being at the bottom of the deck, Jeremy thought to himself with grim amusement.

“Ha!” Gregory shouted his delight as he finally laid his last card.

Jeremy sighed sorrowfully as he glanced at his four chips. He would only have two left for another game after this. If only it had been Jeremy who’d drawn the card to end the game.

“I don’t even remember who shuffled that one,” Jeremy said as Gregory gathered the pot.

“It was Gregory. He started us with eight cards,” Evan replied. “You shuffle next.”

“I’m not going to make it through this game,” Jeremy muttered.

“Then we’ll just play it out, and you can be done after,” Evan shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ll win?”

“For every draw you have that you can’t play, I’ll put in a chip,” Gregory offered as Jeremy put his last chip in the pot. “It’ll keep things fair.”

“I’m sure,” Jeremy muttered.

“Awww, you are a grumpy old man. Evan look! He’s so grumpy.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Evan put his last card down, and Jeremy shook his head. “I’m out. Good luck, Gregory.”

He wondered what Michael and Henry were up to in the kitchen. It had been two hours of this, after all. Surely preparing a meal wouldn’t take that long, especially since Evan implied Michael was making spaghetti.

“Okay, I gotta know. What spaghetti takes three hours to make?” Jeremy said, sitting down at the kitchen table with Henry.

“It’s not the spaghetti that takes so long,” Michael replied from the stove. “It’s the sauce.”

“But why?”

“The flavor has to soak in from the leaves.” Michael shrugged, moving to sit down with them. “What were you playing in there?”

“Cards.” Jeremy shrugged. “Gregory said it was for old people.”

“Then he must have never played cards before,” Henry commented.

“Maybe it’s his age,” Michael suggested.

“Nah. Your brother got really into it. He’s been beating both of us.”

“THAT’S SO STUPID!!!” Gregory shouted from the other room.

Evan laughed and said something in response, as they all glanced toward the hallway.

“No way,” Gregory said, his voice still projecting from the other room. “That’s so stupid!”

“I think the sauce is about done,” Michael said, rising from his seat again. “I should probably begin on the actual spaghetti.”

“I appreciate you deciding to cook for us, Michael,” Henry said. “And not that I’m complaining about your food, but this seems more complicated than some of the other stuff you’ve made.”

Michael just blinked at him, filling a pot with water. “It’s just spaghetti.”

Gregory and Evan walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “It smells great in here,” Evan said.

Michael glanced at his brother and at Gregory for a moment. “Who won?”

“Evan,” Gregory grumbled crossing his arms. “But he cheats.”

“I do not! Withholding cards on my turn is within the rules of the game. Just because it means you have to draw more doesn’t mean it’s cheating!” Evan argued.

“He’s right, Gregory. If he’s withholding cards, it’s still a risk to him since you can easily draw a card at any moment and win the game yourself. There’s a reason it’s ten chips if you’re holding a king at the end of the game.”

“Hmph,” Gregory scowled.

“Jeremy, do you need a new bandage for your face?” Henry asked as Gregory and Evan glared at each other from across the table.

“What? Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.” Jeremy hadn’t realized that the edge of his bandage was peeling off.

“We’ll get that taken care of later,” Henry said. “Were you planning on staying over tonight?”

“I…” Jeremy glanced around the room. “I don’t know.”

“If you decide to stay, let me know so I can tell your parents,” Henry replied, seemingly satisfied. “And would you like another can of Coca-Cola?”

“Yes please.”

“Don’t encourage his addiction, Henry.” Michael crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Jeremy responded by sticking his tongue out at Michael. Michael shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Jeremy saw a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Can I have one too?” Gregory asked.

“Absolutely not,” Michael replied. His wings twitched slightly. “You’re done with caffeine for the rest of the night. If you’re this loud after half a can, I shudder to think of what would happen if you got a full can of Coke.”

“You’re not my mom,” Gregory grumbled.

Jeremy’s mouth twitched. “He tries to act like it though, doesn’t he?”

Michael made an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing. Evan giggled too, adding, “Mama bird Mike.”

All three of them broke into bad laughing fits at that one. Henry and Michael just exchanged an exasperated look as Michael stirred the spaghetti. “I can act like it if you really want me to,” Michael eventually said. “But I don’t think you’d like the response, seeing as you two are baby birds in this analogy.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked, bewildered.

“I think what he’s getting at,” Jeremy said, amusement glinting in his eye, “is that mother birds regurgitate food into their chicks mouths.”

“Ewwwww,” Gregory gagged.

Evan snorted. “Mikey wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “I’ve certainly done worse.”

Evan froze at that. He seemed to be considering Michael’s point. “He totally would…” Evan sounded horrified.

“And with that terrible mental image, it seems that the spaghetti is done!” Henry said, putting a can of Coke in front of Jeremy before going to fetch everyone plates.

“I just need to strain the noodles, and we’re all set,” Michael said. “Could you grab the strainer please?”

Henry nodded and retrieved the strainer. Evan hummed to himself as he fiddled with the two feathers he’d won in the card game. Gregory said nothing, but Jeremy could tell it he was still bitter from his loss. Surely Michael wouldn’t be unwilling to give up feathers if they asked, Jeremy thought to himself. Maybe he’d be uncomfortable with the idea, but if Gregory said how much he really wanted them, Jeremy was sure Michael would give in eventually.

“It’s going to be hot.” Michael warned, carrying the pot of spaghetti to the table.

Henry quickly placed a potholder beneath it, and Michael went back to retrieve the sauce for the spaghetti. “Do you want to get cups out, Evan?”

Evan nodded and got up from his spot. “Gregory, you can get the plates.”

The whole group cycled around the kitchen like a little family, and Jeremy felt a little self-conscious about his place in everything, so he went and grabbed forks for everyone. It was the least he could do.

Michael dished out the food, putting just enough sauce on their spaghetti that they could avoid it if they wanted to. All of them were a little skeptical of the meal, but they all trusted that Michael knew what he was doing. Gregory and Evan both seemed startled by the taste, but Henry simply raised an eyebrow as he took a bite. Michael didn’t seem particularly concerned about their reaction, though.

He was too busy observing Jeremy when he tried it.

It was… spicier than he expected. Jeremy glanced at Michael, suddenly suspicious of him. Michael blinked at him, casually taking a bite of his own spaghetti. Jeremy glanced at him again before moving his plate to the saucepan full of spaghetti sauce and adding more to his plate.

Michael’s slow smile made Jeremy feel even more confident about his decision. Somehow, Michael had figured him out yet again, almost without effort. Jeremy stuck another forkful in his mouth and smiled back at him.

“Gregory, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Evan said.

“It’f, fine.” Gregory swallowed hard.

“Careful you don’t choke,” Henry said warningly.

Gregory set his fork down quietly, his eyes watering. He coughed a little bit, causing Michael to turn to him with concern. “Gregory? Are you alright?”

Gregory fanned himself, and Jeremy immediately figured out what was going on. “Too spicy for you? You barely had any!” He shook his head and poured Gregory a glass of milk. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Gregory eagerly took the glass, draining it in less than a minute. “Mmmmm.”

The rest of the meal went in relative silence, with Evan and Henry occasionally teasing Gregory for eating too fast and being unable to handle spicy food. Michael seemed oblivious to the main conversation, smiling softly to himself.

Jeremy knew he was staring, but he figured it wouldn’t be the biggest deal. Plenty of people stared at their friends, right? At the way they twisted spaghetti noodles onto their forks and brought their forks to their mouths. At the way their eyes glowed with joy at making something new successfully.

Michael caught his eye, and the smile widened. Jeremy felt himself smiling back easily. He’d already finished his food, and Evan and Gregory had finished half the spaghetti by themselves. There wouldn’t be many leftovers anyway.

Henry was the first to move from the table. He collected plates from everyone to take to the sink. When Michael moved to help, Henry waved him off, insisting that since Michael made the meal, he shouldn’t have to clean it up, with a meaningful look toward Evan and Gregory. He stopped Jeremy when he tried to get up too, insisting that guests shouldn’t need to help.

“But I thought we were guests,” Gregory grumbled when Evan tapped his arm to help him get up.

“Jeremy, that bandage really does need to be changed before you go,” Henry said quietly, gathering the leftovers into different containers.

“I can help him with it,” Michael said.

“Michael, you’ve done enough today. Especially with how you were feeling this morning-“

“I can help,” Michael interjected stubbornly.

Jeremy raised a confused eyebrow at the way Michael’s wings and hair ruffled.

“You need rest,” Henry said in a tone that brokered no argument.

Still, Michael persisted, the feathers now completely refusing to lay flat. Jeremy wondered how this could possibly be something he’d need to be so defensive about. “Hey, maybe Henry’s right. You have done a lot today.”

Michael scowled at that, and he grabbed Jeremy’s arm and practically dragged him out of his chair.

“What- Hey!” Jeremy stumbled into Micheal, expecting him to apologize or something.

“There’s the old Mike,” Evan mumbled quietly.

Michael’s face was right in front of Jeremy’s as he spoke. “I know my limits.”

“Do you?” Gregory challenged. He didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, which was very different from the atmosphere surrounding Michael at that moment. “To me it seems like you keep going until you drop. Maybe you should just get rid of that chip on your shoulder and let someone else handle it for once!”

“Like you did?” Michael snapped, and at that, Gregory actually flinched. “Sometimes, you can’t trust that help will come, Gregory. You should know that better than anyone.”

Gregory’s grip on the plate in his hands tightened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a family who took care of me like you do! So just suck it up.” Jeremy heard tears behind those words, and Evan mumbled something gently to him and tried to get him to turn his back on Michael.

That seemed to break something in Michael’s resilience. His wings twitched, and he let go of Jeremy’s shirt. “Right. Sorry.” He sounded just as torn as Gregory. “I…”

Jeremy figured nothing would be helped by Michael sticking around in the kitchen, so he tentatively put a hand to Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, you can help with my bandage. Maybe just tell me how to put it on so I do it right tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“So you aren’t staying then?” Henry asked, looking worriedly between the four boys.

Michael’s ashen expression was not particularly reassuring. “No, I mean. If it’s okay for me to stay, I plan to. I just… Maybe it should be my responsibility to fix that?” Jeremy gestured at the scratch on his face. “Seems like all I’m doing here is making more messes anyway. Might as well try to clean one up myself, right?”

Henry frowned but he said nothing.

Jeremy leaned close to Michael’s ear. “Come on then.”

“I didn’t mean to… I hurt his feelings,” Michael mumbled as he mechanically peeled the rest of the bandage away from Jeremy’s face to wipe at the scratch with a wet cloth.

“Energy was running high. Maybe you are a bit more overwhelmed then you thought? Frayed nerves break way for anger sometimes. Or so I’ve heard.”

“I still shouldn’t have done that.” Michael couldn’t even look Jeremy in the eye. He was too distraught.

“Why did you get so defensive, if you don’t mind me asking? And I’m not just talking about Gregory. You were adamant about helping me with my bandage.”

“I just…” Michael hesitated. “I haven’t had a chance to see you in days, and I wanted to get every moment I could?”

“An afternoon together wasn’t enough?” Jeremy teased, even though he knew exactly how Michael was feeling. “Look, that’s okay, Mike. But you gotta take care of yourself too.”

“Yeah, but-“

“What do you want? I know you think you have to help everybody all the time, but you’ve gotta have desires too, right?”

“Maybe I don’t deserve to have my desires realized,” Michael replied. He still wasn’t looking at Jeremy. “Maybe I’m just a rotten person who doesn’t deserve joy or anything that doesn’t directly benefit anybody else.”

“Michael Afton.” Jeremy said, trying to sound stern. “You are a human being just like everyone else. We all make mistakes. And you sound like you’re trying to atone for yours. I don’t know about you, but someone who tries to learn from their mistakes sounds like someone who deserves to have what they want every now and again.”

Michael completely froze at that. When he met Jeremy’s eyes, he looked utterly shattered. “I…” He swallowed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s okay, Mike. No one is asking you to do everything-“

“No, you don’t understand.” His voice was hardly a whisper. “I’ve… That scolding… You’ve said that to me before.”

“I have?”

Michael nodded mutely. “It was right before…” His wings stretched their full length as Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“What can’t you do, Michael?” Jeremy asked softly.

A pained noise rumbled in Michael’s throat, and he dropped the cloth, yanking Jeremy forward by his shirt. Their mouths crashed together, and all Jeremy could think was finally. His own hands went behind Michael’s shoulders, and he gently guided the wings back into a folded position before stroking them gently.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Michael. It was freeing and exhilarating at the same time. Michael tasted like bubble gum and smelled like clean laundry. He was the weirdest man Jeremy had ever met, but maybe that was what made him so alluring. Or maybe it was something else. Something about all this just seemed so… right.

When Michael broke away, Jeremy tried to follow. Michael looked at him fondly and laughed. “I thought you said I needed to take care of myself.”

“I can’t be that addicting,” Jeremy said impulsively.

Michael snorted. “I need air, Jeremy. We were both going to pass out if we kept that up.”

“Can we do it again?” Jeremy didn’t care about air. He just wanted to be close to Michael, wanted to make him smile, wanted to make him laugh.

Michael laughed again, a brilliant sound, before Jeremy pressed their lips back together. It was completely perfect.

[noxtivagus]

yh the sorrow of werlyt's one of my favs fr :^)

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | the end of the season '24

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : quiet nights at the hotel after a long race

୨ৎ : genre : some are happy & some are sad ୨ৎ : tws : none ୨ৎ : word count : 2531

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i am so proud of lando for being able to secure that wcc for mclaren, but i am SO sad seeing carlos drive in red for the last time, and seeing lewis have his last drive with mercedes :c

ʚ・max verstappen

the post-race buzz of abu dhabi had faded, leaving a quiet calm in max's hotel suite. he sprawled on the sofa, phone in hand, scrolling through memes with that trademark deadpan expression. p6 wasn't great—definitely not how he wanted to wrap the season—but the world championship trophy on his shelf said it all. he was untouchable, even on an off day.

you dropped onto the couch next to him, giving him a small smile. "not quite the result we were hoping for, huh?"

he tilted his head, barely fazed. "meh. one bad race doesn’t erase a good season." he tossed his phone onto the table, already over it. "at least now i don’t have to hear the word 'tyre degradation' for a while."

"exactly," you agreed, nudging his arm. "just endless beaches, lazy mornings, and maybe some sketchy tourist traps."

he smirked, his eyes lighting up for the first time all evening. "knowing you, that probably means camel racing or some falcon photo op where i end up holding a bird for instagram."

you laughed. "don’t pretend like you wouldn’t secretly enjoy it."

"maybe," he admitted with a faint grin. "but only if there’s good food after. priorities, you know?"

as you leaned into his side, you felt the tension melt away from him. the season was done, the pressure gone. and for once, max verstappen, the reigning world champion, was just a guy on a couch, ready to trade apexes for sunsets and podiums for bad tourist selfies.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

a bittersweet stillness filled the room—p4 after starting sixteenth was nothing short of remarkable, but tonight marked the end of an era. his last race with mercedes. the silver star that had defined his legacy, his dominance, was now in the rearview mirror.

you leaned into him, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. "what a drive, lewis," you murmured, pride laced in your voice. "it was magic out there, just like always."

he smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on the city lights beyond the window. "it felt good, you know? pushing through the field like that. it’s how i want to remember this team—fighting, always fighting." his voice was steady, but there was a weight behind it, a depth only you could hear.

"it’s hard to see this chapter end," you said softly, running your fingers along the edge of his hand. "so many years, so much history. but watching you today—watching you fight with every ounce of heart you’ve got—it’s impossible not to feel proud."

he turned to you then, his eyes warm, a quiet fire still flickering in them. "it’s sad, yeah. mercedes is family. but every journey has its end, and every end makes way for something new. it’s time. time for a new challenge."

you smiled, squeezing his hand. "and ferrari red will suit you, no doubt about it."

that earned a laugh from him, light but genuine, his shoulders finally easing. "we’ll see. it’ll be... different. but i’m ready for different. i have to be."

"you’ll thrive," you said, meeting his gaze with steady confidence. "because that’s who you are, lewis. you don’t just race—you redefine what’s possible."

he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "and having you by my side, that makes it all the better."

the evening stretched on as you reminisced about mercedes—about the victories, the struggles, the growth. there was sadness, yes, but also hope, an electric anticipation for the future. ferrari would be a new challenge, but lewis hamilton was built for challenges. and you? you’d be there, through it all, cheering him on as he wrote the next chapter of his already legendary story.

ʚ・george russell

the air in george’s hotel room was thick with emotions. lewis—his teammate, his mentor, his benchmark—was leaving for ferrari. the weight of it sat heavily on his shoulders, a silent pressure he hadn’t quite found the words to unpack.

you settled beside him on the bed, your hand resting lightly on his back. "you drove brilliantly today, george," you said softly, your tone filled with pride.

he gave you a faint smile, though his usual spark was dimmed. "thanks. it’s just... weird, you know? lewis not being here next season. he's been... well, everything. a teammate, a rival, someone to learn from."

"it’s a huge change," you agreed, your voice gentle. "but today, you showed exactly what you’re made of. you didn’t just race—you fought, george. and everyone saw it."

he turned to look at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "but can i really lead this team now? without him?"

you met his gaze firmly, your conviction unwavering. "you don’t have to be lewis, george. you’ve already proven you're your own kind of leader—sharp, determined, and always hungry for more. you don’t need to fill anyone’s shoes because you’re carving out your own legacy."

his shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension giving way to a spark of confidence. "it’s just... lewis set such a high bar. and stepping into that space—it’s a lot."

"you don’t need to step into his space," you reminded him with a reassuring smile. "you’ve earned your own, george. you’ve fought for it, and you’re more than ready to take the reins."

he took a deep breath, the weight on his chest easing as resolve began to take its place. "this is my chance, isn’t it? to really prove myself."

"absolutely," you said, squeezing his hand. "and i’ll be right here, every step of the way, cheering for you."

his smile widened, more genuine this time, and he leaned in to kiss you softly. "thank you, love" he murmured. "that means everything."

as the night stretched on, you stayed by his side, feeling his determination grow stronger with each passing moment. george russell was ready to rise, ready to lead, and ready to show the world exactly why he belonged at the front of the pack. and you couldn’t wait to witness it all.

ʚ・carlos sainz

arlos sank onto the balcony of his hotel suite, the cool night air brushing against his skin, a sharp contrast to the adrenaline and heat of the race. it his last race with ferrari, the team that had become more than a job.

you slipped behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin lightly on him. "carlos," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion, "you were amazing today. truly incredible."

he let out a quiet sigh, leaning back into your embrace, his eyes fixed on the city lights. "yeah, it was a good one. but leaving ferrari? that’s… it’s hard. really hard."

"i know," you murmured, your cheek pressing against his. "you and charles, ferrari… it felt like it fit, like it was meant to be."

he nodded slowly, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. "we were a good team, weren’t we? two competitive guys who somehow managed not to kill each other every weekend," he joked, though his voice carried a faint sadness. "but, ah, next season? it’s going to feel strange not seeing his stupid smile in the garage."

you chuckled softly. "but you’ll always have the memories," you reminded him. "and you’ll make new ones, new rivalries, new podiums."

he turned to look at you, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. "do you remember my first race with ferrari?" he asked, a grin breaking through the sadness. "lando was on the podium with me. and now he’s here again for my last one. crazy, no?"

"it’s like the universe has a sense of humor," you said, your smile mirroring his. "full circle moments like that don’t just happen by chance."

he laughed softly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. "yeah, maybe. or maybe it’s just one of those little things that reminds me to enjoy the journey."

you held him close, knowing how much leaving ferrari meant to him. the passion, the heart, the pure determination he’d poured into every single lap. but you also knew that carlos was unstoppable—wherever he went, whatever he faced, he would find his way to the top.

"wherever you go, whatever happens," you said, your voice steady and filled with love, "i’ll be right there, cheering you on."

his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in tightly. "i know," he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. "and that’s what keeps me grounded. thank you, mi amor."

ʚ・charles leclerc

the roar of the abu dhabi crowd had faded, leaving only the soft hum of the air conditioning in charles’ hotel room. he sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the trophy for his third-place finish. starting p19 after that engine penalty, clawing his way up to the podium—it was an extraordinary drive. but there was a weight in his gaze, a shadow of disappointment.

you sat beside him, your hand finding his. "charles," you said gently, your voice full of admiration, "that was incredible. you were on fire out there."

he offered a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "it wasn’t enough," he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "we were so close to the WCC... but mclaren just had too much."

"you did everything you could," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "no one could have driven that race better. you started from the back, charles. and you still ended up on the podium. that’s... that’s amazing."

he ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "i know, i know. it's just hard. we were so close. it stings."

you gently cupped his face, lifting his chin so his eyes met yours. "charles leclerc, you are one of the best out there. don’t let this one race make you forget everything you've accomplished this season. you fought for every position, you never gave up, and you made us all proud."

a real smile tugged at his lips, the weight on his shoulders easing slightly. "thank you," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "i needed that."

there was a brief pause, and a flicker of sadness passed through his eyes. "it’s gonna be strange without carlos next year," he said quietly, his voice low.

you felt a pang for him. you knew how close he and carlos were, both on and off the track. "i know," you murmured, your heart aching. "but you'll still have him as a friend. and you’ll both keep achieving incredible things."

he nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "he’s like a brother to me. it won’t be the same without him."

you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. "i know it won’t," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. "but i know you ,charles. you'll adapt. you’ll keep shining."

he held you tighter, drawing comfort from your embrace, "what would i do without you mon amour."

you let out a soft laugh and place a gentle peck on his lips, "you'd probably be a mess without me, i love you."

"i love you too." he told you, snuggling closer.

ʚ・lando norris

the echoes of the abu dhabi celebrations had finally faded, leaving a peaceful quiet in lando's hotel suite. he was sprawled on the sofa, the trophy resting on his chest, his eyes half-closed as a contented sigh escaped his lips. the excitement from the victory was still buzzing inside him, but a calm had settled in, like he was finally letting everything sink in.

you curled up beside him, your finger tracing the lines of the trophy. "still can't believe it, huh?" you whispered, a soft smile on your face.

lando chuckled, a grin tugging at his lips. "yeah, it's still kinda crazy. like, i feel like i'm dreaming, but don't wanna wake up."

"you were amazing today, lando," you said, your voice filled with pride. "and the whole season, really. you led mclaren to victory. it’s historic."

he grinned, his eyes lighting up. "yeah, it really is, isn’t it? bringing mclaren back to the top after all this time... feels unreal. but in the best way possible."

"you deserve all the praise," you reassured him, snuggling closer. "you’ve worked so hard, and you’ve grown so much as a driver. i'm so proud of you."

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in closer. "couldn’t have done it without you, honestly," he murmured, his voice warm. "you’ve been with me through all of it—my biggest supporter."

"and i always will be," you promised, feeling your heart swell. "through the wins, the losses, i’ll be right here."

he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss. "and that's all i need," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

as you lay together, bathed in the soft glow of the hotel room lights, the weight of his achievement settled in. lando norris, the man who led mclaren to the top of the world again, securing the WCC after 26 years. this moment, this victory, would be something you both would remember forever. the future was bright, and you couldn’t wait for the next adventure—together.

ʚ・oscar piastri

back in the comfort of his hotel room, oscar kicked back with a grin plastered on his face, the adrenaline from the race replaced by his usual playful energy. p10 wasn’t the podium he’d wanted, but who cared? mclaren had just clinched the WCC, and that was more than enough for him.

“we did it!” he shouted, arms thrown up in the air, his grin wider than ever. “champions, baby!”

you chuckled, shaking your head at his excitement. “you guys were incredible today, oscar. especially lando, bringing home the win.”

“yeah, lando was on fire!” oscar agreed, grabbing a celebratory drink from the minibar. “though, i wouldn’t mind a podium myself…” he paused, a glint of mischief lighting up his eyes. “if it weren’t for someone deciding to use my car as a brake early on.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your smile. “ah, yes. max verstappen. saw that incident. bit of a rough start, huh?”

“rough is putting it lightly,” oscar grumbled with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink. “the guy treated me like a bowling pin! swear i saw stars, maybe even a few constellations.”

“well, you can’t deny it made for some exciting racing,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“exciting for you, maybe,” he shot back with a grin. “i was just trying to survive out there! dodging debris, angry drivers... felt like a demolition derby.”

“but you made it through,” you pointed out. “and you contributed to the team’s victory. that’s what counts.”

he gave a dramatic nod, his humor returning full force. “true, true. who needs a podium when you’ve got bragging rights for surviving a verstappen torpedo?”

you burst out laughing, unable to hold back. “that’s the spirit babe."

as laughter filled the room, you couldn’t help but admire oscar’s resilience and ability to keep things light, even when things didn’t go his way. he might’ve been a little salty about the verstappen incident, but he was genuinely happy for the team, and that’s what made him such an asset. next season was going to be one to remember, and you couldn’t wait to see what this rising star would achieve.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[annievrse]

it's nice to have a friend

dazai x reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: a slow morning with dazai turns into being late for work. but do you really care? w/c: 0.9k c/w: dazai puts his head under ur shirt but its not sexual, established relationship, ur shorter than dazai, kunikida slander!! (all jokes <3)

"get out of there," you slur, your brain still waking up. the sun warms your face, and you mentally scold dazai for not closing the blinds last night after you fell asleep.

without opening your eyes, you know where dazai lays his head—it's his favourite place. the head-shaped lump under your shirt moves, and you rub your eyes in preparation to open them against the morning light.

dazai presses kisses against your sternum, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "...no," the sound is muffled, but you hear it perfectly. "comfy."

"osamu," you laugh, vision bleary with sleep when you look down at your chest. tufts of brown hair stick out of the neckline of your shirt and tickle your collarbones. dazai has his arms wrapped around your hips, and his legs tangle with yours under the sheets. "we have to go to work."

his hair brushes against your skin when he shakes his head. his hands lay flat on your back and his fingers dance along your spine. you twist your body in an attempt to get away from his ticklish fingers, but dazai holds you tight.

your whines and giggles soothe his aching chest and messy mind. holding you this close is one thing, but being the reason you laugh so freely makes dazai's supposed rotten heart mellow.

"c'mon," you urge, rubbing his bare back. dazai groans. "i'll bandage you up."

your boyfriend slips his head from under your shirt with red cheeks and a bird's nest for hair. then he leans forward to hover over you, his hair falling into his eyes, and you push it back to reveal his forehead.

"i love you," dazai whispers, leaning into your hand on his cheek. you push up on your elbow and kiss him, swallowing the sounds that escape his mouth.

"i will love you if we get to work on time," you fold your lips between your teeth, gauging his reaction. dazai slaps his hand over his chest and falls to the side, his body bouncing off the mattress softly.

"you're terrible. absolutely despicable. i can't believe you've finessed your way into my bed."

rolling your eyes, you turn onto your side to face him. "'samu."

"hm?"

"this is my bed."

dazai lifts his head from the tangle of blankets. "your bed? we both paid for it with the hard-earned cash we get from being better at our jobs than kunikida."

"get up," you scoff, hiding your smile as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. "and don't slander our coworker so early in the morning."

dazai shrugs and lays back down. a bird sitting on the balcony chirps loudly like your personal alarm telling you to hurry up.

brushing your teeth, you make a mental checklist of your work for the day. paperwork, a trip to the police station to obtain a list of suspects for the case you're working on, more paperwork, and—

hands slide around your waist. dazai presses his cheek against the top of your head and you jump from his sudden appearance.

"why are we awake?"

"work."

"ugh."

after rinsing your mouth and washing your face with a man attached to your back, you turn around to face him. dazai's eyes are closed, his hair flopping lazily over his forehead. you feel a twinge of sadness for your boyfriend and sigh. reaching to his side of the sink for the bandage roll, you stretch it out before his eyes.

your hands move deftly, wrapping the white gauze around his torso with accustomed skill. you peck his chest every once in a while, and work efficiently, almost completely covering his body in under two minutes.

"thank you," dazai says, his voice low. he squeezes your hips in gratitude before allowing you to wrap them too. dazai brings your hand to his lips after linking them together, his eyes on you. you look to the floor bashfully.

"if we're late, it's your fault! let's go! move!" dazai declares, running out of the bathroom. the sudden change in his demeanour does little to shock you, but the switch in blame does.

you laugh and shake your head, hurrying to follow him to the closet. bumping into each other, pulling clothes off hangers and snatching shoes from the shelf, you share kisses between you buttoning up his shirt and him tying your tie—you've always been hopeless at it.

you spend a little longer in the bathroom, and dazai goes to the kitchen to shove snacks into your bag. with your hair finally wrangled and brushing out dazai's hair when he's not paying attention, you're ready for work with 30 seconds to spare.

"new record?"

you nod while fixing your earrings and grab the keys from the dish beside the door. "we totally deserve a prize."

dazai pauses in the doorway, his finger on his cupid's bow. "breakfast before we turn up? surely they don't expect us to be on time."

you check your phone for the time and contemplate your schedule again. wow, are you turning into kunikida?

nodding quickly to forget the thought, you grasp his hand and pull him out the door, the lock automatically flicking closed.

"pancakes, here we come!"

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 13 ✿:+ What is Loyalty?

Chapter Index | next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, SMUT, NSFW themes, Sandor “my wife” Clegane, Unprotected P in V sex, Oral sex (Fem rec), multiple reader orgasms, insecure reader, misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, 

A/N: We're back at it again. A longer chapter for the come back lol

Word Count: 8.2K 

Sandor was part of Jon Snow’s party as they traveled through the lands beyond the wall on their mission to capture a wight. The party walked many many miles. Sandor contemplated what he was doing, he hated the extreme cold, but he reminded himself he was doing it for you. 

As he stopped to retie his boot, a tall, but much shorter than Sandor, red haired man approached him.

“You’re the one they call the dog!” The man shouted as he approached Sandor.

Sandor finished tying his boot, “Fuck off.” He huffed casually as he continued on.

The attitude did not deter the man as he followed Sandor, “They told me you were mean. Were you born mean or you just hate Wildlings?” 

“Don’t give two shits about Wildlings. Gingers I hate.” He said scowling at the red haired man.

The man amused by his words continued to talk despite Sandors obvious wishes for the conversation to end, “Gingers are beautiful, we’re kissed by fire. Just like you-“ The man said pointing a finger at Sandor's burned face.

Sandor hit the mans hand down and away from him, “Don’t point your fucking finger at me.” He barked at him.

Sandor walked away and yet somehow the man was not put off. He smiled and continued to walk alongside Sandor.

“Did you trip into the fire when you were a baby?” The man pried into Sandor's past.

“I didn’t trip, I was pushed.” Sandor huffed as he kept walking, not looking at the man.

“And ever since you’ve been mean.” The man surmised. 

“Will you fuck off?” Sandor annoyingly barked at him.

“I don’t think you’re truly mean. You have sad eyes.” The man tried to understand him, it struck a chord somewhere deep within him. He remembered how you once said something like that to him a long long time ago, whispered in the night as you held onto him. It was his final straw. 

Sandor stopped and scowled down at the red haired man, “You want to suck my dick is that it?”

“Dick?” The man asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“Cock.” Sandor translated. 

“Oh, dick... I like it.” The man shrugged, amused by the new word he had learned. 

Sandor scrunched up his face, now just confused by the entire interaction, “Bet you do.” He mocked, as he continued to walk.

The man still followed him, “No, it’s pussy for me. I have a beauty waiting for me back in Winterfell, if I ever get back there. (Y/H/C) hair…(Y/E/C) eyes…About this tall,” He gestured to your height. Sandor thought for a moment how similar his description was of you. But he was convinced it was a coincidence. “The perfect height for me. .” The man continued on, “Sharp tongued, bravest woman you’d ever seen. A high bred southern bird from a castle in the sky they say.” He said as if the memory of you was a breath of fresh air. However the description of you ran cold through Sandors body. 

Sandor stopped, and turned to the man, “(Y/N) Arryn?” 

“You know her?” He asked, happy to hear your name.

“You are with (Y/N) fucking Arryn?!” Sandor stepped closer, his words dripping with violent anger. 

The man almost shrunk as he explained, “Well not with her yet… but I’ve seen the way she looks at me.” 

Sandor scoffed, “How does she look at you?” He stepped closer to him, his words were dark and heavy, “Like she wants to carve you up and eat your liver?” His eyes narrowed onto the man.

“You do know her.” He said, narrowing his eyes back.

“Aye, I know her.” He scoffed as he kept walking, angry and jealous.

“You seen her fight?” He asked, following along with still.

“Fight?” Sandor practically spit his words at him.

“She’s a killer. I saw her take an arrow to her leg, while she bit a man's finger off, then she took that arrow, snapped it in half and stabbed that man in his eye with it.” He spoke of the violent act you committed, as if it were romantic.

Sandor shook his head and scoffed, “You’re a mad fucker you know that?” He knew now for certain you had too much good sense to be with a man like him, too much good sense to even entertain the idea.

The man continued, “It’s true. Cut through four men. Rode an entire army into battle. And fed a man to dogs.” Sandor thought of it, the last he saw of you you were a girl alone with no money, no army, no family, and the iron throne as an enemy against you. How could you have done so much, accomplished “I want to make babies with her. Think of them, they’d conquer the world!” 

Sandor snapped, turning to the man and grabbing him by his fur coat, “If you say the word babies again I'll strangle you with your own guts.” He barked loudly at him.

“There will be no fighting on account of my cousin. Not while she’s resting and not while we are on this mission.” Jon said, making Sandor huff and let go of the man.

“She’s your cousin now?” The man with red hair asked. Remembering when he told you you were not his cousin when you first met.

Jon looked down, somewhat regretful of his words, “She showed great loyalty to my blood, her blood. Cousin is close enough.” He said as he continued to walk, “And I will not have any of you fight over her favor when we’ve a matter of great importance to see to.” 

Sandor reluctantly continued on, angry and jealous. But now he knew where you were, and knew you were alive. That was enough for him to continue.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You lost so much in the war. Lika was your horse sense you were but a child. She was the first horse you’d learned to ride. You lost the last man who was eternally loyal to you, the last man who loved you in the way only a father could. As if that weren’t enough, your body was now littered with healing scars. A constant reminder of the price you paid.  

You sat by the fire in your chamber. You wore a white chemise and wrapped yourself in a fur as you examined the scar on your thigh. Running your finger over it, going over the memory of the pain. 

As you did, your chamber door opened suddenly. Making you pull your chemise down and covering your bare legs. 

Sansa walked in, closing the door behind her. “You’ve not left your chambers in some time.” She said, gently.

You let your guard down, relaxing. You looked into the fire, “Resting. Rest is needed to heal.” 

“You're healed.” She said bluntly, you looked at her, “Well, your leg is healed.” She replied plainly. 

You sighed, you knew she was right. You had used your injury as an excuse long enough. “Time they say.” you said dispassionately, “It heals all, though I am not sure of that.” You said gloomily. 

Sansa approached you, sitting beside you, “You never told me.” You looked at her confused. “The man you said you loved, that Baelish took from you.” She clarified. 

You took a deep breath, looking into the fire, “Sandor Clegane.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the sound of his name.

“The Hound.” She spoke calmly. 

You shook your head slowly as you thought back to it, “I just called him Sandor.” You looked into the fire again. Sansa’s silence made you feel uneasy. You didn’t dare look at her, fearful of her reaction. You knew she and he were in Kings Landing at the same time, maybe she’d only seen the cruelty that was demanded of him. “I know many think he was cruel-”

She interrupted your words, “He clothed me once. When Joffrey ordered his men to strip me while they beat me in the throne room. He didn’t.” You looked at her, you listened to her story as warm tears began to rise in your eyes, and your nose and cheeks began to flush with heat, “He gave me his white cloak.” She placed a hand on yours, “He was kind.” She smiled softly as she spoke kindly of your beloved rather than pass any judgment. You were grateful for that. 

You smiled, and sniffed your now runny nose, “Thank you.” You said as she wiped a tear from your cheek, forcing you to realize your tears had begun to fall. You breathed a laugh as you wiped them with the back of your hand. You looked down at the of yours hand that Sansa held, “I miss him.” You nodded, your smile falling, replaced with a frown, “His pain has ended, but… I am in agony.” You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed. 

Sansa held you. It reminded you of when you both were in Kings Landing and the roles were reversed. You always held her when she cried, you tried your best to comfort her but it never worked. Now you understand. 

You pulled away and swallowed your sobs, wiping away the rest of your tears with it. You took a deep breath. 

Sansa tucked your hair behind your ear as she spoke softly, “You hide it well enough to the others.” 

You huffed, tired of your emotion. “I have to have my moments of misery. If not I would throw myself from the highest tower I could find.” You let out one deep breath “You’re the only one I’d ever tell that to.” 

“I understand the feeling.” She nodded, 

You looked at her and focused on her experiences, “You’ve grown so much, you know. Not that you'd have any choice. Girls are beaten into women. But all the same, you’ve grown.” You forced a smile.

“In King's Landing I watched you closely. Every Time I was scared I thought of what you would have done. I learned how to carry myself from the strongest woman I know.” She smiled at you, and you smiled back, gripping tighter onto her hand. “Speaking of, I received this,” She looked down at the letters she received earlier that day. 

You opened it, your brows furrowed, “An invitation to King's Landing?” You scoffed at such a ridiculous idea. 

Sansa rolled her eyes in agreement, “For the both of us. For the Ladies of the North and East.” She sighed, “I know it is a part of Jon’s plan. But I can’t go back there.” She said defeatedly.

“I won’t leave you.” You said throwing the invitation into the fire you sat beside. “Send Brienne as your representative of the North. I will send Ser Leon in representation of myself.” You said confidently. 

She nodded, looked down then back to you, “There is more than this. Bran and Arya have returned to Winterfell.” 

You smiled, genuinely. You felt happiness for once in a very long while. Knowing Arya was safe gave you great happiness. You looked at Sansa, grinning from ear to ear. You grabbed ahold of both her hands, “I am happy for you.” You spoke earnestly.

Sansa however looked conflicted “He says he is something called the three eyed raven.” 

“He sees visions?” You asked, you’d heard tales of such a thing but did not know if it were real. 

“Of the past and the present, it would seem.” She explained, she looked at you with sympathetic eyes, “You should talk to him. Relieve yourself of some of those uncertainties.” You nodded. 

You stood and looked out the window, you saw your men stationed in Winterfell. You felt once more the sting of responsibility. Then once more, I felt the weight of your sorrow. Conflicted with what others must have been saying. The maddened lady of grief. 

“What are they saying?” You asked, you looked behind you towards Sansa, “About me?” You clarified. 

“Stories of your bravery and loyalty towards your men and people have traveled far. They are calling you the relentless lady of the mountain and vale.” She smiled as she stepped towards you. 

“A generous lie.” You said, still convinced otherwise. 

She shook her head, “I’d not lie to you.” She said as she stepped closer, placing her hands on your shoulders, “Let’s dress you. I believe it is time you continued with your journey.”

You smiled, and nodded. You knew your duty. You knew your oath. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You walked along around the high walls of Winterfell. You looked down upon your men who had camped out front of the walls. Helping Northern houses with the preparations of the coming war. You smiled upon the Knights, you felt pride in them. You were not a northerner and yet still, you could feel the North's appreciation of your mens labors. 

“You’re a woman now.” You heard from behind you. As you turned around you saw Arya. She stood taller than the last time you'd seen her. Dressed in black leather and fur. 

You smiled, as you approached her, “I could say the same to you. Though you look more like a knight. It suits you.” You placed her hands on her shoulders, then ran them down to her hands. 

“Thank you.” She smiled and nodded. 

“I often wondered on you. How you were and what you were doing.” You spoke softly as your eyes took her in. Still surprised by how much she’d grown since you’d last seen her.

“If I was dead?” She asked bluntly, 

You stifled a laugh, “No. No, I knew you and your needle would survive. You’ve a brave heart.” You said as you looked at her sword.

“As do you.” She said as she removed her sword, handing it to you. You took it in hand and examined it. “Only a brave heart could love a Hound.” She said as you looked at it. Your eyes darted from the blade back to her,  

“Did Sansa tell you this?” You questioned her with narrow eyes.

She grinned as she shook her head, “No. He did.” You looked at her with interest as you handed her sword back to her. She put her sword back in its sheath “He took from the brotherhood. To sell me off to my mother and brother, then to aunt Lyssa. Though I suspect it was simply a ploy to get to you… I see it now.” She said as though she were proud of her observation. 

You looked down, “What did he say?” You asked, almost embarrassed to ask it. 

“He didn’t go on about it. Only that he failed you, and he cared for you.” 

“Were you there when he died?”

Her ever present grin faded, “I left him there.” 

You looked down, “It has taken a lot within me to hold my own bias aside. I understand he could be… abrasive. Hard for others to understand.” 

Arya felt herself feel a slight tinge of guilt, “He fought for me harder than I’d ever seen anyone fight.” She said, attempting to comfort you, “I didn’t like him. But I can respect that.” She nodded, you smiled softly. 

“You cannot tell anyone.” You commanded but it was practically a plea as you held onto her hand. 

“I won’t.” She shook her head. 

“I am so happy to see you.” You said with a smile, finally taking in the fact she was here. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later in the courtyard you found Bran under the tree. You remembered what Sansa had said to you. You decided to see for yourself.

“Bran,” You announced your presence as you walked closer to him.

Bran looked over to you, “Cousin.” he stated stoically. 

You smiled at him, “How you’ve grown. You’re a man now.” 

“Almost.” He stated, again without emotion. 

You sighed uncomfortably. Unsure of how or if you could comfort him. So you decided not to. “Sansa tells me you called yourself the three eyed raven.”

“I am.” He stated confidently. 

You sat beside him, you smiled as you recounted a memory “I’d only heard stories of it, when I was a child. The ladies would tell me of it. Threaten that the three eyed raven would know if I were lying.” You looked at Bran, 

“I would.” He stated plainly. 

Your eyes narrowed in curiosity “Prove it.” you nearly whispered, 

You looked upon you for a moment, “You were with child. Once.” Your blood ran cold. You stared at him with shocked and horrified eyes. “Forced to drink a tea to end it. You wore a blue velvet robe, it had silver flowers embroidered on the sleeves.” He spoke emotionlessly.

“I was?” You asked, your voice wavered as you ignored the rest of his statement. You need not hear anything more. 

He nodded slowly “You were.”

You swallowed any emotion that rose. “Thank you.” You nodded. Now fully convinced in his ability, you knew what you had to ask him. “I need to know of my father.”

He looked at you, as if he was surprised you asked. “Littlefinger conspired with your aunt Lyssa to poison and kill your father. But you already knew that.”

You let out a huff, fighting tears, “I did.” you said softly.

“I’m sorry for what's happened to you.” He said earnestly,

“As I am for you.” You said mournfully.

He shook his head, “Don’t be. Or I’d not be what I am now.” You looked at him with concern, and confusion. But you soon understood what he meant. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor and Jon’s mission was a success. However it did have its losses. Daenerys Had lost a dragon and Sandor had lost Thoros. It was hard but they captured the Wright as intended. 

Sandor traveled with Jon to be sure his mission was completed and your cousin arrived safely. Soon enough he would be returning to Winterfell. 

At the front of the ship Jon and Tyrion stood as they looked upon Kings Landing approaching in the distance. 

“How many people live there?” Jon Asked,

“A million give or take.” Tyrion stated coldly.

“That’s more people than the entire North, crammed into that. Who would want to live that way?” Jon asked in disbelief.

“There's more work in the city. And the brothels are far superior.” Tyrion said as he scanned the other ships that had arrived for the meeting. He saw an Arryn ship in the distance. “I see Littlefinger has arrived.”

Jon shook his head, “That ship sails for Lady Arryn.” Tyrion's uncaring demeanor dropped, “The colors are inverted, it’s her claims support.” Jon stated.

“So the stories were true?” Tyrion takes a step closer to the edge of the ship to get a better look.

“Aye.” Jon said, he looked at Tyrion looking off at your ship longingly “You were betrothed to each other?” He asked, uncomfortably.

“We were.” Tyrion stated stoically, 

“You loved her?” Jon questioned.

“Might have.” Tyrion said, though he knew he did.

Jon huffed, “You and the rest of the men on this ship it would seem.” 

Tyrion, not knowing what he meant, looked behind him at Tormund and Sandor who looked off at your ship longing just as he was. Though all three would be equally disappointed to find out you sent a Knight to represent you rather than appear yourself. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

When in KingsLanding Sandor was in charge of transporting the Wright.

A Lannister Guard approached Sandor,

“What's in there?” The Guard questioned,

Sandor looked back at the man, surprised someone was questioning him, “Fuck off.” He said annoyingly. 

Sandor then saw a tall blonde woman, the very one that almost killed him. 

Brienne approached him as they walked, 

“Thought you were dead.” She stated bluntly,

“Not yet. You came pretty close.” He acknowledged her ability.

“I was only trying to protect her.” Brienne tried to defend herself.

“You and me both.” Sandor sighed, 

“She’s alive.” Brienne said, Sandor looking at her in surprise, “Arya.”

“Where?” He asked looking ahead, pretending not to care.

“Winterfell.”

“Who’s protecting her if you're here?” He questioned, 

“The only one who needs protecting is the one that gets in her way.” She said with a smirk, shared by Sandor at the thought. Brienne then looked at Sandor once again, “As the same goes with Lady (Y/N).” He looked at her with surprise, “She’s scowled at me ever since she heard I killed you. I assumed it meant something, but I was right.” She sighed.

Sandor looked away trying to remain composed, “She alright?” He questioned, 

“No. Though you don’t get names like (Y/N), the brave, the unrelenting, the unconquerable, or the Inured without suffering a great deal.” Brienne said, Sandor felt guilt wash over him again,

“What happened?” Sandor asked, still looking ahead. 

“You’ll have to ask her.” Breinne said, knowing that soon he and you would meet again. 

Sandor looked at her once more and smiled.

That was until the Lannister guards approached Sandor and the Box the Wright remained in.

“Anyone touches it, I’ll kill you first.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You looked out of your chamber window to see Jon Snow and his armies returning. You tried to look for Ser Leon through a voice behind you interrupted your attempt to do so.

“My Lady,” You turned around to see another knight of the Vale, you smiled and nodded for him to continue, “I am to announce the arrival of Jon Snow and Daenerys Stormborn.” He said, 

“Where is Lady Sansa?” You asked, knowing she’d not be happy with the arrival of an outsider. 

“Already waiting at the gates, my Lady.” He said,

“We shall join her.” You said as you continued on through the door, on your way to join your cousin.

The Knight nodded, “Yes, my Lady.” He said as he followed you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You saw Sansa alongside Bran waiting at the Gates. You approached her, 

“You don’t look happy.” You said as you locked your arm around hers. 

She smiled slightly at you, “Neither do you.” 

You shrugged, “I am hard to please, I suppose.” You looked out at the crowds of men entering Winterfell, “But your brother has returned with a large army for your people. That should please you.” You said as you rubbed her arm with your hand. 

She sighed, “He returned with a new Queen, one I don’t know and do not trust. One who wishes to rule this very Kingdom.” She scoffed. 

You shrugged again, “Yes, well I suppose that is problematic.” You said as two large dragons flew overhead. 

You’d never seen anything so large and magnificent take to the sky. You smiled as you watched the three dragons fly with one another through the sky. 

“Hard to please?” Sansa said looking at how taken you were by the sight. 

“I’ve never seen one before, much less two. You must admit it is extraordinary.” You said without looking at her, still looking at the dragons in the sky. You finally looked at her, “A little.” you shrugged, 

“A clear presentation of her power.” She said irritated. 

“Well… If you got it…” You attempted to reason but she gave you a scowl that made you stop. “Apologies.” You said. As you saw your cousin ride into Winterfell, you felt it was not your place to welcome an outsider into Winterfell. Especially since you yourself were outside. “I’ll leave you to make a proper introduction.” You smiled at her, trying to get her to lighten up. 

As you walked back into the castle you heard a familiar voice speak, 

“(Y/N)?” Tyrion spoke, “Or, do you prefer Lady of the Vale, now?” He breathed a chuckle but he was fighting back heartbreaking emotion.  

You felt the guilt you felt long ago surge again, “Tyrion. Or do you prefer Hand of the Queen?” You jested in return. 

He took a step towards you, “It would seem you are acting as hand to the Queen of the north said by some.”

You shook your head, “We are kin… we are close. But that is all.” 

“Two women betrothed to me who ran away.” He jested, self deprecatingly. 

“Don’t feel too bad about it. We both suffered for it.” You said earnestly.

He shook his head, “I did not want you to suffer. I never did.” 

“I know. I did suffer though. I still am.” You said quietly. 

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to stay here.” He said walking closer to you.

“Where would I go?” You asked, as if his idea were ridiculous. His eyes however told a different story. You could see the emotion, the longing, “No.” You said recoiling from him. 

He followed you, “I have loved you since I first saw you.” He pleaded

“Please don’t.” You winced at the word ‘love’.

He grabbed your hand, “I have to know where you went, and why.” 

You huffed, not wanting to do this. Not wanting to have this conversation. But knowing that the truth would hurt him, it would also set him free. “I left with Sandor Clegane. He took me with the intention of delivering me to my aunt Catelyn Stark.” You said bluntly.

“Why would he take you?” 

“You know why.” You said with furrowed brows, he then looked down, you could see the pain that he felt wash over his face. You sighed “I’m sorry. I am, I tried to love you in the way you wanted, the way that was demanded of me by duty and I couldn’t. I have no doubt that you would have been a doubting and loyal husband. And maybe if we were married I would have found peace. But when he asked me to leave with him I couldn’t help it, I loved him. I never felt that way for anyone.” You walked towards him once more, “You were a dear friend to me.” You held his hand, “Very dear, you gave me consideration no else did.” 

“I would have given you everything- anything.” You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad. Perhaps both. 

“I can get it myself.” You said. Never willing to ever use your hand as a bargaining chip for land or armies again. 

“That is your way, I suppose. The reason I-“ 

You interrupted him before he could say he loved you once more, “You wouldn’t want me. You wouldn’t, not really. I am pigheaded and my ambitions are large. We would argue all the time, every time we spoke in Kings Landing it was a debate. Neither of us would be happy.” You blurted out. Just wishing he would see it your way.  

“Anything more?” He asked pained, 

“No.” You said. He began to walk away, “Except that-” You called out, making him turn around towards you. He nodded wanting to hear what you had to say. You took a breath, “With him gone, Tyrion… I do not believe I will ever wed. Ever find love truly. I don’t believe I will ever carry a child in me, and I don’t believe I will ever be happy.” You shook your head. 

He smiled, though clearly upset. “I think you are very wrong about that. I think you will see that very soon. And I will watch.” His smile faded and he walked away. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later that day Podrick walked with you on the high walls of Winterfell. You and he were tasked by Lady Sansa to take further inventory of the new armies for the coming war. As you walked along the wall you heard a loud Caw! Of a Falcon. You looked to the sky and saw Lenaera. You grabbed an armored glove that laid against other supplies by the wall. She landed on your gloved hand. She fluttered her wings happily and you smiled as you pet her feathers on her head. 

By chance you peered down at the courtyard to see a tall and large man staring at you. A man who thought was dead. 

“Podrick?” You said, your eyes wide.

“Yes, my Lady?” Podrick asked,

“Am I dead?” You asked sincerely, 

“N-no, My Lady.” Podrick responded concernedly 

“Dreaming?” You asked again, bluntly. 

“No, My Lady.” Podrick again responded with concern, 

“You told me the Hound was dead.” You said, Podrick looked down to where you looked and saw the man standing there. Soon his eyes went wide as well. 

“I thought he was.” He said shocked. 

“Take Laenera.” You said placing her on his arm.

“Yes, my Lady-” He said before Lenaera’s talons dug into his leather sleeves, “Ah!” He hissed as you dropped the glove and ran into the castle. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

You gathered your skirts up as you made hast down the stairs within the castle. As you were running down the hall, you saw a tall and large man running down the same hall from the opposite end. You both stopped at the same time, as if the sight of the other paralyzed the other. You felt like you were looking at a ghost of the man you loved. Your hands released your skirts as you let out a sharp and painful breath. 

He stared at you, his eyes filled with emotion, “That fucking birds yours?” 

You didn’t respond, still in shock by the man before you. Sandors demeanor calmed, became more earnest, “I heard you were here. Didn’t want to let myself believe it. ‘Case it were horse shit.” He said taking some steps towards you, though he stopped when he saw the tears in your eyes well.

You let out another curt breathe as you held in your tears, a wave of emotion crashed against your form as you heard his voice for the first time in so long. “I heard you were dead.” You said walking closer to him, “I thought you were dead.” A tear fell from your eye, stepping closer “I believed you were dead.” You stopped, your emotion taking hold of you, “You were dead, I-I-” You shook your head unable to understand. 

Sandor stepped towards you, closing the space that remained, “I’m not.” He held your face in his hands, you noticed they were rougher than before. “I’m here.” He said gentler than you were used to. You placed your hands on top of his that held your face. “I’m not leaving.” He continued to comfort you. 

It took you a moment to realize you were somewhat out in the open. Any Lady or Lord could walk down the hall the two of you stood there. You weren’t used to that. Being in the open with your affection. He would sneak into your chambers in the early hours of the morn or the late hours of the night. Never this. But, there were no more Lannisters, no more Littlefinger, no more Bolton, there was no other person or house that would threaten your status or standing. No one to hold your virtue over your head. So, you did not care.

“You needed me.” He said assertively as if he were angry with himself.

He wiped the tear from your cheek with his thumb, You blinked hard. Swallowing your emotions and taking a breath. Grounding yourself. You nodded, “I did. But I had myself.” You placed a hand on his cheek, “But, I still need you.” You nearly whispered, You looked around for a moment, the hall was still empty but for how long? You looked to your side and noticed you and he were coincidently standing beside the door to your chambers. You held onto his wrist with one of your hands, you pulled him along. “Come inside and be alone with me.” You said in a quiet voice what some might think of a seductive voice. 

As you entered your chambers, he closed your door, “Lock it.” You said not realizing how bold it seemed, “Many forget to knock on my door.” You explained as you took a pitcher of water from a table by your door, walking over to the fireplace and extinguishing the fire, to make him more comfortable. 

“I can make sure they don’t forget.” He said with a possessive and protective tone. 

You missed it, you hadn’t heard it in so long. You walked with haste towards him, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders. He in return, wrapped his thick arms around you. He lifted you up as your lips met. 

They met for the first time in so long. Your lips, as well as his, were cold from the northern air. But the heat from his tongue warmed you. 

“Are you staying?” You asked breathlessly as you pulled away from his kiss. You searched his eyes, with your own. You missed his gaze dearly.

He nodded, breathless, “With you.” He said, putting you down, “I’ll go where you go.” He vowed.

“I’ve never seen you without armor.” You smiled looking over him as your hands ran over the leather top he wore. 

“You have.” He said candidly

Your gazes blinked up to his, “I mean… real clothing.” You said holding back a laugh, “You look handsome.” You said earnestly.

“Fuck off.” He said dismissively, looking away from you, assuming you were lying. 

You placed a hand on his scarred cheek. Redirecting his gaze back towards you. His eyes looked into yours seeing that you were honest “I missed you.” You said almost dreamily with an absent minded smile as you gazed upon the face you thought you’d never see again. Your smile faded a bit, you shook your head, “I can’t begin to… explain how terrible it was.” 

He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked down. “I know.” He was disappointed in himself, “I thought of you.” He said looking back into your eyes, “A lot.” He admitted.

As you gazed into his soft eyes, you knew he should know. He should know about the babe. He should know the things LittleFinger did. The kiss he forced on you. He should know of Ramsay, he should know of your journey. “There’s things I should tell you.” You said almost shamefully.

Sandors eyes hardened, “You fuck that ginger?” He questioned, 

“Gods no!” You said with disgust, you answered quickly, surprised by the question. “His attempts at wooing me have grown constant and boring.” You rolled your eyes, then settled your gaze on him once again “I’d only ever thought of one man.” Your tone is softer.

“He said he wants make fucking babies with you.” He sneered, not angry at you but at the man. He loved you like he loved no one, and he knew he was not the only one.

“You sound jealous.” You said teasingly.

“I am.” He said with a snarl. 

“You needn’t be.” You said in a whisper into his lips as you kissed him again. “Let me look at you.” You said running your hands from his face, down to his chest, “you’ve let your beard go.” You said in a melancholy tone. 

All the time that had passed truly had gotten away from Sandor. It was then that the emotion hit him. Sandor dropped to his knees. Placed his hands against the small of you back, pushing you forward as he rested his head against your belly. 

he was desperate, 

you’d never seen him like this. You held his head in your hands, running your fingers through his hair. 

“It’s alright.” You whispered, you understood how he was feeling. Feeling that he failed you.

“It’s not.” he whispered back. 

“We can start again.” You said as you petted his hair,  “We could be together, truly, never hiding.” You said like you were dreaming of it right then and there. 

He hummed against your stomach, “I’m not a man of honor.” He said as though he were shameful of himself.

“Men of honor die all the same, I’d rather be with you.” You spoke softly as your hands sweetly ran through his hair, and your other rubbed circles against his back, “Do you not wish for me to be your wife?” You asked, scared for the answer, but needing it all the same.

He shook his head, “I wish it for me, not for you.”

You shook your head and huffed, “Look at us. this isn’t wrong. how could something that feels so good be wrong? You are no longer a piece on a board in Kings Landing. Nor am I. I don’t know about you but I refuse to be one again. Let me be yours and be mine.” You felt silly for  opening yourself up like this, in a way you’d never had before. But it was something you had to do. You couldn’t allow for the same cycle you and he fell into King's Landing to continue. “When you were gone, I went to war and felt no fear. No fear because if I died I would see you. I’d be with you again. I cannot go back to wishing for moments with you. I wish for a life with you because I love you and I need you. If you love me then don’t leave me again.” You pleaded softly.

He was silenced for a moment, but then, his hands traveled tighter around your back. He looked up at you, “Be my wife.” He pleaded, his love seeping through his gruff tone.

“Yes.” You said, sweetly. You let out a small gasp as you felt his rough, large hand trail up your leg, “Yes,” you whispered to him, his eyes remaining connected to yours, his hand trailed up to your inner thigh, “Yes… yes” You continued to whispered against his movements, his fingers sneaking their way under your small clothes and toying with your sex “Yes…yes…yes-“ your whispers becoming louder, more breathless and closer to a whine. You ran fingers from his hair to his scarred cheek, you carassed it as you moaned, “My husband-Ah!” you were cut off as his finger slid inside of you, forcing a moan out of you. You grasped his scarred face harder as he did so, 

“Say it again.” He rasped as he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt.

You caught your breath as he hiked your skirts up and over his head, You could feel his beard scratching at your inner thighs, “My husban-nnnd” your voice hitched and drawn out into a moan as you felt his breathe graze across your cunt, soon feeling the heat of his tongue as it lapped up your sweetness. He sucked on your clit as his fingers found your sweet spot, pushing against your velvet walls. It had been so long since you felt someone know your body so well, and he didn't forget a thing about it. You felt the tightness in your belly finally release. As you reached your peak you cried out. Sandor drank you in groaning and fucking his fingers even deeper into you. “Sandor,” you whined, “I need, I need more.” You said with furrowed brows as you gripped onto his head beneath your skirts.

As he stood, his mouth crashed into yours. You could taste your own release on his lips.  His kiss was desperate, and passionate. Making up for all the times he wished he could have done it. His hands roamed your body erratically and roughly. 

He began to kiss down your jaw and neck, “I’ve missed your tongue.” you said breathlessly with a smirk and heavy eyes. 

He licked up from your neck to your ear, making you moan. “Let me see you.” He spoke in your ear as he untied the back of your dress, though his large hands could hardly figure out the fragile ties.

You felt a sting of insecurity. 

You looked down, as your hands aided Sandor in untying your gown. He continued to kiss and lick at your body slowly as more and more of your skin was revealed. Until you were left in your small clothes. Your scars showed, the one on your thigh, the one on your forearm, and even others that had come with time and war. Sandors eyes trailed over you, longingly. 

“You don’t have to look.” You said as you looked down, somewhat ashamed of the scars you had earned valiantly. “I know I hurt to look at.” 

Sandor stepped towards you, his eyes confused and bewildered. “Fuck are you on about? Feel me.” He said with furrowed brows. You looked confused for a moment until your hand trailed down from his stomach to his mounting bulge, he let out a groan. He hadn’t felt your touch in so long, and you hadn’t felt a man's body in so long, or wanted to. Your eyes snapped from his hardening, hot, and throbbing bulge that your hand caressed, to his gaze. Deeply lustful and full of longing. “Does that feel like you hurt to look at.” He asked as his hand grasped your jaw. His lips connected to your own, his facial hair tickled in a familiar and delightful way. As your mouths danced together you felt his tongue aching for the warmth of yours. To which you happily complied. You could taste yourself on his tongue, it made you all the more wet. As you did he pulled off your small clothes, practically ripping them off. 

He stood there looking at your naked body, he let out a groan and you rubbed his hardened cock through his pants again.

“You’re not a woman, take your own clothes off.” You said assertively as you brushed past him laying down on your bed. He let out a dry chuckle as he obeyed your command. 

You laid on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him. You bent one of your legs bringing your knee close to your chest as you pressed your slick thighs together.  

He climbed on top of you. Kissing you once more. Passionately, slowly. Taking in the pleasure of your soft and plush lips, relishing in the taste that he missed so deeply.  His tongue met yours in tandem as his hands ran over your body erratically. As if he couldn’t believe you were underneath him again, he didn’t know where to start with you but he knew how much he wanted all of it. His attention was soon directed to your breasts. He’d missed them dearly. Thought of them as he worked himself in the late hours of the night. 

He slid down and took them in his mouth. Sucking at your breasts, biting them in just the way you liked. As he did you wrapped your legs around his hard back, and rocked your hips against his hard stomach, attempting to soothe the growing ache in your core. 

The sounds of your moans created made him even harder than could bare “I can’t wait anymore, I want my woman. My wife.” His voice was dark and deep.

You nodded as he kissed your lips, 

You kissed passionately, your lips swollen and wanting. As your lips met, and your tongues found one another again. You felt the head of his cock, already leaking, begin to press against your entrance. As he pushed in you felt the burn of the stretch. You  almost forgot how large he was. You gasped and winced, Sandor stopped himself from moving for a moment, looking at you to see if you were alright.

You gripped onto his shoulder digging your nails into him, “It’s been a long time.” You explained. 

He nodded as he brushed your hair out of your face, “Too fucking long.” He said, holding back a moan from the pure euphoria of your cunt.

“You haven't taken another?” You asked breathlessly, possibly not the best time. 

He shook his head, and in return you held his face and kissed him deeply. “I want all of it.” You whispered into his ear. 

He complied, happily. Pushing his cock into your until he was completely inside of you. 

You muffled your moans into his neck as you clung onto his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his back. “Fuck!” He barked, “Gods you’re tight, does it hurt?” He asked. 

It did, it burned, and you were almost overwhelmed. But Gods, it was perfect. You needed it, badly. 

“Husband,” You pleaded into his lips, the words made his cock twitch inside of you, “fuck me.” You whined as you kissed him deeply. 

As he thrusted in and out of you with the built up lust and longing he had inside of him. You bit down on his lip as he moaned out. You threw your head back, unable to hold in your moans any longer. 

He took pleasure in thrusting in you harder to hear you cry out even louder. “Fuck! I missed your cunt, your sweet fucking cunt!” He grunted, he felt you clench around him harder and harder, “Give it to me!” He groaned, “I want my wife to cum.” He grunted through gritted teeth. 

“Yes!” You pleaded as his pace only became more and more furious and erratic, “Ah!” You shouted as you felt yourself release a second time,

“That’s it-” He groaned as he felt your release cover his cock, making it only easier for his cock to slip in and out with ease. It made your cunt even more euphoric, he could hold himself in any longer, 

“I want it inside of me,” You begged breathlessly, 

“Good.” He groaned against your skin, “Cause I want to fill my wife with my seed.” He said through gritted teeth. 

You kissed him deeply as he did just that. He moaned into your mouth as he spilled his hot seed inside of you deeply. Driving you towards another release you didn’t know was there.

After... You laid there, breathing. Trying to catch your breath. Sandor laid there with his head resting against your chest. Listening to your heartbeat. You ran your fingers through his hair. 

You laid there in each other's arms for what felt like a lifetime. But you didn’t want it to end.

Soon Sandor spoke again, “That ginger cunt says you killed a man.” His voice was so gruff and deep it almost startled you after basking in the silence for so long.

“I did.” You said stoically.

“That makes two men you’ve killed.” He said as if he were proud.

“Five.” You corrected, he looked up at you from your chest, “Six if you’re counting the one from the riot.” You said petting his cheek,

“I am.” He said, he looked surprised by you.

“Six then.” You nodded, “Killed four men in the battle. Then I killed Ramsay.” 

“How’d you do it?” He asked, genuinely interested. 

“Ramsay? Hounds.” You smirked, noting the irony. 

Sandor chuckled at it as well, “You’re different now.”

“Is that bad?” You asked, running your fingers down his back comfortingly.

“No.” He shook his head, “None of it would have happened if I was there.” He said as though he were disappointed in himself.

“I know.” You were confident it wouldn’t have. But it did, and it was no one's fault but those who committed the acts against you. 

Sandor took your forearm, looked at the scar, Lyssa left you with. 

“What happened?” He asked protectively, wanting to know who he’d have to kill.

You sighed, “It’ll be a hard thing to hear.” You said sitting up. You wrapped yourself in fur as you laid beside him once more, “You’ll be angry. Furious even. I know because I feel the same way. But this once, just feel the sorrow with me.” You asked him, he nodded. 

And so you did. You told him your story. How you were attacked by Lyssa. How Baelish forced you to end your pregnancy. How he attempted to force himself on you. How he killed your aunt. How Ramsay tormented you. You told him of the Battle, you told him of Ser Cole. You told him everything. 

Sandor was silent for just a moment. Until he sat up “I’ll kill hi-” 

You interrupted his anger as you sat up with him. “No anger. Not here. Not our first night.” You pleaded as you held his face in your hand. Calming him. 

He held onto your wrist, “I will take care of you.” He said earnestly, “I’ll protect you.” He vowed.

“You can’t. No one can.” You shook your head. 

He looked at you. Saddened that you’d no longer believe in that promise. “I will.” He vowed.

You, still, unbelieving, nodded. You leaned towards him, and rested your forehead against his own.  

You didn’t want to love him this much. And he didn’t want to love you this much. And yet here you both were. Your love was formidable, unrelenting, and merciless. There was not a thing in the known world you’d not do for him. And not a thing in this known world that he’d not do for you. 

You had an army and now, you had your man. Now that all left to do was to go and get what you were owed.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE: It's no use (Y/N) we gotta have it out.  Also you cannot tellll me that mf wouldn’t pull out the “My Wife” card every chance he got like…. That's all. Also got I feel like I am finally free and can write smut again thank god. We are about to have our own version of the royal wedding lmao K love you, xoxo

Bambi

Beloved Tags:

@dontfollowjuststuff @merfic @broadsdrinkwhisky  @vikingswhore0

@the-queen-of-sorrows @eddiesbongwater @not-neverland06  @symonedoesart 

@wyvernnest @bdudette @frosch-thefrog @patrick-hockstutter @vikingswhore0 @drymushroomfics @dream-a-little-nightmare @lavenderbreeze3

[latenightdaydreams]

Eldritch!König X Princess! Reader

The reader is a stubborn princess with a childish personality, she is considered a treasure by the king, loved and pampered, however because she was imprisoned in the castle for too long and learned too many royal rules and rituals, she decided to escape to leave the castle and on her journey of discovery, she accidentally strayed into the forbidden sea of the kingdom... if you don't mind, there is rape

thank you for doing my previous requests,i always follow your posts everyday,i love the way you write your fanfics,by the way,can you post your fanfics at 6am or 6pm?the time hook in asia and other continents are different,so it will be difficult to adjust the time to receive your post notifications,thanks!!!🥰😍🫂🤲😗😙

Of course! I've been trying to post later after reading this and I appreciate your recommendation!

Eldritch!König x Princess (fem)

MDNI🔞

🚫!Trigger Warning!🚫

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, creature, tentacles, non-con, virginity loss

1.6k word count

👸

.

.

Being the eldest daughter to the King means a lot of responsibilities are placed on your shoulders, one day this will all be yours. The sad thing is that you want none of it. You’d love to be free, like the children in the town outside the castle walls.

Every day is consumed with boring lessons and practice. While your body may be here, your mind wanders often to what lies beyond your gilded cage. The King is a kind but overprotective man. He tells you continuously about a scary world filled with evil, yet all you can find is magic in the stories you’re told.

Today is like every other day. While sitting at the piano, you mindlessly press on keys as you stare out the open windows. It is a beautiful and bright day; the sound of the birds carrying through the light breeze makes you crave only a moment outside. You smash your hands down on the keys with annoyance. It’s as if the world is teasing you.

The staff around looks at your out the corner of their eyes, rolling them. You often act out as if you’re a child, yet you’re in your twenties already. What more should they expect from such a spoiled brat? They fear the day your queen; you’re nowhere near ready for that type of responsibilities.

Lucky for them, they won’t have to worry about that. You don’t plan on being here for much longer. Over the last few months, you’ve been putting together an escape plan. Armed with the knowledge of lore spoken and countless hours of studying; you’re ready to make a new path for yourself. The thought of being a Queen has never appealed to you, you’ve always dreamed of living like a daring adventurer. Someone not bound to the confines of their overbearing parents.

You wander down into the kitchen to see a room of busy bee workers preparing dinner. Some look at you, but choose to ignore you as to not get wrapped up into any of your wild antics. Walking over to a bowls of freshly picked blueberries, you grab a handful and twirls innocently towards the door. As you scan the room, you notice that no one is looking at you. Perfect.

The door opens with a bit of weight applied. You quickly slip out the door without anyone noticing. The kitchen faces the woods; with only a bag with money and some food you begin your new journey.

Your feet carry you eagerly through the brush and into the woods; your escape is almost too easy. For a moment you turn to look at the castle for one last time, letting yourself commit the view to memory. You don’t know when you’ll be back again and it’s bitter sweet. Once you feel as if you’re ready to move on, you turn with no intentions of running back a scared little girl.

Hours of walking tire you quickly. You never figured that the ground might be difficult to walk on, meaning you haven’t made it as far as you planned to before sun down. Off in the distance you can hear the sound of waves crashing, piquing your interest. All these years and you’ve never seen the ocean before, it’s always been a dream.

The sun setting causes a stunning golden hue to cover the water, making it feel as if you’ve just stumbled into heaven on earth. You quickly remove your shoes, eager to feel the sand between your toes. As you rush forward, the warm sand is relaxing. The small worry that lingered in the back of your mind is completely forgotten as you become entranced by the crashing waves.

You approach the shore line allowing the cool water to wash over your feet. It’s such a welcoming feeling, it’s impossible to believe that your father said this world is evil. How can it be evil when such beauty exists? You sit, your dress gets wet but you don’t care. Minutes pass as the sun continues to set. Out of the corner of your eye, you see something poke out of the water.

König sees you; you’re new. His eyes drift over the royal purple dress that you’re wearing. A princess? In this part of the world? How did you ever get here? Either way, he wasn’t going to complain. It’s as if the universe just hand delivered a new toy to him. He watches you curiously as you simply…enjoy the view.

You lay back, closing your eyes with a big smile on your face. Day one of freedom and you’re already confident that you’ve made the right decision. Then, you feel the presence of something- someone- approaching you. When you open your eyes, you see a large man looking down at you. His eyes a pale blue, body nude other than a piece of fabric covering his face. From underneath the fabric, eight large purple toned tentacles move about.

There is a moment of just staring at him with a slack jaw. He’s a massive eight feet tall, making the way he looms over your much smaller body that much more intimidating. You watch as his eyes trail over your dress; he somehow makes you feel exposed while fully clothed.

“Hello…” You speak in a timid tone.

“Hallo…Prinzessin.” His voice is low and gravely.

“Y- you know who I am?”

“Ja. You’re Princess y/n.” He begins to walk around you, inspecting you.

“I am…who are you?”

“König. You’ve wandered into my kingdom, Prinzessin. Did you know that?” He kneels and looks into your eyes as you sit up, feeling uncomfortable with him. “People don’t usually come here.”

“Why?” Your voice shakes slightly.

“Because of me.”

For a moment you linger, staring up at him. Your stomach churns and you feel sick. He smells of the ocean and it’s very unpleasant. The alarm going off in your line is telling you to get up and run; that you’re in danger. You decide to try and just push that feeling down.

“Wh- why is that?”

König can smell the fear emanating off of you. A small band of sweat forms around your hairline from the warm day and the heavy dress overheating your body. A small drop drips down the side of your face, traveling over your delicate features.

“You’re wearing far too many layers.” One of his thick tentacles slowly wraps around your ankle, slipping up underneath the hem of your long dress.

That is what triggers panic within you. You quickly jump up, but his tentacle tightens its grip and pulls you back down. Your face smashes into the sand, cutting your lip from the impact. The sand slips through your fingers as you grab at it, trying to get away.

König grabs your arms and turns you around, laying you on your back. As you sit up to hit him, he grabs your arms and slams you back down. A loud laugh leaves him, he wasn’t expecting such a delicate little thing to be so feisty.

“Where do you think you’re off to? You’re in my world now, Prinzessin.”

“Get off of me!” You scream.

“I’ve been looking for a queen. A warm body for my offspring to grow in.”

König’s slimy tentacles come up and wrap around your wrist, pinning you to the ground as you squirm. His massive weight rests on your legs as he begins to slip the fabric that covers you up, exposing a sweet little bush covering your precious center. A low hum rumbles from his chest as his pale eyes meet yours.

The stomach churning feeling of his appendages slithering up your leg makes you jerk to the side but you can’t move. König is much bigger and much stronger than you; it would be a useless waste of energy. You can feel the tip slip back and forth, parting your folds.

“You can’t do this to me! I’m the princess!”

“You’re no one here.”

König shuts you up with a hand over your mouth as his tentacles move to hold you down and your legs apart for him. Tears stream down your face as you realize that no matter how much you scream, there is no one here that can help you. His unsettling gaze lingers on yours as he moves his erection closer to you.

Your muffled cries are drowned out but the loud sound of König’s moan as he presses the tip of his leaking cock against your pure cunt. A virgin princess, exactly what the king deserves. A stinging pain travels throughout your body as he struggles to press his girthy 13 inch cock into you.  

“Mein Gott, you’re so small. I’m going to break you.” He chuckles as his hips buck forward.

The walls of your vagina feel gummy as they wrap tightly around him. You’re like the perfect little glove, little sex toy for him. He pulls his hips back and repeatedly continues the assault on your defenseless smaller body. Unable to do anything, you just lie there and take it.

“Does daddy know where you are?” He mocks in a low gruff voice as he thrust at a merciless speed, not allowing you to catch your breath.

“M-mm” You mumble and shake your head, his hands still on your mouth not allowing you to speak.

“Stupid…little…brat.” König manages the words between each thrust. His hands move to your legs, pulling them back so he can angle himself deeper into you, trying to shove more of himself into you. Your pained pathetic mewls boom out across the empty beach.

Back at the castle there is panic after hours without any sight of you. Your father went to your room to see a note placed on your bed. In a hurry he reads it, tears streaming down his face as he reads your final goodbye to him. He is torn between sending every knight to find you and just leaving you to be the woman you’ve dreamt of becoming. Little does he know you’ve only doomed yourself to the life of being bred.

[leviackermanssjewishwife]

Postwar! Levi is so incredibly excited when you’re pregnant, it overwhelms him. It makes his heart hurt. It makes his stomach turn every time he thinks of it.

He’s had strong emotions before of course, he’s had his stomach turn with an anxiety, he’s had his heart hurt with sadness, he’s anticipated things good and bad, but he’s never felt excitement, let alone to this extent.

Seeing the round of your stomach slowly grow over the months makes tears well in his eyes. They well in his eyes at the fact that he finally created life instead of destroying.

But he still can’t help but feel a little proud when he feels your guys child kicking in your stomach, knowing that his child will be strong, that they will inherit a least a little bit of their father’s strength.

But he is so excited when he is setting up the nursery with room, even if building the crib irritates his leg. He loves placing his hand on the small of your back as you paint some small birds on the nursery walls. He loves organizing and cleaning everything so perfectly that it has an unnatural shine.

He is so excited that it makes him nervous during his final day of your pregnancy. He loves seeing how big your stomach has gotten, he loves packing the hospital bag with you, he loves the final moments of his child moving inside of you.

(Though he isn’t excited about the actual labor, he’s quite nervous actually.)

But when his little baby girl is placed in his arms, all that excitement melts away into realization.

He’s a father. He helped bring life into this world. He now has someone that depends on him. He has a little baby that loves him unconditionally. He has someone that sees him as completely clean and pure.

He has a child.

“Hello little Kuchel.” He says softly to the sleeping child, the excitement creeping back into his gut.

Tags: @lucysarah-c @humanitys-strongest-bamf @levi-ackerman-ds @shayewrites + any other mutuals

Join my taglist.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Here, have a casual glimpse into my thought patterns and creative process:

*just scrolling about Tumblr and vibing to "Too Much Wine" by The Fratellis*

Too much wine?

Mihawk?

Mihawk drunk??

Wait wait wait WAIT what are they all like drunk?

GASP s h i n y h e a d c a n o n s

BLANK DOCUMENT HERE I FCKEN COME—

So anyway here's some headcanons about drinking too much (insert adult beverage of choice) with the OPLA boyos.

Implied that Reader is already in a relationship with each character in question.

I shall call it.......

HAMMERED

OPLA!Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy X AFAB!Reader

NSFW Headcanons

Kinda Kinktober I guess? Borderline shitpost, I had way too much fun with this.

♫♬♫ Too Much Wine - The Fratellis ♫♬♫

I'll take the mead from the table

Talk straight while I'm able

Until I'm nothin' less than a crime

Zoro

"Y'know, I actually have four swords, but we're gonna have to go somewhere more private if you wanna see the other one."

Rum, sake, beer, wine, whatever you're down for drinking so is he.

Zoro's got incredibly high endurance and stamina—it's going to take a while for him to show that it's affecting him at all, but once it does, he goes from zero to one hundred faster than you can say "onigiri."

Literally no in between, no tipsy or buzzed. Just sober and then stumbling over his own feet and swearing he absolutely is not drunk the whole time.

All those repressed emotions that he hides behind a mask of dry sarcasm on a day to day basis are coming out in full effect.

That means you're getting one of two Zoros—goofy Zoro or sad Zoro.

Goofy Zoro's going to have his arm around your shoulders, laughing his ass off about that time he caught that idiot Marine brat swinging his sword around bare-ass naked so he chopped off half his hair.

He's likely to get pretty flirty in this state, even downright playful, especially if you initiate it, and it's almost definitely going to end in him dragging you somewhere private to fuck your brains out, because his restraint is totally out the window at this point.

If you end up with sad Zoro, he'll be laying his head in your lap and slurringly asking whether or not you think he's ever really going to be the best swordsman in the world, probably still beating himself up over losing to Mihawk.

Just comb your fingers through his hair and do your best to reassure him that you love him and genuinely believe in him. Whether it works or not, he's going ti end up falling asleep in your lap, so be prepared to be stuck there for a while.

"But like...you really think, like, I can beat that bird-eyed bastard? I mean he fucked me up with a goddamn butterknife."

Sanji

"There we are—a beautiful drink for a beautiful woman."

Turbo Flirt Mode: activated.

Sanji is all for pairing wine with food, but if you're looking to get a little sideways, he's going to want to show off his mixology skills to impress you—and he's going to be making some dangerous concoctions, the kind that taste like there's not a drop of booze in them.

The more lit he gets, the less subtle the flirting. If you thought he was clingy sober, you are in for a surprise, because that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Head on your shoulder, puppy dog eyes, telling you how pretty you are and how much he adores you every thirty seconds, with a big silly grin like you're the most amazing thing he's ever seen.

Brushing his lips along your neck and murmuring all the things he's going to do to you once the two of you are behind closed doors later—and he means every one of them, because you're utterly irresistible to him in this state.

He wants you giggling and blushing just as much as he wants you moaning and trembling under his touch.

Super playful once you are alone, even moreso than usual. He's definitely going to suggest doing body shots, he will beg if he has to, but honestly who in their right mind is going to turn him down?

"You're just...just so—so beautiful—honestly, it should be illegal."

Shanks

"Hold—hold my rum—no, no, just for a moment, I wanna see if I can do a backflip off the railing—"

Spoiler alert: he can't. Now he's lying on the quarterdeck alternating between hysterical laughter and "Oh God that hurt—"

Probably the most fun drunk in the world, but he can be a hazard to his own health as his judgement begins to lapse so someone's going to have to keep an eye on him.

If you're at a tavern or otherwise public location, do not under any circumstances let the man out of your sight for more than two seconds. He turns into a straight-up child, he can and will wander off, and you'll find him a mile away on top of a building, likely half-naked and singing sea shanties at the top of his lungs, with no clue as to how he got up there...or how to get back down.

He's developed quite a high tolerance over the years and tends mostly toward dark rum, though he won't turn down a stein of ale or beer.

Total life of the party energy—telling jokes and stories, he just wants to see everyone laughing and having the absolute best time.

Super, super flirty, he may as well have written the book on pick-up lines; and he doesn't care that you're already together, he's going to drop every single one of them on you just to see how much he can make you giggle or roll your eyes.

He's very likely to pull you onto his lap at some point and make out with you like no one's watching—he already doesn't really care who sees when you're both sober, but he really doesn't care after a little too much rum, so it's probably best to coax him to bed at this point.

He's perfectly happy with cuddling up, laying his head on your chest and draping his arm over you, just humming in contentment and falling asleep together...but if you want more, don't expect to get much sleep, because he wants you lasciviously.

To taste every inch of you, to suffocate between your thighs until you're screaming, to pull you onto his cock and watch you ride him until you're both too breathless and exhausted to do anything but tangle yourselves together in the sheets and drift off to sleep between slow, sensual kisses.

"Oh, princess, just when I catch my breath, you make me lose it all over again."

Mihawk

"If you insist on being such a brat about this, you're going to get what's coming to you."

Mihawk has a strong drive to be in total control of himself and everything happening around him at all times, which means he doesn't tend toward getting drunk.

But...he also has this wee little problem with his ego being larger than the entire volume of every combined ocean in the world. If you imply that you could drink him under the table...he's probably going to sneer and tell you to quit being a brat, but he's also going to be quite driven to prove you wrong.

He does love his wine, but it's generally only a glass or two to wind down and relax—he's definitely got a nice bottle of aged bourbon or eau de vie tucked away somewhere that's going to be coming out, because he's got something to prove now.

Unfortunately for him, due to the fact that he so rarely drinks heavily...he's a bit of a lightweight. Which he won't admit even to himself.

But it barely takes a single lowball of harder liquor to get that pale complexion of his a little flushed.

Perhaps just over three for him to start blinking a bit harder than normal in a futile attempt to get his vision to focus, to start speaking a bit slower to attempt to hide the slight slur in his words as you taunt him about it—which honestly only makes it more pronounced, and more amusing.

You had best enjoy it, because it's probably the only time you're going to hear the words, "Fine, you win," come out of his mouth—as well as perhaps the only time he won't be miffed about conceding. The alcohol in his system has him loosened up just enough that he can't pretend he doesn't find your boldness and sass at least a bit endearing...and even more alluring.

That being said, you're still getting punished for it, teased within an inch of your sanity, and he's going to enjoy every single second of it.

Setting his glass aside, plucking yours from your hand, pinning your hands above your head with a devilish smirk and slowly undressing you, his eyes on yours the entire time.

Trailing his fingertips across your bare skin, drawing closer and closer but never quite giving you want you want, his lips barely brushing against your neck, reminding you in an amused murmur in your ear that he could easily do this all night.

You did have the audacity to challenge him, after all—he has no choice but to remind you who's in charge.

"What is it, my little bird? Did you think you were going to get a consolation prize? You're still going to have to beg."

Buggy

"Bet you two thousand Berries I can shotgun two beers at once, watch this—"

And he basically ends up halfway drowning himself, but hey, you're two thousand Berries richer!

Honestly, there's no party like a Buggy party, because a Buggy party doesn't stop until someone loses a limb—probably him.

No, really. Don't let him use his devil fruit abilities. Keep a bucket of sea water on hand if you have to, because he may literally misplace one of his limbs and you're going to have to go on a Chop Chop Scavenger Hunt to help him find it while you're both completely smashed.

If Buggy's drinking, everybody's drinking, and everybody is getting completely fucked up. This is non-negotiable, he thrives on chaos and that's what he's intent on creating.

Anybody who passes out before him is getting something obscene drawn on their face in permanent ink. He can definitely hold his liquor, so if you can keep up with him then you can expect to be the last two living souls left conscious on the whole ship.

That being said, he doesn't care who's awake—things are going to get kinky, and he's really not bothered about anybody watching. Or joining in, for that matter. This whole operation very well may devolve into a drunken orgy if he has any say in the matter.

Then again, it may also devolve into him flopping dramatically across your lap and divulging absolutely all of his trauma in an emotionally-charged alcohol-induced rant. He won't remember it in the morning, so please do him a favor and don't remind him.

"Hey, uhh...I los—I lost my foot again. .....Sor—*hiccup* sorry."