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togrowoldinv · 8 months

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Heartbeat

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

When Yelena gets in a car accident, you reunite with her and her sister after years of not seeing each other

Note: I love Natasha and I love Yelena so here’s this. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

When you got a call in the middle of the night, you knew it was nothing good. You listened carefully as the doctor told you that your best friend had been in a car accident.

Your brain racked as you tried to think of who that might be. Then she told you her name. Yelena. You haven’t seen her in years, but you are still her emergency contact in her phone. Nothing truly went wrong in your friendship. Just childhood friends who grew apart.

No matter the distance between you, you got in your car and drove to the hospital. Three hours later you pulled into the parking lot. They told you Yelena was still in surgery, so you settled in the waiting room.

That was almost five hours ago now. The doctor enters the room finally. You stand to greet her.

“Yelena is in recovery now,” the woman says. “It’ll be a long road, but she is expected to make a full recovery.”

“Oh, thank god,” you breathe out. “Can I see her?”

The doctor nods and leads you to her room. You take a few deep breaths before you enter. You haven’t seen her in three years, but she still looks like the same girl that you once knew.

Her green eyes open a few moments later. She groans in pain slightly before her attention falls on you. You walk closer to her.

“Y/n?” She asks. You nod. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” you explain. “I don’t know many details, but the doctors say you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, and you’re here because?”

“You must have had me listed in your phone as an emergency contact,” you say, shrugging. You really don’t know why.

“Did you call Natasha?” Yelena asks.

Natasha. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about her in years. You always admired her so much and felt so safe in her presence. But she and Yelena didn’t have the easiest relationship. It’s been so long since you last saw the redhead. Close to eight years. You miss her.

“Oh, um, no,” you say. “You two are talking again?”

Yelena nods. That’s good, you think. They need each other to really be happy. That was always the truth.

“I can call her,” you tell Yelena. You make a move to step out of the room, but Yelena reaches out for you.

“Y/n,” Yelena says. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Yel,” you say, tears fill your eyes.

You pull her into a soft hug. You didn’t realize how much you missed her until you held her in your arms. Every memory of your life together passes through your mind as you squeeze her.

“I’m hungry,” Yelena mumbles into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh. Still the very same Yelena.

“I’ll get you food and call Nat, okay? Be right back.”

You step into the hallway and feel your pulse quicken as you click on Natasha’s name in your contacts. Truthfully, you always hoped Nat would confess her love for you, and you’d live happily ever after. But you never so much have kissed the girl.

The phone rings for a few moments and you begin to wonder if she’ll pick up. Maybe she sees your name and decides not to answer. But your what-iffing stops when Nat answers the phone.

“Hello,” Nat answers. The sound of her voice threatens to make your heart stop.

“Hi- um- hi Natasha,” you say. “I don’t know how to say it so I will just go for it. Yelena was in an accident, but she’s okay. She asked for you, so I called.”

“Where is she?” Natasha asks. You hear some bustling on her end of the line.

“We’re at the hospital.”

“I’m on my way,” Natasha replies. And that’s the end of the call.

You get Yelena some food before you go back to her room. Inside, you catch up with her. Things have been good for both of you. She is an accomplished veterinarian. You knew she would be successful.

You’re laughing about some old joke when Natasha arrives. She walks to Yelena quickly and hugs her sister. You stand back, letting them have a moment. They speak for a moment in Russian before Natasha looks to you.

To your surprise, she rounds the beds and pulls you into a hug. You bury your face in her neck and soak up her touch. She is warm and smells like the fruity hair products she must use. She pulls away but moves her hands to your face.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Natasha says. She always used to call you that. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, Natasha,” you say. You get lost looking into her green eyes. She looks older but in the perfect way.

Yelena coughs to break the moment up between you and Natasha. The older sister drops her hands from your face and turns her attention back to Yelena.

“You should get some sleep, Yelena. That surgery was intense,” Natasha says.

“Such a mom,” Yelena grumbles.

“And a doctor,” Natasha adds. She pulls the covers up Yelena’s body. “We’ll go get some lunch. See you in a bit.”

You follow Natasha out of the room. She knows where to go to the cafeteria, and you put two and two together.

“You work here?” You ask Nat.

“I do,” she replies. “Well, from time to time. I travel for work, but this is technically my home hospital.”

“I didn’t even know you were a doctor,” you say.

“Heart surgeon,” Natasha says. She doesn’t seem phased by how your mouth opens in shock. “What do you do for work?”

You tell Nat about your career and what you’ve been up to. For some reason, it doesn’t feel difficult to talk to her. It’s like no time has gone by. You eat lunch together and continue to catch up.

“I’m glad to see you and Yelena are close again,” you say.

“Yeah,” Natasha says. “I guess last time you saw me Yelena and I were on some rocky ground.”

“You had a big fight. Five years at least of no talking,” you remind her.

“It was six years and four months,” Natasha recounts.

“What happened?”

“The same thing as always, you know. Melina and Alexei. Yelena always keeps things lighter with them, and I was pissed. Until I wasn’t,” Natasha says. “My girlfriend at the time, Wanda, helped me realize how important it was to be talking to my sister.”

“That’s good, Nat. Yel has always needed you to be at her happiest.”

Nat nods. “And she needs you too, y/n. She cried about missing you,” Nat explains.

“I didn’t know that,” you say quietly. Nat scoots her chair closer to yours.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you held her when she cried about me too.”

You did that. Many many times. Nat reaches and takes your hand. She helps you stand up. You follow her down the hallway and into what appears to be a breakroom.

“Did you ever find that person you dreamed about?” Natasha asks.

Her words seem random until you remember the nights you spent with her on the roof of your parents' house. You told her that you dreamed of loving someone and having someone love you back purposefully. She agreed that it was what she wanted too.

“No,” you answer. “Did you?”

“Maybe,” Natasha answers. “But I’m still waiting to see if she loves me back.”

“Oh, well, I hope that she does,” you answer. Nat steps closer to you, and she takes your face in her hands again.

“I hope she does, too,” Natasha says. She leans in, and her lips are inches from touching yours. “Do you love me, y/n?”

“I love you, Natasha,” you whisper.

Natasha’s lips brush against yours softly. You really start to kiss her back when her phone goes off. You wish she would ignore it, but she pulls away.

“Shit,” Natasha says. “It’s Yelena.”

“Does that mean-”

“I’m the cardio surgeon on call,” Natasha says. “Let’s go.”

She leads you out of the breakroom and to the operating room waiting area. Natasha leaves you there as she disappears behind the doors.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #sorry for the ending #or am I?

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cc-horan28 · 3 months

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Be My Valentine - 9

The Wind, It Held Your Soul

(T) 1.7k

WW2 AU Soldier!Louis Tomlinson x Doctor!Harry Styles (3/3)

Tw death, implied time period accurate homophobia

Harry swallowed, lump in his throat firmly lodged, hands shaking as he glanced down at the little strip of paper.

18 words. They would be emblazoned across his mind forever. 18 words that changed everything. He still remembered the look Gemma had given him as she handed him the paper.

Harry is widowed in a time he cannot even accept it in public.

A/N: A huge thank you to Ash for helping me figure out the ending! And I love you Nashie and Anna for being there when I was having breakdowns over this! And ofc, ty to Akeyla for holding this fest and these amazing prompts just ah!

Title from Louis’ ‘Holding On To Heartache’!

Harry swallowed, lump in his throat firmly lodged, hands shaking as he glanced down at the little strip of paper.

18 words. They would be emblazoned across his mind forever. 18 words that changed everything. He still remembered the look Gemma had given him as she handed him the paper.

He had run from the stables as fast as he could when he’d heard the cook, Mrs O’Leary calling out to him. It had been months since he’d been sent back after a shell landed at the hospital Harry was working in, onfield. He had been waiting so long. He had thought it was a letter- from-

Louis. His Louis.

A sob racked his body as he bent over, paper crumpling as his fist closed down, nails digging into his palm. The pain was the only thing grounding him right now.

He had to give it everything he had to hold back from screaming. He squeezed his eyes shut, pawing at his eyes with his closed fist. Louis won’t like- wouldn’t- Another wave of anger passed through him as he sobbed, not caring if anyone heard him.

His Louis. The telegram wasn’t even sent to him. Of course it wouldn’t. To them they were nothing. To them they didn’t- couldn’t even exist. None of that mattered. None of it mattered. He wouldn’t even get to hold a funeral for him. He couldn’t face the idea of burying an empty coffin, of having to pretend he was just a coworker- a friend. Like he wasn’t there for the only man he’d ever loved.

He had no idea how long he stayed curled up like that, lost in thoughts of LouisLouisLouis. It was the cold that finally forced him to sit up, head freezing from where he had been resting it against the glass.

He couldn’t even face moving away from the bay window, going near the fireplace. That would involve seeing Louis’ sofa.

Harry remembered how he would climb onto him, slotting himself onto the single-seater, legs tangled with his, toasting crumpets by the fire, sipping the tea Harry didn’t even like but had anyway, just to keep Louis company.

This bay window was Louis’ idea. ‘So we can sit together properly’, he used to say with that grin of his, eyes all crinkled up, ‘Without you squashing me,’- Harry ran his hand over the soft leather, smoothened by the years of use. Everything was his, wasn’t it-

He exhaled shudderingly, distantly surprised when he saw it fogging up in front of him.

His face was cold, tear tracks feeling icy on his skin. He eased his grip on the paper, hugging one of the pillows to his chest as he glanced down,

WESTERN UNION

DEEPLY REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT CAPTAIN LOUIS TOMLINSON IS OFFICIALLY REPORTED AS KILLED IN ACTION JULY NINTH.

Tears welled up, clouding his vision as he clutched the pillow closer, burying his face in it. He cried loudly, beyond caring if anyone heard him, wailing out Louis’ name plaintively.

He breathed deeply when he pulled back, feeling slightly dizzy. He could have sworn he smelled jasmine and cinnamon. Hints of the Brumes perfume Louis liked- had liked- to wear at home.

Sure, it had said pour femme on the little bottle, he thought with a small, sad smile; but Louis never cared. Neither of them did.

He vaguely registered the insistent knocking on the door and curled up with his back to it, holding on to the pillow.

“Harold. Harry, please.” he heard Gemma say, slowly, like she was measuring each word out, but the slight tremor in her voice gave her away “Harry, don’t isolate yourself. I know- I understand you need space. And time. But this isn’t what Louis would have wanted,”

Harry barely registered what her next words were, all coherent thoughts drowned out by the rush of anger he felt.

“Don’t you take his name, not just to console me,” he shouted, stalking across the room and throwing the door open, “Don’t take his name, Gemma. Not when you brought me this godforsaken piece of paper.” He waved the said paper around, tears milling in his eyes despite the anger he felt. He knew his anger at his sister wasn’t justified, but he couldn’t care less.

“Don’t,” he repeated, voice breaking as he collapsed onto the ground, sitting on his haunches with his head in his hands.

“Louis,” he cried, slumping onto the ground, legs a tangle, the carpet cold under him.

He felt Gemma crouch beside him, whispering something that he didn’t quite understand over his own voice, but he stood up when she did, letting himself be led to the sofa by the fireplace.

She didn’t say anything, just gently combed through his hair as he stared at Louis’ sofa.

Louis’ sofa

It hit him at once, and this time he couldn’t even choke out any sounds. Louis’ sofa which wasn’t his anymore. Where he wouldn’t sit anymore.

Harry was grateful for her silence, her company. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he was left alone right now. He couldn’t fathom why he had wanted her to leave. Not her too-

He felt tears silently run down his face, gruelling visions of Louis alone somewhere, over the Channel, lying in a field threatening to swallow him. He tried to push the thoughts away, curling up into his sister, pulling his feet up, and taking shaky breaths to try and calm himself.

They sat there, Harry quietly hiccupping as he felt his tears dry up, only to be replaced by anger. It wasn’t aimed at Gemma this time, though.

“I didn’t even get the telegram,” he said, voice raspy already, “They didn’t even send it to me. My husband is gone, and they couldn’t even send me a fucking telegram,” His voice was rising, and he felt himself shaking with the intensity of all that he felt.

“Harry,” Gemma breathed out, sighing deeply and choosing not to say anymore. Harry needed to get it out of his system.

“They couldn’t because that would mean acknowledging us. They’re too busy pretending we don’t fucking exist and throwing those who protest into jails. I don’t want to erase him, Gem. I don’t want to erase us,” he broke off, closing his eyes as he bent over, forehead resting on his knees as he finally let himself think of Louis, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m not going to pretend,” he said, toying with the congealed dried eggs on his plate, like it was the most natural conversation to have. Like he hadn’t not said a word for two days. “We’ll hold a proper service for him. And I won’t pretend. I won’t talk about how great a person he was, or what a good soldier he was,”

His voice was raspy from disuse, throat raw from all the crying and screaming he’d done, bouncing between mad anger and complete desolation. He took the glass of orange juice Gemma offered with a silent nod.

She had been an angel, a constant presence, never invading his space, giving him the time he needed to process while still being a rock he could anchor to.

He took a small sip, ignoring the tears that were threatening to spill. He would have time for all that later, but he wanted Louis to have a proper send-off, and so would his sisters. And he knew Louis would have done the same, had the tables been turned. Had it been him killed on the Somme.

He quickly brushed the tears away, almost angry at himself.

“It’s okay if there’s another service, an official one, for everyone else. But I won’t attend it,” he said as firmly as he could in his state, “Everyone who knew, who cared about him- about us- we’ll have a separate service.”

That was all he could muster up the strength to say. Gemma stood up, patting his shoulder and kissing his cheek lightly. “He would be proud,” she whispered, “And so am I. I’ll give you some time. Ring for me if you want to talk,”

He pushed the plate away, watching Gemma’s retreating figure silently. He folded his arms and buried his head in them.

He was used to the silence by now.

He closed his eyes as he threw the last handful of dirt, face tilted up as he let the sun warm his face. The tears coursing down his cheeks still stung against the wind, but the golden glow he saw from behind his eyelids made it just a bit more bearable. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if it was grey and rainy.

Sunny days were Louis’ favorite, Harry thought, biting down on his lower lip. He used to love heading off to Kensington, getting some fresh rolls on their way there and having them by the pond. They always had to sit just a bit too far away, and still got suspicious glares from passersby, but Harry wouldn’t have had it any other way.

None of it changed the fact that Louis was gone and Harry doubted if he would ever entirely come to terms with it. With never seeing his eyes crinkle with laughter, or hear him singing his versions of Vera Lynn’s songs. With never waking up to him sipping his awful unsweetened tea next to him, newspaper rustling as he bent down to kiss him. With never seeing him again.

No, he couldn’t think like that. Louis was always the romantic between them, talks of a beautiful after, free from pain and discrimination and everything they hated being brought up whenever they got even vaguely theological, or drunk, or both.

He couldn’t help but chuckle weakly, thinking back to those evenings together.

Some day, he would see Louis again. The jasmine in the air, with not a bloom in sight was a testament to that.

They would never fade away. But for now, the silence would have to do.

A/N: again, I'm so sorry i don't know what possessed me to write this. Don't go and reread the first post. No matter what

Reblogs are always appreciated 💕

#bemyvalentine2024 #bemyvalentineno9 #widowed #larry stylinson #tw death #tw implied homophobia #Harry Styles #Louis Tomlinson #WW2 AU #angst #so much angst #hlcreators #hltracks #hlficlibrary #sorry for the ending #larry fics #larry fanfiction #larry angst #one direction

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irenic-max · 11 months

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anagapesis

Angst Prompt: “I don’t think I can look at you and not think of how you killed every last bit of love I had for you.”

Reader x Jisung // Jisung x Minho

Angst, Heartbreak, Cheating, Jealousy, Unrealized Feelings, Not A Happy Ending, CollegeStudentsAU, Not idols

_____________________________

Another weekend, another party. You fought to keep the scowl off your face and to keep your features neutral.

You took a sip of your drink and ignored the sharp bite the liquor left as you looked around for your boyfriend. He dragged you to parties every weekend and almost always disappeared into the crowd and with his friends.

Particularly Minho.

You huffed angrily at the thought of your boyfriend’s best friend and threw back the rest of your drink, hoping the alcohol would dim the irritation radiating through your body.

You and Minho just didn’t get along; you two had a completely separate sense of humor, different style, different likes, different taste in food and in music, everything. The only similarity the two of you shared was the adoration for Han Jisung. You would both hang the moon for the playful, energetic boy.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem. It hadn’t been an issue for such a big part of your relationship. But since Minho moved into an off campus apartment with someone else in his department, you felt like you were constantly begging and competing for time with Jisung. Your boyfriend began to act like seeing his best friend was a rare event when, in fact, he saw Minho more frequently than ever. He got so easily wrapped up.

You tried to be understanding at first and gave Jisung the time to adjust and figure out how to balance his time without feeling like you were nagging him about plans or dates. But that only sparked arguments when a few weeks had passed and nothing changed. Fights, tears, conversations, yelling, pleading, crying, ignoring - nothing changed Jisung’s blindness to how much time he spent with Minho and how often you were brushed off to the side in favor of the other.

Finally, Jisung decided to invite you out every weekend with his friends. “Why not both?” seemed to be his solution to splitting his free time. Except it wasn’t a solution and it wasn’t split; he always ended up gravitating towards Minho.

You stayed in the kitchen for a round of shots with a few mutual friends before setting out to find Jisung. He was going to spend time with you, you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You looked around the living room and first floor for a couple of minutes but couldn’t spot your boyfriend anywhere. Or Minho, for that matter.

You recognized one of Jisung’s friends talking in a hallway with a handful of people from a class they shared. This friend was one of the few you could actually tolerate. It was impossible to hate him, really.

“Felix, hi,” you greeted warmly when there was a pause in conversation.

“Hi, y/n,” he responded, smiling at you and offering a tiny wave. “Are you here alone today?”

His words stirred the anger in your belly, but you kept composure.

“No, I came with Jisungie but I lost him somewhere and can’t find him. Do you know where he might be?” You feigned a pout for effect and Felix laughed lightheartedly.

“I haven’t seen him, but Jeongin brought his pen, so maybe they’re taking a few hits? I’d try the basement; Jeongin usually hides down there to smoke.”

You squeezed Felix’s arm gently and thanked him before heading down to the house’s basement. Chatter faded away as you navigated down the hallway and then stairs. The basement was pretty big and divided into a few sections, almost making them different rooms. You knew Jeongin was smart enough to move away from the base of the stairs and hide away as to not get asked for hits all night. You spotted a few guys sitting and sharing the pen, but no Minho or Jisung to be found.

You exhaled, frustrated. You were about to give up when you heard giggling further back, towards the washing machine and water heater. You went to investigate.

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your stomach lurch. You had to grit your teeth to keep yourself from vomiting on the spot from shock. You heard blood rushing in your ears but couldn’t do anything but stare.

Stare as Minho pinned Jisung to the wall in between his arms and kissed him hungrily. When they parted for a breath, Jisung chased his lips and kissed him back feverishly. Drunken giggles floated in the space between them and you felt the air being punched from your lungs.

You didn’t realize a broken noise cracked from your throat until the boys broke apart and Jisung’s head whipped up. Instantly, the color drained from his face and the tipsy euphoria that was there seconds beforehand was gone.

“I- y/n, uh, we-”

You looked from him to Minho and saw almost no emotion etched into his face; no guilt, no shock, no worry. The bastard almost looked smug. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than a galaxy of space between them and yourself. You turned on your heels and all but bolted away, back through the basement and up the stairs. You heard commotion behind you but kept moving. You weren’t entirely sure when the tears started, but suddenly, your vision was blurring and it was impossible to make out much of anything in detail.

You could tell there was a mass of bodies near the front door and decided to steer towards the back patio. You threw the door open without any care and stumbled out.

How could you be so stupid?

How could you be so blind?

He’s in love with him. He’s fucking in love with him.

Not you. Not you.

Your stomach lurched again and you lost balance, falling forward onto your knees into the grass. Sobs kept bubbling up in your chest, but they would stop before they came tumbling out. They were being drowned out by fury.

“Y/n!”

You lifted your head to see Jisung climbing out the back door onto the patio with Minho trailing close behind.

“Stay away from me!” you snarled, legs still weak and shaky. You still couldn’t get up.

“Y/n, will you just listen to me for a second?”

“I don’t want to hear a fucking thing from you!”

“I love you! I do! You’re one of my best friends,” Jisung shouted out desperately, holding his hands out in a pleading manner. “You know me and I know you. It...It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t even know what I was feeling, what I was thinking, what I’ve been going through. I’ve been trying to figure it out without hurting anyone. But you’ve been my best friend for so long and you’re more than my girlfriend because of it. We share a special bond, not even one Minho and I have.” Jisung hesitantly took a few steps forward. Minho was smart (for once, you thought angrily) and stayed back.

“Can...can you just look at me? So we can talk?” Jisung asked with a shaky voice. You could hear the emotion behind his words and it only set fire to the rage you felt.

“Why?” You asked, a wet laugh interrupting. “Why? What could talking possibly fix here, Jisung?” You took a second and let out a shuttering breath. “I don’t think I can look at you and not think of how you killed every last bit of love I had for you.

“You chipped away at it, piece by piece over time. You wore it down and when it was at its weakest point, you ripped it out of me. Stomped on it. You’re watching me bleed out and then asking me why I’m not patching you up.

“It’s over. We are done. I...I fucking hate you, Jisung. And I fucking hate you more, Minho.”

You took the moment as Jisung stood stunned from your words to finally stand and break away from them. You clenched your fists, digging your nails in until they pierced your palms and used that pain to ground yourself as you walked away from all of it. You let your tears and cries fall freely as you mourned life as you knew it with Han Jisung.

#stray kids #skz #skz angst #x reader #han jisung #jisung x reader #jisung x minho #breakup #heartbreak #cheating #unknown feelings #just not straight #skz fanfic #lee minho #lee know #han #sorry for the ending #i do not know how to end stories #trying to clear my writer's block

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achaotichuman · 5 months

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Angsty thought but like imagine Rhysand and Tamlin got into one of their fights during a ballroom, Tamlin storming out with rhysand following him.

Both of them angry and sad because of what happened, Rhysand angry at Tamlin's nonchalance and how "stone-faced" he was about the whole debacle. Tamlin angry at Rhys when he made a comment that maybe Tamlin really was like his father.

So Tamlin pissed off and was so hurt by this male who was his first best friend whirls around Rhysand and instead of Tamlin's face, Rhysand was looking directly at His sisters face and Rhysand's sister (Tam who shapeshifted) sneered and said "Maybe you really are like your father, considering you couldn't even save your own mother and sister"

A bit more angsty and dramatic then my usual asks but I was watching Scandal and I thought of this prompt to my two toxic love-birds :3

My first reaction to this was a violent gasp, because yes, this is very good. Very dramatic, very angsty, all things I love. Here's how I think that scene would go.

It was supposed to be a routine get-together, the Courts of Prythian coming together for one night. The Courts were far to separate and to maintain peace two things would take place every decade on a solstice. One, the High lords would gather for a meeting, it was a rare occasion that didn't end in someone storming out, and something getting thrown. Tamlin had to admit he found them amusing. Second, the people of each Court would gather for a large celebration, one Court was chosen each year, there they would open their borders to all who wished to attend, and a large celebration would be thrown.

No one admitted it, but everyone knew, these celebrations had simply turned into a way for the High lords to one up each other. Who had to most money to spend? Who had the most lavish taste?

It was a dick measuring contest, and Tamlin hated it. But had to go anyway, next decade would be his turn to host. That was going to be a nightmare and a half, Andras and Alis were somehow already excited for it, those two loved a good celebration. They especially loved the drama it would cause.

The meeting had gone as smoothly as one could hope for. Poor Nostrus was the one to host this year, the meeting and the celebration were to take place in Adriata. The office Nostrus had led the High lords too once they arrived was perfectly decorated, but quite empty. Only the table and chairs. the edges of the room were gilded with gems and gold, and a large balcony overlooked the sea. Nothing else though. Nostrus had most likely been thinking off the last meeting, that one Tamlin had attended as Prince. Someone had thrown something made of glass, it had shattered all over the floor, a shard nicking Tamlin in the arm.

Even still, the lack of anything to throw did not stop the arguments from pouring out. Tamlin didn't have enough fingers to count how many times he rolled his eyes, or loosened a sigh.

All entertainment from watching six grown men snapping at each other's throats was drowned the second he walked in.

Rhysand was fashionably late, as he always is. He waltzed in, the doors slamming open to reveal his clouds of darkness. His two Illyrian dogs prowling behind him. Rhysand gave some half-assed excuse as to why he was late that everyone had to suppress the urge to roll their eyes at. Rhysand had only been in power a few years, as had Tamlin. Yet he acted as though he had been ruling for centuries.

When they sat down, Rhysand scanned the room, watching everyone like a predator waiting for the perfect time to bite. Finally, he looked over at Tamlin, and that natural predator's glare turned hungry, like he'd spotted a lone deer in a clearing. Tamlin fought the urge to curl into himself, he held Rhysand's gaze with what he hoped was a similar intensity. Those his eyes could only muster hatred, Rhysand's was filled with loathing and lust. When Cassian and Azriel turned their eyes to lock into Tamlin, the Spring Lord slowly and pointedly looked at the Shadowsinger, then the General and back to Rhysand. Tamlin then huffed a laugh and threw them a smirk before turning away.

Tamlin could feel the seething rage coming off of Rhysand in waves even if he was looking away. Tamlin was his chosen target of the night, and damn him to terrors in Hell, but the part of Tamlin that still belonged to his past couldn't wait to see what the Night Lord had in stall for him.

Soon night fell and the Summer Court was in a buzz. Tamlin was led into a large ballroom. Covered in gold and splendor. The sounds of the ocean crashing outside seemed to blend into the music, creating a symphony of nature and man-made creation. The second the notes hit his ears Tamlin closed his eyes for a moment, almost beginning to sway to it. A pinch from Andras had him snapping back to the present. His sentry shot him a look and Tamlin just raised an eyebrow, discreetly flipping him off before striding away from his friend.

Tamlin found a nice corner, where he was away from everybody, and could simply lean against the wall, close his eyes and tap his fingers in time to the music.

His peace lasted for a total of thirty seconds. Then a cold chill spread across his skin, a chill he wanted to forget but his body remembered. Tamlin didn't have to open his eyes to know Rhysand was standing close to him. Rhysand didn't need to speak to know Tamlin knew he was there. Still, Tamlin refused to be the first to talk.

They stayed standing there for a half hour, some secret challenge between them. Who would break the silence first? Tamlin tried to ignore Rhysand's lingering presence, but he couldn't enjoy the music knowing that darkness was swirling so close to him.

Tamlin had never been made to play these games. Finally, he opened his eyes and turned to face Rhysand, lip pulled back into a snarl, "What do you want?"

Rhysand's face split into a grin. Ecstatic that Tamlin had been the first to break.

"I wanted to know why the High lord of Spring, is not enjoying the festivities with his people, I thought you of all people would not consider yourself above the commoners?" Rhysand emphasized 'High lord' he knew Tamlin did not want this crown. He loved picking at that, making him feel even more unworthy than what he already was, but never letting him forget that he could never be normal like he so desperately wanted to be.

Tamlin didn't entertain his outright ridiculas question. He simply looked back towards the people of Prythian, mingling, dancing and talking to one another.

Rhysand hated when Tamlin could be more carefree and silent than him. It showed when Rhysand stepped closer, invading his space, crowding around him that forced Tamlin to remember how Rhysand, despite only being a few inches taller than Tamlin, could seem like he was twice his size.

"I've heard the little fox has been prancing around your Court, have you found another so quickly my love?" Rhysand snarled in his ear. Tamlin hated those even more than the comment before it. He hated thinking about what they were. What had happened.

"Answer me, darling." Rhysand hissed.

"Lucien is my friend, Rhysand." Tamlin said, his voice calm and level, unlike Rhysand's.

The bat opened and closed his mouth, face confused, then turning to anger. Hatred reeling in his eyes, Rhysand had always hated when Tamlin could be level and cool. Hated when his venomous words didn't drive him up the wall.

"Friend, lover, whore, who draws the lines." Rhysand shrugged, those damning smirk adorning his face.

"I do, and we have no relations beyond friendship." He was friends with Lucien, had been for a long time now. Since taking on the crown, Lucien along with Jesminda had shown up for him more than ever. He was his friend, a better friend than Rhysand had ever been, it had taken Tamlin far too long to realize that.

"The bounds of friendship stretch, Little Lord of Spring, we would know that wouldn't we?" Rhysand trailed a finger down Tamlin's arm. If Tamlin didn't know Rhysand as well as he did, he would've snapped, perhaps hurt the male horribly. But as it were, Tamlin could have laughed, Rhysand was getting desperate for a reaction.

"We wouldn't know that." Tamlin murmured.

Rhysand went predatorially still, a wolf sitting back on its hunches, preparing to strike. Tamlin remembered the power that had filled Rosehall as two High lords came into power. And the way Rhysand had gone so still. Tamlin couldn't help the fear that leapt up into his throat.

"We would, our... friendship, it stretched a quite a bit." Rhysand said, a growl pressing into his voice.

Tamlin couldn't help it, he huffed a laugh. Rhysand took a hold of his arm, "Don't deny it Spring."

"Deny what, bat?" Tamlin quipped.

Rhysand just grinned, instead of answering he asked, "Do you think about me when you fuck him?" Rhysand jutted his head towards where a group of Autumn males were socializing. Tamlin didn't doubt Lucien was among them.

Tamlin finally laughed, a full, genuine laugh. He laughed even harder when Rhysand's face fell from smugness to simmering hatred.

"Lucien is happy in his own relationships." Tamlin said, he would never tell Rhysand about Jesminda, but it made him feel good to know how false Rhysand's little theory was.

Tamlin leaned in close, stepping up onto his tiptoes to be Rhysand's level, like he used to do before he kissed him, "And you and your little wings, are the last things I'm thinking about when I'm fucking somebody."

That 'little wings' comment made Rhysand step forward, pressing his body fully against Tamlin. His eyes full of anger, making the violet a deep purple, "Liar." Rhysand hissed. "You are too much like the dogs to be on a throne such as Spring. You deserve less than a feral animal. We used to call you that, you know, Cassian, Az and I. The feral kid from Spring. You were like a dog when we fucked too. A desperate bitch in heat."

Tamlin had heard enough. Here was the male he had been friends with for decades. Who had taught him to wield daggers and swords. Who had taken him in when his brothers left him bloodied, bruised and broken. Who had brought him up so high when he had felt so low. Who had assured him he wasn't the dog, the beast, everyone accused him of being.

His brothers called him a beast, a dog, a feral animal. Rhysand knew all that, because Tamlin had told him. Rhysand had been the one to tell him he was never that. Had told him he was worthy of being treated like person, had told him that was the bare minimum.

Now, he threw it all back in his face like he never meant it. And it hurt. It hurt so much.

If Tamlin stayed any longer, he was going to lose it. So he turned away from Rhysand headed for the exit, people stared at him. Andras tried to wave him down and even Lucien looked over, but Tamlin passed them all.

He practically ran out the entrance. Down the stairs, going and going until he found an empty esplanade, a road that overlooked the glittering sea. The moon hung in the deep night sky, stars stared down at him as if they were accusing him. Accusing him of the same crime Rhysand was. A crime he didn't fucking commit.

It didn't matter though; Rhysand couldn't be swayed. And oh, how Tamlin had tried to sway him. Had sent him letter after letter after letter. Begging and pleading for Rhysand to listen to him. His brothers had drugged him, he didn't even remember telling them. The whole thing had been a haze, a blur of nothing.

But Rhysand didn't care what he had to say. Just wanted someone to blame.

Rhysand now appeared beside him, had followed him from the party.

The darkness curled around Tamlin's wrists like chains. Would he ever be free of the clutches of Night? Or had becoming friends with Rhysand in the first place trapped him in a cage he could never escape?

"You're a coward," Rhysand hissed, "A good for nothing, waste of space. You're a coward and you're nothing."

"I am worth something-," Tamlin tried to argue.

Rhysand laughed, "Oh you think I was serious when I told you that? I lie Tamlin, and I lied to you. Without me, you aren't worth a drop of anything anyone gives you. Give it time, that fox you love so much will leave. In time everyone will leave you."

Tamlin sucked in a breath, and finally chose to turn away from him. Tears were beginning to form in the Spring Lords eyes, and he wouldn't let Rhysand see them.

As Tamlin turned around, Rhysand delivered the final blow, "Going to run away from this too? Going to pretend none of this affects you at all? Why did I expect anything more? You're just like your father. I hope you never have children, hate for what happened to you to happen to them."

Tamlin's entire world came to crashing halt. He stopped walking as everything he had convinced of himself shattered.

Rhysand's footsteps were the only sound he could hear as the Night Lord came closer.

"Hate that its true Tamlin?"

Tamlin felt his shoulders begin to shake, then his heart racing, and finally his face contorting, his skin changing as anger overrode every rational thought in his mind.

"Come now, little Tamlin, tell me how right I am." Rhysand was right behind him now, so close Tamlin could feel his breath on his neck.

Tamlin then whirled around. He stared right up in Rhysand's eyes and watched as those lustful, selfish eyes turned to horror.

Instead of Tamlin's face, it was Rhysand's sister, Branon, who glowered up at him. And it was in Branon's voice that Tamlin said, "Perhaps you are truly like your father, considering you couldn't even save your own mother and sister's lives."

Rhysand paled, his whole body beginning to shake. Tears formed in his eyes, and he stumbled back. Tamlin, still wearing Branon's face, sneered, "You have become exactly what you swore you would never be. Selfish! Vindictive! and cruel! I have never deserved your hatred! You know what happened that night! I needed saving too! You let us all drown! I may have never been worth anything to you, but you were worth something to me and now," Tamlin let out a cold, humorless laugh, "Now I feel nothing for you. Your face, your eyes, your voice and your words, mean absolutely nothing to me."

Tears spilled down Rhysand's cheeks, and true to his words, Tamlin felt nothing for him. No remorse, no anger, no hatred. Just plain nothing. Everything emptied out from his words, words that were a long time coming.

Rhysand looked down to the floor. Tamlin wondered if he was remembering his dear sister. A woman who had loved with fire and passion. Who had smiled through flames. Who had fought with power like no other.

Tamlin only felt a little guilty for using her face to put Rhysand in his place. But the guilt was only for her, never for Rhysand.

Tamlin refused to ever feel guilty for Rhysand, for what the Night Lord had brought upon himself by refusing to move on, by refusing to listen to the true story. Instead making up his own and flaunting it to everyone.

Tamlin would be free of him. That he swore. He was worth something. The people in his life would not leave him. Rhysand was wrong.

************************************

Rhysand had been right.

Tamlin laid in the ruins of his Court. He looked up at the stars. Tears spilling down his cheeks, his whole-body trembling as he struggled to keep his cries contained.

Everyone had left him, like Rhysand had said they would. He had succumbed to his own rage, like his father, like Rhysand had accused him of being.

Rhysand was right.

He wasn't worth anything.

I loved this prompt so much! Thank you so much for sharing, I hope I did this one justice!

#acotar #pro tamlin #tamlin #tamsand #rhysand #rhyslin #acotar au #acotar fanfiction #acotar headcanons #sorry for the ending #I couldnt help but make it sad #don't twist my words though! rhysand was not right tam! you are worth something!#anti rhysand

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destielsnot · 1 year

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Anddddd my most recent edit. Just some dean angst. I love this song and like; it’s such a theme song for dean. Definitely recommend giving it a listen :>>

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mag200 · 1 year

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one thing about orpheus and eurydice is you guys are all like “i’m different i wouldnt turn to look at her” because you are all familiar with the story of orpheus and eurydice. but orpheus wasnt familiar with the story because he was in it lol.

#anyway. its only really good bc its a tragedy. doomed by the narrative etc. he has to turn around theres no other end.#greek mythology #sorry. this ones in post jail now.

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ibtisams · 3 months

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My father was martyred by Israel on 10 October 2023 after sacrificing his care in hospital so the injured children could take priority. Today would have been his 60th birthday. He was always selfless, kind, and giving for others. My father gave up everything for me to be able to have a better life, because that is what he always dreamed for me and my sister. The world suffered a great loss when he died, and my heart is always with him and every Palestinian who has lost someone.

In his honour and memory, I would love for anyone who is able to do so to consider donating to The Palestine Children’s Relief Fund.

The PCRF is an amazing organisation that does so much for those in Gaza right now, including helping provide food, water and medicine. You can donate any amount you are able to- there is no minimum! My father would have given his very last cent if he saw the way Palestine was continuing to suffer after over 100 days with this limited aid, so I know celebrating him by helping others is the least he would have wanted.

I saw @parrot-parent do a very successful donation match and I thought it was such a good idea so I will also match all donations up to $500! If you feel comfortable sending me proof of the amount of your donation, I will match it as a donation at the end of February. (My messages are set to mutuals only, but if you donate and we aren’t mutuals if you send an ask with the proof I will make sure to answer it privately.)

#can you tell my baby pictures with him are my favourite 🙂#sorry this is so long and emotional I just knew I wanted to do something in celebration of his birthday #and he really was the most selfless person so helping others through his memory is a perfect way to do so #if no one sends me their proof of donations I will just donate $500 at the end of the month 👍#🦢

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scorndotexe · 1 month

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i can't lie to you i loveee bad endings sometimes. what if nothing worked out. what if the characters gave into their worst instincts. what if they became worse. what if there's truly no hope left. what will they do out of desperation? who will they become as their worst selves?

#sorry. i'm compelled by terrible endings.#persimmon's rambles

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ayo-edebiri · 1 year

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#Merry crisis

#Merry Christmas #merry crisis #Christmas #i'm sorry dejnejc #i bought a mac to gif with 4k and i end up giffing 420p videos....#userbbelcher #nessa007 #noalook #usersugar #tuserrachel #userallisyn #winter

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droids-in-disguise · 1 year

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Via twitter

#stede would end up dead I love him but sorry it’s the truth #iwtv #glass onion #ofmd #hannibal #lestat de lioncourt #stede bonnet #benoit blanc

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seventeendeer · 1 year

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when you’re pet pet petting your sweet little baby cat on her sweet little pumpkin head but then she starts to get overstimulated and her little tail is swooshing back and forth and you can Tell all her ancient beast instincts are kicking in telling her to maul the shit out of your hand, and she looks SO forlorn because she actually wanted more cuddles but also there’s only so much a little animal can do to contain her impulses and she looks at you w the biggest wettest saddest eyes like

#deerchatter #I'M SORRY BABY I CAN'T UN-ZAP YOUR NERVOUS SYSTEM .. WE HAVE TO STOP BEFORE U REMOVE MY FINGERS .......#mine always just sits next to me afterwards like I May Not Be Able To Handle More Cuddles But We WILL Hang Out. End Of Discussion.

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frogchiro · 7 months

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virgin sacrifice reader offered to war god ghost?? prepare to be his lovely wife instead of a sacrifice with at least 10 demigods running around, he wants to raise strong warriors!

Ghost would definitely be a god similiar to Ares; a god of war, brutality, bloodshed, masculinity and virility. Men go and pray by his shrine or in his dedicated temple to give them strength in both battle and bed, to be a strong and unbeatable warrior and be able to father strong, healthy children.

One such temple, the main one, is in a surprisingly remote location, surrounded not by a major city or capital but a few villages. According to myths it was this place where a brutal battle took place millenia ago where the fearsome god Ghost defeated an army all by himself, the blood of his slain enemies served to make the land fertile and for many villages to grow and prosper...until now.

Usually sacrifaces to appease the god would be made by the men of the villages; black stallions, the strongest bulls, wine, silver and pure steel, everything that has connections to masculinity and power, however some kind of horrible fatum seems to hang over your little village. The animals either die young or are sickly and weak, the wine turns out sour like vinegar, there in so money to buy anything either and it's taken as a curse by the elders. If nothing will be done and Ghost won't have his sacrifice who knows what will happen?

So they decide on the next best thing, a desperate last choice reach in hopes to appease the brutal god-a virgin sacrifice. The prettiest, unmarried and untouched young woman is to be chosen, dressed in the finest, gauzy silks and locked inside the stone temple in hopes that the god will come down and the blood of a slain virgin will calm his fury. Luck wasn't on your side it seems, you were chosen.

All you could remember were the desperate cries of your mother, the dissapointed remorseful look on your father's face and the ritual cleansing of the old crones in the village. You were cleaned in rose water, intricate patterns were drawn with a mixture of honey, mushed up berries and flowers on your breasts, around your nipples and bellybutton, and the most intricate was drawn on the place where your womb was. You were clothed in a white gauzy dress that was a symbol of your purity and then you were bound and dragged to the temple no matter how much you struggled and kicked and pleaded until you were finally locked in the dimly lit temple, only the many candles present to lighten the main chamber and to show the powerful, majestic sculpture of the god, Ghost.

Imagine crying yourself to sleep, everything hurt, you were scared and confused, all alone to die in this forsaken temple because some old men decided on it. Falling asleep out of exhaustion, the images of your crying, terrified mother haunting you even when sleeping.

Imagine waking up and instead of feeling cold and sore from sleeping on the unforgiving stone floor, and instead finding yourself laying on and under the most luxurious furs you've ever seen, the warmth of them felt like a blanket and the smell of them, pleasant warm masculine musk made a shiver run down your spine, just where were you?

Before you had the chance of looking around the room, you felt huge, strong arms clamping togehter around you and bringing you into a powerful, broad chest which rumbled with a growl like purr and a stern voice saying:

"Stay. Don't move around girl."

And the very same arms turned you gently around to face the man behind you and you couldn't help but gasp and breath out a tiny, frightened yelp-behind you was laying a man who looked like the stone sculpture of Ghost cane to life and became human. It...it was Ghost. You laid next to a god.

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #THIS IS SUCH A DELIGHTFUL ASK AND IDEA #sorry for this shitty ending but it was getting too long😭#but i'm more than open to explore this more 💕💕#god of war!ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley

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