#GOODNIGHT STAYED UP WAY TOO LATE FOR THIS

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 21]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

You didn't miss the way Hongjoong's face fell when you retracted your hand. His own hand fell back by his side as his eyes searched yours, waiting for you to say something. Did you like Hongjoong? Was that why you were feeling all these different feelings when you were around him?

"I realise this is a lot for you to take in now. You don't have to say anything." Hongjoong spoke first. The silence was killing him and he just needed to break it before he breaks.

"I'm scared." You admitted.

"Why?" He didn't expect you to say that, he thought you would tell him that you didn't feel the same or that you liked him back.

"Hongjoong, what if you only feel this way because I am a connection to your mother? I know you don't have an ulterior motive consciously but maybe it's subconscious-"

"No, don't say that. If you don't feel the same way back, that's fine. But don't... just don't..." His jaw clenched, unintentionally snapping at you.

"I'm sorry." You whispered.

"It's alright. This is a lot, I shouldn't have..." Hongjoong was now feeling the weight of his words sink in.

"No! No... It's not like that. Please don't feel bad, this is all on me. You telling me this actually helps, it answers a lot of questions I've been having." You said, making his eyes light up slightly.

"But Hongjoong, even if I do feel the same way for you, I don't know if I can go through this, knowing that there's so much more to your life that I don't know about. I don't know the real you yet, we've only just started really knowing each other." You confessed.

"I understand. (y/n), I do want to let you into my world, to see and know the real me but the thought of you getting hurt because of me... I can't fathom..." He sighed.

"Whether you let me in now, as a friend or as a romantic partner, I'm still going to be in danger, aren't I?" You questioned.

"Yes..." He nodded glumly with much guilt and shame.

"We haven't had a chance to even go out on a date yet. Shall we just go from there?" You offered a small smile. And Hongjoong hummed in agreement.

In reality, your heart was hurting. Of course, you like Hongjoong back but you couldn't bring yourself to give your heart over so quickly.

"I'll go." Hongjoong said. You took the initiative this time, wrapping your arms around his waist.

After seeing Hongjoong with all the rich daughters, you couldn't believe he was here, expressing his feeling for you. You were not like those opulent women, you couldn't just throw yourself at him.

"There has been no one else. I don't care about those rich girls. They're nothing to me." He whispered, as if he could hear your mental doubts.

"They may be more worth it than me." You said, words slightly muffled by his shoulder.

"No, don't say that. I just know you're so much better than them, you're more worth it and deserving than them, I'll prove it to you if you let me." He spoke with determination. When he felt you nod, he let out a small sigh of relief, you weren't outrightly rejecting him, you were giving him a chance.

"Goodnight. Don't stay out too late, go home and rest." He spoke softly and fondly, daringly giving you a kiss on your forehead before leaving the shop.

"Goodbye." You said to his retreating back but you doubt he could even hear you.

"He likes me..." You fell back into the chair, realisation hitting you. You buried your face into your hands.

You thought back to all the times you felt your heart race when you were with Hongjoong. It wasn't nerves or anything, now it was clear to you that you liked Hongjoong back.

It brought tears to your eyes. You were scared, you were confused, you felt guilt for the hurt that you caused Hongjoong.

Right now, you didn't know what to do. You had no one that you could talk to about this.

And you knew you had no right to feel upset because you were the one that pulled away, you were the one who set the boundary and was afraid to cross it.

Despite Hongjoong trying to hide it from you, the few times that you've encountered him outside, it was obvious that he and his brothers were involved in some illegal business. They could be running their own mafia syndicate.

Would you be able to live with that? You laid low your entire life, could you really throw that away and put yourself in the spotlight with Hongjoong as his partner?

All for the sake of love?

It was too much for you to think about now. All you wanted to do was go home and hide in bed.

Hongjoong didn't bother going back to the party. He sent a text to his brothers and went to one of his bars which was close by to where he was. All he wanted to do now was get drunk.

"Boss Kim." The staff greeted him.

"I'll be in my office. No one is to disturb me." He said briefly and walked up the stairs.

"Yes, boss." They all bowed, watching him trudge up the stairs. Entering his office, Hongjoong grabbed the entire whiskey bottle off the bar cart and a glass.

"You're an idiot." He told himself as he poured himself a glass and downed the contents in one go. Then he moved to refill his glass. Cradling the crystal in his hands, he slumped in his office chair.

He lifted his hand to look at it, clenching it into a fist. The feeling of you slipping your hand away from his, it was painful. But Hongjoong knew you were right. You didn't know each other enough to enter a relationship now. He'll just have to cast aside his worries and show you his true self.

"And this is my office." The door opened and Hongjoong raised his head with a frown. He gave orders to not be disturbed.

"B-Boss Kim!" The assistant manager jumped when he saw Hongjoong sitting in his office chair, obviously not expecting the main boss to be in his office.

"Your office?" Hongjoong seethed.

"Who is that?" The assistant manager's friends were confused, thinking there was a stranger in their friend's office.

"Is this how things have been running since I've not been here?" Hongjoong rose from his desk. He threw his crystal glass, crashing it into the wall by the assistant manager's head.

"GET OUT!" He roared, a threat that he won't miss the next time. The assistant manager and his friends ran off.

Has Hongjoong been that distracted that his staff were acting up without his knowledge? He was always on the ball on these things.

"Now I need another glass." Hongjoong cursed and went to get another glass from the bar cart, filling it up with more whiskey. But this time, he laid down on the couch instead of returning to sit in his office chair. Letting out a sigh, he gulped the alcohol.

RINGGGGG

"Mmmm...?" Hongjoong groaned and fished for his phone, pressing it to his ear.

"Are you dead in a ditch somewhere?"

"What do you need, Hwa? I'm gonna hang up..." He trailed off, on the brink of falling back asleep. Right now, he was nursing a bad headache from finishing off the whiskey last night.

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"No." Hongjoong refused and hung up, cutting off Seonghwa's protests. He threw his phone aside and went back to sleep.

"God, why is there glass on the floor?" It only took about 30 minutes for Seonghwa to arrive at where Hongjoong was. Hongjoong was fast asleep, not aware of his best friend's arrival.

"Get someone to clean this up." Seonghwa ordered the manager, who bowed and scurried away.

"Kim Hongjoong, wake up." Seonghwa hit the back of Hongjoong's head. The captain finally stirred, holding his already hurting head and curling up into a ball, away from Seonghwa. Seonghwa didn't even need to go close to Hongjoong, he could smell the alcohol that reeked from the captain's body.

"Did you kill someone?" Seonghwa asked.

"No, I threw a crystal glass near his head but he was alive enough to run away with his friends. I missed on purpose." Hongjoong mumbled, eyes still closed.

"What happened? You left the gala and just disappeared. And dropping us a 'text' saying you're not coming back doesn't count."

"I don't want to talk about it..." Hongjoong said, knowing he sounds like an angsty teenager.

"Look, whatever happened between you and (y/n), you have responsibilities, Joong. You're the head of the family." Seonghwa sighed. Hongjoong finally sat up at that, looking at the taller.

"How did you know? Did she tell you? What did she tell you?" Hongjoong's eyes widened in panic.

"Calm down, I didn't even talk to her. I just assumed because your mood is very much related to (y/n) nowadays." He stated.

"Oh... It's fine. I'm just moping. Let's go home. I need to shower." Hongjoong stood up, grabbing his jacket from his desk while Seonghwa grabbed the phone that was tossed to the ground after the call earlier.

The two of them exited Hongjoong's office and everyone bowed to them as they walked down the stairs. Before heading to the car, Hongjoong turned to the manager.

"If I find out anyone is impersonating me and in my office without permission again, it'll be your head I go for next." He threatened.

"Y-Yes sir! It will never happen again. The assistant manager has been fired." The manager apologised.

"Good." Hongjoong nodded and left with Seonghwa. The driver came out with a greeting bow to Hongjoong and opened the door for the two oldest to enter.

"Let's go." Hongjoong said and the driver started the car.

"When we get home, go shower. We're holding a meeting to discuss the gala last night." Seonghwa informed.

"Okay, can you get the chefs to prepare me some food? I haven't eaten and I'm having hangover stomach." Hongjoong asked. Seonghwa nodded with a soft hum.

Hongjoong could be clumsy and forgetful, and Seonghwa might be naggy and 'uptight' but the two had a soft spot for each other, they'll always take care of each other, no matter what. That's what best friends do. And even if Seonghwa was nagging now, he was worried about Hongjoong.

"Welcome home, sirs." The butler greeted them at the door. Hongjoong dropped his jacket and made his way upstairs, wanting to take a warm shower.

"He's home?" San came out of the dining room.

"Yeah. But he wouldn't tell me what happened. It's obvious it had something to do with (y/n). He's so hungover." Seonghwa sighed.

"Did they fight?" Yunho asked worriedly. Seonghwa shrugged and went to the kitchen to ask the chef to prepare something for Hongjoong to nurse his hangover.

"And get him a hangover cure." He added before leaving to join the others in the living room.

"He's fine, everyone. Just get ready for the meeting." Seonghwa said, meeting the worried eyes of the other members.

"Yes, hyung." They replied and split up to get ready for the meeting. Mingi went to the computer room to get his information downloaded onto his tablet. Jongho and Yunho were inside, also putting together their meeting agendas.

"Do you have anything to do with last night?" Mingi asked his best friend. Yunho shook his head and the serious expression on his face indicated that he wasn't lying.

"Come on, Seonghwa hyung already said that Hongjoong hyung will be fine." Jongho said.

"It's not Hongjoong hyung I'm worried about. It's (y/n). Hongjoong hyung has us but who does she have?" Yunho pointed out.

"With hyung's temper..." Jongho added.

"Okay, let's not think the worst, especially of Hongjoong hyung. Maybe it's nothing and we're just jumping to conclusions." Mingi said, grabbing the tablet and leaving the computer room.

Hongjoong emerged from his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. He changed into a new suit and left his room.

"Your food is ready in the dining room, sir." The butler informed.

"I'm going to my office. Bring the food up to me." Hongjoong said, checking his phone. The butler nodded and bowed before walking away while Hongjoong headed to his office. He sat down and turned on his computer, sifting through all the mesages he missed yesterday while preparing for the gala.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Come in." Hongjoong called out, not looking up from his screen as he typed away to reply to the more important messages.

"Sir." The butler came in with his tray of food. Hongjoong knocked his fist against his desk and the butler carefully placed the tray of food before him, careful not to intrude in his space.

"That'll be all." Hongjong waved him off. The butler bowed and left the captain's office.

"Hangover cure..." He ignored the bottle and began to drink the soup.

*KNOCK*

"Who is it?" Hongjoong frowned as he looked up. There was another single knock and he beckoned for the person to come in. The door burst open and two men fell in.

"What's going on here?" He stood up, seeing the two practically crawling on the ground, injured beyond belief.

"B-Boss Kim..." They struggled.

"What happened?" Hongjoong asked, standing before them. Usually, they would handle issues on their own, that's what Hongjoong trained them for, but for them to show up to Hongjoong's office in such a state was concerning.

"We were ambushed, boss. In area 1..." The male coughed out, holding his ribs. Hongjoong chewed on his bottom lip, he checked his watch for the time.

"Clean yourselves up. I have a meeting but we'll talk after. Go get checked with the infirmary first." He said.

"Y-Yes, boss." The two supported each other and limped out of Hongjoong's office.

'Message to all teams that can spare men. Area 1 was ambushed and needs back up. Contact Area 1 team to ask for details and support them. - Hongjoong'

Hongjoong's phone buzzed with acknowledgement messages from his men. He didn't have time to read them now.

"Damn it." He reluctantly opened the bottle of hangover cure and downed it since he didn't have to finish the soup on his tray.

"Clear my tray." Hongjoong said to a passing maid, who nodded and bowed, entering Hongjoong's office. He wanted to just grab what he needed and go for the meeting but he had things to settle.

"Sir." The maid bowed and left his office with the tray. Seonghwa, who was walking past, glanced at the tray with practically 3/4 of the food left and swung by Hongjoong's office instead of going straight to the meeting room like he intended. He saw Hongjoong frantically sending messages and calls.

"Hongjoong, what's wrong?" Seonghwa tilted his head.

"Nothing. Just something I need to settle after the meeting." Hongjoong replied, too focused on his computer screen to give more details to his second in command.

"I'll see you at the meeting room." Seonghwa was about to leave him but Hongjoong stood up.

"I'll go with you! Hang on." Hongjoong clumsily flipped through the items on his desk, looking for his iPad and documents.

"Let's go." The two walked to the meeting room together. As usual, Hongjoong sat at the head of the table with Seonghwa on his right, just like how they sat at the dining table.

"Hey, hyungs." Mingi greeted as he shuffled in and took his seat. The others streamed in and all sat down in their seats.

"Does anyone need to get anything?" Seonghwa asked as San and Yeosang stood by the door.

"Nope." They all shook their heads.

"Alright, we're all here. Go ahead." San confirmed before Yeosang locked the meeting room door, securing it with the lock. They all heard the metal gears turn and lock into place, essentially locking all of them in the meeting room.

"Let's begin the meeting. Begin with the gala last night." Hongjoong instructed. Each of the boys gave a run down of the important conversations they had with different business partners.

"And we're sure we can trust him?" San asked.

"Yes, all background checks have come up clean, everything. We can trust him, for now at least." Jongho replied.

"Alright, make sure to run surveillance still. Next." Hongjoong waved and Yunho stepped up, presenting the main points of the conversation he had with the governor last night.

"That's all he's donating? What a cheapskate." Wooyoung rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

"I have a strong feeling he doesn't think this initiative will take off well. But I'll be sure to convince him again, hyung." Yunho promised.

"Okay, you take care of that. And good job on the gala last night, Yunho." Hongjoong nodded, he was confident in each of the members' ability to 'convince' people.

"Thank you, hyung." Yunho bowed his head and the others all gave him smiles or thumbs ups.

After that, Hongjoong let Seonghwa address the room on other 'family' related matters. While the older spoke, Hongjoong drumed his fingers against the table top. Was he supposed to tell the members where he disappeared to last night? He felt like he owed them that much for being irresponsible.

"So, everyone has to be on the look out. We cannot afford to have a slip in judgement, it will not only affect us but affect everyone under us." Seonghwa said.

"Yes, hyung." The others nodded obediently.

"Hongjoong, anything to add?" Seonghwa turned to the captain, who was chewing the inside of his cheek.

"I would like to apologise for disappearing last night, it was irresponsible of me to do so as the captain. I know I owe all of you an explanation of where I was." Hongjoong breathed.

"It's okay, hyung. You don't have to tell us..." Wooyoung said, sensing Hongjoong turmoil.

"No, it's fine. I... confessed my romantic feelings for (y/n) last night." He revealed. Some boys' eyes widened in surprise.

"We decided to just get to know each other better before taking any steps forward. She's right, I keep a lot of secrets from her and am not honest about a lot of things." Hongjoong sighed.

"Wait, so you're going to tell her about Ateez?" Seonghwa blinked. Even if he was rooting for Hongjoong for a while, he never really thought about the implications of you knowing what they do. Would you become a liability?

"Eventually." Hongjoong nodded.

"What happens to us then?" Yeosang asked.

"Nothing will happen to any of you, nothing will change for you. (y/n) knowing Ateez will be my responsibility. Anything concerning her will be my responsibility." Hongjoong said.

"You already have a lot to take care of, hyung. Are you sure this is the right way to go?" Mingi pointed out.

"(y/n) means a lot to me, as do all of you. There's never too much when it comes to the people you love." The captain said seriously.

"I wish you and (y/n) all the best, hyung." Jongho smiled. Seonghwa reached out to squeeze Hongjoong's shoulder to show his wordless support too.

"We're not getting married but thanks." Hongjoong chuckled.

~

Series masterlist

[rottenherbs]

Can’t Help It

Pairing: F.W x Reader Request: Hello! I recently listened to Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley, and I really loved it. So can I please request a Fred Weasley x Reader story inspired by this song? Something fluffy and cozy, maybe? Thank you in advance :) W/C: 1.3k A/N: BEAUTIFUL sweet stupid sappy bullshit. Love this kind of stuff to write. Thank u for the request! PLS anyone give me writing ideas i love the stories <3 [masterlist] Much Love, Saige

The thing about you and Fred Weasley was that it had always been almost.

Almost brushing hands under the table in the Great Hall.

Almost kissing goodnight after late-night study sessions.

Almost admitting something real when he teased you a little too gently, or when you lingered a little too long by his side at Quidditch matches.

It had built slowly — a thousand tiny moments stitched together into something neither of you dared name. You had both been so good at hiding it. Or maybe just too scared of ruining something that already felt too rare, too important.

Because Fred wasn’t just jokes and bright eyes and daring smiles. Not with you. With you, he was full of soft-spoken confessions. Half-finished letters tucked into pockets. Unsaid things floating between you like half-caught stars.

You weren’t sure when it had changed from friendship to something more.

But maybe it had always been something more. Maybe you’d just finally gathered the courage to see it

———

The castle seemed to exhale around you — a deep, gentle sigh of warmth and magic after a long, cold day.

The common room was nearly empty, save for a few first-years huddled near the fire and the soft clatter of chess pieces from a forgotten board in the corner. The world outside the windows was a frozen painting: thick flakes of snow falling slow as feathers.

Fred Weasley, in his usual easy way, had found you curled up on the couch by the fire and simply… settled beside you like he belonged there.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. You and Fred had always existed in some quiet orbit of each other — joking, teasing, lingering longer than necessary after study groups or meals. But lately, things felt different.

Lately, sitting beside him made your heart ache in a way you didn’t fully understand.

Fred stretched, the hem of his worn Gryffindor jumper riding up just enough to show a sliver of pale skin before he slumped back, cocoa balanced precariously in one hand. His other hand — the one closest to you — rested on the back of the couch, fingers barely brushing your shoulder in a way that felt dangerous and intentional.

You tried not to look at him.

You failed miserably.

Fred caught you staring and smirked, tilting his head just slightly, curls falling into his eyes. “You thinking about running away from me, love?”

You flushed and ducked your head, hiding your smile behind your mug. “Maybe,” you said softly. “Maybe I’m thinking about staying.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, too heavy, too true.

The fire snapped in the hearth. Fred’s smirk faded into something softer, something achingly gentle.

He set his mug down, moving slowly, like he was afraid one sudden movement might scare you off. You felt him shift closer, the side of his thigh pressing into yours, his warmth seeping through every layer of your clothes.

“Good,” Fred murmured, voice rough at the edges. “Because I’m bloody tired of pretending I don’t care if you stay or go.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you placed your cocoa aside. You didn’t trust yourself to speak — not when he was looking at you like that, like you were something rare and precious he’d stumbled upon and wasn’t quite sure he deserved.

You shifted, clutching your cocoa a little tighter between your hands. The fire’s warmth seeped into your skin, but your heart still fluttered unevenly, too aware of how close Fred was, how easy it would be to lean into him.

You needed something — anything — to ground you.

“So,” you said, your voice a little too bright, “what kind of trouble did you get into today?”

Fred chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest, and you felt it more than heard it.

“Me? Trouble?” He pressed a hand to his heart, looking scandalized. “I’m wounded, love.”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning into your cup. “I seem to remember George covered in green paint at breakfast. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Fred leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a mock whisper. “Pure coincidence. Might’ve been a tiny experiment gone a bit sideways.” His eyes gleamed mischievously. “George always said he wanted to see the world through a different lens. Thought I’d give him a head start.”

You laughed, feeling some of the nervous energy bleed out of you.

Fred smiled at you — really smiled, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made your stomach flip — and for a moment, everything else melted away.

It was just the two of you, wrapped in warmth and stolen glances and words that meant more than they should.

Instead, you did the only thing you could: you hummed. Not sure if it was out of anxiety to fill the space or something cosmic pushing you towards something magical. 

It was quiet, almost instinctive — a song your mother used to sing when the world was too big, too loud.

“Wise men say…” you hummed the tune, the words finding themselves slipping through your lips.  

You felt Fred’s breath hitch beside you; trying to quiet his breath in any attempt to listen harder to your tune. 

“Only fools rush in…” 

The words floated between you, fragile and tender. Quiet as can be, but enough to make Fred’s heart race. 

Fred reached out — slowly, so slowly — and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek. 

Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch. You held your breath, not sure if you were brave enough to finish the song. Almost as fate decided, Fred started mumbling the tune for you. 

“But I can’t help…” He spoke softly, almost fretting the words as a speech, a solid, tangible truth to you.  

Fred’s hand lingered at the curve of your jaw, tracing the line there as if memorizing you by just touch alone.

“Falling in love… with you.” You finished the line, almost astonished Fred knew the song at all. 

The last words were little more than a whisper, but you could feel them vibrate in the space between you — real, solid, irreversible.

When you opened your eyes, Fred was already looking at you, wonder and longing and hope all tangled up in his expression.

“I love you,” he said, like a confession, like a prayer. “I have for a while now.” His fingers tapped against your skin, almost to keep you in the moment, keep you looking at him. 

Your chest tightened painfully.

“Fred…” you breathed, barely getting his name out before emotion swamped you.

He gave you a shaky smile, like he was two seconds from bolting — or kissing you senseless.

You made the decision for both of you.

You leaned in — heart pounding, hands trembling — and kissed him.

It was soft at first, so soft it barely counted as a kiss. Just the brush of your lips against his, a tentative question.

Fred answered immediately, cupping your face with both hands and pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, no doubts, no fears — just this.

You lost yourself in the warmth of him, the way he tasted like chocolate and winter air, the way his hands trembled against your skin like he couldn’t believe you were real.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads resting together, Fred laughed — a breathless, disbelieving sound that made your heart swell to bursting.

“I’m done for,” he said, grinning so wide it was almost boyish. “Absolutely, utterly done for.”

You giggled, feeling drunk on happiness.

“Me too,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his.

He pulled you into his arms then, tucking you against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. You buried your face in the worn wool of his jumper, breathing him in.

The fire crackled low, casting golden light over both of you. Snow fell thick against the windows, muffling the outside world.

And there, in that quiet, perfect cocoon, Fred Weasley kissed your forehead and whispered again — so soft you almost missed it:

“I can’t help it…

I’ll keep falling for you every single day.”

And you knew — you knew — he meant it.

[will-bonna]

spearmaster + violet sea slug !

the gills can be molded and pulled from their tail to create needles… it makes a gross sound

here’s the slug reference:3

[nox-in-a-box]

The look. The. Look.

[chosetherose]

I love you I’m sorry x last kiss

+

the tortured poets department x maroon

These all fit into the theme of burning it down then ditching the fans that won’t support her. Don’t forget this alternative definition of maroon:

[suigetsusunny]

@soprawrites 😽😽 it’s based off of that one shinji art with aizen where he’s got long hair and his pulling up his haori

just a little sketch nothing too much but i hope u like it💕💕

[smalltimidbean]

Since a few other people have been suggesting Peppino clones, is it ok if I make a suggestion? If it is, then I think a plantpino with Belladonna (Otherwise known as Deadly Nightshade) DNA would be really cool!

I need even more clones, apparently (silly) - But really totally cool to suggest them to me! I love making the silly guys hehe

They kinda turned into a Pepp-emo clone as well as a Plantpino... Yeah, there is nothing I can do sorry (silly)

[problemcore]

ahem. im ok now . goodnight

[reignpage]

Lying To Himself

Content: in which toji is left alone and how he deals with your temporary absence Warnings: lots and lots of cursing, a little angsty for Toji, but mostly tooth-rotting fluff and crack, he's a certified loverboy your honour!

You have to leave for two weeks, something about a mission in another city. Your boyfriend, Toji, swears it'll be okay, even insists that time will pass by in a blink of an eye. 

“‘m not a fucking child, ma. I’ll be fine. Just take care, yeah?”

And so, you peck him on his lips and wave goodbye before you get in the car. Then you’re disappearing in the distance. Toji shrugs, going back in feeling pretty excited to have the house to himself for two weeks — this has never happened before. As he sits on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and tv remote on the other, he thinks about all the things he can do now.

The toilet seat can stay up, the bins will be full for longer, same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink, and he can watch whatever he wants; no more of those sappy romcoms with predictable plots and cheesy lines. 

“’s gonna be fun,” he mutters, a growing grin on his face. 

A couple days pass in relative silence, he stays out late, sleeps till noon and eats all the junk you’ve banned from the house. Toji cooks all the steak he wants and leaves the beer bottles to collect dust on the coffee table. And he accepts every invitation from his buddies to go out for drinks, watch basketball at the bar, and plays a couple games too.

He stays up all night, on the evenings he's not getting stupid drunk, playing videogames -- the violent ones you cringe at. During the day, he walks around the place in just his boxers, sometimes not even that, and it's liberating. All a man needs is to be free to be balls naked in their own kitchen.

"You're not missing her at all?" Shiu asks, smoke blowing in his face as they stand in the back alley, leaning against the wall of the bar.

Toji snorts. "What am I? Five years old? I can last a couple weeks without being sappy."

His friend gives him a look, half amused, half disbelieving and a hundred percent smug. None of them miss the death grip he has on his phone, the way his knee is bouncing, and how he isn't even looking at the hot chicks that sway their asses as they walk by.

It’s been great. Really fucking great. 

You haven’t been texting much. Sure, you check in here and there, letting him know you’re alright, you’re safe, and making sure he’s watered your plants. However, there are rarely any opportunities for phone calls longer than five minutes, no FaceTime either, and sometimes he goes to sleep without a ‘goodnight’ from you. 

It’s fine. 

At least, he can sleep at whatever time he wants without you whining about needing cuddles.

More days pass just like that. 

And now he’s rarely leaving the house, finding his drunk friends boring and obnoxiously loud. It’s like he's suddenly realised they’re kinda fucking stupid. He starts to get sick of all the steak and fried chicken and takeaway, and instead he’ll text you for the recipe of your lasagne or that smoothie you make him in the mornings that’s always greener than the last. 

His feet tap on the floor when you don’t reply straight away. And when his phone lights up, he practically dives for it and grips it tight in his palm, screen threatening to crack when it’s not from you. 

“God fucking dammit, Shiu. Don’t fucking talk to me if it’s not important.”

The movies he’s been dying to watch are pretty shit. There’s no depth, no proper pacing, and the dialogue’s cheesy as fuck. Usually, you’d throw popcorn at the screen and complain about all those things, but he finds that he has to mutter them to himself for white noise. Even smirks when he thinks he got it exactly right, guessing what you’d say as if you’re yapping right in his ear. 

“She’d totally find that shit stupid. And that blood looks fake as fuck. What was the fucking budget for this shit?”

Most of the phone calls on his history log are from him, more reds than greens. What the fuck have they got you doing over there anyways? 

When you do reply to his ‘g’night’ and ‘hey, sleep well?’, he’ll have a go at you for taking so damn long. It’s just fucking ridiculous that you’re clearly sleeping well when he has to hit the gym and tire himself out to even get an hour of shut eye nowadays. Sometimes, he can’t even get any and he just paces the length of the living room waiting for a notification from you to pop up. 

“Fucking come on! Y'r phone better be dead or something.”

Toji hates having dinner on the table; the seat opposite him is empty, the placemat bare and he feels a freaky fucking soreness in his chest. When that happens, he never finishes his dinner. Must be a symptom of early heart disease. Gotta talk to the doctors about that. 

Instead, he eats on the sofa or in his car.

Eventually, you find time to speak to him for an hour, recounting all the crazy things you’ve seen and had to do. He doesn’t interrupt, he just grunts here and there, not even really listening but he urges you to keep talking when there’s a pause, like you’re unsure if you’re talking too much. And when you try to turn the conversation on him, asking about his day, he gives one word answers and then throws you another question. 

“Yeah?” He grunts. “What else? Speak up, ma. Wanna hear ya. D’ya go to that shop? Yeah? Y’ buy anything? Send me a picture.”

He gets two nights of decent sleep after that.

But then…

The guys at work know better than to open their fat mouths around him when he turns up with an extra wrinkle and a ticking in his jaw. Toji is somehow even more sadistic and violent and eager for blood. Even finally accepts their invitation to go out for drinks and drowns himself in the extra strong shit. Assuming he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, they don’t question his sour mood. 

But what they don’t know is that you texted, just a day before you’re set to come back, to let him know you’re staying another week. 

Fucking texted. 

Didn’t even get to hear it from your own voice. 

He buries himself in more work and stays at the gym for even longer, pushing his body so far, his mind quiets down and he don’t gotta think about the fact that he’s started sleeping on your side of the bed, that the house is losing your scent, and that divot on the couch where you always sat has flattened out. 

Everyone knows he’s losing his mind. They can tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he’s started snapping at women who are either flirting or just doing their jobs. And sometimes they even have to block his view of couples practising PDA. That’s the closest to hell they ever want to get around Toji. Suddenly, everyone’s hoping you throw the guy a bone and send a nude or something. Literally anything to rein him back in.

The day comes, though, when you’re finally returning home. 

“Y’ sure? Not gonna flake again? Be fucking sure, ma. Alright, get back safe.”

Toji throws all the rubbish out, washes the dishes and dries them, double checks that the toilet seat is down, and he’s followed your recipe for beef stew to the letter — it’s cooking in the oven, and it looks fucking great. Even exfoliated in the shower like you’ve been asking him to, almost took off an entire layer of skin. He doesn’t want to admit he feels pretty fucking fresh. 

The door handle rattles. 

He sits up. And then stands. Walks over to the front door, arms crossing and then uncrossing. 

You’re here. 

“Hey, Toji—“

Your greeting is smothered in his chest as he threatens to suffocate you with the hardest bear hug in the whole world. And though he’d never hurt you, if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d have been in big trouble. 

“Y’ hungry? Or y’ wanna shower first?”

His hands are all over you, lifting your chin to search your face for any scratches, even squishes your cheeks to be sure, and he’s patting you down for bruises or just to make sure all your limbs are intact. There’s a frown on his lips and it’s pretty darn cute. 

“Aw, Toji, baby. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a child, blah blah blah.”

Walking past him to take your shoes off, hang your coat and roll your suitcase to the side, you’re inhaling the air and moaning about the delicious food in the oven. Oh, God. You’ve been craving homemade food for so long now. You might actually die if you don’t eat. 

“Come here.” Your eyes dart to him, still standing by the doorway, fists clenching and unclenching. Toji looks furious. You look closer. No, he looks…embarrassed? “Said come here, ma.”

“Why?” You ask, head titling in curiosity and slight suspicion. 

He grunts. “What? I gotta spell it out for ya?”

Laughing, you tap your foot on the ground and retort back, “Yeah, you might because you need to have a good reason for keeping me from both a good shower and a warm meal.”

Toji rolls his eyes and stalks over to you, yanking you back to his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and keep you still. It’s much softer than before, but you feel the same sense of passion, something that verges on desperation.

It’s almost like…

No. 

It can’t be. 

Oh, but when you feel his face bury itself in your neck and you hear that long inhale, followed by a deep groan vibrating through his chest, you’re absolutely sure. 

Toji missed you. 

An overwhelming feeling of love fills you, so does a sense of victory, and you just hug him back, inhaling deeply too. He smells like home, like reluctant cuddles, pats on the ass, and early morning sex. You thought you’d have the most trouble in the two weeks, which turned into three, but as it turns out, he didn’t fare much better. 

Though he’d never admit it with his own mouth, his body betrays him.

Toji doesn’t let you get very far without a hand on you somehow, whether that’s a hand on your thigh as you eat dinner side by side, instead of across from each other, or you sitting on his lap as you watch the movie you want to watch. He even waits on the toilet lid as you shower, though that only lasts a couple minutes before he’s stripping and joining you. 

“Y’r not washing y’r hair right,” he tuts. 

Getting into bed is even worse because he’s practically lying on top of you the whole night, still sniffing your neck, and with his hands exploring your body. Not really in a sexual way, which is odd for him, but as if he just wants to feel you. He wants to feel your warmth, your softness, and reassure himself you’re home. 

Soon, he’s out cold and you mumble a goodnight against his forehead.

He wakes up feeling completely refreshed, like a newborn, stretching and grinning about getting ready for the day, and frowns when you’re still fast asleep. Part of him wants to make sure you’re getting your rest, but that part doesn’t win for very long and the much bigger part is shaking you awake.

“Come on, ma. Fucking bored here. Wake up, yeah? Let’s get some breakfast. Wanna talk to ya.” 

And when you do wake up, grumbling at how loud he’s being, he ignores the glares you’re giving and the swatting of his hands. Toji gives you a rare, wide, toothy smile and he says, 

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Good morning, baby.”

Yeah, this man totally missed you. 

[simplyholl]

Filthy

Summary: After a long mission, Bucky needs you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

See my Masterlist Here

"Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" Your sweet voice replayed over and over in his mind. He hadn't flat out refused your offer, but he hadn't said yes either. Now as he laid under the rubble of the bomb Hydra had detonated, it was all he could think of.

You were friends, one of the only people besides Steve to make him feel welcome on the Avengers. The others were wary of him, and he didn’t blame them. He had done unforgivable things as The Winter Soldier. Now he was fighting for the right cause. He couldn't help the reoccurring nightmares of the horrors he encountered in his past. He didn't want to get too comfortable in his new life, the one Steve helped him obtain because he was scared The Winter Soldier was still lurking around in his brain somewhere.

That's why he never dated. Sam would tease him, telling him he could have anybody he wanted, but he settled for his hand every night. Bucky couldn't afford to get too close to anyone. Especially someone who was weaker than him like the opposite sex. He was scared he would lose control while being intimate and hurt or even kill his partners. So he never let anyone get too close, until you.

You came bouncing into his life unexpectedly. You were brought on the team shortly after him. He would never forget your first day. Steve introduced you to everyone at the morning meeting. You were all smiles, your bubbly personality instantly drawing him in. The others were making comparisons between the two of you immediately. You were so happy, so upbeat all the time and Steve was the only one who could get Bucky to crack his cold exterior and actually smile.

Despite your differences, you got along great. Which was a bonus since Tony liked to pair you together for missions. You worked well together, complimenting each other in ways you had never thought of. Who knew almost dying together every week can cause you to form close bonds? You were spending all your free time together. You introduced him to your favorite films, some of them were awful, but he would never tell you that. You would stay up late together watching old reruns of 90's sitcoms for comfort after long missions. Bucky would go shopping with you, holding every bag you had and never complaining.

The team thought something was going on between you. Why else would the cold super soldier follow you around like a lost puppy? They put Steve up to asking about it, but Bucky denied anything but friendship. There had never been anything happen in the whole year you knew each other. You never sat too close or crossed any boundaries, never thought about it until a month ago.

One of the longest, most dangerous missions you had ever been on finally came to a close. There had been too many casualties and you were upset. Even the comfort of your warm pajamas and favorite movie didn't ease your mind. Bucky thought you needed to be alone, so he told you goodnight and headed for his room. You called after him pleading him to stay with you. You couldn't be alone, not after that.

He hesitated, he never stayed the night with anyone because of his nightmares. Tony even gave him a pass when a mission required room sharing. He was the only one who didn't have to pair up. He was afraid he might hurt you or scare you during his sleep. He tried to tell you, but you couldn't be swayed. He found himself under your fluffy pink comforter on heart shaped pillows, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed animals but he felt oddly at home.

You tried to cuddle up to him, but he scooted away. He didn't want you too close to him while he was asleep just in case he had a nightmare. But you didn't care. You told him if he attacked you in his sleep, you would blast his dick off. That made him a little less worried. "How do Tony and Clint do it?" You asked as you wrapped your arms around him, trying to snuggle the grumpy super soldier. "Do what?" He relaxed a little under your touch. "The whole normal family thing. They have a wife, kids, the works, and they are the only ones. The rest of us can't keep a relationship for more than a month, and some only do one night stands. It's hard being a hero when you have to give up stuff like that."

Bucky considers your words carefully. "Is that something you want?" You throw your leg over him, trying to get comfortable. "Eventually, I want to settle down. I'm thinking at least ten years from now, not any time soon. It's just hard to tell who is asking you out for the right reasons or because you're famous. I can't tell you how many phones I've destroyed after dates because they were trying to live stream the whole thing. Is that why you don't date?"

Bucky tenses, explaining how his past as The Winter Soldier scared him away from anything like that. "So you haven't been having sex because you're scared you will hurt someone?" He nods and you giggle. Bucky looks at you like you've grown a second head. "I'm sorry Bucky, that's ridiculous. Your arm must be so tired! Oh my God! Do you use the metal one?" His silence makes you laugh harder. "Bucky there are super powered women you could have been sleeping with this whole time. People who could at least put up a fair fight if something like that happened, but you're okay now right? I thought the code words didn't work anymore." You rub his back soothingly.

You gasp as an idea hits you. "Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" It was like word vomit. You didn't mean to say it out loud, but you couldn't take it back now. Bucky is so still that you think he's fallen asleep. Thankful he didn't hear your unhinged suggestion, you lay your head down to go to sleep.

"You mean that?" Bucky asks after a few minutes of silence pass. "If it wouldn't hurt our friendship then, why not? I trust you. And I could hold my own if things went sideways. Plus, I'm a lot hotter than your hand, you have to admit that." The quip earned a chuckle from him. "Can I think about it?" He asks, his seriousness taking over. "Of course." You snuggle back into him, sleep finding you more quickly than you would've liked. That was a little over a month ago, neither of you brought it up afterward. You figured he didn't want to hurt your feelings, so you let it go.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand helping him to his feet. "I thought we lost you back there." He says leading him to the quinjet. On the ride home, Bucky thought about his life, how unhappy he had been lately. He thought of you and how he kept you at arm's length to protect you from himself. You were always so open to him, always letting him know what was on your mind. When you suggested the two of you sleep together, he was shocked. Of course, he wanted to but he couldn't. You were too sweet, he was jaded. He would end up hurting you somehow, he was sure of it. But you weren't scared of him, you trusted him.

Bucky thought of all the times he laid alone at night, masterbating when he could have went home with someone instead. He always turned them down, he couldn't risk it. He lived too dangerously. He could lose his life any moment saving the planet from the next alien attack. Wasn't it time he started living for himself? He had his mind made up when the quinjet landed. Steve told him to go get the cuts on his face and arm examined but he ignored him.

He almost ran to the elevator, not bothering to wait for Steve to get on before pressing the button to shut the doors. When it finally stopped on his floor, he walked by his room, stopping three doors down right outside of yours. He should have cared that it was three in the morning, that he would be waking you up, but he didn't. He tapped on the door loud enough to wake you.

He regretted coming straight here as he waited for you, he should have went to his room to shower first. His leather jacket was dirty and torn. There was a small gash on his arm that had finally stopped bleeding. His face was filthy and according to Steve, he had a cut there too. He probably looked terrifying. He thought about leaving to clean up, but then he heard the pitter patter of your feet as you approached the door.

You pull it open slightly at first, to see who is outside, opening it wider when you see him. He steps inside as you shut it back, locking it behind him. Bucky looks around the dark room noticing the glow from your tv. Your hair is messy, you must have been sleeping fitfully. His gaze drops to your body, you're wearing a black t-shirt that stops at your hips and black lace panties.

"Are you okay?" You ask taking in his disheveled appearance. You turn to get something to clean his wounds, his vibranium hand catches your wrist. "Bucky? What hap-" He picks you up with one arm, holding you close to his body as his lips crash into yours. He walks you to the edge of your bed, tumbling on top of you as your back hits your fluffy pink comforter.

"Do you still want this?" He asks, his voice rougher than he intended. You can't think clearly, not with him on top of you, caging you in like this. His blue eyes search your face as he waits for an answer. Your panties grow wetter with each second that passes. Your nipples are peaked under your shirt, desperate to be touched as you press your chest to his dirty leather jacket. "Yes" You somehow manage to whisper your confirmation.

His mouth is on yours again, rough and demanding, almost desperate. You cup his face with your hands, "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere." You assure him, breaking the kiss. He groans, hating the loss of contact. "Can't" He rasps, his face nuzzling against your neck. He nips and kisses the sensitive skin there, his tongue licking from your shoulder to your jaw.

His flesh hand travels to your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple. He keeps kissing his way back down your throat until he reaches the collar of your shirt. His metal arm grabs the top, slipping underneath to get a good grip on it. He rips it down the center with little effort.

You gasp as the cold air hits your now exposed chest. But you're not cold for long, Bucky's lips capture a nipple between his lips tugging and sucking like his life depends on it while his flesh hand toys with the other one. You're not sure what has gotten into him, you never expected it to be like this, like he needs you.

He kisses a trail down your stomach to your panties. They aren't exactly see through, but they don't hide anything either. His vibranium fingers dig into your hip as he lowers his face, his pink tongue licking up the center of your soaked panties. You whimper underneath him, your fingers sliding in his hair, pulling at the short strands.

He grunts as he licks you through the lacy material. You try to close your legs around his head, hoping to bring yourself more relief. Bucky's steel grip on your hip tightens as he brings his flesh hand to your thigh, pulling it off him. He opens you wide, continuing his desperate assault on you. "I need more, please." You whine, needing to actually feel him against you.

He thankfully takes mercy on you, removing his hands to grab both sides of your panties. "Lift your hips for me." You do as your told, and he slides the unwanted garment off of you. He drags you to the edge of the bed, lowering himself on his knees in front of you. He parts your thighs, metal hand returning to its rightful place on your hip. You place your leg over his shoulder, taking a deep breath as the anticipation makes your skin prickle.

His hot breath on your soaked core makes you tremble. You feel him smirk against you. "I havent even touched you yet and you're shakin' like a leaf." A dark chuckle escapes him and he dives in. His tongue flat against you as he gathers your slick, bringing it to your clit and swirling it around. He moans, loving the way you taste. He wraps his lips around your most sensitve part, drawing you in, causing your hips to buck upward.

His grip on your hip tightens, a bruise beginning to form under his thumb. "Be a good girl for me. Stay still." His voice is soft, gentle, a complete contrast to his actions. He alternates between sucking you roughly and licking you slowly. You squirm underneath him, you're so close. He suddenly stops, removing his face from you.

His flesh hand rubbing your stomach, before laying his arm on you forcefully to keep you from moving. "I said stay still." He growls, his tongue swiping your clit before he sucks it between his lips once more. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not writhe against him. You've never seen him like this so needy, almost feral. He's like a wild animal slurping you down like you're the first thing he's eaten in weeks. You don't dare to disturb him. So you lie as still as you can, letting him have you.

He needs this. He needs you. He flicks his tongue expertly over your clit, sendng you spiralling. He holds you down as he takes all he wants from you. He's not satisfied until you come three times. Your legs are wobbly, you couldn't get up if you had to. Tears stream down your face from how intense it was. He finally stands, unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough to free himself.

He adjusts himself between your legs, filling you up. You gasp, grabbing onto his grimy leather jacket for support. You wonder why he didn't bother with getting undressed, but you don't mind. You love how dirty he is. How the filth on his jacket rubbing against your bare chest is the sexiest thing in the world right now. How you can see the cut on his arm, dried blood on his sleeve. You don't know if it's his or some Hydra asshole's, and you don't know which is hotter.

His hair is disheveled. His face is scraped, dirt from the mission caked on him, remnants of your arousal still on his mouth. He fills you completely over and over, holding you as close as he can. His pants rub the back of your thighs as he pounds into you. You caress his face, "Can I be on top?" You ask quietly, afraid you'll offend him some way in his feral state. He flips you so his back is on your mattress. Normally you would be upset that your sheets were getting dirty, but you didn't mind at all. You place your legs on either side of him, sliding down his length. Your ass hits the fabric of his jeans as you take all of him.

You look behind you noticing how big he looks on your bed. His leather boots covered in mud, hanging off the edge. A gush of arousal floods his lap, his hands hold your thighs, pulling you closer. You begin to lift yourself up and down on him, your legs still shaky from your earlier orgasms. Bucky notices you won't be able to keep it up for long, so he clutches your hips, taking over. He thrusts underneath you, your hands land on his shoulders needing to steady yourself. You love that it's giving the illusion that you're in control, your body on top of his, but he's calling all the shots, moving your body like he owns it.

You've never felt so full. It's as if Bucky can read your mind, his flesh hand pressing on the bulge he's making in your stomach. He works you harder now, his vibranium thumb coming between you to swirl your clit. Your vision goes blurry, stars bursting behind your eyelids. You come with a loud cry of his name. He follows shortly after, spilling inside you. He holds you close, as you listen to his breathing slow down as he drifts off to sleep while still inside you.

Tags in the comments! ❤️

[meowdei]

in every life, it’s you — ft. sylus

before you read: gender neutral reader ; established relationship ; reader lays on him/sits on his lap ; very cringe and corny fluff and banter but i had to heal myself from the pure trauma that was his myth that i watched last night ; not proof read

“Sylus,” you whisper, “are you sleeping?”

Sylus does not ever sleep when he should—it’s a miracle that he even sleeps at all. Your question is a pointless one in hindsight, but you ask more for the purpose of getting his attention than anything. You realize a little too late, however, that stupid questions will always get you stupid answers with him. It’s an opportunity he never misses.

He gives you a dramatic, loud snore that instantly makes you roll your eyes, lips twitching into a small grin at his antics.

“Don’t be annoying,” you huff playfully.

“You should be prepared for nonsense if you ask me nonsense,” he says smoothly, voice a low, deep rumble through his chest beneath your cheek.

Sylus doesn’t sleep at night. More often than not, he sleeps after the sun rises and not a moment sooner—but he lays with you every night, anyway. Just because it helps you sleep. Just because you need him there and he likes being needed. (Sometimes, he lays with you more for himself. More for the feeling of your body curled against his while you’re most vulnerable, while your guard is down completely and you trust him. He likes your trust—craves it.)

“Nevermind. Goodnight,” you pout, turning your body to face your back to him. It’s useless—as is any form of petulance with him. Sylus is infuriatingly capable of always keeping an upper hand. You body gets flipped effortlessly with a thick, strong wave of red before you’re back to laying against his chest.

“Now, now,” he teases, “no need to hiss like a stray kitten. Your fangs aren’t sharp enough for that yet.”

You melt instantly despite his (lighthearted) mockery. It’s that type of effect he has on you. That feeling you get from the soft, easy way he smiles and that delicate, fragile look in his eyes. You don’t even think Sylus realizes it. How gentle he is by nature. How vulnerable he always looks. How easy he is to love and be loved by. Sometimes, you don’t think he realizes how easily love fits itself between the crinkles of his eyes and seeps into the smile lines by his lips.

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, making his smug, teasing grin falter into something a little more vulnerable.

“I was thinking…”

“That’s never a good sign,” he sighs in mock wariness, catching your wrist when you move to slap his chest and giving you a wide, devastatingly handsome grin.

“Shush,” you roll your eyes, fighting back your own grin before continuing, “I was thinking and I need to know: do you think we’re together in every life? We have to be, right?”

He’s quiet for a second, doesn’t answer right away as though he’s really pondering the answer. (Half of you expected him to scoff at the question and call it silly. The other half expected him to laugh in amusement. Humoring your deep, late night question was not on your list of possibilities for the night.)

“You’re working that poor brain of yours overtime with such thoughts,” he murmurs, raising a brow as he pokes your forehead. You scrunch your brows, and he grins friendly. “But I suppose it’s possible. Unless you’re smarter in the next life and stay away from me.”

You pout deeper, rolling to lay your body over his before your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing them together while you force his eyes to stare into yours. (He lets you get away with it. He lets you get away with a lot.)

“I don’t want to stay away in the next life,” you say in concern, like you’re really at threat of living through the nightmare of not having him by your side. He fights back a small, amused snort for the sake of your feelings. “I’d love you in every life.”

“Is that so?” He drawls.

You nod firmly, squeezing his cheeks together a bit more before a small giggle escapes your lips at the view. You press a peck to his mouth, and he cups a hand to the back of your head, keeping you right there where he can kiss you properly.

“Yes,” you breathe as you pull away, voice just a touch breathless. “I’ll be miserable if I don’t.”

“You’re oddly sentimental tonight,” he murmurs, running a thumb along your bottom lip as he inspects your face closely, admiring the delicate curves of your features and the light reflecting in your eyes. “Should I be concerned?”

“No. At least not for now,” you wink, “I can’t make any promises for the future.”

He laughs at that—it’s a low, rich, smooth sound that sends something shooting straight to your heart and makes it race. Makes the blood pump faster in your veins and your head spin at the feeling. Makes you think the sound of his laughter is the only thing you want to remember even when your bones bury into soil and your body returns to the earth where it came from. Just the echo of his voice, filled with joy and nothing else.

“Any particular reason you’re being so sweet?” He tilts your chin up. You turn your head, leaning to press a soft kiss to his palm as it cups your cheek.

“What? I can’t just love you?”

“Well, I’m not saying that. How can I complain about something like that?”

You sit up, suddenly. He lets you, taking the weight of you as you straddle his hips and sit up and cup his cheeks, gently grazing your thumb and studying his features like you need to commit him to memory. Like you might forget him in the next life and you can’t bear to lose the vision of him in the back of your mind.

You love him. It’s the simplest thing you’ve ever done. It comes as easily as breathing through your lungs and pumping blood through your veins.

“I’ll love you in every life,” you say resolutely, voice barely a whisper. “Promise.”

Something flickers in his gaze. Something hopeful with maybe just an echo pain before it’s gone. Before you can think too long about it, he pulls you closer, kissing you hard and firm and desperate like he needs to feel you now to know you’re real.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, sweetheart,” he whispers back, “so I hope you make good on it.”

Things that destroyed me and made me want to quit life as whole: sylus dragon myth.

[tamayakii]

a girls first love and heartbreak.

just some headcanons of Grayson daughter!reader life that i've had stashed in my brain for a little bit. This was heavily indulgent i am so sorry. Warnings: angst, depictions of a child being injured (the child is reader aka you), surgery, hematoma draining, broken fingers. Reader has powers but is way weaker than mark and nolan, think Oliver levels. mark and reader get beat senseless together <3 use of yn: once ((i use interactivefics to change this)) notes: written all in one go, forgive any errors

You know the line "Every girls first love is her father"? Well that describes you and Nolan to a T. You admired him deeply, always crying whenever he had to go away or staying up super late just to get a kiss goodnight.

Of course.. the counterpart to that phrase is "every girls first heartbreak is her father" but I don't wanna get TOO ahead of myself here!

For the first years of your life, you were treated fairly- hell even spoiled. Until bullies had made you their target in grade school when you were seven, they were older kids, and you desperately wanted their approval as they were the cool kids group ((in your eyes))

They never hit you, but they might as well had anyways. Their words were the first peak that the world wasn't as nice as your parents had made it out to be. Debbie was the first to catch onto this issue, and asking Mark gave her no answers, but she had noticed all too late, and by the time other people noticed your change, you had been worn down.

Debbie told Nolan one night after dinner, at first Nolan didn't believe it. Surely there was no way you were being bullied, you would've said something. He's your protector. ((he's still learning the ways of earth and humans,, sigh))

When he went to go tuck you into bed, he found that you had done it yourself. Even turning off the lamp which you had always left on, it was a silent communication that you were waiting for a good-night kiss.

Debbie has only ever seen Nolan cry two times. Both were at the birth of his children but that night, she could've sworn that he was just about to let the tears fall. They talk more extensively that night, making a plan. Nolan would take you out on a father-daughter date at the zoo, and Debbie would talk to the school about the bullying after dropping Mark off for the day.

You were so happy that day, squealing as you feed a giraffe some leaves, Nolan hanging onto you so you don't get lifted by the animal. Spending extra time looking at the zebras, cringing at the monkies as you quickly walk by.

When you made it to the reptile section, you marveled the creatures, pointing through the bars at a large and odd crocodile.

"look daddy- look!! It's a croc-ah-dile!" You hold his large hand, looking back at him to make sure he's looking but he's focused on something else, eyebrows furrowed.

"daddy!!" You whine, grabbing onto his wrist now, suddenly feeling neglected but just as fast as that feeling came, dread took over. The hairs rise on the back of your neck, a zip of eletricity runs up your spine as your eyes widen.

Screams begin to erupt, and an explosions burns your skin, blowing your tiny body into the crocodile exhibit. Nolan was shocked by the explosion, more than anything, if anything a bit peeved.

He heard the classic cackle of the Queen Lizard, his eyes widening as his nostrils flared. He looked back towards the source of the sound, dust and debris still flying in the air, making a thick fog across the zoo, he flexed his fists, a horrid realizition hits him.

you're not beside him.

He looks around, stepping over bodies as he yells your name, his toes meet an edge, where the bars of the exhibit once stood, now bent out of shape. He squints through the fog,

You were struggling under someone- pawing at their large arms, wind pipe being crushed under their hands. Everytime you tried to squirm, he pushed you down deeper into the ground, creating a hole under the both of you- the pressure builds behind your eyes, broken fingers trying to claw at the thick skin,

"da-da-" the words die in your throat as blood bubbles out of your mouth in a pathetic attempt of a cough.

Warmth paints your face and the hands choking you weaken, behind the monster ((the large and odd crocodile who was actually just a large and reptile-skinned man)) stood your father, there were no emotions on his face,

your eyes trail down and widen at the sight of your own fathers hand pierced through the monster, looking back up at the face of the attacker, he spits blood up on you before finallly going limp, hanging on the first of your father.

Nolan quickly throws the body aside, kneeling down by your side, fear gripping his heart. You were hurt, and bad.

He took you to a place where he knew you would be taken care of, no questions asked.

The GDA medical ward.

All i'm thinking of he doesn't have the decency to use doors, crashing down through the roof, holding your frail body as you cough blood up, screaming- NO, bellowing- for help.

Cecil's quickly informed of the newly developing situation just across the building. He had no idea omni-man was at the same zoo that the Lizard League just attacked. ((thank you prince lizard, it was one of ideas.))

You were hanging on deaths door, emerengcy surgery was performed to remove a piece of rebar from your torso, set your fingers back, and drained the hematomas forming in your brain.

It's easy to say that you weren't the same for a long long time after that.

You went through intense therapy, provided by the GDA, and hell- even met Cecil whilst in the hospital bed, you didn't really understand what he did or who he was, but you trusted him because he reassured your parents that you had the best doctors avaliable.

Mark doesn't really understand what happened, only a year or two older than you. He just knows you got hurt and that made him sad, and angry.

Your grades dropped drastically after coming home from the hospital, still attending therapy every week, they eventually switched you to online schooling which helped and also didn't.

Nolan started to baby you even more, treating you like glass. If you were clingy before, you were even worse now. You'd wake up with night terrors, screaming in pure horror, unable to communicate that you saw your dads fist driven through the mosnter every time you closed your eyes.

After a couple years, you became aware of how much of a burden you felt you were becoming, you felt.. broken. Debbie finally pulled the plug on online schooling, putting you back in public school.

You still were recluse but you finally befriended some people who also related to your reclusivity.

Also, you were still clingy. You would cuddle into Nolans side during movie night, and if he wasn't there, then it was Debbie or Mark. Your poor brother, he was often embarrassed when he had to hold your hand in public, enforced by your father of course.

You actually got your powers the summer before Mark got his powers, dad started to pay attention to you heavily but you didn't mind, you bloomed under his care. Though he discovered one thing, you were evidiently.. weaker.

He could barely push you to work harder on your powers without you crumbling under his gaze, running to your mother with tears running down your cheeks.

Despite that, you did start to come out of your shell, Debbie was so happy to see that after almost a decade, you were finally coming back to her as her the sunny child she knew a long time ago.

Then Mark got his powers and he began heroing, and that made you want to be one too but despite the training and the suit that was made for you, you couldn't keep up with your father and mark, so you happily became your mommys girl again. Letting her shower you even more with affection, making up for all the years that you had ducked away from it.

The events of season 1 happen of course, so lets time skip to the angstier parts.

When you woke up that day, you didn't expect to wake up to your mother kicking your father out of the house, and him actually listening- only to go through the roof instead. Almost tripping down the stairs with how fast you are as you rush to your moms side, following her as she grabs her phone- desperately trying to call Mark.

"Mom what's going on?" You followed after her pacing, gasping with her as men in dark suits just appeared out of thin air, guns pointing up at the hole your father created. You hide behind your mom as another Donald comes into view, he calls out for the both of you, insisting that you go with him.

Within the hour you find yourself at the GDA, the place that had been starting to become increasing familiar. You followed your mother closely, grasping at the back of her shirt.

Donald gestures, letting your mother towards the doors first- they slide open, revealing a cacophony of scrambling agents, all furiously typing and running across the room.

Your head starts to feel fuzzy as you step in, a lump forms in your throat. Looking at the big screen, you realize that theyre trakcing your father, a bit of hope flickers, maybe he's okay? maybe-

"Nolan killed the guardians of the globe."

Those words stop any sounds from reaching you, chest getting tight as you turn towards your mother. Watching her slap Cecil, angry at him as she speaks more but it was like there was a stone wall blocking any noise.

The next minutes are a blur as you look back at the screen, not registering your mother grabbing hold of your hand, you watch as he goes back to the house, only to realize that it was swarming with GDA agents. The scenes bring bile up to your throat, slapping a hand across your mouth to keep you from blowing chow on the back of some poor persons head.

You can only watch in horror as the same man that would toss you into the air like you were three at thirteen desecrate your childhood home with blood and guts, the same home where you fell asleep in his arms, the same room that you would learn to walk in.. the same house you grew up in.

Debbie quickly draws you into her arms, shielding your from the screen but it was too late. The noise of an explosion coming from the speakers of the room is your welcoming back into the world of hearing. Hugging yourself as you cry in your moms arms, you didn't know who your father was anymore.

You think that was bad? Now imagine watching your father slice through Immortal, you thought was dead, with a swipe of his hand. your throat goes dry as the image of him doing the same thing to that lizard league villian, the warm blood that splatter across your face. "What about mom? what about y/n?!" Mark cries out,

"Mark.. your sister.. she may need some time but she will join us, and your mother? she's more like a.. pet to me"

For a few helpless minutes, you watch as your father throws Mark around like a ragdoll. You've stepped away from Debbie, heart pounding, watching as your brothers tracker flies farther and farther, with your father not far behind.

Seeing your brother crash through multiple buildings in Chicago, creating a path of destruction is what made you desperate to stop this, to save your brother.

The chaos of the room covers your escape, and your absence is only noticed when it's too late.

"Sir? Where's.." Donald's words trail off and finally, Debbie notices that you're gone.. and she doesn't know for how long, the horror and dread that grasps at her body makes her freeze, unable to cry or make a sound. Her daughter was gone.

By the time you make it to Chicago, you just barely make the sight of Mark being thrown high up in the air, your dad flying after him. You fly after them, body straining to keep up and eventually you do, tackling your fathers side and throwing him off balance.

"dad! Please, stop this!" You plead with him as you spin around in the orange sky, looking up at him as your tears frame your cheeks, "please you can still stop!"

His eyes are bloodshot as he stares down at you, for a moment with no emotions before a sliver of remorse flickers in his eyes. "oh my sweet girl-"

in the distance Mark scream, speeding at Nolans back with his fist out right.

your father grabs the back of your neck, turning you both around towards mark- All in one fluid motion. Effectively using you as a shield,

Marks fist stops mere inches from your face, the silence makes your ears ring.

"Let her go." Mark growls but it's miserable, the blood making his voice gurgle.

"Mark.. mark.." All you can do is whimper as you struggle in your dads hold, hands reaching back and sinking your nails into his wrist. A sigh comes from Nolan, a truly annoyed sigh.

"You made me do this."

Neither you or Mark have the time to react as your father uses you as a weapon, reeling back and throwing you against Mark, punching your back and sending you both flying.

Now he treated you both as punching bags, flying back n forth, easily being able to hit you both back n forth- as if driving in the point that he's stronger and faster.

"I was wrong to raise you both as humans, i should've prepared you better, taught you more. Your lives have been soft and painless, your both viltrumites in blood only." He holds you both up by your collars, Mark pants heavily and you can barely do so with your multiple broken ribs. "well, your true educations start, now."

At some point as he flies you both to the surface, sonic booms thundering behind him, you black out.

You wake up at the bottom of the ocean, the air leaving your lungs as he slams you both into the ocean floor- you grab at your throat, water sucking into your lungs as your father floated there as if it didn't affect him one bit.

Just as quickly you and your brother met the surface of the sea, you were grabbed and flown out. Coughing up water as you grip onto your fathers shoulder, fingers bunching up the fabric of his suit.

"dad- dad stop!!" You plead but its interrupted as another scream rips through your throat as the sight of your dad throwing Mark into a mountain, you plead and beg with him as he floats down to your brother.

"dad, dad! Daddy-" His grip on you tightens, his head snapping to you. You're only allowed a second of regret before he, too, throws you.

barely holding onto the light, you watch as Nolan punches Marks limp body, triggering a land slide and as you expect to be buried under the snow too- your dad picks you up mere seconsd before it blankets you.

He handles you like a disgruntled mother cat, holding you by the back of your shirt, as he searches for your brother in the snow. You did as well, heart squeezing with fear as each limb that pokes out isnt your brothers.

Eventually, Mark is found, and still he found the power to resist your father.

"I'm ready when you are."

He uses your body once again as a weapon, seing you and Mark flying into another mountain range. You hear how marks ribs crack under your weight,

You roll off of your brother, grasping onto the earth, murmuring gentle cries for your mother. You yelp as your dad lands at the feet of you two, shaking the mountain with his power. You throw your hands up in surrendur, or.. at least the non-broken one. you give. You wave your metaphorical white flag.

His sights set on Mark, and all you can do is helplessly watch as your father beats your brother into a pulp as he screams at him. The crater deepening with each punch, soon Mark becomes unrecognizable- your sobs turn animalistic, your unable to move your broken legs, the words your father uses breaks your heart more- as if it could be. You were nothing to him. just a pawn in his long drawn out game,

After awhile, Nolan stops before dropping to Marks side, laying inbetween you and Mark, breathing deeply as he composes himself. As he stands back up, you prepare for more, you realize that your brother will die before your eyes.

"Why did you make me do this?!" Nolan screams, "You are fighting so you can watch everyone around you die! Think mark," his words make you flinch, his voice ragged- "you will outlast every fragile insignicant being on this planet, you'll live to see this planet crumble to dust and blow away!"

You start to quietly sob again, watching as Mark doesn't stand back up this time,

"Everything and everyone you know will be gone! What will you have after 500 years?!"

"you, dad." Mark manages to murmur, "i'd still have you." Mark gurgles in pain, eyes swollen shut- "Dad?"

You watch as your father winces in pain, fighting with himself as he looks at the blood on his hands.. the blood of his children.

Then he's gone.

Silence is all that surronds you and for awhile, you wait for your dad to return, thinking he was climbing in altitude solely to finsih you both off with one spectacular punch.

Execpt he doesn't.

With pain sobs and whimpers, you manage to shuffle closer to mark, reaching out with your good hand to wipe his tears away. He lets out a wet cough,

"Marky.." You whisper, teeth gritting as you try to fight the next sob, " it's okay.. i'm right here.." your voice is raw from the screams, you lay your head on his chest tenderly, arm draping across his waist, as him trying to be his shield.

Eventually you both lose conciousness but as your eyes flutter shut for what you believe is the last time, you swear you feel a hand grasp your shoulder.

You wake up again in the hospital, body aching as the bright lights sting your eyes. As you try to look away, you catch glimpse of Mark who was also in a bed besides you, but the stinging pain in your neck makes you cry out.

"Shh, shh!" Your mother reaches out for you, "don't talk.. You're safe." She watches as you reach out for Mark, arm shaking as tears fill your eyes.

"It's okay, sweetie, he's okay." She presses her lips to your forehead as you start to cry, she gathers your outreached hand in hers, interlocking your fingers as she comforts you.

You look at your mom, through bruised eyesockets, your lips wobble as the tears sting your cheek.

It's like a decade had never passed, and you were still seven, stuck in the GDA hospital.

holy fuck i dont know where this came from. I might write some fluffier headcanons, but i had to to get the angst out of my system.

Let me know if you want more, like my idea on readers relationship with Cecil since she met him when she was seven and she go ther powers first. ehe lol maybe some tabbo old man stuff I DUNNO THO let me know

[whatifitis]

♡ You Make Me Crazier - LN 4 ♡

Summary: this is based off this request! Lando spends most of the night playing Tarkov with Max and ends up keeping his gf awake for hours. so guess who's in a bad mood in the morning while the other is just vibing 😀

WC: 1781

CW: fluff, lando being loud (NOT IN THAT WAY PERVS), pillow tossing

Finally, the end of the season has come and the peace can begin. Lando and yourself had joined the team in celebration of Mclaren winning the constructors’. But Lando decided to leave the party quite early as he’d wanted to play some Tarkov with Max. You didn’t argue, you were pretty exhausted from such an eventful day, you were excited to hop into bed and get some much needed rest while Lando played some games. 

The two of you had arrived back in your hotel room and Lando quickly pressed a kiss to your lips before letting you know he was going to play Tarkov immediately. You watched him race to the desk with his laptop. You didn’t mind him playing video games, you knew it did him some good. Tarkov was sort of a safe place for him to forget about the real world a bit and you were grateful that he had something like that. Although, you’re not sure how he finds that game peaceful as it is one of the most stressful games you know of. It’s not like Animal Crossing where you just talk to villagers and hunt and gather. 

You got ready for bed, taking a nice shower to get rid of the smell from being out all day and partying. You think there was a bit of rose water still in your hair. Taking your time, you smile as you hear Lando’s laughter from the main room. It’s rare to hear it nowadays. 

Once you’re ready for bed, you walk over to Lando and tap him on the shoulder, “Love, I’m going to sleep now. Don’t stay up late, we have to be at the track early tomorrow for testing. And don’t be too loud, I wanna sleep a decent amount and I don’t want another noise complaint from the hotel.” you tease. 

“Alright, darling. I’ll try and keep it down and I won’t be long. Goodnight.” he says as he softly kisses you before returning to his gaming session. 

You got settled into bed and closed your eyes, ready to drift into a peaceful sleep. But the universe decided you weren’t going to sleep yet as Lando could not, for the life of him, keep it down. One second he was laughing his head off and the next he was doing some sort of accent that was a mix of German and Bulgarian? 

Slightly opening your eyes, you peer up at him and you silently scold him for being too noisy. You grab a small pillow off the bed and toss it in his direction, watching as it bounces off his back a bit. You can hear as he whispers “Guys, I think I fucked up.” before removing his headphones and turning to look at you, “I’m sorry, love. I’ll keep it down now, swear.” 

With that statement, you flop back down and sink into the bed. Thinking you’ve successfully gotten him to quiet down, until you hear him nearly wheezing from something Max said. This went on for another few hours, each minute passing you got more annoyed. But you didn’t want to say anything because you knew that these moments were hard for Lando to get and you knew he needed this time a lot. He needed to spend time with his friends and enjoy himself. He deserved it. 

So there you were, eyes dry as Oscar Piastri’s humor, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, waiting for Lando to log off for the night. You look at the clock and it was already 2 am. Your alarm was set for 7:30 am so that you could get ready and maybe eat before heading to the track. You cursed the universe and time difference, questioning what you did to deserve 5 hours of sleep. 

Finally, you heard Lando tell Max that he was done for the night and that he was logging off. 

Praise the lord. 

Lando shut his laptop and quietly got up from his seat, turning to see you still awake and on your phone. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” 

“Are you for real?” you blankly stare at him. 

“What?”

“You were still loud, Lan. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me to shut up? More than once? You know I’m not a very good listener.” he jokes. 

“I know. But you love being able to play Tarkov and stuff with Max and them. I didn’t want to stop you from doing that.”

“Oh, baby. Next time smack me over the head. I don’t like that I kept you up for so long.” he says, walking to sit by you on the bed. 

“It’s okay, Lan. Seriously. I can still get about 5 hours of sleep.”

“That’s absolute rubbish. Why don’t you sleep in? You can meet me on the track later or you can spend the day relaxing.”

“Nah. I wanna go with you and see the car. I also wanna mock Zak cause I know he’s gonna be hungover as fuck.” you laugh. 

“Fine. But I’ll make sure you get some Celsius tomorrow, even though they don’t sponsor Mclaren! Monster does. Just make sure to cover the can if there’s cameras.”

“Thanks. Now shut up so I can sleep.” you say, rolling to sleep on your side. 

“Alright, we’ll sleep now. Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

-=+=-

It was indeed not a goodnight. You woke up to your alarm blaring loudly in your ear. Your eyes felt as if they were glued shut, you couldn’t open them to turn off your alarm. After a few attempts of trying to find your phone with your eyes closed, you reached over to Lando and shoved him, “Lando, turn it off. If it keeps ringing, I’m gonna kick both you and the phone into a wall!”

“Damn, someone’s already in a bad mood.” Lando mutters as he reaches across your body to grab your phone and mute it. 

Finally, some peace and quiet. That was, until Lando’s own alarm started going off. You were already off your rocker and his alarm sent you off the edge. He was still hovering over you and setting your phone back down so you end up “accidentally” tossing him off the bed with your eyes shut. All you heard was the thud that came from his body hitting the floor. 

Lando was so thrown off. He quickly stood up with his hands on his hips as he stared down at you. “Okay, I was gonna let you off for slapping me awake and making me turn off your alarm. But that was rude! You just tossed me off the bed. Not cool, babe.”

“Your fault for keeping me up for so long. Now I’ve had about 5 hours of sleep and you’re already on my nerves.”

“Since I’m so generous, I’ll let you sleep 10 more minutes. If you don’t wake up, I’ll be rolling you off the bed.” With that, he softly kisses your head and goes and gets ready for the day. 

Lando had taken a shower and gotten dressed, so it was time to awaken the beast, aka you.

He quietly walked over to your sleeping figure and sat next to you. Gently, he places a hand on your back and slowly rubs it, letting you know it had been 15 minutes and that it was time for you to wake up. He was met with an annoyed groan and a swatting away of his hand. 

“Okay, wake up. If you don’t get up now, I’ll make sure all the Celsius and coffee are hidden from you today.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” you side eye him. 

“Oh I would.” He smiles cheekily. 

“Piss off.” you, hitting him with a pillow, causing him to dramatically flop onto the floor. 

“Damn, you make me fall all the time. I’m so unbelievably in love with you.” he says, trying to flash you a cheeky smile but you were not having it. You got out of bed and locked yourself in the backroom so you could get ready for the day. 

After about 4 minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door. Through muffled sounds, you could hear your boyfriend begging to be let in, “Baby, can you let me in please. I feel so lonely and bored. I want to hug you, please. Let me in, please. Let me innn, let me innnnnnn.” 

As much as he was pissing you off, you loved him too much to leave him out there alone. Plus, you were sure he was going to break something, a bone, if he’s left unsupervised for too long. Opening the door, you watched as Lando slid down the door and onto the floor. He was leaning on the door with all his weight so he didn’t land gracefully. 

“Oh would you look at that? I’ve fallen for you, again!” he laughs, still you’re not having it. 

You go back to doing your makeup in the mirror. You’re focused on your eyeliner when you feel something, Lando, grab your ankles. He pulls himself closer and wraps himself around your legs. 

“Koala mode. Oscah mode. Mark Webbah mode.”

“Off.” you try to shake him off. 

“Not until you love me again.” 

“I still love you, somehow. Get off.” you try and shake him off again. 

“Please. Please. PLEEEAAASSSEE” he squeals.

“Lan! Up.”

Almost as if he were a soldier being commanded, he jumped up to his feet. 

“I’m sorry, babe. Really, I am. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” he says, hugging you from behind and planting soft kisses on your shoulder and neck, “I shouldn’t have stayed up for so long and yelled so much. I’ll be better, I promise. Please, forgive me.” he’s gone all soft now, truly afraid he’s messed up. 

You turn in his arms to face him, “Lan, listen to me, yeah? As much as your late night gaming can annoy me, I wouldn’t change it for the world. There’s a sense of peace I feel whenever I get to hear you talk and laugh. People would claw for pieces to get that type of peace. So don’t worry. I still love you and will continue loving you. Even if it means less sleep. You still owe me a Celsius though.” you smile at him. 

His heart feels like it’s surrounded by butterflies. He loved hearing how much you love him and he’s relieved that you aren’t too mad at him. 

He softly connects your lips with his. He only feels happy and safe when he’s with you. So he thanks god everyday for you. He also thanks god for the fact that you can be bribed with Celsius.

[luveline]

𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses). 

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.” 

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.” 

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs. 

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you. 

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat. 

“What time is it?” you ask. 

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?” 

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds. 

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic. 

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him. 

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling. 

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him. 

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed. 

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips. 

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.” 

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.” 

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one. 

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.” 

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.” 

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.” 

“Can you sit up, at least?” 

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?” 

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard. 

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil. 

“Close your eyes,” he says. 

“Was that a dracula impression?” 

“I command you.” 

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out. 

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.” 

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him. 

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?” 

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.” 

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.” 

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…” 

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity. 

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.” 

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.” 

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.” 

“But for how long?” you ask. 

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to. 

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms. 

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?” 

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.” 

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.” 

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now. 

You shut your eyes. 

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums. 

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?” 

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say. 

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life. 

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along. 

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath. 

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.” 

“Do you want to?” 

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too. 

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–” 

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.” 

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?” 

“Remus–” 

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.” 

“So you like me?” 

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.” 

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head. 

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth. 

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.” 

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo. 

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder. 

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess. 

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.” 

“After that?” 

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely. 

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed. 

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud. 

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid. 

He flinches. 

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but. 

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you? 

What are the rules here? 

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay. 

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep. 

He should let you sleep. 

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm. 

“Mm?” you hum. 

“I need to ask you something.” 

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do. 

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.” 

“I just need to ask you something.” 

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness. 

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?” 

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you. 

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him. 

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple. 

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.” 

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense. 

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?” 

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek. 

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate. 

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.” 

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says. 

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.” 

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways. 

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say. 

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight. 

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it. 

“I'm chucking them out!” 

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?” 

“What?!” 

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?” 

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm. 

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.” 

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy. 

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company. 

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.” 

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him. 

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off. 

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease. 

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D &lt;3

[loveanddeepthroat]

Idk if this is a boring one for a mini fic but could you do a little something about mc and Sylus having a first kiss thats initiated by mc?

All In

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Word Count - 0.9k

A/N - just tooth rotting fluff

You’re sleepily plodding along through the halls of the Onychinus Base, your bare feet leaving small echoes of pitter patters along the marble floors.

One minute you were sitting up in the living room, waiting for Sylus and the twins to return from something you didn’t want to know details of, and the next you were tucked up in Sylus’s large, empty bed. You swore you had only shut your eyes for a second on the couch, but hours had gone by.

Each of the rooms you pass by are empty and silent, barely even a light shining. It’s three o’clock in the morning, so you know you’ll find him somewhere.

Things between you and Sylus had been more and more domesticated by the day as of late. You seemed to be in ‘beginning of a relationship’ territory, and it was all happening so naturally.

Good morning and goodnight texts when you’re not together. A noticeable increase in physical contact . You even know each other's preferences for how you like your coffee in the morning.

There was a tenderness to him that was reserved only for you, and you felt privileged to be on the end of his admiration.

You reach the door of his office, peering in silently through the open door. He’s sitting at his desk, an elbow perched on the plush armrest of his chair with his index finger curled beneath his sharp jaw. He looks deep in thought, and before you can turn around and head back to bed as to not disturb him, he chuckles quietly.

“I don’t know where you learnt your ninja-stealth skills from, but you might want to seek a refund,” he quietly jests, the rumble of his voice enveloping you like a hug.

You smile sheepishly. “I didn’t think you’d noticed me. Apologies.”

“You’ll never go unnoticed by me, kitten.”

Heat spreads across your face in a fierce blush. It’s something about the way he says it, like there are no truer words in the English dictionary. 

Slowly, you cross the room and round the large desk. “Those weird little bed fairies tucked me beneath your silk sheets again tonight. How strange is that?” 

You perch yourself on the edge of his desk, but your ass doesn’t stay there for even a second before he holds your hips in his powerful hands, bringing you onto his lap.

“Yes, extremely strange. I’ve heard that they’re demanding a pay rise, too,” he murmurs with a slightly raised brow. “Something about a kitten that keeps mewling in front of the living room window, waiting for her companion to come back.”

You poke a finger into his chest with a roll of your eyes, which only serves to entertain him further. He was the only bed fairy around here, and tonight wasn’t his first shift.

“You don’t have to wait up for me, sweetie,” he says as he threads his long, slender fingers through your hair. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Who says I was waiting for you?” you fib. “I’ll have you know that I was actually waiting for Kieran. He owes me ten bucks.”

Sylus tilts his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. “They not paying you enough as a Hunter?”

“Not as much as the twins pay me when they lose all of our bets,” you chuckle.

His crimson eyes drop to your grinning mouth for a mere millisecond before returning to your eyes. It makes your heart flutter beneath your ribs.

There had been only one near-kissing incident recently. Luke walked into the kitchen whilst your back was pressed into the edge of the counter in front of the coffee machine, Sylus standing over you with his lips hovering just above yours. You almost butted him in the mouth in your panic.

Not because you didn’t want to be seen kissing him. You just wanted it to be a moment shared only between the two of you.

Since that morning, though, you’ve been itching for a feel of his lips against yours, but you were adamant waiting for the right moment, or for him to decide that it’s time. 

“How was your outing?” you finally ask, breaking the little tension that had crept between you both.

Sylus cups the nape of your neck, his thump smoothing over the skin. “Dull,” he answers truthfully.

You shift a little to turn yourself more towards him, the movement only bringing you both closer. “In what way?”

“In every way,” he says, his eyes flickering between both of yours. “Things tend to be rather dull when I’m without you.”

He means it, too.

You can see it in his eyes, a sense of deep longing, even while you’re curled in his lap. You’re the sunshine in his cloudy world, breaking through the darkness to show him a beautiful new perspective on life.

You’re a big part of his life now, and he’s just told you so.

It’s impossible to even try to hold yourself back as you go all in, your lips crashing into his with a long overdue kiss. It’s gentle and yet exhilarating, a taste of what’s to come between you as the seed of your new relationship begins to blossom.

He tugs you forward so that you’re as close as you can be in your position across his lap, his hand never leaving the base of your neck.

His lips taste of vintage red, his preferred evening drink, and you’re certain it could make you drunk if you had too much of his exquisite mouth on yours.

He breaks the kiss first, leaning his forehead against yours. “I thought I’d be the one to initiate it first,” he admits quietly, not looking at all bothered by the different outcome.

“I’m sorry—”

“Shh,” he whispers, returning your kiss with one of his own. He doesn’t want to hear unnecessary apologies from you.

You smile sheepishly against his lips, feeling like a giddy teenager again. You could definitely get used to this very quickly.

Every morning, noon and night.

“It felt right,” you whisper as your lips part. “That felt like the right moment.”

His arm snakes around your waist, anchoring you to him as he speaks softly in your ear.

“Everything feels right with you.”

[multific]

Moonlight 

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader

Warnings: childbirth (no detailed description)

Summary: Aemond loves his little wife, so naturally, when you give birth to your first son, Aemond falls in love even deeper. However, when a simple refusal of his breaks your heart, it will be difficult for him to win you back.

It was hard to keep you close. You were much like Aemond, a true fighter. You had a fire in you which couldn't be questioned. A fire towards him, pure love. And now, fire towards your son.

Aeren was only born a week ago, yet you protected him fiercely like a dragon.

And you refused to let the small child out of your hands.

When Aemond was allowed in the room, he saw the blood, he heard your screams and many times, he wanted to barge in but he knew he couldn't.

So, once he was allowed in, someone informed him that it was a boy and that you were in bad shape. 

Aemond could see it, you looked beyond tired, yet you smiled.

But your smile didn't last long.

Aemond refused to hold his son. 

"Give him to me." he heard your voice as he looked from the woman holding his son to you. You looked angry. Way too angry.

It was too late when Aemond realised what he had just done.

He refused to hold his own child.

And since then, you didn't speak a word to him.

You slept in a different room with your baby, sometimes, late at night, he heard the cries. He wanted to get up and go to you but he couldn't, his guilt was overbearing. 

"You should put a leash on her, brother. If I had a wife like that, she wouldn't be sleeping in another room." Aegon taunted his brother daily. 

One day, you were in the gardens, walking with your son in your arms when Aegon spoke up.

Aemond never heard his brother speak with such longing.

"I truly wish she was mine." 

Aemond looked at his brother who was watching you.

"But she's mine." was his simple and firm reply.

But you truly weren't.

You used to be, now, you just sat next to him during dinners. 

One night, you excused yourself, and he followed you.

In an empty corridor, he spoke up.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he knew why. He very well knew why.

"I'm sorry, My Prince." you turned and looked at him. "I believe you are mistaken. I'm not avoiding you, I just hate to see the disappointment on your face." this surprised Aemond. "I gave birth to a child you refused to even look at. I loved you, Prince Aemond, I truly did. But I love my child more. And if you cannot look at him, you won't get to look at me. Fill your bed with whores for all I care. Goodnight." 

"You are mistaken." he said, not letting you leave, but you did grab the handle. "You-You were in that bed, crying, screaming and bleeding for hours. I couldn't do anything. And when they let me in, the blood... so much... they told me you were weak, you survived but you needed a lot of rest. How-How could I hold my child when the love of my life almost died? How could I look at him when I was worried to even look at you? I feared you would die giving birth. I was shaking. I feared losing you and my child. That is why I didn't hold him. I was scared." you stood there, your hand on the door, you looked away from his eyes.

"Then you could have just fucking say so, Aemond! For fucks sake!"

"That is not very lady-like."

"FUCK lady-like, you made me believe you hate me and our son! I believed I disappointed you since you wanted a daughter."

"I said I would be happy either way. My emphasis was on a girl because I feared if you had a daughter, you would see that as disappointing my bloodline."

"You are fucking terrible at communicating." you opened the door and walked into the huge room in which you stayed the last couple of weeks.

Aemond followed you, and watched as you walked over to the small bed and picked up your son. "Next time, you should just tell me. Letting me assume things clearly don't work out." 

"Of course." a small smile found its way onto his lips, next time, it was the promise of a future, a promise of more, something he could work towards. He walked over to you after closing the door. "I wish to hold him." you handed him the small child who didn't even stir in his sleep. "Aeren you named him I recall." Aemond's attention was now fully on his son as you decided to leave the two alone after watching them for a couple of minutes.

You got changed and when you arrived back, Aemond was sitting on the bed, his son on his chest.

"Some nights I heard his cries. It broke my heart but I broke yours far more. I apologise for not being clear and for causing you pain. I am truly sorry."

"I'm sorry as well. I should have asked." you said as you sat down next to him. "I will have to feed him soon."

"I will stay here with you."

You smiled as the moon shined through the window, illuminating the room a little more, helping the fire so you could see your husband's face.

"I love you so much Aemond."

"I love you too, My Queen." you giggled, moving closer to him as he leaned down to kiss you.

You two kissed in the moonlight until your son made it clear that he was hungry.

It all made you look towards a better future.

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