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russellsppttemplates · 1 month

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It's just the beggining (Oscar Piastri)

Oscar hasn't done or said anything, so you're taking matters into your own hands

Note: english is not my first language. It's my first Oscar piece and I'm nervous posting this, but hopefully you enjoy it! 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: mentions reader's grandparents' health issues, mentions the situation with McLaren and Daniel, insomnia

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey, Y/N!", James called you once he saw you walk by his classroom, "hey", you greeted back, adjusting your books on your arms.

"There is a new kid, I'm sure you know, Oscar Piastri his name is, and apparently he's staying the long weekend too, like you", he trailed off, not knowing if he was stepping further than he should.

"Yes, I am staying, it's okay to talk about it", you gave him tight lipped smile, "well, I was hoping you'd keep him company - he's a bit shy, but he's very fun to be around and the teacher also thought it would be good since you're both staying", he reasoned as you nodded.

You had to stay back because your grandparents didn't live in England, and because of their old age and problems that naturally arose with that, your parents had to fly out and spend sometime with them, meaning you didn't have anyone back home, so you stayed. As for Oscar, you found out that he was staying back because his family was in Melbourne.

"At first, I just had online schooling, but it got trickier to manage and my dad needed to go back to work so I had to stay back", he explained when you asked him why he was there, "and I hope I can focus on racing, but you already know that", he scoffed softly.

"I don't think I do, I'm sorry", you narrowed your eyes, genuinely unaware of what he was talking about.

After he told you all about his career until that moment, as well as his hopes and dreams, he chuckled, "you really didn't know?", he wondered.

"I didn't! The girls said something about you moving here but I didn't listen much, I'm not that into gossip and my memory is like Dory's, I can never keep up with the latest who likes who and who flirted with what's his face", you earnestly replied.

For the first time since he arrived at the school, he felt like he could really trust someone and he could hope for new friendships on this side of the world.

You were there for his final race in F4, clapping at him on the podium, and even F3 and F2 despite your university deadlines, always making sure you could support him in every way you could.

"Hey, Osc", you said over the phone, setting your pen down the desk and swivelling in the chair. You wanted to get as much knowledge and experience as possible, so you applied to do a internship in a physiotherapy clinic near your apartment during the summer.

"Hey, Y/N, how are you doing?", he asked as you could notice the antsyness on his voice.

"I'm good, it's a bit of a slow day here, my supervisor said I could read up on a few articles", you mused, "is everything okay?", you asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight", he began, "you can come to my flat if that's okay, I'll order something in since I can't be trusted in the kitchen", he suggested.

"Fine by me, I'd like that, sounds really nice", you smiled, "I'll see you soon, then", you added, not wanting to dwell much on the fact that he didn't answer your question.

When you left the clinic, you walked to Oscar's place since the sun had graced you for the day and it was still nice to be out. Knocking on the door, you waited for him to open it, "I'm still in my scrubs as I didn't see the need to change", you said as you walked inside, hugging Oscar after dropping your backpack on the floor.

"Hey, you look nice, don't worry about it", he smiled as he led you to the living room, "I had to go and get the take out myself, but it's still warm", he said as you sat at the dining table.

"Now can you tell me if there's something wrong?", you wondered as you poured some of the wine he kept for you at his place on your glass.

"I have something to tell you actually", he played with his glass while he fought the smile on his lips, "this weekend I finally had some conversations with McLaren", he began.

"McLaren?", you asked as you served yourself of the food in front of you, taking some bimi brocoli and then some of the warm noodles.

"Yes, McLaren. We finally spoke about contracts and, this morning, I signed the official driver contract for next season", he stated as if he was saying that the sun had been out today.

"You did what? Since when has this been in the works?", you gasped, dropping the kitchen utensils and looking at him intently, "you're driving for McLaren next season?", he nodded, "like, driving on track? Oh my Goodness, Oscar! That's amazing!", you got up and hugged him, "why didn't you lead with that?", you pinched the nape of his neck playfully as you kept the tears from falling from your eyes. This was his dream and he was getting to live it as early as the end of the year when pre season preparations began.

"I didn't want to tell you over the phone", he shrugged his shoulders.

"But how? This is huge, Oscar!", you smiled, your teeth showing and eyes squinting with how high your cheeks rose.

"There were a lot of conversations about it, specially the last few weeks", Oscar explained, "they still want to keep it quiet", he warned.

"So you're driving alongside Lando?", you wondered. You only followed motorsport and the Formula series because of your bestfriend, so the assumption you made was based on what you had seen and read.

"Yes, hence why they want to keep it quiet, I've only told you and my family", he mentioned, "my manager knows that, obviously, but I really need you to keep quiet about it", he smiled.

"Absolutely, don't worry!", you assured, "this is so amazing Oscar! You're going to drive in Formula One! Aren't you amazed?", you beamed.

"I put in the work too, you know?", he dramatically feigned offense as you hugged him tighter, "this is your dream, Osc", you cooed, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you swayed you both around, "I'm so proud of you", you hiccuped, holding his head close to your lips so you could kiss his forehead.

"Let's eat, this is getting cold", your best friend urged as the situation for more intimate and brought you closer and closer to the thing he had been avoiding for nearly a year.

The feelings he had been arbouring for you weren't just friendship. How could he keep himself from being in love with you? You had been there with him and for him when he was alone in a new country, being the other shy kid that spent the long weekend im boarding school, and since then you had been attached by the hip. You were kind, caring, intelligent, beautiful inside and outside and anyone would be a fool to not see why Oscar felt the way he did about you.

"I'm just going to a training camp, Y/N, I do these every year!", Oscar reasoned as you groaned.

"Who am I going to complain to about university? Or how noisy my neighbours are? I'm going to die of boredom", you stated, "when you come back, I will have ceased to exist because of boredom and lack of attention", you exaggeratedly threw yourself on your sofa.

"You won't, silly", he chuckled, pulling you up since his trainer was picking him up soon, "you're going to go out and enjoy yourself, okay? You'll barely notice I'm gone", he tried as you helped him with his suitcases down to the door.

"I'll miss you", you muttered as you hugged him, "enjoy your training camp!", you smiled as you pulled away, waving at him before you made your way to your place.

Getting on with the project you had to hand in at the end of the week, you got it all through to the end, leaving time to proofread later.

You clicked on the folder where you kept your photos and videos, looking through them and reliving all of the memories you had in there.

Most of them had Oscar somehow, wether it was a screen grab from one of your FaceTime calls when he was at races, picnics in the park and lazy days at your place.

You had to admit it, for your sake and Oscar's sake as your friendship was on the line. At first you thought it was just the fact that a boy seemed to want to spend time with you, so you put it to that. Recently, however, things changed perspective and you felt stronger feelings and emotions when you thought about him.

You loved spending time with him and cherished every single hour he chose to spend with you whenever he didn't have racing related duties. Every time he hugged you, you clung just a little longer to feel hia body against yours and his arms enveloping you.

Whenever someone approached you in the rare times you went out clubbing with your friends, "I have a boyfriend" became more a wish and a need rather than some made up excuse to get guys to leave you alone.

So, to sum it up, you either had an honest conversation with him or continued to dwell on feelings you couldn't keep to yourself.

"Y/N just sent me a picture of her notes, can you believe they ask them to know all of that?", he showed his trainer Kim while they had lunch after a strenuous workout.

"I had to learn most of that, too", he said nonchalantly, not necessarily diminishing your competences and intelligence but letting Oscar know that maybe his infatuation with you had a source elsewhere.

"Y/N is very smart, I'm sure she'll do really well - oh, she sent me a picture, she's all dressed up!", he said as he inspected the mirror picture. He assumed it was a requirement for your presentation, as you usually preferred comfy attire, since you had a pair of trousers and a shirt, some small heels on your feet and your bright smile that left him feeling butterflies in his stomach every single time, "she looks gorgeous", he said as he texted you the same words along with wishes of good luck.

"Something you'd like to say?", Oscar quesioned when he felt Kim's eyes on him as he put the phone back on the table, screen down.

"I'm just here wondering why you're not together", the trainer offered simply after he wiped his mouth on the napkin.

"No, we are not together, at least not yet", he mused. The thought had crossed his mind, admitting how he felt about you before the season began. If everything went belly up and you didn't feel the same and didn't see him that way, he would occupy his time and channel all of his energy into racing; if you did feel the same, he would have been worrying for nothing and would have a extra spring up his step for his first season in Formula One.

"Good to know you're working on it", Kim waved his fork at Oscar, "now we need to finish this and we'll do some recovery stretches", he announced as Oscar groaned, prolonging his meal as long as he could.

Today, Oscar was coming back from Lanzarote and you couldn't wait to speak to him. Lately, it all dawned on you.

It happened a couple of nights ago, a slight insomnia episode keeping you up when you thought about what things would be like from now on. Oscar would travel a lot more, and he would be in a much public role compared to his previous one. It would seem stupid to other people, but a lot more people would know him, and you were sure they would fall in love with him. How could they not? Hence why you wanted to quit those thoughts while you were ahead of them.

I'm on the cab to your place, it should take another 10 minutes and Can't wait to see you, Oscar texted you just as you finished tidying your living room.

You missed him dearly, so when you threw yourself into his arms, you didn't let go as he kicked his suitcases into your apartment while still holding close to him, "I kind of need to get my backpack off my back, and I can't do that if I don't set you somewhere - only for a bit at the very least", Oscar suggested after trying to balance you against his body with one arm but he didn't feel safe enough to let you go without you falling.

Reluctantly, you got back down, feet back on the floor as he discarded his backpack before he tapped your hip twice, "up again, I want a proper hug", he mumbled as you jumped back, his hands protectively holding your thighs up as he nuzzled his face on your neck, "I need you so, so much", he sighed.

"I missed you too", you replied back, "and I don't ever want to miss you like this when I don't know how to feel about you", you forwarded. Now or never, you thought as you jumped out of his hold and faced him.

"I missed you like I have never missed you before, not even when you go a visit your family or when you went away for triple headers - and I've been trying to understand why and I finally realised what it was. I like you, more than friends like eachother - for Goodness' sake, I'm in love with you", you chuckled nervously as you admitted it out loud to him, "and everyone else will love you too - I just know it -, so soon enough you won't be my Osc anymore and I couldn't not tell you. People - and these gorgeous girls all over the world - are going to like you so much and I won't be able to compete with them, so I'm just telling you how I feel. You can leave if you want or we'll just stay here in silence of that works too, but I needed to admit my feelings", you let out in one go.

Oscar smiled, a big teeth and gums showing smile as his eyes crinkled at your words, "I'm not leaving, and we are not going to be silent - at least immediately - because I want to tell you how I feel", he began, "I'm in love with you too; I have been for about two years and only realised it a year ago, and I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to be able to kiss you, to hug you, to take you with me wherever possible, to sleep next to you, to argue with you, I want all of it. With you", he said, hand cupping your cheek as his eyes asked for consent to kiss your lips.

It was as you dreamed it would be, soft, gentle and caring, lips moving in sync as you held him by his waist, pulling him closer to you.

"I thought I was loosing you to the whole F1 fandom", you chuckled, looking up at him once you pulled away.

"Of course you won't, you're my best girl", he winked, "this is just the beggining for us", he added as he pulled you to cuddle on the sofa, sharing his stories of the past days as you revelled in the feeling of being in his arms.

#oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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bunniesanddeer · 2 months

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HI <333

I was wondering if you could write an Alastor X insomnia!reader where like she wakes up in the night and overall just can’t get good sleep? And maybe she wanders around the hotel until she finds Alastor bc he doesn’t sleep often, and he offers to like go to bed with her and they cuddle? If you don’t want to that’s fine :)

Hi! I hope this is what you wanted? I like the way it turned out, even if it is really short.

Insomnia

Pairing: Alastor X Insomniac!Reader

Tags: Fluff, slight angst, insomnia, soft Alastor

Word Count: 966

Sleep has always dazed you. Some nights, it would wrap you up in its arms, embracing you like an old lover, and other nights, it shunned you entirely. Tonight, sleep left you cold and lonely in your bed, your thoughts your only company.

Your room was silent. It was that silence that made you vividly aware of the rushing of your blood in your ears. It made your skin itch. Eventually you got too restless, and sat up in bed. Your nightgown rode up on your thighs, and it drew your attention to your legs. Your claws lightly scratched the skin there, trying to think of a solution to your problem.

You heave a sigh, and decide that grabbing some water might help. (You hated the taste of water, in Hell. It all tasted like slightly dirty tap water. It was awful. But then again, you were in Hell).

The halls are quiet, the soft patter of your footsteps the only sound. You quietly make your way down to the first floor, and you intend on heading to the kitchen, when a light in the sitting room catches your attention.

Alastor is sitting in one of the lounge chairs, reading a book. The lamp closest to him was turned on, casting his face in a warm light. He looked softer, this way. You stood there, watching him for several moments.

Alastor had been an enigma to you since you arrived in Hell. You had gone to the Hotel quite soon after your descent, so you didn’t know much about Overlords and how they worked. You knew that Alastor was one, but he had always been gentle enough with you, so the idea didn't scare you at all. He made you feel things that unsettled you. Your skin itched in his presence, and your heart fluttered. Every inch of you filled with a bizarre joy when he smiled at you. And no, not his normal smile. There were times, when he wasn’t really focusing, that his smile softened at the edges, and his pupils grew wide and locked on you.

There was so much you didn’t understand about Hell, or yourself, but this crush you had on him felt like it was growing out of hand.

Alastor’s thoughts jarred you from your thoughts.

“What are you doing awake, dearest?” His voice was gentle, and his static was a mere murmur. His red eyes were watching you.

You sighed. “I can’t sleep. Feels like I haven’t in a while,” you say, while striding over to him. His eyes flicker over your form, his eyes snapping to meet yours when he notices your attire.

“Ah. I have been in much the same position before. I have come to find that not sleeping at all is the solution!” He laughs a little, but it trails off after a moment. “You do look dreadfully tired, my dear.”

“Ha. Thanks, Al. Just what a gal wants to hear,” you say, gently teasing. You can’t help but feel that exhaustion seep into your bones at his words, though. You are tired, and that feeling has come to you far too often.

His expression softens further, and he looks nearly sympathetic. It makes you feel something akin to discomfort, so you flick your gaze away. The wall looks incredibly interesting.

You hear the soft thud of his book closing, and then the shifting of fabric as he moves. “Come along, dear. Let us get into bed. Perhaps a bedmate will bring you enough ease to sleep.”

Your head whips around and up, so that you can look at him. He has to be joking. “You can’t be serious.”

One of his hands cups your cheek. “Come. You need sleep, and I might as well indulge. It has been some time.”

You wonder at his ease and the situation, and it makes you follow him, wordlessly. One of his hands clasps at yours, his claws carefully gripping, avoiding harm with dexterity. He leads you back to your room, and you are sure he has played some mean trick on you. He, instead, leads you inside, and gestures for you to lie down.

Alastor glances around the room briefly, before snapping his fingers. He’s in pajamas now.

“Ah, that makes me jealous. I wish I could do that,” you whisper. You don’t know why you do, but it feels like it would be weird to speak any louder.

His laugh is soft, and it makes your chest warm. Without any preamble, he lies in bed beside you, and pulls you in against him. You are both lucky the beds in the hotel are so large, because he’s much bigger than you. (Part of you wouldn’t mind, though. It would just require him to curl around you… you need to stop thinking).

Alastor lets one hand settle on your back, and gently rub there. Your head settles against his chest, and you can hear the heavy drumming of his heart. You feel like you’re dreaming. How can any of this possibly be real? Your relationship with him was in such a peculiar place, and you didn’t have any footing. You were so worried he was going to trip you up and let you fall, any minute.

Your heart starts pounding. As always, your overactive mind makes things hard for you.

Alastor’s hand squeezes you down. “Stop thinking, sweetheart. We can talk about this tomorrow. Just sleep.”

So, focusing on the heat he gives off, and the weight of the blanket he pulls around you, you force yourself to relax. Your mind slows, and everything settles.

You fall asleep in the arms of Alastor, who lets his eyes close for more than a moment, for the first time in a long while. And the two of you sleep.

I hope you liked! Remember, my asks are open, it just might take me a little while to get to them. I have two more requests I am working on right now. One of them is similar to my "Touch" works, and another is based on the hallway scene in "Dad Beat Dad".

Have a good weekend, everyone!

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #bun's short fics #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #fluff #hazbin hotel fanfiction #insomnia

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randomfoggytiger · 21 days

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Do you have a list of comfort fics? Not them comforting each other but for when you're feeling wrecked and you just need something lovely to make it better?

randomfoggytiger's Comfort Fics

I'm not joking: I've reread more fics than I'll ever read new ones. My usual routine is to pop open Google docs, select an author, and mow down their list.

These three pieces were the ones that started it all; but I forgot to include @seek-its-opposite's photosensitivity. A+s, all of 'em.

Authors that I can't single out comfort fics from and can't tag because Tumblr is restricting my tag options: @baronessblixen, @settle-down-frohike, @onpaperfirst, @markwatneyandenesemble, Lapsed_Scholar, Apostrophic, @ghostbustermelanieking, @o6666666, touchstoneaf, @welsharcher, @scenes-in-between, @mldrgrl, @spooky-nerd, @melforbes, etc.

**Note**: Will ghost edit later~

PART I

Bittersweet Comfort Fics

misslucyjane's Scully seeks insomnia advice from Mulder, and Mulder dies, then lovingly watches Scully live the rest of her life

Kipler's cancer arc set casefile involving WWII vets and letters

melforbes's cancer arc Mulder takes his new bride to the sea for her last spring, and Pre-IWTB Mulder and Scully finally have a home

MldrItsMe's AU Redux II Scully is REALLY suffering, and Sein und Zeit Mulder's suicidal confessions

@discordantwords's Mulder and Scully are almost killed by the Fiji mermaid

mixiz877's Mulder and Scully fight off a gryphon

@fbismostunwanted1158's Scully is beaten down ala Stella Gibson in The Fall

Joyce's S5 AU Mulder is killed, comes back to life to save Scully, and Mulder dies but stays as Scully's partner solving cases with her (Part 1, Part 2, and-- my favorite of the three-- its Halloween sequel)

@teethnbone's post Travelers fic with Mulder and Scully

@sarie-fairy's AU Tithonus love confession, Post Milagro Scully realizing what it feels like to be Mulder, and Post The Unnatural Scully is bleeding out on a failed Sasquatch hunt

@sigritandtheelves's Post Monday Scully remembers Mulder's death

whatliesabove's Post Milagro Scully stays dead (or does she?)

ChaneenW's Pre-IVF arc Mulder is shot into a parallel timeline, reliving the Small Potatoes adventure with Scully

dee_ayy's post Amor Fati recovery fic (with baseball)

@bohoartist's Sein und Zeit through Scully's eyes, and Post Closure Scully rescues a photo of baby Mulder

Lolabeegood's AU where S8 Mulder is returned with false memories (would also recommend Lolabee's IWTB era fics, btw.)

@dreamingofscully's AU S9 Skinner entices Mulder back into profiling... and it doesn't end well

@television-overload's Pre-IWTB Mulder surprises Scully with a baseball field (and his old self again)

@queeenpersephone's AU where IWTB Scully stuck it out with Mulder

@danascullysjournal's Post IWTB bonding fic between a discouraged Mulder and uplifting Scully

@kateyes224's Mulder and Scully content in their UH, and Mulder sells the UH, and Scully buys it

@realmofextremepossibility's Breakup Mulder waiting for Scully's return Part I and Part II.

vulcanscully's Post Breakup Scully stops hearing from Mulder and assumes the worst

enigmaticdr's AU post IWTB Scully thinks she has cancer again (she's pregnant), Breakup Mulder is defeated at their anniversary dinner, AU where Revival Scully gets cancer, and The Revival baby laughs for the first time

prufrockslove's AU Mulder is a Welsh prince, Scully is his betrothed bride, and lots of Prince John high court drama ensues (part I of a sweeping, interconnecting AU series)

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #fic #randomfoggytiger's Comfort Fics #asks #calimanc #Comfort Fics #xfiles #x-files #the x files #xf fanfic #mine

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siriusly-parker · 2 years

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—random lightning era headcanons, hp.

ʚ author’s note: these are MY personal headcanons. you don’t have to like them, but maybe you will. also- i KNOW mattheo and enzo are not even canon and that theo is hardly even mentioned but i thought it’d be cute to add them. mainly theo cause i love fanon theo (sometimes). ꜝꜞ

ron is super mega tall, taller than the twins. maybe even taller than bill.

harry is of average height but looks like a short king besides ron.

theo is basically a grumpy old man in the body of a teenage heartthrob.

blaise is just a sweetheart. fr the bestest friend.

draco can’t read in between the lines. he’s book smart but when it comes to people and social interactions he can be pretty stupid. you can’t just give him a hint, he won’t get it.

hermione actually really liked krum.

harry actually attended theo’s mother’s funeral. (they were on somewhat friendly terms after having to team up for an assignment.)

ginny likes girls. dean likes seamus. both knew.

draco, mattheo and enzo (along with crab and goyle) are more of the bullies of the group.

angelina and george are part of a tutoring program and tutor younger students. though he’s really good in potions, george only does it to spend time with her.

ron secretly tries to read muggle books to impress hermione.

mattheo is just plain rude with anger issues. he pretty much hates everyone.

theo is just more of an introvert so he doesn’t really feel the need to talk to everyone, let alone bully them.

blaise is not very smart but he really tries his best and studies a lot. he also reminds (or forces) the others to study as well.

in her firsts years at hogwarts, pansy was mostly a bitch and a bully (to impress malfoy), but blaise became a good influence and she learned to mind her own business a bit more.

ron had ALWAYS had a crush on hermione. he just didn’t want to.

neville had a secret girlfriend around year 3-4 and they’d always meet in the herbology greenhouse.

oliver suffers from insomnia which sometimes leads to him being rude during morning practices and even having anger outbursts towards his last hogwarts years.

fred is really really good with kids while george just doesn’t really know what to do with them.

cedric has dyslexia and really finds it difficult and discouraging to read and study. cho and harry are one of the few who know and help him with homework.

luna randomly takes walks in the forbidden forest. she finds it peaceful.

mattheo is naturally really smart. he never studies and always gets good grades. he’s kind of a dick about it.

seamus has ADHD and had a mild ODD as a child

cho is extremely interested in politics and even founded a secret debate club at hogwarts.

dean is the only one who knows about seamus’ breakdowns and the only one who truly knows how to help him.

angelina is really popular. there is nothing to hate about her. she is beautiful and kind and especially good at quidditch.

krum was really bummed out to leave hogwarts. he was actually liking it there. mainly the people. mainly hermione. just hermione tbh.

spending summer ‘94 with hermione was ginny’s gay awakening confirmation.

▾

꩜ i siriusly love you <3

꩜ hp tags: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @marvelismylifffe @hi-there-x @koreandrama-crazyyyy @df841 @hanniejji @streetghostfighter07 @agustdpeach @littlebrownngirl @emcchi @siriuslysirius1107 @wwhitewwolff @underthelee @florenceivy @guidetothesuperlame @littlebirdgot @koreandrama-crazyyyy @rororo06 plz tell me if you’d like to be added or removed!! you can ask for a specific fandom or character or my whole blog <333

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aziraphales-library · 1 month

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Hi!

Do you have some South downs cottage fics? Smut is not really preferred. Hurt/comfort is preferred.

Thanks, have a nice day ^^

Hello! We have #south downs cottage and #hurt/comfort tags. Here are some sumt-free ones for you...

Strawberries by IneffableDoll (G)

Aziraphale was worried about Crowley. This was not an unusual state for Aziraphale to be in. It could be reasonably argued that he had worried about his demonic counterpart since the moment he met him and had never really stopped. However, today was different. ~ Something triggers old memories for Crowley. Aziraphale helps him through the fallout.

It isn't logical by cosmic_mess (T)

Crowley is still rubbing his back, soothing him, trying to make him feel better. So he leans more fully into Crowley’s chest, burying his face in his neck. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “Don’t–” Crowley starts abruptly. “Don’t apologize, Aziraphale.” or Aziraphale has religious trauma and Crowley is trying to make it all better

To Protect That Which You Hold Most Dear by Bazzpop (T)

Enraged at the poor treatment of his love, Aziraphale thrust himself forward and attacked Michael with all his might. As expected, she put up more of a fight than Gabriel had—granted, she was the savviest fighter amongst her ranks—but Aziraphale fought with such protective ferocity that she didn’t stand much of a chance. Aziraphale had been made as a guardian, after all, and it was in his nature to do anything within his power to protect the one he loved: Crowley. — Crowley gets ambushed by archangels looking to bring Aziraphale back to Heaven. But lucky for him, he has a guardian angel to protect him from those that wish to do him harm.

Discharge by Melime (T)

Sometime after the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, Aziraphale receives an official discharge from his functions as an angel. He doesn't know why it bothers him as much as it does.

Malaise by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

Aziraphale isn’t feeling well, and just keeps feeling worse until he finally collapses. Something is clearly making him sick, but what? Can Crowley find the cause of his angel’s illness?

Insomnia by theriverspath (T)

Crowley struggles with insomnia after he and Aziraphale move into their South Downs cottage. The purchase of new bed sheets leads to Crowley finally opening up to his angel about why. Set post-season three. Written after the release of season two. (Disclaimer: Crowley's eyes function like human eyes in this story. It would break my heart too much if he couldn't see the stars.)

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #south downs cottage #hurt/comfort #mod d

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grapehyasynth · 17 days

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young royals fic rec, 25/?

i’m (slowly) working my way through the wilmon tag on ao3 and thought that as i go i might shout out some fics i enjoy along the way! i've tagged authors where i knew their tumblr url, but please feel free to tag folks or dm me if you know ones i've missed!

see all my rec lists here

1. Dear lover, I’ll fight whoever is in your locker by @piebingo - The girls are tired of seeing Wille and Simon dance around each other without doing anything about it. They decide to take be matchmakers and matters into their own hands, asking both boys out for them to go to the ball together, through a series of love poems. What could possibly go wrong?

2. my hand was the one you reached for by @prncewilhelm - on their third valentine's day together, wille and simon discuss their first.

3. We exist in each other's memories by @cupofteainme - Simon and Wilhelm haven't seen each other in four years. Felice hosts a Hillerska reunion party. Old feelings rise to the surface.

4. We're Not Made of Stone by @princewillesothermom - As Wille and Simon navigate Christmas break and their return to Hillerska, they learn more about not only each other, but also what it means to be themselves in the face of grief, family, and love.

5. Right Here by @earlgrey-lateatnight - That’s what this weekend was about. A last chance to hang out and relax and make love before everything had to change.

6. tell me what you'll do by @purplesimme - Playing cool his crush on Simon is one of the hardest things Wille has ever had to do, and he's a Prince, for Christ's sake. He should be better at pretending, but he fell so hard and so fast it all feels out of his control.

7. a crown prince's tear-stricken guide to life by boytoast - In the dead of night, when he becomes insomnia’s favourite victim, he tries to imagine the same sensation by wrapping his own arms around his shoulders. It only works for a second.

#young royals #yr fic rec

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fourraccoonsinacoat · 2 months

Text

Midnight Prayer | One Shot

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge / Tiny bit of Enver Gortash x Dark Urge

Chapter Count: One Shot | Read on AO3 Word Count: 4,016

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 after Gortash's coronation in Act 3. Explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge after the implications of a past relationship between the Dark Urge and Enver Gortash are made known. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Violence, Soft Astarion, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature

Author Note: Those new lines in Patch 6 between Durge and Gortash are to blame for this. Plus the fact that I adore the Astarion x Dark Urge dynamic because they're on the same level, meaning they're both barely functioning beings who no business getting into a relationship and yet they make it work. Also, Astarion gets to be the supportive one when Durge goes off the rails.

All these idiots live rent free in my head and I had this scene that just wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it out. This is a one-shot based on the same Durge MC, Eli, as my other ongoing fic - which I have not updated in some time, and I am sorry for that. Have some brainrot to make up for it! This is grade-A mushy, soft garbage.

Sleep was difficult to find as Eli lay on the stiff makeshift cot. Her glassy half-focused eyes were fixed on the patchwork ceiling of Astarion’s tent as her mind coiled around and around, like a snake trying to suffocate itself. Her thoughts were circular, aimless and chaotic as she chased the ghosts of memories that always haunted her nights.

Sleeplessness was nothing new, and Eli’s propensity for restlessness and nightmares was well known throughout camp. She had a tendency to toss and turn as rest evaded her, and when the darkness of slumber finally overtook her in the small hours of mornings it was never peaceful. She was often agitated and unsettled, mumbling low to herself until the shock of some cruel fever dream sent her into an outburst of screams as she flailed and fought to rouse herself from whatever terror had uncaged itself in her mind.

She’d wake shivering, breathing as if she were fighting for her life against legions of the Absolute rather than visions within her own mind. He was always there, though, whispering soothing reminders that they were safe. That they were together. That the horrors inside her broken mind were toothless phantoms. Remnants of a fractured past she could only catch flashes of.

She’d offered on many occasions to sleep alone, saying it made little sense for both Astarion and her to suffer because of her tortuous insomnia. He’d been firm in his refusals and finally told her that if she didn’t stop saying such ludicrous nonsense he’d figure out how to charm one of Gale’s used socks to jump down her throat every time she mentioned the idea.

Gods, was she thankful for that absurd and stubborn man.

She turned her head, eyes focusing on the pale elf who slept beside her. They’d settled into a habit of overnighting in his tent due to the plank of wood that served as a haphazard bed. Like her, Astarion’s sleep could be troubled, disturbed by his own breeds of monsters that lurked around the corners in his brain. His past was filled with grim and vicious memories. What small comforts he had been able to acquire over the past 200 years were things he clung to like life rafts upon a boiling and thrashing ocean. The stiff plank he slept on brought him a strange sort of peacefulness. He’d told her once that the only soft bed he’d been allowed to use while under Cazador’s control was the large plush bed in the palace’s guest room. The room where he and the other spawn “entertained” those who were brought back for Cazador to feast upon.

His bed in the dorms had been stiff and old, and yet he’d far preferred it to the lavish guest bed. Sleeping on something too downy and cushioned reminded him of the countless nights he’d spent being smothered into a pliable mattress by whatever piece of transient garbage he’d lured back to the palace. They’d have their way with him while he’d disassociate, his body working through the motions of sex while his mind walled itself off. It had become second nature to disconnect himself from the present the moment he slumped onto that soft bed.

It was a cruel byproduct of his torment that laying on comfortable bedding triggered a deep seeded anxiety in him, but Eli honestly didn’t mind the stiff makeshift cot Astarion had set up in his tent for them. Her body recalled sleeping on worse, even if her mind didn’t clearly remember the details. Astarion had even started laying down a thin bedroll atop the plank once their shared sleeping arrangements became a regular thing. It had been completely unprompted. One evening she’d entered his tent and it had simply been there, an unspoken acknowledgement of the validity of their relationship.

They were both uncouth morons when it came to navigating the delicacies and emotions of romantic relationships. They’d been quick to indulge in one another physically, the both of them looking to find refuge from the specters of their pasts in one another’s arms. They hadn’t meant for it to mean anything, and yet they’d kept seeking one another out - drawn together like kobolds are drawn to shiny objects. They’d tried ignoring their growing affections, but neither one of them were particularly good at pretending to be nonchalant and stable. Primarily because neither one of them really knew what that looked like.

Astarion had confessed first, admitting to his initially manipulative intentions with her and revealing truths about his enslavement to Cazador that made her heart ache for him. Eli knew, instinctively, that empathy was not an emotion she was incredibly familiar with. It made her anxious, feeling for someone else. And yet, when Astarion had said he wanted something real with her, she’d felt an almost wild desperation surge to life within herself. She wanted that, too. With him.

A cruel and vicious voice at the back of her mind had admonished her for her pathetic weakness. She should be punished, skinned alive for allowing herself to feel this kind of fondness and yearning for someone else. Once, she had been worshiped as a god by those around her. Once, she had been feared and her name whispered in awe and horror. Once, she had been something powerful, something violent and vicious, a conduit of destruction and carnage. Though the details were fractured, scattered about her ruined brain like shards of glass, she knew instinctually that she was a child of slaughter and that the bonds of mortals should have been beneath her.

But that didn’t stop her. Perhaps…perhaps she could be different. Something else. Something that was valued as more than just a weapon. Something that wasn’t just a means to an end. Something that didn’t need to butcher and rip the world inside out in order to be loved.

She’d pushed the Urge down, beating it back as she confessed her own affections for Astarion.

That had been some weeks ago, back in the Shadowlands. Now, they were just outside Baldur’s Gate, and things were…good between them. To her never-ending astonishment.

Her eyes focused on the sleeping elf next to her. He looked so peaceful, the worried lines of his face smooth and serene at rest. He was pallid, pretty and perfect like a cadaver forever tranquil. Just one stab, a stake through the heart and he’d always be like this – he’d never know torment or despair again. No one would ever hurt him.

She took a long, slow breath and banished the intrusive thoughts back to the shadows of her mind where they always lingered. She would never…she couldn’t…gods, she hated those thoughts that never let her be. They filled her with a sick guilt as she recalled nights tied up, howling and screaming and raging as she spat out all the ways she’d flay and ruin his beautiful body. Afterwards, once the Urges had quieted, Astarion would simply laugh as he cut her bonds, always joking about how you had to pay good coin for degradation like that in the city. He’d hold her until she calmed, the both of them quiet, content to just be together for one more day.

They shouldn’t work, not as a couple or as anything else, really. They were barely functional as individuals. Together, they should have been about as operational as a dumpster that was missing one wheel and was on fire. But they did work. They were careful with the broken pieces of each other, treating them with reverence and respect. They understood pain all too well, and not just the physical kind but the raw and panicked pain of having everything you valued ripped away. Of having your very self torn from your control…the pain of being used and the fear that no matter how loud you screamed or how hard you fought it would happen again.

The fear that you would never be anything more than a tool.

And so they were gentle with one another, in a way only reserved for them. Careful touches and trusting hands, concerned glances and warm smiles, constant wordless affirmations that they were at one another’s backs - that when one of them crumbled the other would be there to help build them back up, attentively and without judgement.

Neither of them knew what they were doing. Their combined histories with healthy relationships added up to an unsurprising number of zero. Astarion had admitted to her that he couldn’t remember ever bedding the same person twice. And Eli…well, she couldn’t remember anything, frankly. Her memories of past lovers were nonexistent…at least…

At least until today. Today, when they’d finally met the infamous Enver Gortash.

The name had always struck her as strange, from the first time she heard it when Karlach told Eli about the tiefling had acquired her infernal engine. The name had stirred something in her brain, like a familiar tune that she couldn’t remember the words for. And every time someone mentioned him, that sense grew stronger. It was as if there was a crack in her skull and every time she’d reach for that sense of familiarity, it would leak out and away just beyond reach.

Until today, when they stood in the opulent and grand hall of Wyrm’s Rock Fortress, surrounded by the elite of Baldur’s Gate, and she finally saw the man who had wrought so much suffering not only upon the city and the coast, but on her friends…

The flash in his eyes when they met hers…a sense of knowing, a sting of excitement. That spark of familiarity suddenly blazed hot and she knew this man was not a stranger. Not to her…

“If you keep staring, darling, I’m going to start charging you for the privilege,” a soft and slightly chiding voice lurched her back into the present.

Eli flinched, startled, blinking away the haze of her thoughts and focusing on Astarion, who now was peering at her through half-lidded and slightly weary eyes. He’d been sleeping with an arm draped across her waist – Astarion had grown fond of resting with an arm or a hand touching her, and she liked it, too. It was comforting.

He trailed his hand along her side in a calming manner, brows furrowing slightly with a hint of concern.

“Sorry,” Eli said with a slight yawn. “I was worlds away.” She gave him a small, tired smile as she reached out and brushed her fingers against the ruffles of his shirt, mindlessly beginning to fiddle with the cloth.

Astarion’s hand slid to her back, pulling her closer until her head was tucked below his chin and he could rest with his cheek against her silvery hair.

Eli could feel the soft rumble of his voice vibrate up from his chest as he chuckled quietly. “I’ve been told I have that effect on people,” he mumbled cheerily as his other hand began to gently brush through her hair, fingers carefully smoothing out any snarls as he stroked back and forth.

She hummed appreciatively, breathing deep and feeling eased by the familiar scent of rosemary and bergamot. “And who told you that?” she asked, teasingly.

“Hmm,” he pondered, running a dexterous finger along the side of her ear, causing goosebumps to prick along her arms. “I think it was you,” he mused slyly before his voice dipped lower into a growl and she felt his breath warm against her ear. “You remember, don’t you? That one night you told me I ravished you so thoroughly your soul left your body.”

He couldn’t see Eli’s exaggerated eye roll, but he could hear the grin in her voice as she responded. “I seem to remember that very same night you saying I exhausted you into delirium,” she teased, poking tenderly at his chest. “In the best way possible, of course,” Eli smirked.

Astarion sighed, the hand on her back drawing aimless circles as he murmured, “I do miss our nighttime trysts.”

Eli smiled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and placing a light kiss there. “You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Or some such bullshit like that…”

“They sound awfully boring, whoever they are.” The vampire hummed low in his throat, kicking a leg over her waist and hooking his foot between her legs at her knees so that they were tangled together in a possessive embrace.

Eli just chuckled. They’d backed off the sexual aspects of their relationship for now, the both of them having their own flavors of hang ups that they needed to sort through. For Eli, that meant parsing through her strange, sometimes disturbing Urges which continued to insist that the lines between butchery and eroticism were blurred. Bloodplay was one thing, and that would likely remain a happy little staple in their titillating toolbox once they were ready to be that physically intimate again. But Eli had…other thoughts. Thoughts she wasn’t exactly comfortable with. Darker ones that bubbled up at extremely inopportune times and had her questioning whether she really wanted to shed light on her obscured past.

She breathed in Astarion’s scent, grounding herself in the now and pushing those musing away for another day. The desire between Eli and Astarion had not diminished, and on more than one occasion they had teetered precariously on the boundaries they’d set and wondering whether they should just say fuck it and…well…fuck. They’d always talk themselves down from the ledge, though, comfortable in the knwoeldge that when it did happen it would be earthshattering.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, love?” Astarion’s voice held a note of worry and Eli realized she’d been drifting off into the confines of her own brain again.

“Everything,” she sighed, frustrated with herself.

Astarion was silent for a moment, considering. The hand in her hair stilled while the one on her back pulled her in a bit tighter. “Is it…” he began, then paused a bit uncertainly, hesitant with his question. “Are you thinking about today? About…Gortash?”

He said the name so quietly that it would have been inaudible had they not been so closely pressed together. Eli wasn’t surprised about the question. She’d been acutely aware of how Astarion’s eyes never left her as she spoke with the newly crowned Archduke of Baldur’s Gate earlier that day. How he had discreetly positioned himself closely behind her, just off to her right. How he’d tensed, fingers ghosting near the hilt of a hidden dagger when Gortash said he’d always liked Eli. How his gaze darkened and his jaw tightened as Astarion sized the man up from across the hall before they left.

She knew this was a delicate situation for the vampire. Astarion despised showing any sort of vulnerability that could be construed as a reason for pity. Vulnerability, in general, was something he was still figuring out how to navigate after two centuries of living in an environment where anything and everything that could be used against him was twisted into a tool for subjugation and pain. Even with her, there were times when he wouldn’t let his walls come down, needing space to sort through his own internal barriers before he was ready to open up. Eli didn’t mind, and would give him all the time and space he needed. And bit by bit it became easier, for the both of them.

“That…yes,” she admitted, wanting to be truthful with him.

It wasn’t just Gortash, though. It was what he had told her, about Eli’s role in the whole Cult of the Absolute fraud. It was difficult for her to reconcile what she had apparently done with who she was now…the misery she’d set in motion. The lives she had destroyed. She shut her eyes and pressed closer to Astarion, seeking comfort in the cool of his skin against the inferno she felt inside.

He hugged her close, voicing a thought that had been gnawing away at his insides all day. “Were the two of you…close? Like us?”

The tentative, halting way in which he asked squeezed at her heart. As if he were bracing himself for something terrible, for something that would rip her away from him, just like everything else he’d ever given a damn about.

She thought for a while, mulling over the question. There was still so much that she didn’t know about who she was. Who she had been. She’d tell him what she could, though. He deserved that.

“I think we were. Close, I mean,” she clarified when she felt Astarion stiffen anxiously. “Not like us, though.”

She pulled her head back, out from under his chin, so she could see his face and meet his gaze with her own. Astarion’s eyes were round and distressed, the pinch between his brows furrowed and the lines of his face were tense. His eyes searched her own, desperately wanting to know who that man was to her while also fearing the answer.

Eli smiled warmly, bringing her hand up to brush one of his white curls behind his ear. His face softened slightly at her touch while the hand on her back clutched at her shirt as if to hold her here with him.

“There’s still so much darkness in my memory. But, there are things that have come back in flashes and fragments,” she explained, holding his gaze as her finger trailed to the edge of his eyebrow. “And while I’m not wholly sure what Gortash and I were to one another, I know it wasn’t like this.” Her hand came to rest on his cheek, thumb gently caressing his face near the corner of his mouth.

“Not like us,” she affirmed with a tenderness that allowed Astarion to relax, the stiffness easing out of him as the hint of a smile twitched at his lips. “He knew what happened to me,” she said softly, putting into words a thought that had been lingering at the back of her mind.

“He knew what happened to me, and he welcomed the person who did it into his confidence,” she said with a tinge of sadness to her voice. There was an ache of betrayal behind her words, and thought she didn’t fully understand everything her history with Gortash entailed, she understood this. “He stood by while I was unmade. While everything I was, the person he claims to care for, was brutalized and decimated.”

Eli’s words took on a cold edge, sharp as a shard of ice. Astarion listened intently, his breath caught at the back of his throat. He ached to pull her back into him, to wrap her up in his arms and shut the world out. Instead, he placed his hand on the back of her own and intertwined his fingers with hers, holding it against his cheek as Eli spoke.

“When I woke up on the nautiloid, I was nothing. Just the discarded scraps of whoever I had been. I had been thrown away. And nobody came looking for me.” She paused, her eyes flicking down in a brief moment of uncertainty.

There were some truths between them that had still gone unsaid. Truths that neither of them were ready to admit, and some that simply didn’t need words to be understood. Not this, though. This, she wanted him to hear.

“Since then, it’s been difficult not to think of myself as damaged goods. Something that was used up until it broke and was discarded.” She felt Astarion squeeze her hand and she looked back to him. There was a pang of recognition in his red eyes. “Everyone who I spoke to about my…urges, they all confirmed that there was something very wrong with me, even if they sympathized. Everyone except you.”

She paused, brushing her thumb once more against his face before she lifted her hand from him and took his own hand in hers. She pulled it to her lips, lightly kissing his knuckles while he stared at her, afraid to take his eyes off her for fear that she and this moment might evaporate if he did. He had stopped breathing, which luckily was not something he necessarily needed to do in order to maintain his existence.

Eli searched his face as Astarion waited for her to go on, breathless and just a tiny bit desperate to hear what she would say next. She wondered if he understood just how much it meant to her to have someone who didn’t see the wreck that she was when they looked at her. Someone who didn’t see a monster and only saw her, broken pieces be damned.

She thought he probably did…

“You were the only one who encouraged me to simply be whoever I was, darkness and all. I know at the time you were probably just looking to entertain yourself with whatever chaos and bloodshed I could cause,” she laughed and the expression on Astarion’s face melted into one of complete adoration.

“Guilty,” Astarion admitted with a laugh of his own. “And you haven’t disappointed,” he added softly, brushing a knuckle back up against her lips with delicate reverence.

She kissed at it, holding his tender gaze. “I don’t think you know how much that meant to me, though. And then later, when I was at my worst, you stayed by me and took care of me and you never stopped.”

Eli swallowed down the lump in her throat and blinked away the warmth that was threatening at her eyes.

“Nothing else could be like us, because no one has ever cared about me like you,” she concluded, smiling softly and whispering the words with the sincerity of a prayer.

Astarion stared at Eli for a long moment, emotions colliding and burning in his chest with so much vigor he was surprised his dead heart didn’t start beating again. He felt elated and awed by what she’d said. So much so that he was struck speechless and could only play her words over and over again in his mind, wanting to capture them perfectly and tuck them somewhere deep inside himself where no one could reach to steal them away. He couldn’t recall anyone ever saying anything to him that made him feel so cherished and significant. He traced the planes of her face with eyes that were beginning to wet as he tried to clear his throat and failed.

Eli watched Astarion carefully for a moment before her eyes widened in concern and she lifted a hand to him, carding it gently through his curled hair.

“Oh shit, did I break you?” she asked, only half joking as she stroked her hand through his hair.

The feel of it helped to calm him as a wide smile spread over his face, eyes half-lidded and looking at Eli like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“Come here you sweet, silly thing,” Astarion said, voice low and underpinned with a raw adoration that caused a flutter to take up in Eli’s chest.

He pulled her into a needy embrace; one hand placed softly in her hair as he tucked her head back under his chin, the other hand tightening around the small of her back to hold her close. He kissed the top of her head and breathed in slow, savoring her scent. She’d always smelled like wildflowers and the cool mist before a storm, like something exciting and freeing.

“Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathed, wondering what in the hells he had ever done in his irrelevant life to deserve her admiration. “I don’t think I’m ever going to want to let you go, my love.”

Eli wrapped her arms around him and for a moment she felt safe, secure and at peace.

“Then don’t,” she whispered against him.

They stayed wrapped up in one another until dawn, thankful to have one more day and hopeful for so many more.

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

Note

Hi!! I eat up ur comfort fics so how about a tav! That’s so overwhelmed mentally they have a lot of trouble sleeping and how the companions (of ur choosing or just one) would help/react to finding them awake crying at like 3am. I’ve been having so much trouble sleeping and it would mean a lot🫶🫶

Oh, that hits home! My insomnia is the worst! And the darkness always comes in the quitest hours of the night. Hope, you don't mind an OC fic with Tiriel the Barbarian as Tav. If it's not to your liking send me another request, I will gladly write another one (or doing your class/race)

Insomnia

Summary: Astarion isn't the only who has traumatic past.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, post-game, named Tav, established relationship, f!tav

Thanks @themadlufor beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

"Fairy girl!" the chieftain bellows. "Come here, little bitch!"

Tiriel tries to hide. She isn't Tiriel yet —she is only twelve, and she doesn't have a name yet. Only slurs and nicknames - Pixie, Fairy, Rabbit. All possible insults toward someone who is only half a human as if it were her fault her mother didn't keep her legs shut when a handsome young elf passed by their village.

The nameless girl is smaller in size than her siblings - the Chieftain's children. Mother has five with him - three older than "Fairy Girl" and two younger. The youngest ones don't understand why one of their sisters has pointy ears and can see in the dark but the others happily "put the elven bastard in line."

"Didn't you hear, Pixie girl?" The stepfather is getting angrier.

No. Don't approach him. You know what he is going to do!

An older brother, sixteen and almost adult, grabs the half-elven girl's collar and drags him to the chieftain. The brother is as cruel as his father and will never forgive his mother's infidelity.

"We should have fed you to the wolves once you were born, Pixie"

I have a name you fucking bastard, my name is Tiriel!

No, not now. Three years. Three years more of misery, humiliation, beatings - but it will end. It will end with fire in the girl's veins, the primal gift of Rage. With blood and violence when the chieftain choked on his own blood. With running away through the cold autumn woods and merciless mountain winds. With tears of desperation when the girl realizes she is on her own lost, and tired.

It will end with a party of adventurers led by an old Tiefling telling the "Pixie girl" that she needs a name, not a slur. Asking her to lead them through the wildernes. Allowing her to be part of their team, a reckless Barbarian who kills first and asks later.

Tiriel, she will tell them. My name is Tiriel.

But the grasp of the nightmare doesn't relent to her. Pain. Cry. Half of her ear is covered in blood. A burst of laughter. An angry dwarf-healer takes the girl to her hut to stitch the ear back.

Tiriel opens her eyes.

She can't understand where she is. She is in a dark tent, under a thick blanket. It's so thick it's difficult to breathe.

No, it's not only the blanket wrapped around her.

She gently touches Astarion's curls. The vampire sleeps covering her body like a weighted blanket. His head is on her chest, hands wrapped around her. He doesn't breathe, his heart doesn't beat.

He is in an elven trance.

Tiriel hopes he is seeing something good.

They've been together for two years, traveling further and further and further North. Sooner or later they will have to turn back, probably heading South-east, but for now they are simply moving, following their mutual wanderlust.

The nightmare was so real Tiriel almost feels like she re-lived those events. But human ancestry prevents half-elves from the experience of reverie.

She needs to go out, to the sunlight - the northern days are so short Tiriel craves at least some of it.

But with Astarion sleeping on her it's impossible. Well, at least he doesn't need much time.

She tries to go back to sleep but can't. Tiriel is tired from the insanity of the last day - she hasn’t slept well because they couldn't find shelter and had to flee into the underground tunnels. They were followed by at least three different groups of enemies that forced them into fighting.

Tiriel needs to sleep.

But she can't.

The events of the past wrap around her mind. Her miserable childhood, her terrible mother, her awful siblings. Only the old dwarf, a retired adventuress, was kind to her.

She feels a wave of tears approaching. Tiriel chokes on them and at that moment Astarion's hands hug her tighter.

He is very well aware of his surroundings when he trances.

Tiriel brushes her finger along his ear forcing his body to stir.

"I thought you slept longer than me," he mutters, slowly returning to reality.

Tiriel hugs him tighter, caressing his back’s scars. Gods, she loves it when he is like that!

Conscious and aware of his surroundings but absolutely unable to make coherent movements and dominate the situation.

"Can't sleep."

"Considering what we've been through it's rather alarming", he wakes up and leans on his elbows and Tiriel shivers, feeling the cold air between their bodies.

And then he notices.

"You've been crying, haven't you?"

Tiriel's mind interprets it as a signal and she bursts into tears. But who is crying? Tiriel the Barbarian or that nameless girl she once was?

Astarion sits up and tugs Tiriel into him, cradling her in his arms. She notices the utter panic in his crimson eyes changing to something else, something she can't yet identify.

"Hush, love, whatever it was, it's in the past - or we can kill it"

"It's just... I don't know..." Tiriel finds her voice. "It was so real. Now I know how it feels when you are tortured in your reverie. Do you think that can happen to me, too?"

"I have never heard of half-elves being able to meditate. It's something only Tel'Quessira can do. Even the ones with human blood, but who still pass as elves, have difficulties with that. What was it?"

"My bastard stepfather, my bitch mother, and my cut ear"

Astarion presses his lips to her forehead. Then he kisses her cheeks and fingers - there is no lust or desire in it, he kisses her like a parent would kiss a sick child, trying to soothe their pain.

It really does make her feel better.

She sighs. "I really need to sleep. But I can't."

"Then don't. Why torture yourself?"

"Because it will be a long night once the sun sets."

"Not an answer, Tiriel."

Tiriel smiles. Astarion doesn't have any pet names for her - sometimes calls her "love" or "heart" but mostly it's just Tiriel. And her name dances on the tip of his tongue, ringing like a prayer, like a spell.

He brushes his fingers along her ear lobes, then swipes along her facial scar and kisses her neck. She feels his fangs but he doesn't try to bite.

Astarion rarely feeds from her - usually when nightmares grip him or there isn't enough food for him.

"Astarion."

"Hm?"

"You can bite me if you want."

"Who am I to say no to such a generous offer. Although, are you sure?"

"Yes, the blood loss will make me dizzy. And I will be hungry once wake up."

"Absolutely not a problem my dear, there is plenty of prey in the woods."

Astarion helps her to lie back on the bedroll and kneels beside her. She notices the predatory spark in his eyes.

The fangs pierce her skin and Tiriel feels like drowning in the cold water. Her eyesight gets blurry, and a gentle numb feeling spreads through her body.

As he releases her, the darkness takes her. There are no nightmares, no memories - only peace.

***

Astarion leaves the tent and breathes the cold autumn air. Night calls upon him and so is the hunt. Well, Tiriel will be hungry like a starved wolf once she wakes up. And she will also crave something sweet.

Sometimes she is brave and fierce and sometimes she is like a little girl asking for candy after a rough day.

Tiriel never had a good childhood. It still drives Astarion mad - he was an adult when all that abuse happened to him. And there are probably still people alive who decide it's a good idea to beat a child, cut her ears, starve her as if she were at fault for existing.

Tiriel could have grown up bitter and evil, and she had the right to be like that; instead, she became the kindest and bravest person he has ever met.

Brave enough to let him close. So kind to find good things in him. She is clumsy, rude, and loud but delicate at the same time. There is some ghostly elegance in Tiriel, a gift from her elven ancestors. Mixed with the stubbornness and fire that are innate to humans.

Well, maybe, they should go look for her home village together and beat some asses. Tiriel will definitely feel better about it. He still remembers how she kicked Cazador's dead body once they were all ready to leave the dungeons.

Her kindness is paired with violence, and that's another thing he loves..

"Sleep well, love," he whispers. "I will be back before you wake up."

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen

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solacebloom · 1 month

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Steven Grant x Autistic!Reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

Just some drabbles of what being friends/partners with Steven Grant would look like with an autistic reader since, I myself, am autistic. Autism is a spectrum so I tried to make it inclusive but some of the traits are obviously going to be more geared towards my experience since that's what I'm writing from. Also gender neutral!reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

TW: talking about stimming, autistic meltdowns, cpstd, insomnia, DID

Steven Grant

Steven Grant has a lot of autistic traits, so I’ll be treating him like he is.

Rigid routines, hyperfixations (Egyptology), always calling his Mom every morning, being visibly upset when his routine is changed, etc

CPSTD can exacerbate autism traits so whether or not Marc and Jake have autism in particular I’m not going to get into right this moment BUT

man has insomnia among other things he gets it he understands you better than most.

If you were cohabitating the both of you would have your safe spaces in the flat

On top of that the entire place would be sensory friendly, your little retreat

Overhead light never gets turned on when it’s with you two, Steven keeps the curtains open for some natural light

incense from his involuntary travels would be stockpiled

He definitely has some sort of trinket or keepsake that makes white noise of some kind

Might be a water feature or windchimes hung up by the window- Gus’ tank also emits some white noise from the filter and water pump

The flat will always have some sort of noise to drown out the busy streets outside

When the noises are overstimulating to the both of you though he’s got noise canceling headphones and earbuds- he misplaces them a lot so there’s always extra to go around

Though eventually he gets you your own pair for around the flat

If you use a cane or any sort of walker he invests in making sure you have a spot to put it while you’re around the flat and that there’s actually space for you to walk around with it if needed

While he loves his collections of books, if you can’t traverse the flat with all that stuff on the floor he’s going to find another spot for them. Shoved into a closet somewhere- a storage unit, whatever he can do to keep his books and you

You both definitely stay in a lot more than you do go out

The street just outside the flat is busy but in the quieter hours the two of you go on short walks under the moonlight

If you’re novelty seeking though Steven’s not going to be the best at helping but will do his best to tag along with you if it’s outside of the house.

Sometimes he’s right there with you ready to go out and other times he’s just wanting to stay home, you don’t always match energies

Novelty seeking at home though? Completely different story. He’s always happy to dive into a new topic with you, whether it’s related to his own hyperfixation or one of your own

Insomnia and DID affect his memory so even if he has come to terms with Marc he’s still going to be writing things down, taking notes on the subject you two are diving into

When you need to stim Steven has a TON of trinkets and stim toys around the flat if not already in his pockets

The only thing he wouldn’t share with you is his rubik cube, if that’s not already in his hands while the two of you are talking it’s in his pocket or misplaced on a shelf it’s definitely his most well loved stimming item and he has to fix it, often

Puzzles also! From old crosswords to literal picture puzzles he’s down to do them all with you and will probably be absentmindedly doing one while you info dump

He has a rocking chair somewhere in the flat that’s incredibly comfy and well loved for some full body stimming

I don’t think Steven would have a sensory swing and if he does he was to embarrassed to set up for himself

Like Steven doesn’t hate himself for being autistic

He never learned to mask but there’s still lingering anxieties, they just aren’t focused around his autism, more on his DID and just general trauma

If you or any or the other alters found the swing though there would be some questions and a lot of hesitance and excuses on Steven’s end

Well you bet that swing is getting set up now

Even if Steven doesn’t end up using it as much he’s glad that it’s there if you or him need it at some point

You both do parallel play/being alone together- you’ll focus on your task and he’ll do his while you both are in the same room

Whilst some tasks give Steven the ick he can’t offload all the chores to his alters

So when the dishwasher needs to be opened or dishes cleaned in the sink he has a whole process to try and make it easier on himself

He wouldn’t be good at helping you out with these tasks either but his presence is appreciated

If eating noises are triggering Steven will either fetch the noise canceling headphones or go eat out on the porch or off in another room

Safe foods! He has them written down if he doesn’t already remember them

The flat is stocked with both his and your safe foods

If you’re out of the house he keeps a backpack on him that would have snacks and trinkets

I don’t think Steven goes nonverbal often mostly because I think that version for him is probably just retreating back and forcing the other alters out so that at least someone is talking in whatever situation is happening

I think if it does happen in a safe space with you though he’s most likely writing down his thoughts to you over his notebook

When you go nonverbal he gets a little panicky, because he knows how he feels when that comes up so he’s much more fretful over that

He starts asking you a bunch of yes or no questions to things you may need which isn’t always entirely helpful as it can be a bit overwhelming

But after his anxieties are quelled he’s much more able to help out in whatever you need

Whatever communication device or tool you use he’s more than willing to accommodate and carries around cards in the backpack as well

When you have a meltdown for the first time in front of him he definitely isn’t entirely sure of himself, he doesn’t know exactly what you need so it takes some trial and error

After the meltdown though he asks what you’d like to have happen when another one occurs

Whether you need physical touch or instead a weighted blanket or touch sensation at all he’s ready to help

Whatever entertainment medium you like he’ll put on/grab to keep your mind distracted and calmed

If it’s in public he will probably let another alter handle it since that’s overwhelming for him too though I think he feels guilty about it despite it just being a defense mechanism on his end.

He wants to help you and himself, but part of that is accepting where he’s at and sometimes trying to push yourself is the opposite of what’s needed

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #autistic!reader #disabled!reader #moon knight fanfic #steven grant fanfiction

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diorkyeom · 2 months

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THE @diorkyeom / @fairyhaos AO3 FIC REC LIST: PART 3

masterlist. part one. part two.

part three of all the ao3 fics that i've read for seventeen which i've loved, kudosed, and proceeded to download so i'll always have with me! lots of these are fics that have been in my library for a while that i just never got round to reccing, so expect a lot of verkwan in this haha

(list is in order of titles!)

By Any Other Name - bapilli

verkwan, omegaverse, oneshot

i don't even read omegaverse so idk how i even ended up reading this in the first place but. it's actually sooo so sweet. their dynamic is just sososo gentle and hansol just Likes seungkwan SO MUCH and it's So obvious and it makes me want to sob in my hands a little bit. this fic gets bonus points for its hurt/comfort elements and the gentle reassurance it has.

Give Me A Chance To Be Yours - lillupon

meanie, uni au, pining, chaptered

listen guys. there is So Much stuff in the meanie tag that if i rec a meanie fic, you just know it's the best of the best. the whole best-friends-who-act-like-theyre-dating thing is delicious But add that with oblivious mingyu and pining wonu and a confession not taken seriously and jealousy and you have an absolutely stellar fic. and wow, guess what, that's exactly what this fic is

Green (With Leaves) - kaiteki

soonhoon, plant shop au, chaptered (but short)

no bc why is literally the gentlest, sweetest, fondest soonhoon characterisation ever and why is it so accurate???? i Love dramatic soonyoung and dry humour jihoon and their fun little dynamic put into the loveliest friends to lovers plot ever. y'all know that i prefer strangers/ friends to lovers over e2l for soonhoon any day and this fic does it rly well

i'm all about you - checkyeshoshi

verkwan, football (soccer), chaptered

honestly seungkwan as a firecracker of a football coach is something ive Never thought about before but it also makes so much sense???? and hansol just being The Guy dragged into the team's shenanigans is so adorable and very much him imo. also seungkwan basically just gawking at hansol's muscles the entire time >>>

Insomnia - Mistehri

soonhoon, canon au, ib insomnia zero 1, oneshot

soooo soft and soooo sweet!!! i love little canon fics bc theyre always so self indulgent and i love that for the author. also adorable jihoon who can't sleep without soonyoung?? that's absolutely adorable and i cried a bit bc my heart was Melting at how soft they are

pack off the sunset glow - orphan_account

verkwan, roadtrip, non-idols au, oneshot

*clenches fists* i love these gay little boys so so much. it's so chaotic and fun and you literally can imagine everything that happens here and seungkwan being a dramatic mess as usual makes everything soo so much better

PEACH. - petitseok

seoksoo, non-idols, age regression, twoshot

honestly ive never even read those caregiver + regressor fics before but this one :((( instantly the best one of those types of fics ever like. i don't even know what made me click on it but it's So sweet and devastating and regressor!seok now has my heart bc of course this lovely man with big doe eyes should get to act like a 3 year old every now and then to relax

The Tiger On The Mountain - natigail

soonhoon, magical realism, shapeshifter hoshi, chaptered

hnnghghfh listen. people really underappreciate the potential for hybrid fics and shapeshifter fics that hoshi's tiger agenda brings, but this uses it really well! i love the interleaving of fantasy into Totally Normal Lee Jihoon's life and dude,,, the cliché tropes r all just so good

What's In A Name - thanku4urlove

verkwan, non-idols, fluff, crack, oneshot

seungkwan is so!!! himself!!! in this fic and i literally even have one section of this fic screenshotted bc i screamed about it to my friend since it was such an on-point seungkwan characterisation. also user thanku4urlove literally writes the best verkwan fics. i think i've recced their fics in every list so far

your name is a triangle - universefactory(jaeminjeno)

soonhoon, idolverse, established relationship, oneshot

mild misunderstandings and soft relationships. that's it, that's the fic. soonyoung is Sad and Sulking but jihoon is there to knock some sense into him and all is fine once again :D okay but also the way that the members r just so caring in the fic is vv sweet too

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fluorenaliy · 5 months

Text

A cup of warm milk

Levi ackermen x fem!reader

Words count : 1.3k

Tags : Captain x soldier , sfw.

S/T : This is my first time using this app and my first time writing fanfics and English is not my language LMAO, I would be grateful for any advice <3

“Ugh…”

An annoyed sigh left your mouth after the 30th flip on your hard bed.

You decided to sit down on your bed for the fifth time after three hours of sleeplessness. All you could hear was the sound of silence that had fallen over the soldiers’ headquarters after another failed trip outside the walls.

Should I go out? You asked yourself, it’s forbidden for soldiers to go out at this late hour, and breaking this rule may be followed by severe punishments, but insomnia was the most severe punishment for you, so you stood up and didn’t bother to put on your uniform. You were content with your pajamas.

You opened the door lightly so as not to break the silence of the building. You closed the door to the common room behind you more lightly, then directed your gaze to the corridor that was connected to the other bedrooms. You began to walk on the wooden floor with as quiet steps as possible, but you stopped yourself suddenly when a question came to you.

Where do I go now?

Your goal was to go out just to get rid of insomnia, what then?

You thought and decided to go to the kitchens and make a cup of milk that might help you feel sleepy.

It was a good idea and you started implementing it quietly. You reached the kitchens and it was strange that you had not met anyone yet. This is to be expected, as no sane person would stay awake after returning from a harsh trip outside the walls! But it seems that you are that person.

You started looking around the kitchens. You didn't enter them much because all you ate was the food that was served to you as a soldier, so you stood in the middle, confused, thinking about which drawer you should start searching in.

You decided to start from the last drawer on the right. You sat on your knees, and when you opened the drawer, it made a loud sound that made you freeze in place.

"Shit.."

You didn’t take the loud creaking sound of those old drawers as a possibility, and it ruined your entire plan, so you quickly closed the drawer, which led to another rusty creaking sound, which made you abandon the idea of (hot milk before going to bed). So you decided to escape from the kitchens before someone caught you.

You were walking cautiously, looking right and left in the dark to see if anyone had heard you and came to check, until you collided with a hard object, which caused your body to retreat slightly with a small gasp when you saw it face

“Captain Levi-..”

"What are you doing here?"

He said in his calm voice and you could see the annoyance in his tone and your only answer was to stare at him silently. You have been caught, your punishment is inevitable.

“I-I was-..”

"Did you steal anything from the kitchens?"

His harsh question interrupted you, making you choose punishment over talking to Captain Levi.

"I didn't! I swear!"

You said with a slight panic in your voice as you pulled on the hem of your pajamas.

"So what were you doing in the kitchens? Are you a rat or something?”

He said, not seeming to believe you

You will definitely wish you were dead instead of talking to him, especially in this situation.

"I was trying.. to.. make a cup of milk."

You said nervously as you felt his intense gaze under the veil of darkness that spread throughout the place, but you justified yourself before Captain Levi spoke.

“I'm really sorry! I c-couldn't sleep so I thought I would make something warm to help me sleep! And...I know that the resources we have are limited and it was selfish of me to even think about-”

You stopped talking when you felt the captain starting to walk to the kitchens without paying attention to your words, then he said in a less harsh voice this time.

"Follow me."

You stopped in astonishment, Is he going to take a kitchen knife and cut your neck like he does to the titans outside the walls? You began to think about the methods of punishment that the leader might do to you, but his voice broke your train of thought

"Are you listening?"

“Y..yes!, I’m sorry Captain!”

You said and broke the stillness of your body with a sudden jog, Which caused your body to lose balance, but you regained it at the last moment before you fell and continued walking behind him.

“Stop running around, brat.”

"Okay, Captain!"

Levi sighed and decided to ignore you this time until he reached the kitchens.

You stood at the kitchens door while your eyes followed your captain until a spark of fire appeared and lit a small candle that enabled you to see your captain more clearly. He was wearing normal clothes, far from his official clothes.

"Sit down"

He said to you while he tapped on the wooden table, which took you a few seconds to respond. You sat at the table politely while staring at the captain as he opened the drawers and took out some of their contents.

You were staring at his face and body under the candlelight, even though you were very afraid of him you cannot deny how handsome he is, his slim body with well-toned muscles as a result of decades of strenuous exercise, and his soft black hair and strands that make his face more beautiful, handsome and-

"Sugar?"

His sudden question caught you off guard

"H-huh?"

Levi sighed, he didn't like to repeat himself

"Do you want a lot or a little sugar in your milk? Are you deaf or what?"

You were silent for a few moments... Was he preparing milk for you? Wasn't he sharpening a knife for your neck?

"tch.."

Levi clicked his tongue in annoyance, annoyed by the slow work of your brain, which pulled you out of your thoughts and spoke quickly

"Extra sugar, please!"

You said, then the captain nodded and put extra sugar in the cup and started stirring the sugar to dissolve in the milk.

The silence was suffocating you as you stared at your fingers shyly until a cup of warm milk that was placed in front of you caught your attention. Then Captain Levi sat directly in front of you while drinking the cup of tea with his strange hold.

You wrapped your hands around the cup of milk, feeling the warmth coming out of the cup as you stared at it, you could feel the captain staring at you.

"Won't I get a punishment?"

You said as you shifted your gaze between Captain Levi and the warm cup.

"for what?"

Captain Levi said as his eyes never stopped staring at you.

“W..well uh..because I left my room at this time?”

“Do you want to be punished?”

Levi asked, his question surprising you

“N-No, definitely not...”

You said quickly while waving your hands in the air, then captain Levi stood with his cup of tea in his hand.

"Okay..”

He said as if nothing had happened, You were shocked...won't you get a punishment? that easy? You tried to hide your happiness at being saved after breaking a law.

But what brought you out of your thoughts was the warm hand that landed on your shoulder along with your captain's calm voice.

“Drink the milk quickly and go to sleep, brat. You will catch a cold.”

The captain said, not looking at you, then he continued walking and left the kitchens while sipping his cup of tea.

You looked at him until he disappeared into the darkness, then you smiled to yourself as your eyes returned to the cup of milk. You took a sip and it was warm and delicious.

The captain doesn't seem heartless after all.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi aot #levi attack on titan #fanfic #captain levi #levi x you #y/n #levi x y/n #aot #attack on titan

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autisticlancemcclain · 4 months

Text

fic rec friday 56

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Shiro's Skunk Hair Steals Lance's Boyfriend by @bleusarcellewrites

Lance nods, eyes scanning Keith’s face slowly, “I gotta ask, though, do you come here often?” Keith snorts, fondness for this dumbass making his heart to beat faster. “Charming as always, I see.” “I can show you ‘charming’.” Lance says, eyebrows wiggling in a suggestive manner and while the others groan behind them at the line, Keith just smiles. “But before that, I’m a man of honor and I gotta know: are you single?” Keith blinks at the question and suddenly he's laughing. [Or the one where Lance can't hold his alchohol and Keith gives up a Cuddle Night of his boyfriend to be flirted by said boyfriend just for his boyfriend to forget he was already his boyfriend. It's a mess but Keith wouldn't want it any other way.]

yall remember bleusarcelle...remember 2018.....crazy times. anyway. this fic is fun and sweet and dorky, nice to read when you want to forget how bad vld dropped the ball and ruined everything :))

2. Your Love Keeps Me Warm by crystalklances

Keith is giving him a look, contemplating, eyebrows drawn together. Noticing his gaze, Lance looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Are you cold?” Keith asks after a moment of a silent staring contest. “No,” Lance replies. “You should’ve said something.” “I just said I’m not—” But Keith doesn’t listen. Already, he’s shrugging out of his red varsity jacket, and he leans over to drape it around Lance’s shoulders. ---- Or, 4 times Keith is determined to prevent Lance from getting sick, and the time Lance catches a cold after all.

I MISS CRYSTALKLANCES EVERY DAY, BRO. no one got ridiculously soft modern au keith like he did. fuck. but at least most of his works are still on ao3. i like this one in particularly one because its soft and im a weenie but also because its a 4+1 which is my favourite genre of fic ever actually

3. what makes you beautiful by seventies

MMA fighter Keith Kogane is admitted to the hospital and gets KO'd by blue eyes that rival the seas and a crooked grin that knocks the air out of his lungs. It hasn't even been a minute in the ring. It's a world fucking record.

rare blue eyed lance appreciation moment from me (old bookmark lmfao). but jokes aside i do love this fic. i will always always always every day of my life love whipped on sight keith idc. its so so funny to me. its funnier when lance is like oh! this is my rival. we are going to be ENEMIES FUCK YEAH and keith is like oh my god if i dont marry him right now im literally going to die. also this fic has matt just fyi

4. Lance and Keith's guide for how to cure insomnia by crystalklances

Keith has always had trouble sleeping, but never told anyone. When they fall asleep together after a mission by chance, Lance finds out and offers to share his bed to help Keith fall asleep. However, sleeping together every night has unforeseen side-effects for both of them.

from the iconic INVENTOR of the smitten keith tag. soft klance, in canon. touch starved keith. sharing a bed to stop the nightmares. i bought my ticket on the first word of the summary like

5. love you so bad by seyama [EXPLICIT]

Keith and Lance sneak off from a party to go and fuck. That's it, that's the whole story.

this was bantery and silly and fun. and the little argument over who gets to be the little spoon....shockingly tender and so so them ive read this one a fewww times lol

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

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rottenpumpkin13 · 5 months

Note

So how did the Firsts setting Lazard up on a date go? You mentioned it in an old post, and I'm curious.

Malicious Non-Compliance

wc: 3291

desc: The boys set Lazard up on a date and just have to tag along—in disguise, that is.

n: I used this as a prompt, I hope you don't mind me answering like this!

Zack kept both of his legs propped up on the chair, bracing his chin in the crook of his joint knees. A wad of fanned-out cards between his fingers met his attention. He sniffed, scrunching his eyebrows together.

“Think, Zack, think!” He muttered to himself.

The audible frustration stretched the smile on his opponent’s face. Sephiroth kept his cards facing him with one hand, using the other to drum his fingers on the table, a rhythmic reminder that time did indeed pass in the Corporate Archives, no matter what the stubbornly broken clock on the table told them.

Zack groaned softly, snapping his head up to meet Sephiroth’s expectant flick of his eyebrow.

“Got any twos?” Zack asked.

Sephiroth shook his head. “Go fish.”

Angeal slammed his hand down on the table. “WE’RE PLAYING UNO!”

His outburst was bombarded with a wave of shushes from the nearby tables. Angeal tossed his cards, letting them scatter across the table before splaying his hands in surrender.

“I give up,” he said.

Zack and Sephiroth’s boyish laughter and subsequent high-five marked the moment the Arcive doors squeaked open, letting in a pair of boots that marched purposefully across the floor, kicking the tail of a long coat as they headed straight toward the table.

Genesis was enraged, and one did not need a magical looking-glass to discern that. The red blotched on his cheeks matched the fiery hue of his tousled hair as he plunked himself on the empty seat beside Zack.

“Good evening to you too, Commander.” Angeal smiled.

Genesis’ eyes were unblinking and grave as they glared at him. He crossed his arms, opening his mouth purposefully, in a way that told all three men that they were to be subjected to an avalanche of words.

“Lazard needs a life!” He declared suddenly. “One that doesn’t involve us and certainly has nothing to do with this company!”

“And you came to this conclusion how?” Sephiroth asked.

Genesis replied with an annoyed “tch!” as he turned away from him. “He’s not letting me go to LS8!”

Zack leaned towards Sephiroth’s right. “What’s LS8?” he whispered.

“Some Loveless thing,” Sephiroth shook his head.

Genesis snapped his head toward them, steam practically billowing from his nostrils.

“It’s not some Loveless thing!” he spat. “It’s the Loveless thing. It’s the biggest event of the year. All of this year’s cast members are going to be there, and there will be a screening for the new documentary, and everyone who’s anyone will be there!”

“And you’re not going?” Zack asked.

“I can't go!” Genesis moaned. “Lazard's keeping me from it because of—” he mimicked quotation marks with his fingers, “—my tendency to act improperly and embarrass the company through alcohol-fueled displays.”

Angeal's lips were crooked as he swaged his head from side to side. “He kinda has a point, Gen. You, alcohol and these Loveless parties are usually a recipe for disaster.”

“Maybe!” Genesis parried. “But he has no right to keep me from them! I'm an adult and a commanding officer, I can make my own decisions!”

Zack slumped back in his seat. “You do have a point about Lazard needing a life, though. The man works too much. He needs to have some fun once in a while.”

“I can't argue with that,” Sephiroth signed. “I frequently cross paths with him at odd hours of the morning. Sometimes it's three AM and he's up working.”

Angeal jerked his head back. “What are you doing up at three AM?”

Sephiroth froze. “....Things.”

“Ooh, ominous!” Zack piped up.

“Not it's not!” Genesis snapped. “He just has insomnia and likes to prowl around the building like a wraith!”

Sephiroth looked pleased. “Which you would know because you also have the tendency to galavant about the building at odd hours.”

Zack raised his hand. “Can confirm. I've seen Genesis break into the training room at 2 AM once!”

Genesis grazed with him a mocking look. “Puppy, why were you stalking me at 2 AM?”

Zack pouted. “Kunsel told me you teach secret materia classes and the meetings are in the middle of the night.”

“Gossip and hearsay,” Genesis replied coolly.

“Am I the only one who sleeps around here!?” Angeal snapped.

He began gathering the strewn cards on the table, neatly stacking them together. “But you guys are right. We should do something about it. Give him a break, you know?”

Genesis stretched his back into an arch. “What he really needs is a date. One night with a pretty girl and he'll soften like butter under the sun.”

Angeal considered. “It would be nice to know he has someone.”

“Yeah!” Zack bounced his legs beneath the table—much like a dog wagging its tail. “Can you imagine if Lazard had a girlfriend? He'd let us get away with all sorts of stuff because he'd be too happy to care!”

Sephiroth looked apprehensive. “This doesn't sound right. I believe the right term for this is meddling?”

Genesis rolled his eyes. “It's not meddling if we just introduce him to a woman and let fate weave its tapestry.”

“Alright,” Sephiroth braced his head on his palms. “Who?”

Angeal had known his best friend long enough to know that Genesis' unsettling grin was the calm before any storm.

The redhead crossed his legs, looking off to the side.

“Don't worry. I have someone in mind.”

Director Lazard sits in his office the next day with a chip on his shoulder and a stack of bullshitted Second Class mission reports by his side. He's tempted to chalk up the incompetence to the typical end-of-the-year slog.

But the colorful text on the mission report in his hand at that moment made it impossible.

He sighed, placing the document down and reaching over for his notepad, where he proceeded to jot down a few words.

“Note to self,” he wrote, “confiscate Zack's crayons.”

The glass doors of his office slid open, giving way to Genesis' pompous and irrepressible vibrancy that morning. He marched in with a smile on his face.

“Director, you're going to love me!”

Lazard didn't bother looking up from his writing. “Flattered as I am by your advances, Genesis, I prefer the company of women.”

“Tch!” Genesis pooped himself down on the opposite chair. “Funny you should say that! Do you perhaps know Meg from Urban Development?”

Lazard slid his glasses back onto his nose bridge. “Reeve's assistant.”

“Yeah, her! We got to chatting yesterday, and she couldn't help but mention how charming, sophisticated, and attractive she finds you.”

Lazard's immediate slack jaw was a promising response to Genesis. He found satisfaction in the way the director was rendered speechless by the prospect, his cheeks blotted with red.

“Did she…really say that?”

Genesis nodded eagerly. “She did! So I've taken the liberty of setting you up on a date tonight. You're welcome.”

Lazard frowned. “Tonight? Oh, no. Tonight won't do. I've got too much to do. Some files in the data room have gone missing and I'm the one who must see to it.”

Genesis swung his legs over the arm of the chair, leaning back with a purposefully dramatic and drawn-out sigh.

“What a shame. Oh well, I suppose Rufus will be happy to hear that.”

“Rufus?” Lazard echoed. “Shinra?

“Him,” Genesis folded his arms across his chest. “I hear he's got the eyes for Meg. He's been dying to take her out, but she's been waiting for you to ask her instead. A tragedy, I say. A modern-day soap opera plot. Ah well, I suppose she'll have to settle for the Vice President instead.”

Genesis' crooked tactic worked like a charm.

Lazard chewed his bottom lip, his eyebrows scrunching together in a way that told Genesis that the older man was seriously pondering over it.

“I can…I can postpone a task—just this once!” he added quickly. “It would be rude to cancel a date, after all.”

Genesis stood up at once, so pleased it oozed from every pore on his grinning face. “Good! I'll make sure to email you the details in a bit. Have fun tonight, Director!”

Genesis left the office, stepping out in the hallway and pulling his phone out. “And this is the part where I tell Sephiroth I told you so—OW!”

An object hit him right in the eye. His hand shot up to cover it, the other eye furiously searching for the source of the attack. A lone, purple crayon rolled by his feet.

He turned to see an ongoing scuffle between Angeal and Zack down the hallway. Angeal tried his best to wrestle away a box of scented crayons from Zack's grasp.

“Let go!” Zack whined. “I promise I won't use them anymore!”

“No!” Angeal yelled back. “Not until you tell me where the blueberry-scented one is!”

Zack let himself go limp in Angeal's grasp, his face reddening as he avoided the other man's eyes entirely.

“Did you eat it, Zack!? You ate it, didn't you!?”

Zack squeezed his eyes shut. “You can't prove anything!”

“OH MY GOD!”

Genesis rolled his eyes, choosing to walk away instead of witnessing their debacle.

The Cinnamon Veil was an upscale restaurant in the glitzy area of Sector Seven. The sidewalk outside the bustling establishment was heaving with people, overtaken by a line that wrapped around the building.

Couples stood with their arms linked, common people bedecked themselves in finery and their best clothes, and amidst the excitable crowd ...Was Angeal wearing a fake mustache.

“I gotta admit,” he said, stroking the faux facial hair pensively. “When I previously imagined my Friday night, being married to Genesis was not in my plans.”

Beside him, Genesis adjusted his pencil skirt. His large sunglasses teased the vibrant eye makeup beneath, which complimented his rosy lips.

“Oh, hush!” Genesis smoothed his hair. “And put your arms around me, we’re supposed to be a couple!”

“And what do I do?” Sephiroth’s voice cut in.

Behind them, Sephiroth had been forced into a black T-shirt of a heavy metal band he did not know, eyeliner that stung his waterlines, along with jewelry and fake piercings. A pair of aqua-blue contacts concealed his infamous eyes.

“You’re already doing your part, darling.” Genesis placed his sunglasses on his head. “You’re our rebellious, teenage son. Now stand there and act displeased with our family outing.”

Sephiroth crossed his arms, frowning pointedly. “Understood.”

Angeal and Genesis turned around, looking for any sign of Lazard and Reeve’s assistant, Meg.

Sephiroth piped up again.

“I'm a homosexual.”

Angeal and Genesis snapped back around on cue.

Sephiroth shrugged.

“What? My research tells me that a child revealing their sexual orientation to their parental figures causes a strain in their relationship. It can’t get more rebellious than that.”

“Seph,” Angeal huffed. “Were you dropped on your head as a baby?”

“Yes, several times.”

Angeal and Genesis elected not to respond, slowly turning back around again. Angeal spotted a head of sandy blond hair a few spaces ahead of them.

“Look!” He pointed. “There he is!”

Lazard looked positively radiant as he and Meg talked. Genesis marveled at how stunning of a pair they made, thanking no one but himself for the brilliant start to a courtship, of course. The conversation flowed naturally, and none of them had ever seen Lazard so at ease.

“Aren’t I a genius?” Genesis sighed. “You’ll see. Soon enough, Lazard will be out of our hair and you’ll all be praising me.”

Angeal scratched his fake mustache. “If everything goes smoothly, that is.”

“I want to be held,” Sephiroth said suddenly.

Angeal and Genesis whipped back around.

Sephiroth was unbothered. “I've never had parents before,” he said. “I don’t know how to act.”

Once they were inside the restaurant, they were ushered to their table. Genesis had made sure to book one right across from Lazard and Meg’s, giving them the most optimal view of their date.

“I don’t know about this, Gen,” Angeal muttered, settling into his seat. “Spying makes me uncomfortable. We’re invading his privacy.”

“No,” Genesis corrected him. “We’re making sure Lazard doesn’t blow his chance at love.”

“May I have ice cream for dinner?” Sephiroth asked, thumbing through the menu.

“You can have ice cream for dessert.” Angeal rubbed his temples. “Where’s the waiter?”

As if on cue, a waiter—literally—slid in from their left, his polished shoes squeaking on the floor as he posed.

“Right here!” He flashed them a winning grin.

One curious fact about The Cinnamon Veil was that all of their waiters were required to wear a tawny mask as a part of their uniform—hence the veil. And yet, even a mask was no efficient cover for Zack’s notorious, black spikes and the telling glow of Mako eyes.

“Zack!?” All three of them sputtered in unison.

The Second looked pleased, proudly showing off his vest and bowtie. He placed the pen to his notepad and cleared his throat.

“I’m Zack and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you started on the seared scallops? The sole meunière? Or perhaps some ice cream for the kid!”

Genesis’ lips were pressed into a thin line. “What are you doing?” he scolded. “You’re going to ruin everything!”

Zack pouted. “No, I’m not! And F.Y.I., it was mega rude of you to not invite me along.”

Genesis sunk into his seat. “That’s because this is an undercover affair and you’re the poster boy of conspicuity.”

Angeal gestured toward Sephiroth. “Oh, because emo Sephiroth is pure stealth.”

“It’s not a phase, father,” Sephiroth shot back.

Angeal pulled a face.

Zack tucked his pen in the pocket of his apron. “Look, I’m just here to make sure Lazard's date goes well. I want him to be happy just as much as you three, ‘kay? Plus, I hit the jackpot. I’m their server!”

Genesis sat up straight, the color returning to his face. “Oh! What did he order?

Zack replied with a grimace. “Garlic-fried rice.”

“What?” Genesis slapped his hand on the table. “Oh! That man has no game whatsoever! How is he expected to kiss her good night when his breath smells like garlic!?”

Zack held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I took care of it. I switched his order with someone else’s, so I’ll bring him something else. You know how Lazard it! He hates conflict, so he’ll force himself to eat it.”

Zack opened his notepad. “But anyway. What are you guys having?”

Sephiroth looked back down at the menu. “What do you recommend?

“Well, I think—” Zack snapped his head toward another table mid-sentence. “Oh! I gotta jet! I’ll see you in a bit!”

Zack ran off toward another table and began taking their order instead. Angeal sighed, watching his student from across the dining room. He shook his head.

“It’s as if his attention span dwindles by the day. He should be glad he’s a SOLDIER. Real-world jobs are not meant for him.”

Something about his friend’s words struck something in Genesis. The redhead snapped his head towards him, frowning pointedly as he looked from Angeal to Zack scurrying back into the kitchen.

“Goddess, ‘Geal, you’re so harsh with him. He’s doing his best, you know.”

Angeal shrugged, turning back around. “I know, and I am proud of him. But I want him to reach his full potential and I think he lacks the focus it takes to reach it.”

Meanwhile, Sephiroth was the only one who noticed Zack sail out of the kitchen again, this time with Lazard and Meg’s orders ready. He had limited knowledge about the culinary arts, but he did know shrimp pasta when he saw it.

And he also knew how much Lazard detested shrimp.

Sephiroth uncrossed his arms, sitting up. “Um, gentlemen?”

The urgency in Sephiroth’s voice, just like his words, went unnoticed by his friends.

“Yeah,” Genesis continued. “But sometimes it comes off as you not having faith in him.”

“I do have faith in him,” Angeal pressed, clearly annoyed. “If anything, you’re the one who thinks he’s just some Second Class runt who follows us around.”

Sephiroth couldn’t look away from the car crash unfolding right before his eyes. Zack served Lazard and his date their meals, the former looking quite displeased with his order. But it was just like Zack had said, he wasn’t the confrontational type.

“Mother?” Sephiroth tried. “Father?”

Angeal and Genesis ignored him.

“Not true!” Genesis replied, his tone getting more heated by the second. “I adore Zack!”

“Hmm.” Angeal rolled his eyes. “Just like you adore Sephiroth.”

Genesis faked an overdramatic gasp which he emphasized by placing a hand over his heart. “How dare you accuse me of disliking my own child!?”

Meanwhile, Sephiroth watched as Lazard took one bite of his food, then violently spit it back out—right in Meg’s face. Lazard began coughing and spitting food all over the place. Meg’s face was befouled by the bits of shrimp and rice. Her mouth was hanging open in disbelief.

Sephiroth turned back around.

“Gentlemen, I am begging for one second of your attention.”

“NOT NOW!” Genesis snapped at him.

“A-HA!” Angeal pointed an accusatory finger at him. “SEE? NO WONDER I'M THE ONE HE COMES TO WHEN HE'S UPSET, GENESIS! YOU’RE A BITCH!”

“I BEG YOUR PARDON!?” Genesis stood up, making Angeal rise to his feet as well. “TAKING CARE OF HIM IS A JOINT EFFORT, ANGEAL! DON’T UNDERMINE MY PARENTING!”

Meanwhile, Lazard and Megan were actively arguing. Zack tried to work the middle-man role in vain, failing at calming either of them down.

“Our plan is going down the drain here, men,” Sephiroth said.

They continued to ignore him.

“PARENT HIM?” Angeal laughed. “YOU’RE BARELY HIS FRIEND. ALL YOU TWO DO IS ARGUE BECAUSE YOU PICK FIGHTS!”

Genesis grabbed his coat. “WELL, IF WE’RE SUCH A BURDEN TO YOU, ANGEAL, MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST PACK OUR THINGS AND LEAVE!”

Angeal slammed his fist on the table. “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE! I WANT A DIVORCE!”

Sephiroth watched helplessly as Lazard ripped away Zack’s mask.

“Oh dear,” Sephiroth whispered.

Sephiroth had heard about the six stages of grief before, and he was almost certain each of them became etched onto Lazard’s face in the span of a single second. Zack awkwardly smiled and waved, which only served as a catalyst to redden the older man’s face and propel his rage.

Sephiroth was nonplussed. “Hm. It appears that, as the youths say, all hell has broken loose.”

Angeal and Genesis persisted in dragging out their squabble.

“MY MOTHER WARNED ME ABOUT YOU!” Genesis shot back. “YOU KNOW WHAT? SINCE YOU’RE THE BETTER PARENT, KEEP HIM! I’M BETTER OFF ON MY OWN ANYWAY!”

Angeal gasped. “YOU CYNICAL ASSHOLE! YOU WON’T EVEN FIGHT FOR CUSTODY? HOW SELFISH CAN YOU BE?”

Sephiroth flinched once Meg grabbed her drink. She threw it in Lazard’s face before promptly walking off. Then Lazard and Zack began to argue, the former grabbing him by the neck and beginning to shake him.

“I might be witnessing a murder,” Sephiroth said.

“I DON’T NEED THIS!” Genesis screamed. “I’M LEAVING! I’M DONE!”

Angeal grabbed his coat. “YEAH, WELL SO AM I!”

Angeal and Genesis went their opposite ways, leaving Sephiroth to watch the fight escalate by the second. He would’ve been more motivated to step in if Zack were in any real danger. But the sight of Lazard thwacking Zack with his own apron was far too entertaining to intervene.

He wondered if Angeal and Genesis were watching.

Sephiroth turned around.

“...”

“Mother?”

“...”

“Father?”

“...”

The sounds of Zack getting disciplined in the background persisted (“Ow! I didn’t know!” Thwack! “Director! I swear I didn’t mean to!” Thwack! “Ow!”) Sephiroth slumped down in his seat, disgruntled.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“This is just like real life.”

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #final fantasy vii #angeal hewley #ff7r #ff7 crisis core #ff7cc #writing #ff7 fic #ff7 fanfiction #zack fair

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years

Text

Black of Hair (Part 5)

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Robb Stark x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of being deflowered, mentions of consummating

Word Count: 3,702

Tags: black of hair got

Summary: Your wedding night is just around the corner and your Uncle Tyrion holds up his end of the bargain.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four (I declare a thumb war)

Masterlist

Taglist: @way-too-addicted-to-anime @akaward-potato @fuckoffupstairs @soleil-dor @depressedcuppatea @thegirlwithoutaname87 @taylorsfilms @100kindsofblake @quietlycalum @lustgardn @thebitchinleo @coffeethenink @theminiestofmins @callmefroggie @greinch @icemanhoneybadger @ietss @theminiestofmins @qhbr2013 @savingprivatecass @fossilisedtreeresin @freshfreakoaftrash @sarcasm-n-insomnia @a-lil-bit-nuts @megzdoodle @gruffle1 @burninggracesandbridges

A/N: This has really been a long time coming and I thank all of you for the support even though it’s been a while. I don’t mean to play it off as if this is the last chapter because I do have several ideas for future chapters. I have so many ideas of where I want this story to go, but deciding on just one path is going to be tricky. Let me know your thoughts on how you think this story could end in the future and we’ll see if I’m kinder than George R.R. Martin...

(I do not consent to my works being reposted/copied)

~~~

With the wedding just around the corner, you find yourself busier than ever. Not only were you learning the ropes of being the lady of the keep, but you had to plan for your own wedding without a mother to help you. Not to mention you had to entertain people as if you were the host, despite how much you still felt like a guest. You drilled yourself into the mindset of Catelyn Stark and what she would do, and suddenly everything fell into place easier than you hoped for. You were able to juggle entertaining your uncle whilst learning the stocks of Winterfell. Even though Bran didn’t need to be looked after anymore, Rickon was still so young, and you found yourself wanting to tell the two of them stories and keep them company when their older brother was too busy while you were still trying to plan your wedding.

You even found yourself writing letters to your family. You wanted to know how your siblings were doing and how the new Hand of the King was faring. This started with the idea that you needed your family to continue acknowledging your existence, that way it wouldn’t be much of a surprise to them when Tyrion marches you back to King’s Landing. With these letters came responses, though few in number. One time, a deer pelt was sent with a letter attached. Not by raven, of course, but by one of Varys’ own birds. A child, not even six years old, came all the way North to present this gift to you. According to the letter, the pelt came from a deer your father hunted and killed in the kingswood. It was considered to be a wedding present from him to you, but you didn’t recognize the handwriting to be King Robert’s. Further down the letter comes with the sigil for the Hand of the King. Ah, so your soon-to-be good father, Ned Stark, was thinking about you even if your own father wasn’t.

Already, your mind wandered when thinking about the travel back home. You thought about less constricting dresses and proper wine. You even thought about the politics and the gossip. Some of those things you could live without, but the journey south with your uncle sounded exciting and adventurous. Looking at the deer pelt your father supposedly sent you, you realized it was the journey south that was what you looked forward to the most, not so much the destination...

So was it really all that worth leaving?

Your husband-to-be wasn’t making it very easy. Unaware of your plans, the Northern fool still believed a wedding was happening and he appeared nervous whenever it was mentioned, much to Theon’s delight. You did try to include Robb in the planning so as to throw off any suspicion, but he was a simple man. You hardly imagined him being suspicious of anything, let alone the Princess of Westeros.

Tonight was the big night, and the mention of the Godswood was brought up again, days after he showed you the bleeding heart tree. You, dutiful as you were, spoke of being married under those brightly colored leaves when Robb finally spoke his mind, “I wish to have a Seven ceremony.”

It surprised you, and it’s honestly been a while since Robb last surprised you. He really was full of surprises, “What?”

“You are a princess of the Seven, marrying down to a northern lord who follows the Old Gods. Your faith should be honored as much as mine.”

He lowered his head when you said nothing and continued to stare at him. You drummed your fingers against the hardcover of the book in your hands as you observed his expression. Robb appeared closed off, wary of your stares. He kept looking anywhere but at your eyes, and the further you wrung out the silence, the more cornered the young lord looked. You took pity and finally opened your mouth, “Then why not honor both? We’ll be wed before the Old Gods, but that doesn’t mean we can’t honor some southern traditions. Have a cloak made of fur for you to drape across my shoulders. Place me under your protection as well while binding our hands together, reciting the Seven. We can do all that but still have Old Gods traditions, too. My uncle can walk me to the Weirwood and ask who steps forward to claim me.”

He disagrees, but still lets out a relieved breath of air when you didn’t mock him, “You don’t have to do that, princess. You can demand your wedding to be whatever you want.”

You surprised even yourself when you crossed the room and gently took Robb’s hand and even gifted him a small smile. He blinked a few times to ensure it was real, “This is your home, and I am not the only one marrying without their parents. You should have your faith honored as well.”

If you watched the way his jaw tightened as he swallowed the lump in his throat, you would never admit it out loud. Even when his Adam’s apple bobbed, you quickly locked your gaze with his eyes and internally slapped yourself, praying to all the gods out there that he didn’t notice. For the most part, your husband-to-be seemed none the wiser, squeezing your hand before pulling away, giving a short bow and a quick smile, “I’ll make the arrangements, princess.”

He leaves the room -your room- and you have to scowl out loud because you felt so foolish and childish. You don’t fret about your thoughts for long before you hear someone else enter your chambers. Turning back around, you’re met with Tyrion standing in the doorway. He had come out of hiding from the local brothel, already dressed and groomed for tonight. A mischievous grin slid onto his lips as he stepped into the room.

“Did I just see your future husband in your chambers without anyone else around?”

A deadpan expression falls onto your face, “Uncle...”

“People talk, sweet niece. I would hate for anyone to ask me if you had been deflowered before your wedding.”

“The North is not like King’s Landing,” and you hate yourself for admitting it as you rolled your eyes, “Those who whisper around here mostly whisper about how ‘the night is dark and full of terrors.’ Besides, he wasn’t in here to dishonor me. He... he wanted to honor my faith in the Seven.”

“Oh? So he intends to take you under his cloak?” Tyrion closes the door behind him before joining you at the table near the window.

You sit across from him, “Yes, in front of his own gods as well. I told him that I want to honor his gods, too.”

His face changes to an expression more thoughtful than playful, his smile softening to something close to genuine, “The pair of you are already trying to please each other... I must say, our king and your mother have only had a handful of good ideas when it comes to you. Perhaps they made a smart match, marrying you to the Stark boy.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, watching your fingers tap against the wood of the table as you spoke, “He’s not a boy, or at least he won’t be when he marries me... and I will no longer be a girl.”

“... You’ll always be a little girl to me, Y/n. No matter how tall you get.”

A flash of a grin spreads over your lips, a gleam shining in your eye, “I’ve always been taller than you.”

Tyrion scoffed, trying to look unamused and failing, “Not before you turned seven... Does this mean you intend on marrying him?”

Your face falls and he continues, “I made it to your wedding, a deal’s a deal. Say the word and I’ll take you home. Or... you can stay here for the rest of your life. You can marry Robb and be the Lady of Winterfell. You will give him children and make sure they survive to adulthood to ensure the House of Stark lives on.”

Your fingers stop tapping, sharp eyes trying to read his expression as best as you could. However, it’s much harder to read your uncle than it is to read your betrothed. I guess that’s what happens when you’re raised as a Lannister compared to a Stark. You grow up to quickly learn not to show any weakness that Lord Tywin believes will corrupt his house. And in Tyrion’s case, you learn to stop reacting when someone like his sister grew up being so cruel to him.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to persuade me of staying or leaving.”

Tyrion breathes a small laugh, “I suppose it sounds both terrifying and inspiring. I want you to be happy, Y/n, and the part of me that watched you grow up doesn’t want to let you stay. But that’s just a selfish part of me. If that doesn’t make you happy, then I don’t want you coming back with me. The deal was that if I won the bet, I wanted you to choose whatever makes you happy. But you need to choose now, or you’ll find yourself married tonight.”

~~~

It was a warm night, with only a soft breeze to calm it. Torches lit the path when the moon became shrouded in clouds. Your guardsmen shield you from unwanted eyes as you sneak through the large, wonderous keep, your uncle’s hand held tight in your own as he snuck down the stairs and winding halls. Your heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wing, keeping your head low as your company round the corner.

“Quickly. We’re late,” Tyrion whispered beside you.

It felt like a maze that never ended. Part of you wanted to go back in time and kill the person who decided that Winterfell needed to be so large and grand. You could blame Brandon the Builder, but then again, Winterfell had been slowly built up to the way it is today years after his death, growing larger as more Lords of Winterfell wanted to expand it. Part of you wondered if maybe Robb would be one of those lords, deciding on adding another part of the castle for the history books.

Finally, you breathe in fresh air just as your party makes it to the archway leading into the Godswood. You and Tyrion slow down and you straighten yourself up, fixing up every last touch of your dress and hair while your guards go in ahead of you to join the ceremony and announce your arrival. Tyrion waits for you, taking note of the fine cream silk wrapped around your shoulders to appear as a maiden cloak, covering the lovely white dress that you yourself embroidered. At the ends of the skirt, you created a lovely scene of a wolf and a stag dancing together under freshly fallen snow, as a representation of your marriage to Robb. Tyrion waits patiently until you’re ready, then extends his hand out to you again. You let out a shaking breath, before flashing your uncle an encouraging smile and taking his hand. Walking through the archway, you take slow steps while observing your surroundings.

Several lords and their ladies and children stood on opposite sides of a small pathway leading up to the weirwood tree, torches lighting your path as you take note of Robb straightening his posture at the sight of you, but otherwise reserved his facial features. Theon stood beside the towering Hodor and the two younger Stark boys, and you have the courtesy of flashing them a smile as you passed by them. A septon stood beside your future husband, watching you with a warm and welcoming expression, opening his mouth to speak once you’ve walked close enough.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?”

Tyrion squeezed your hand before responding, “Y/n, of the House Baratheon and of the House Lannister. Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, who is here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. A woman of royalty. She comes to beg for the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Your husband-to-be, your new protector, your other half, your equal, whatever he may be in the future, steps forward and speaks clearly with a thunderous tone that makes him sound older and god-like, “Robb of House Stark. Heir to Winterfell and Acting Warden of the North. Who gives her?”

You nearly forgot how to breathe hearing his voice, and you almost missed your uncle’s response, “Tyrion, of the House Lannister. I am her mother’s youngest brother.”

The septon nods in approval of Tyrion before locking eyes with you, “Princess Y/n. Do you take this man?”

You felt your tongue tie itself up as your eyes meet Robb’s for the first time throughout the ceremony. He, too, looked nearly speechless as you both look frightened and possibly curious. Doubts ran through your mind as well as reassurances. What if this was a mistake? What if you should’ve gone home like you always planned to? What if he’s been putting on sheep’s clothing in the short span of getting to know him? What if he’s as vile as the wolves his house represents? What if he’s not honorable or good as you initially thought?

Then again, you always were a good judge of character. You have personally chosen your ladies in waiting in the past. You could always smell fraud among honesty. You’ve even chosen good knights to join your father’s Kingsguard in his absence. Your choices even impressed your Uncle Jaime as he stood beside your decisions.

Robb was no different. You sniffed out his character within a few moments of meeting him. You watched the way he treated his parents, siblings, and even friends. As the eldest child, he took up the responsibility and protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. He took charge when things looked low and didn’t hesitate to step up after his father left. He’s eager to please and he’s humble about it. Not many men would think it’s their job to please others, but Robb does so as if it was his sworn duty.

Looking into those warm-colored eyes, you yourself felt warm. You felt warm and comfort like you would find at a hearth. Even though Robb was forced into this marriage, much like you, he didn’t complain or turn hateful. Instead, he tried befriending you and made silent promises of fulfilling his duty as a husband. He once asked you if it was possible for your marriage to grow into something his own parents had, so one might think he was even hopeful towards you. Despite everything that was thrown at the pair of you, he still wanted you, a stranger, to feel safe and happy here in his home. Not many people, other than your uncles, ever wanted that for you.

Maybe Tyrion was right. Maybe your parents, for once, made a good choice for you.

You let go of Tyrion’s hand and step forward, chin up and smile wide, “I take this man.”

Robb smiles back, blinking out of whatever trance was held within your gaze. You take another step forward to take his hand when he held it out for you, and you couldn’t help but note how gently he held you in his grasp as you both turned to face the septon.

“You may now cloak the bride and place her underneath your protection.”

Robb runs his thumb over your knuckles before letting go to briefly take his fur cloak off his shoulders, sliding it onto your own before taking your hand back. The septon begins to wrap a gold embroidered cloth around your conjoined hands, uniting them and the two of you together while he spoke.

“Under the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words.”

Your head turns, eyes meeting with Robb’s once again as your voices ring softly together in unity, “Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger.”

“I am his-”

“I am hers-”

“And he is mine-”

“And she is mine-”

“From this day, until the end of my days.”

It was mostly a blur after that. You remember Robb leaning in to kiss you, pressing his lips to yours and sealing your lives together forever, but either you imagined it, or your brain purposely blocked out bits and pieces of the night due to feeling overwhelmed. Before you knew it, you opened your eyes when Robb pulled away.

~~~

The feast wasn’t as grand as one might be had you married in the capital. It took place in the Hall with the newly wedded couple sitting at a table above all the rest, where the Lord and Lady of Winterfell usually sat. Some space was left in between the lower tables for Rickon and his Shaggydog direwolf to run around and play through. Hodor had Bran sitting in the far corner with his wolf, Summer, lying at his feet, tail wagging when a bone from the feast’s boar was placed in front of him.

A few Northern tunes were playing in the background as some lords ate and drank to their hearts' content. Robb had asked you prior to this night if you wanted some of your favorite Southern songs played at the feast, but you didn’t have the heart to comply. After all, you didn’t think any of the Northern lords would feel comfortable if the princess’ favorite song, ‘Rains of Castamere’, was sung during her wedding night. Some might find it in poor taste apart from your uncle, who’d just laugh and sing right along. You could imagine your grandfather might have approved of the music choice had Lord Tywin bothered to show up at your wedding.

“You were late to your own wedding,” you look up when Robb spoke, watching him take a drink of wine as his eyes scan over the crowd. A wolf hunting for prey, “There were mutters about a princess possibly planning on escaping into the night.”

You pause, trying to find careful words or a lie to say. You straighten your posture, deciding to be honest as you also look around at your guests, “Suppose I was.”

The laugh, genuine and full, was unexpected but not unwelcome. Robb laughed merrily, his shimmering eyes and teeth giving away just how young he was, “Well, I guess I can’t blame you. What changed your mind?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Another honest answer, but the words came out quieter than you intended. Robb took pity on you and let the silence around the pair of you linger before changing the subject.

“It’s getting late. I’m tempted to start a drinking game. Would you like to take part?”

Something stirs on your face, you’re sure of it because a small grin begins to form on those lips you had only just kissed this very night. He now knows he has you interested, and you wouldn’t deny a drinking game, having been in the company of someone like Tyrion your whole life. You were confident that any sort of game Robb had in mind, you would win. “What are the rules?”

A gleam in his eye made you wonder if you had just unleashed a child onto a cake tray, “Every time Theon boasts or cheers randomly, we take a drink. Every time you see a direwolf yawn, we take a drink. Every time the lords cheer and drink to our good health, we take a drink.”

Your smile was wider than it had ever been since coming North, your cheeks even hurting from the motion, “I agree. I also think that every time my uncle tells his honeycomb joke, we drink.”

“Honeycomb?”

A playful, exhausted roll of your eyes is enough to strike his curiosity further, “Trust me. You don’t want to hear it. If he asks, tell him you already heard it.”

Robb laughs again, this time less boastful and more reserved. Looking out over the crowd again, he lifts his goblet to yours, “I got one. Every time a drink is spilled onto the floor, we drink.”

“Yes,” you meet your goblet with his in a small toast, “And every time someone mentions a bedding ceremony, we drink.”

He stops mid-sip, slowly drawing the goblet away from his lips as a grave, dark look falls onto his eyes. He doesn’t dare look at you, staring ahead at the furthest wall before he spoke, “Princess, we do not have to do anything you are uncomfortable doing. My father forbade one when he married my mother. I would follow in his footsteps and forbid anything more to be done tonight if that is your wish.”

It’s tempting if not reassuring to know that your new husband didn’t wish to pressure you into consummating your marriage right away. You had pushed the thought of it to the far back of your mind ever since your father announced your engagement. You kept denying its existence and banished it from the forefront of your mind when you had every intention of leaving with your uncle before you had to worry about something as scandalous as a crowd of men stripping your clothes away and carrying you to your marriage bed.

Looking back at your husband, you begin to wonder if the wine and the drinking game were starting to make you brave. He was handsome, you already knew that, and not to mention respectful, caring, and kind. Part of you wondered if those qualities would go as far as your marriage bed, not just in the public eye. Robb watches your gaze carefully, something stirring in his eyes when he watched the way yours drifted up and down his face appreciatively. Slowly, you let your smile form to appear innocent while holding your goblet out to him.

“Let’s not have a bedding ceremony. We can go to our marriage bed after everyone gets too drunk to notice us gone, but let’s not have your little brothers or my uncle witness that part. And it’s just Y/n from now on. We’re man and wife now. You don’t have to use any formalities with me.”

“Y/n,” he repeats your name dutifully on his tongue, and you couldn’t ignore the shiver that ran down your spine as he said it. He smiles back, raising his goblet to yours in another small toast, introducing himself for the first time in a whole new light that only promised something good and adventurous, “Robb.”

~~~

Author’s Note: Holy crap my back hurts after finally finishing this chapter. But hey! I now have a masterlist for this series! Huzzah! I honestly didn’t think it was going to come this far so thank you for all the support!

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