#I'm Learning to Love (Walking Away from Things)

[tarotwithavi]

What are you underestimating about yourself?

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PILE 1

Alright, so I feel that you might be underestimating your resilience. You don't realize how strong you are and how you're able to go through situations that other people have difficulty handling. I also sense that you might find yourself in situations where others would have completely freaked out. You also underestimate your emotional intelligence sometimes. I feel like you think you're being too much, that your emotions are too much, that you’re feeling too much, and everything is just overwhelming. But you need to realize that this is your superpower. The way you feel and the way you express yourself is your strength. Do not let anyone tell you that you're too much or cringe. Your kind heart and your emotional depth are your strengths. Sometimes you might underestimate your ideas, your passions, your hobbies. Please know that you have the ability to make your dreams come true, alright? You're underestimating your potential and you need to realize it soon enough before it slips away. Honestly, I think it's never too late to explore yourself or discover a new version of you, but still, some things are better done sooner than later. And I also see that you might underestimate your beauty, darling. How should I convince you that you are the most beautiful person in the entire universe? Beauty is subjective. Just because someone doesn't understand your beauty doesn't mean you're not. And you should definitely not be underestimating the way you dress yourself. You are literally an inspiration. You are literally a fashion guru. I see that in the past, a lot of people around you doubted your ideas and the things you wanted to do. Maybe you wanted to become a fashion designer and someone in your family told you that it was irrelevant. I'm especially getting something related to fashion, makeup, styling, and things like that.

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PILE 2

You are underestimating your intuition, because the message I'm getting is that a lot of times you get a vision, a dream, or a feeling that something is about to happen, and when it does, you get shocked like, babe, you saw that coming. Sometimes you doubt yourself. Sometimes you think that if you share this with somebody, no one is going to believe you. But I want you to know that your intuition is amazing. I feel like some of you could actually be psychics. You are underestimating your vision and your passion. I see that you might be stuck in a cycle where you are doing things you don't even want to do, just for the sake of it, and it is getting you nowhere. You are underestimating your “I don’t give a f***” energy. I know you care deeply for people, but when someone crosses your boundaries, you are out. You won't even look in their direction for the rest of your life, and that is the level of your energy. Sometimes you may have forgiven your friends or even family for terrible things because you thought you were being too much or too dramatic. But you are underestimating your courage to walk away. I feel like some of you might resonate with pile one, because I got a similar energy for both these piles. Some of you might be thinking about starting your own blog, but you believe you are not skilled enough or need to learn more. The truth is, you already are. You already know enough. Just do it. Start that business, that YouTube channel, that influencer journey or UGC page. You may feel like you need to learn more or that what you know is not enough to get you through, but trust me, it is.

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PILE 3

You are underestimating your voice and your words. I feel like you might not talk much, but when you do, it’s like words of wisdom flow out of you. You could genuinely profit from the way you speak. You could be a great writer or someone who has the ability to inspire others with your words. Sometimes you feel like nobody is going to listen to you or care about what you have to say, and that’s why you stay quiet most of the time. I also feel like you underestimate your social skills. You might be a Gemini or have Gemini or another air sign in your Sun, Moon, or Rising. You are underestimating how much your thoughts are affecting your self-image right now. You might be overthinking or struggling with anxiety, and I feel like you need to do some throat chakra healing. You are restricting yourself from reaching your full potential. And honestly, we all do that sometimes when we are not in the right environment, around the right people, or when our thoughts and ideas are not being understood. In those moments, we start doubting ourselves and shrinking who we are. You are also underestimating how much of a control freak you can be. When things start slipping out of your hands, you lose your calm. But you don’t need to cling so tightly to the idea of feeling safe. Letting go does not mean losing yourself you know

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[n3ptoonz]

'Last Train Home'

Pairing: 40s!Bucky/F!Reader

Fandom: MCU

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, major canon divergence, PLOT HEAVY, 40s slang used, the slang is so unserious, angsty, mans might be a lil traumatized, flashbacks, reader smokes, f!masturbation, technically mirror sex, riding, tears, creampie, baby is used a lot here, this is the most dramatic fic i've ever written and i kinda hate it but that's just me being over critical so!! half proofread

italicized text in a sequence means a flashback

Word count: 3.7k+

1945, Brooklyn.

He was gone. You were so sure of it.

Lighting your cigarette on the stovetop, you took a long drag and leaned against the counter in your dimly lit kitchen. You never smoked. Not until your high school sweetheart was drafted for WWII. Those damned Germans. Sending their best wishes and a crisp 'Fuck you' to America's loved ones.

You hadn't drank neither. But how could you not? The love of your life used to write you often and suddenly your mail box was only coughing up bills and magazines showing impossible standards for women. As per usual.

You were only 27. A bright young woman who dreamed of being a scientist. Your mother insisted you try to be closer to Bucky by being a nurse but it just wasn't your calling. You started to wonder if maybe she was right. Maybe you should've listened to her because right now, all you can think about is how he said he'd be back around this time. That blood pumping organ in your chest only ached.

He was gone. You were sure of it.

You tapped the ash in the sink and took another drag, chuckling bitterly to yourself. You were zoned out after catching one of his dress shirts you never moved from the dining table in your line of sight. You could hear his laugh, see his smile, see the genuinely impressed look on his face when he saw the future in Howard Stark's hands. Well, almost.

"Look, look!"

"I'm looking, Bucky."

"Isn't that amazing, babe? It's...beautiful."

"Yes, it is."

The look in his eyes.

His smile.

His laugh.

The powder in the corner of your mouth from the funnel cake you took 75% of that he wiped away.

"Nothing is as beautiful as you, darlin'."

You smiled. He didn't.

"I mean it."

You blinked. Nearly bumped into the table not realizing you were walking towards it. Your hand on the back of the chair with his dress shirt on it. You put the cigarette between your lips and put the shirt on, letting it hang loosely. Not buttoning it so it was like he was there. Loosely hanging his arm around your shoulders. Maybe he would whisper something sweet. Something...spicy.

Fuck, it didn't matter. Anything. Whisper anything, Bucky. Please. You're alive and you're coming home. You can't wait to see the love your life safe and sound. That smart pretty girl you flaunt proudly to your boys. Your squad mates that probably didn't give a damn.

A real killer diller, that guy. Bucky literally would never shut up about you. Steve loves it. His best friend--the Casanova--of forever finally quit being so damned doll dizzy, he found the woman that held him down. Challenged him. Was more than a risky make out under the bleachers. More than a quickie behind that pie shop. More than a 'Oh, you'll definitely see me again, baby.'

It was love. Pure. Need. Want. Desire. Of course, he wanted to do all types of things with you when you met at that sophomore school dance. Steve introduced you to him, giving his old pal the 'Don't fuck this up' glare. You're a sweet girl with wit and a backbone and he learned that quickly.

After graduation, he bought a ring and a locket to put a picture of you in. It wasn't your typical 'Say cheese!' type of thing. More like a candid photo of you - the prettiest you've ever looked in his eyes - where you briefly looked over your shoulder when a butterfly passed you by. Whenever he was sad, nervous, terrified...he opened that locket and just stared at it. The face that could launch a thousand ships into a losing battle.

He was gone and you were sure of it.

He was gone. He was sure of it.

Hanging on by that broken handle, reaching for Steve's hand as if it would actually work. No way. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was an absolute goner.

"Look, look!" he exclaimed, pointing to the stage with a wide grin. His hand holding yours firmly.

"I'm looking, Bucky." you playfully rolled your eyes and took another bite. Having to put the plate just under your chin because he refused to let you slip away.

"Isn't that amazing, babe? It's...beautiful." he said in awe.

"Yes, it is." you replied in a gentle, warm tone and looked at him.

The look in your eyes.

Your smile.

Your laugh.

The powder in the corner of your mouth from the funnel cake he let you have 75% of that he wiped away.

"Nothing is as beautiful as you, darlin'." he murmured, fighting the urge to kiss you all over.

You smiled. He didn't. His eyes soft and attentive.

"I mean it."

"Bucky," he heard his name, but he wasn't scared. He wasn't cold. He wasn't surrounded by rocks and snow. He sat in the train wrapped in a blanket.

Wait, no. That's not a blanket.

Bucky snapped out of it and quickly looked over to his left. Steve had his arm slung over Bucky's shoulders to warm him up.

"Bucky," Steve repeated. "You're okay. I pulled you up to safety and we'll be retrieved soon."

Bucky is okay. Steve was sure of it. Steve made sure of it.

"Stay awake, man. You've got someone waiting for the good news back home."

One week passes.

You stared at the ring on your finger. The ring of promise. Cigarette burning in your right hand and still wearing his shirt with just underwear beneath it. You took care of yourself, yes, but this was permanently apart of your wardrobe.

You hadn't gone out much. Not like you did normally. Your friends worry. Your parents worry. Some soldiers came home with a big smile, happy to see their families. You watched them in the window like an old cat lady.

Your birthday was yesterday. You celebrated with your best friends at a jazz bar because they refused to let you sit at home and mope on your own day.

Turning away from the window, you extinguished the cigarette in a makeshift ashtray since you didn't want to feel like you actually committed to this lifestyle. You could quit any time you wanted and it was just to take the edge off. Ain't it?

The raindrops beat against your window like rent was due. Gray clouds casting over the skies could make anyone forget what time it was. You sighed and stared at the ceiling. You needed to relax. Take your mind away from the chaos for just long enough before you lost it.

You bit your index finger to keep quiet while your free hand worked you through your awaited release. Underwear long discarded on the floor. Shallow, weak breaths and strangled whimpers echoing throughout the living room. The rain was almost like added ambience to the filth running through your mind.

You lifted your hips to get deeper. The wet sounds getting louder by the second and you were about to follow. You whispered his name like it was taboo. Like if anybody overheard you there'd be hell to pay.

"Nothing is as beautiful as you, darlin'." he murmured. "I mean it."

"Fuck- sigh Bucky," you muttered weakly. Your chest rising up and down as you got closer and closer.

"Yeah, baby?"

You moaned pathetically and let your head hit the cushion behind you, long not giving a fuck about the wet spot soaking into the couch.

"Bucky," you whispered. "Please, please, please. Let me do this, please-"

You gripped the cushion behind you, curling your fingers against your slippery warm folds. Letting out a guttural moan but quieting yourself before it could get louder. Your legs seized for a second and your hips jerked. Clear liquid gushing from between your thighs like you left the faucet on.

You slumped into the couch and stared at the ceiling. Deep, heavy breaths like you ran a mile.

"Shit." you licked your lips and sighed. Standing up to see a wet spot so big, you'd just flip the cushion over and take care of it later. You went to the kitchen and washed your hands, resting your elbows on the sink. The rainfall and the running water brought clarity.

He's coming back...you're sure of it...

You wiped yourself down and tossed it. Grabbed that cigarette pack by the stove and, oh, huh. The last one. You scoffed and took it out, tossing the box but you missed.

Knock, knock, knock

You were halfway to picking it up off the ground when you heard the door. Who'd come by in the middle of a storm? You threw the box away and grabbed your lighter, mid flick when the knock came again. You huffed dramatically as you haven't even lit the cigarette yet, but knew you'd have to get decent now.

You quickly flipped the cushion but didn't bother to put your underwear back on and just put it with the laundry. Running to your room you slid on a long skirt that didn't require and zipping or tying any pretty bows. You ran back out and fixed your hair a little in the mirror before you made it to the door. You took a deep breath and opened it, attempting not to look pissed off at whoever was here late at night during a storm.

1933, Homecoming.

"...and she's your type." Steve finished explaining as the two were perched by the juice and snacks stand. Bucky rolled his eyes and popped candy into his mouth.

"I don't have a type." he said. "If she's cute, she's cute. I never pass up on a doll and you know that."

"Yeah, that's the damn problem." Steve muttered and shook his head.

"I just don't get why you're trying to set me up with anyone anyway. Not like I ever had a problem with girls in my entire 16 years of existence."

"That's not the point, Buck. I just think that if you knew someone like her, you'd be a little less..." he trailed off.

"If you say 'doll dizzy' one more time I'm going to walk away."

"I wasn't! But- okay. If you don't like her, I'll...I dunno, you think of something."

"Think it might be too late." he said, not looking at his friend anymore.

"What do you mean?'" Steve asked, watching Bucky jut his chin with a growing smirk in the direction he was looking. Steve followed his eyes and smiled. "That's her."

Bucky almost choked on the candy he was swishing around in his mouth and looked at Steve in disbelief. "That's her?" he asked incredulously. Almost like he was offended.

"I told ya." he said and waved as you approached them. You hugged Steve and got introduced to his gorgeous friend.

"James," he said, taking your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips to leave a soft kiss while looking you in the eyes. "But everybody calls me Bucky." Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, biting down the urge to make fun of him. You smiled and introduced yourself to him, heart fluttering in your chest.

"Now, Rogers, why has it taken you this long to introduce us?" Bucky said in a dramatic tone. You chuckled and answered for Steve.

"We just met in our chem class not too long ago. We have a project together."

"Had to pair with the smartest one in that class." Steve chimed in. You waved him off and laughed.

"No way. You think a girl could be the smartest in that class?"

"Not just any girl. You." he turned to Bucky and nudged his arm playfully. "The girl's a genius."

"I know. Just wanted to hear you say it." you teased. Steve laughed along while Bucky just watched you. Man alive...you were out of this world.

"Alright, well I'll leave you two alone. Drank a little too much of this sketchy fruit punch." he joked, patting Bucky on his shoulder and walking away. But before he was fully gone he turned and narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "Don't fuck this up" in his eyes.

You two instantly clicked. Interesting conversations, corny jokes that only work because he's pretty, and a whole lotta dancin'. The boy could move and he had no problem showing you. However, in the middle of a particularly slow dance, while you were looking into his eyes and he was looking into yours, his hand not daring to move past your hip...everything about this moment was perfect. Until the power went in and out. The music was becoming static-y and the lights flickered.

"Attention students, there's a storm headed this way soon so it'd be best to just leave now before we get trapped for however long."

The kids in the cafeteria all groaned and jeered as the announcement continued. Mumbling under their breath as they started to file out into the halls. You two looked at each other and laughed, getting out of the dancing stance but he kept your hand tight in his.

The rain came sooner than they thought. So by the time you both made it out it was pouring down and the students started to scatter. Bucky held his suit jacket over your heads with both hands and you hugged his side to stay close as possible.

"A shame the night had to end like this." Bucky said, trying to keep his composure while you clung to him. Your breasts against his chest were driving the poor boy crazy.

"It's not all bad. Got to make a new friend tonight." you said. He walked over to a nearby bus stop and lowered the jacket. When he gave you another look, a real look, he almost froze. Your eyes twinkled so naturally in the moonlight. Or maybe that's the street lamp. Either way, his heart was pounding.

"Just friends?" he asked coolly. Damn bastard never missed a beat. You tilted your head and brushed a piece of confetti from his hair. Those steel blue eyes let you know where home was.

"What was your name again?" you teased. That earned a classic tongue-in-cheek response from him as he nodded.

"So that's how it is, huh?" he said, looking back down at you. "It's

"Bucky?" you said in disbelief. He's at your door completely soaked from the rain. Like a sad, wet cat. His hat barely blocked his face from the rain too. His face littered with faded bruises and cuts but the second he laid eyes on you it's like nothing ever happened.

"...Are you real?" you asked quietly. Bucky stepped into your apartment and just stood there. Ears red from the cold and his jaw tight from trying not to cry at that question. He was riddled with guilt that he had to stay an extra week on base for a reason he didn't care to remember. He looked like he was standing at attention and waited for a command. His body wouldn't move on its own.

He'd done it, hadn't he? Worried you sick and drove you mad. He could tell by the cigarette that dropped from your fingers when you opened the door. He'd understand if you hated him. Oh, but you have his shirt on. You're wearing his shirt and you never took the ring off.

His breath stuttered once he heard the door shut behind you. You didn't even care that he was getting your floors wet.

Bucky is here. In front of you. Steve made sure of it.

He mumbled your name and you were on him in an instant. A kiss. A kiss so sweet, so passionate and real. Pure. His hat fell to the ground but neither of you cared right now. His hands roamed your body like he was making sure you were the real one and not a hallucination.

You pulled away and both of you panted. You held his face and could see the turmoil in his eyes. Unshed tears in your eyes.

"I thought I'd never see you again." he said. Ironic you thought the exact same thing at the exact same time. You finally shed a single tear and took him in your arms. His clothes still wet but it didn't matter. You needed to feel him physically in your arms even if he was trembling.

"How'd you get here in this weather?" you asked. You could feel his shaky breaths against your cheek as he nuzzled into you.

"Took the last train home." he said. You exhaled with your eyes closed for a moment and ran your fingers through his damp hair.

"Let's get your clothes in the dryer." you whispered and patted his back. He backed away looked at you with glossy eyes, 100 different emotions simultaneously flashing at you before quietly agreeing, peeling off his wet clothes and handing them to you. Now left in a white tank and boxers.

You stood in your room in front of your vanity table, staring down at the ring on your finger. After begging the universe to bring him back to you, one would be jumping for joy. But that deep look of leftover fear in his eyes didn't make this any easier.

You felt warm, strong arms wrapped around you from behind. Looking up you saw Bucky with his chin on your shoulder and felt him gently caress your ribs.

"Why is your middle cushion flipped over?" he asked. You froze. Not because you didn't want to tell him, but because you knew he already knew.

"Bucky," you whispered. "Please, please, please. Let me do this, please-"

"I thought about you a lot, too." he continued, planting two kisses on your shoulder. "Every single day."

"Bucky," you said while looking at him through the mirror. "We don't have to do this. We don't have to do anything." you heard him sigh behind you and hold you closer.

"Baby," he said. "I have really seen some shit. I need to feel something. I need to feel you."

He hooked his fingers around the band of your skirt and pulled it down until it pooled around your ankles. When he saw you push your thighs together already, you could feel his soft laugh against your neck.

"You had nothing on but my shirt?" he asked--rhetorically--and pressed himself against your ass. He watched you bite your lip and stifle that pretty sound that he never fails to elicit from you.

"Please," you breathed out and involuntarily arched your back like a cat. "Not right now." You heard shuffling behind you and watched him shove his boxers down quickly.

"Bucky," you whined as your head fell back to his shoulder. He held you tighter and sucked in a sharp breath. His shaft glided past your warm, welcoming walls. Just as he remembered. His hands slid under the shirt and mapped your skin like he forgot how you felt. The sound of him first sliding inside of you was lewd. Dirty. Taboo.

His hips met yours at a slow, sensual pace. He savored the feeling of you wrapped around him like a vice made of silk.

"Always so wet for me," he whispered into your neck. "No matter how long I'm gone...Shame on me for making you worry. I'm so sorry, baby."

You were about to fall apart from the first few strokes already. Fuck, you missed him so fucking much.

"Everyday. I thought about you every. Single. Day." he grunted with each thrust. He was quickly unraveling by the overwhelming feeling of love he had for you. Truly, he thought he'd fall to his knees the second you opened that door.

"Damn it- Come here." he said, pulling back and grabbing your hand. He sat down on your bed and pulled you on top of him, ripping the shirt open to reveal the rest of your body. You sank down on his dick with a whimper, tightly hugging him while he guiding your hips. You ground in his lap with haste, chasing a much needed, long awaited climax with him. Words will never describe how he made you feel. What he did to you. What he was doing right now.

You felt a single tear fall on your shoulder. He groaned quietly as the past week was hitting him all over again. He nearly died, and now he's here. He's not dreaming. His life isn't suddenly flashing before his eyes. This is real. The feeling of your hips meeting his and your walls clamping down on him, letting him know he's didn't lose his groove.

He'd seen some things. Too many things. But this? You made it worth it.

"I love you," he said your name in a shaky tone. More tears streamed down his face as he held you tight again. "Please-" he whispered.

"I love you too." you managed to reply.

"I wanna start a family," he muttered, sniffling and panting as he dragged his hands up your spine. "With you."

You nodded and grinned tiredly, fingers raking through his hair. "Okay." you whispered.

He held your hips down to stop you and look into your eyes. His cheeks flushed, nose red, and eyes watery. In an instant, he could see it. Your entire life together. Him coming home to a beautiful wife and rowdy kids tackling him at the door.

"Seriously?" he said. You held his face and kissed him, resting your forehead on his shortly after.

"Why not?" you said. He closed his eyes and sighed. That's all he needed to hear.

He grabbed your waist and kissed you back. He could feel you were close, hoping to all that's holy that you came together. His tongue desperately delved into your mouth like it was fighting yours. You moaned into his mouth the closer you got to the brink, not daring to pull away.

His came first. A soul rocking climax allowing him to pump his hot seed into you and continue his legacy. Yours came after. A body tensing shock hitting you like a truck, gripped his shoulders for dear life.

"I got you...I got you," he whispered against your lips and never let you go. He wouldn't even dream of it. It took a few seconds for him to stop cumming as you started to calm down. You swallowed thickly and wiped away his tears with shaky hands, kissing his eyelids. He rolled over with you on your back and him hovering you. He looked down at you with such pride and joy.

"I hope it's a girl."

[starkeyscumdoll]

𐙚 wedding crasher, heart catcher

rafe cameron x south asian!reader

summary: it was supposed to be just another wedding. but somewhere between the rose petals and the choreographed dances, Rafe finds himself imagining a forever with you. and maybe, for once, that doesn’t scare either of you.

content warning: suggestive themes/jokes

a/n: my best friend got married not too long ago and this was on my mind for the entire time (whoops) i tried to make this inclusive to every south asian wedding but I've only ever been to pakistani weddings so I'm truly sorry in advance if some things aren't as inclusive (kinda hoping there are some south asian girlies/writers in this fandom so that I can read their work too)

Standing in front of the mirror, you fix your lengha, trying to make it fall just perfectly from your waist to the floor. It was the day of your best friend's wedding, everything had to be perfect.  

"Babe, it looks completely fine. I promise another round of floofing won't magically change it." Rafe exclaims, eyeing you from the bottom up from across the room. He knows that you'd be stressed since you'd found out about the wedding, seeing you run all over Kildare and often going to the mainland to pull together everything. That’s what he loves about you: you always come through for the people you loved, even if it worries him a tad bit with how much you bend over backwards for them.  

"That's easy for you to say Rafe," you retort, "all you do is throw on a suit and you look like a fucking Greek god." You turn to look at him, fuck he does look good. The navy blazer sat on his shoulders but does no justice to hide his sculpted back, while his button-up is slightly unbuttoned to give a slight peek at his chain laying across his collarbone. The very chain that had a small charm with your initial encrusted in rhinestones (of course it is blinged out, who was Rafe Cameron if he didn't flaunt at least a bit of his wealth?). And don't even get started on how his dress pants are, his thighs are accentuated just the slightest bit.  

You shake any lewd thoughts out of your head before your other side takes over and bails on your best friend to see how fast you could get Rafe's clothes on your bedroom floor. 

Holding up a necklace, you softly ask, "Can you please put this on? It's hard with my nails on." Rafe lays the intricate piece over your neckline, the small jewels and gold shining under the vanity's light, and goes to clasp it shut.  

He notices the necklace he'd gotten you for your first anniversary —a small pendant with his name engraved on it, hanging from a dainty chain. His heart couldn't help but swell at the thought that you still wanted to wear it even if it wasn't traditionally part of your outfit.  

It wasn't like Rafe hadn't had girlfriends in the past who didn't wear the gifts he gave them, but he never really felt like he was someone who people would openly showcase that they were his and he was theirs. Hell, his own father barely showed how proud he was of Rafe, even if it was for an act. 

Rafe knew his temper always got the best of him, and he wasn't exactly the easy-going type of person, he can acknowledge that he was a bit fucked up. Perhaps that was why he admired you a lot more than the rest, because you called him out on his shit but you still never shied away from showing that Rafe, the man who called your mom every other night to know how she mom made her rooh-hafza lemonade, who would help your dad fix up his car with no questions asked, who even learned how to play ludo to play with your brothers, was yours. 

"There you go," he whispers gently, "ready to go?" And with a small nod, you both were off to the wedding. 

Rafe took in the venue's décor as you both walked in, the bright hues of yellow, hot pink and orange scattered across the room. Marigolds and pink carnations stringed on vines and fairy lights were hung like a canopy over the stage, while small umbrella-like centrepieces with the most intricate mirror work stood on every table. He recognizes them from a couple of nights ago when you were complaining about how strenuous the task was.

"You did good, baby. Aleena is going to love it." 

"Damn right she better love it, I didn't prick the fuck out of my hand for nothing."  

"You think you could do it again for ours?" He teases, knowing that you'd sworn off doing it again.  

You turn to look at him, hope evident in your eyes, "You'd really want this with me?" He meets your gaze, steady and sure, with his eyes softened at the revelation, 

 "Yeah, I'd be an idiot not to." Rafe takes your hand into his big, calloused one and leads you to your table. You softly smile to yourself, already starting to imagine how it'd play out. But then it hits you, Rafe had said it so surely, like picturing a future with you wasn’t terrifying, like it wasn’t some far-off possibility but instead something he genuinely wants. 

You aren’t used to this - to someone wanting to look that far ahead, not just for themselves, but with you in it. The thought settles in your chest like a quiet ache, a sweet kind of disbelief, like when you’re getting under the covers on a cold winter day. You blink, the weight of it settling in your chest. 

You never thought someone like Rafe would admit this, yet here he is, walking in confident strides with you by his side. As you go long, you notice some women, the “gossip aunties” if you will, eyeing you with Rafe, making you shrink just a bit under the scrutiny of their gaze. It didn’t bother you that you were with someone who wasn’t part of your culture, like everyone expected of you, but the mere fact that you’d be a topic of discussion behind your back made your skin crawl. 

Rafe looked down at your tensed figure and followed your line of sight to the cause of it, noticing the audience you’d inadvertently attracted. He scoffed, knowing how much you hated being in the spotlight, and squeezed your hand as his quiet way of telling you they could look all they wanted, but they’d never understand. And that was okay. 

Before you knew it, the night of festivities began, and there you were, walking down the venue’s aisle, throwing rose petals at your best friend and her now-husband, who both looked so enamoured and like they’d never been happier. 

From the moment you had sat next to her in third-year stats, you both knew that she was your platonic soulmate, the sister you'd never had, your twin flame if you will. To see her finally settling down with someone who you knew was good enough for her made you emotional. Part of you hoped that one day, you'd be in the same place with Rafe, getting to celebrate the start of forever with him.

You slipped back to your seat, wiping the corner of your eye with a quick, discreet swipe of a napkin, catching Rafe’s amused glance from the next chair over. He leaned in, his voice low so only you could hear. 

“And to think if I were to kiss you, you’d get mad that I ruined your lipstick.”

You bumped your shoulder into his, rolling your eyes. “It’s not just any wedding.” 

“I could ruin your makeup in a less emotional way if you want.” He playfully raises his eyes, making you laugh and catch a swat to the chest from you. 

“Shut up, Rafe.” 

The night moved fast after that - the aroma of spices and jasmine in the air, clinking glasses, and old aunties who kept asking Rafe if he liked the food while simultaneously forcing spoonfuls of kheer and gulab jamun in his mouth. 

“‘m getting a goddamn food baby with all of this food,” He complained, “Gonna have to spend another hour at the gym.” 

“I can totally see you making mpreg a reality.” You teased, to which Rafe gave you a dead stare (and the middle finger under the table).

Suddenly, the lights shifted, and the DJ called for everyone’s attention, feeling your heart pick up. This was your moment. 

The choreographed dances. The part you’d spent weeks perfecting with your best friend and the rest of your friend group. You felt Rafe’s curious gaze on you as the girls gathered in the middle of the hall, fixing their bangles and adjusting their dupattas (fancy scarves) excitement buzzing in the air. You leaned down and began to take your shoes off. 

“Wait,” Rafe leans in, confusion mixed with intrigue, “What’s happening? Are you about to..?”

“Yes, baby, dance,” you grinned, suddenly nervous. “It’s a thing we do at weddings, a bunch of us girls come together and try to get our shit in line to put on these dances for the bride. It’s a tradition.” 

“You?” His smirk deepened. “You’ve been holding out on me? Thought you said you couldn’t dance.” 

“I said I couldn’t freestyle, Ray. This? This is different.” 

Before you could overthink it, you felt yourself get up and join the rest of the group. You gave rafe a quick glance and a breathless smile before rushing to your place in the formation.

“Go knock ‘em dead, baby.” He whispered to no one in particular. 

The music blessed - loud, vibrant, impossibly alive - and you let it take over. Each step, each spin, and each flick of your wrist carried the weight of all the nights spent practicing, all the inside jokes, all the love you had for your best friend. 

You’d briefly catch Rafe in the crowd, his eyes never leaving you, occasionally recording you dance from time to time. 

Rafe was completely lost in you while you lost in the rhythm. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, the way you effortlessly moved, how your laughter spilled out into the air between verses with every other girl, how your skirt shimmered with every turn like twinkling lights on the Eiffel Tower. He couldn't help but think that you looked like a goddess amongst everyone.

And in that moment, it hit him with a force that he was completely, helplessly in love with you.

Not the casual kind, not the maybe-one-day kind, but the real kind. The kind that he knew he could mess up now that he has it because if he did, he’d never forgive himself for it.

Soon enough, the dance floor was open, and you began to dance freely with your best friend. A ripple of excitement passed through the crowded as the dance floor slowly filled. You turned to watch find Rafe when your best friend pulls in. 

“That boy is so in love with you. I know it’s my wedding, but all I could focus on was you two.” 

“Really? Babe, you had your husband right next to you. Just say the word and I’ll make you my runaway bride.” 

“Respectfully, I’d hate to get between you and Mister Prince Charming who’s currently eyeing you like you just hung the stars in the sky,” she pushes you into his direction, “go to your man. I’ll be fine.” 

As you approach Rafe, you feel him pull you into his chest. 

“If you’d tol’ me that you knew how to dance, I’d have made you my personal dancer by now.” He smirks, “made me so proud to be guy whose girl stole the whole damn show.” 

“Am I getting paid?” 

“Yeah, I’ll just throw my Amex.” You giggle and gently grab his hand, pulling him towards the dance floor. 

“Woah woah woah, babe, are you sure?” Rafe hesitantly asks. 

“Yeah, why not?” You pout your lips, scared that you’d been misinterpreting everything you noticed throughout the night. 

Rafe pointed his head towards the same group of aunties who were now gossiping about another poor girl and her husband she’d eloped with. You shook your head,

“Ray, I’d dance with you even if the whole world was watching, even when we’re old and gray,” 

His smirk softened, the usual edge in his eyes replace with something warmer, something that settled deep in his chest, and dare you say, something that was a lot like love. 

“Yeah?” he murmured while rubbing his thumb over your hand, feeling the warmth and softness that it provided, like he needed to hear you say it again.

“Yeah. When we’re wrinkly and slow, when your back starts hurting after five minutes and you’re a tad bit closer to beating the shit out of John B with your cane - still then. Always” 

He stares at you for a beat longer than usual, as if hew as carefully tucking those words away somewhere safe. “Careful,” he said, voice low, “say stuff like that and I’ll start thinking you mean forever.” 

You look up at him, not missing a beat. “Maybe I do.” 

He pulls you in again and leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I’ll be waiting then, meri jaan.”

For once, Rafe Cameron didn’t have smart comeback or any additional response. Just this crooked smile and a smitten look that proved that he was so whipped for you. 

a/n: i wrote this on company time and couldn't be prouder

[yoiisa]

Hii!!! just wanted to say I love the way you write and have been binge reading all your blogs recently (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

Also, I'd like to request a windbreaker x reader whereby the reader acts like Emu Otori from pjsekai. Imagine Sakura trying to handle all the attention, it'd be such a cute dynamic. Any character is fine btw, I'll leave it up to your creativity!

Thankss and have a good rest of your day/night/afternoon (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

ahhh thank you sweetie!! there was a request in my inbox for an Ai Hoshino reader as well, but I accidentally deleted it (i'm sorry!!). I'm going to combine that a little into this as (at least from my understand of pjsekai) they're both singing shows!!

for this i'll do the main trio, so sakura, suo, and nirei

➜ sakura haruka would get incredibly flustered by your constant optimism and high energy ➜ he has trouble keeping up with relatively positive people as it is, so to be around someone who's the sun reincarnate is a little draining ➜ despite this, the one thing he absolutely loves about you is how you never give up on him despite his cold and rough demeanor. you keep coming back to give him a little energy boost and he loves you for it

Sakura and you are on a date. Just a normal date. Nothing weird going on at all . . . except for the fact that your smile is glowing brighter than the sun. Sakura's hand is laced in yours and he swears as the two of you walk down the street, you're literally causing plants to photosynthesize. "Seriously, how do you smile so much?" he asks, more to himself than anything else. "What'd you say Haru?" you ask, looking over to him. "Huh? Oh, nothing," he mutters, looking away. The two of your fall into a comfortable silence, and you get a little closer to him. "Where do you wanna eat?" you ask. "Hmm, I don't really care. I'm down for whatever," he responds, unable to meet your eyes. He thinks if he does, his head might blow up. "Okay, should we go to the restaurant district," you ask, your shoulder brushing his, "or Pothos? Or there was that place in Roppon-" "[name]," Sakura grits out. "Too. Close." "Huh? Oh!" you laugh and back up. "Sorry, sorry!" Sakura whips his head to look at you, his face a furious red as he glares at you. "Seriously, learn some sense of personal space, plea-" His voice dies in his throat. Your eyes are glowing, the beads of light looking like little stars embedded into your irises. "Haruka?" you ask, poking his cheek, "are you okay?" Sakura snaps out of his trance and shakes his head a little. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Let's just go to Roppongi and get some bar food." "Okay!"

➜ suo hayato is the one person who will never underestimate you ➜ he admires how bubbly and positive you are, but unlike others, he never writes you off as airheaded because of it ➜ he's pretty quiet around you and is content to let you just ramble and go off with your positivity ➜ he is pretty protective of you though; he doesn't want people to take advantage of you

The two of you are at your house, sitting on the couch and watching TV. A singing competition is running right now and you sigh. "I'd love to sing like that one day," you say and Suo chuckles. "You have a good voice," he says. "You should try out for one one day." "Maybe," you grin and look over at him. "You think I'm pretty enough to be an idol?" Suo studies your face for a while, his smile turning softer by the second. Of course he thinks you're pretty enough to be an idol, but there's more to it than just that. You radiate this energy that just attracts people to you. Suo reaches up to your face and pinch your cheek. You squeal and he laughs, "You're like a flower that makes all the little bees come buzzing." "Is that good?" you ask, swatting his hand away. Suo nods and pulls you into his chest. Your back is against his chest and he rests his head on your shoulder. He kisses the skin exposed by your sweater drooping off your shoulder. "Yes, just don't let them sting you," he says, his hands caressing your skin. "How could I?" you respond, nuzzling his cheek. Your smile never wanes as you say, "I have the best guard in the world."

➜ you are nirei akihiko's type point blank period ➜ someone who is smart, kind, determined, and positive? oh yeah, he was a goner the minute he met you ➜ he pines heavy for you, with his friends laugh while watching his poor little puppy brain try to keep up with you ➜ when he finally confesses, he's so scared, but one look in your eyes and he knows he's set

"I think you should just confess to her," Kiryu says, resting his chin on the table of the booth. "What's the worst that could happen?" "She rejects him," Sakura says. Nirei tenses as Suo whacks Sakura on the back of his head. "Don't say such mean things Sakura," he admonishes with a perfectly pleasant voice. Suo turns to Nirei and smiles, patting him on the back. "Just do exactly as we told you, and everything will be fine." "Besides," Tsugeura interjects, "these flowers are pretty as hell. Every pretty girl loves pretty flowers, no?" "Y-yeah!" Nirei nods, wiping his hands on his pants. "She'll love them . . . right?" He looks around at his friends, who all nod in support. Nirei takes a deep breath just as the door to Pothos opens, the bell jingling. He glances over his shoulder and watches you walk in, taking a seat at the bar counter. "Is it just me or did the room get brighter when she walked in, like a TV show?" Kiryu asks, genuinely confused. Well of course it would. Your a ball of light, like a star plucked right out of the sky just for Nirei's enjoyment- or rather, torment. Everytime he sees you, he swears his heart will just up and give out. Suddenly, you turn around and wave at him. Every boy at the table freezes as you do, and Nirei turns red so suddenly, before immediately going pale white. "Nirei, she's waving you over," Suo whispers. "Go." Nirei takes a deep breath and stands on shaky legs. He's about to grab the flowers, but a longer look into your eyes and he decides to just leave them. He hears Sakura's breath hitch as he just walks over to you and sits next to you. "H-hi," Nirei says. "Hey," you reply with a bright grin and Nirei feels . . . comfortable, for once.

a/n: writing fluffy fics with videos about human experimentation playing in the background is my favorite hobby

[burningember0802]

Three's Company Ch. 5

A/N: So I know I literally *just* posted about how I was going to try and write this chapter within the week but I started it and swear I got possessed or something and suddenly I was done and it was 2.7k words.

so we are back again with our stupid attendings who fucked up reallll bad. We’re also learning a little bit more about reader and her past! And about why she possibly acts the way she acts! Let the groveling begin!

Warnings: sexual content in some chapters, cursing, medical inaccuracies, suicidal tendencies, mention of death, PTSD, yelling, heavy angst, domestic violence, mental breakdown, injuries (let me know if I'm missing anything!)

Word count: 2.7k words

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Ever since the incident between the three of you where both Jack and Robby yelled at you on the same day things haven’t been the same, as expected. The next time they each worked with you they couldn’t help but notice the way you entirely pulled back from them. How your comfortability with them had taken one small step forward to take six steps back and it was all their fault. The guilt ate at them. You were like a completely different person, a shell of the girl they had known, the light that once filled the room when you walked in dimmed. 

You had not only pulled away from them, but everyone in the ER. Robby and Jack got the worst of it of course. There was no more casual conversation with them, no more smiles, no more coffee exchanged with Jack in the middle of shifts, no more playful bickering over patients with Robby. You seemed like you were walking on eggshells around them, acting like a scared doe waiting for the second the shoe is going to drop and they snap at you again. You had pulled away from everyone else in the ER too, acting much more reserved and quiet than before, no longer the confident, intelligent resident everyone in the Pitt loved. Mel and Samira had noticed it too, noticing how you talked to them less, didn’t stick around to chat after shifts or texting in between shifts. You still talked to people, trying not to worry anyone too much, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes like it used to, that light behind them gone, anxiety left in its wake. 

This was eating Robby and Jack alive, the guilt and shame gnawing at their stomachs, twisting and turning with every glimpse of you. They knew they shouldn’t have acted the way they did and that they needed to apologize but they didn’t know how, didn’t know how to get you to listen to them, trust them. They had been watching you closer in the ER during your shifts with them, observing you, trying to dissect your presence, trying to find something to help them make this up. Even Dana had noticed the shift in you, watching you closer than normal, knowing your past and how it can affect you sometimes. She even confronted Robby and Jack during a shift change once, cornering them in the family room. 

“What the hell did you two idiots do to our best resident?” Dana asked them sternly, hands on her hips, no greeting, no ‘hello, how are you?’, just straight to the point. Both men ducked their heads like dogs getting scolded for getting in the trash, Jack’s lips tightening into a fine line and Robby’s face twisting in what almost looked like pain, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “We fucked up really bad…” Jack mumbled, feeling like a child in trouble, but he knew he deserved it. “No shit, now what did you guys do?” Dana asks, her eyebrows raised in expectation. “We both yelled at her badly in front of everyone on the same day while she was working a double…” Robby mumbles quietly. Dana pinches the bridge of her nose, letting out a strained sigh. “God you two fucked up worse than I thought. You have to fix this, and soon.” She says poking a finger at the two men, a pointed look on her face. They both nod, shame riddled on their faces. Dana gives them another look before leaving the two of them to do their normal shift change briefing. 

The next day had gone on normally, or as normal as things can be for you in the ER right now while you’re constantly avoiding whatever attending you’re working with, ignoring the concerned glances you’re getting from your coworkers, and the way said attendings keep staring at you. The day seemed like it was going to be a decent one until you were pulled aside by Dana while you were walking through the ER, pulling you aside to the nurses station. “Hey, could you possibly do me a favor?” Dana asks hesitantly, both of you leaning on the nurses station counter. “Sure? What is it?” You asked, brows furrowed in confusion. “Well we have a girl in exam room 3, here for what seems to be domestic violence injuries. She seems really scared and is hesitant to let us get Kiara for her to talk to.” Dana says, a soft look on her face. 

Robby hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, he really didn’t. But still he found himself standing at the nurses station going through patient charts over and over, his back towards you and Dana just so he could hear the seemingly sensitive conversation between the two of you. “I was wondering if you could possibly talk to her? I think talking to someone who has experience with it will help ease her anxiety, especially someone her age range.” Dana explains to you, worry on her face. You stand there for a moment, taking in her words, contemplating her question before you take a deep breath and nod. “Thank you so much hun. You don’t know how helpful this is. So while you talk to her Robby and I will stand in there with you to help with things as needed and unfortunately it’s typically policy for attendings to be there when broaching a topic that will involve the social work department.” Dana explains, a nervous smile on her face. She knew that things between you and the main attendings weren’t great but she hoped this wouldn’t stop you from doing this. 

When she told you Robby was going to have to be there when you talked to her your stomach dropped to your toes, your heart rate picking up slightly. You knew you needed to do this though, for the patient’s sake, so you took a deep breath and nodded again. Dana stepped away long enough to grab Robby who was still standing at the nurses station acting like he wasn’t listening. Then the three of you walked into the exam room where the patient was. She had multiple bruises on her arms and a broken wrist, many of the bruises being in the shape of someone’s hands or from someone gripping her arms. She was a similar age to you, around 25, only a few years younger but she looked so small right now. The girl was sitting in the hospital bed wearing a gown from the examinations they had to do, a scratchy hospital blanket thrown across her legs, her hands in her lap. It was obvious she had been crying, her eyes red and glassy, her figure shaking slightly. 

You walked into the exam room quietly and sat in the chair next to her bed facing her, Robby and Dana standing to the side. You offered her a weak smile, one that wasn’t returned. “So I heard that someone in your life might be hurting you?...” you say softly, your own hands planted in your lap firmly, a soft look on your face despite the tension radiating in your body. The girl looked at you, her face scrunching a little. “Did they send you in here to tell me how stupid I am for getting myself in this situation and that I need to just leave?” She says, frustration in her voice. You shake your head softly. “No…I’m a doctor here…a 3rd year resident. I’m here to talk to you for a little, be an ear to listen if you want…someone who knows what it’s like.” You explain quietly, the patient’s face softening slightly. “What do you mean you know what it’s like?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly. You swallow the lump in your throat, letting it join the anxiety twisting deep in your gut. “When I was around your age, from when I was 21-25, I was in a domestic violence relationship and let it get worse than it should’ve…” You say, your voice steady and calm, your gaze locked on your hands in your lap. You could feel the eyes of the patient, Dana and Robby on you.

“He said it was an accident…that he’d never do it again…he said he loved me…” The girl in front of you said, her voice strained and her eyes watering. “They say that but they don’t mean it hun. It isn’t an accident. It will only get worse. It starts with the anger during small arguments, and then comes the yelling, then comes the name calling, then comes the throwing of items around the house, then comes them throwing items at you, and then they put their hands on you. The first time it happens they cry and scream that it’s an accident, that they love you, that it won’t happen again…but it will. It’ll happen again and again. I let myself fall into that trap of manipulation and it ended with me covered in bruises, a broken cheekbone, a broken collarbone, and two broken ribs. I’m lucky I wasn’t beaten to death honestly. It got this bad because I believed him, believed he loved me, that it was my fault, that it wouldn’t happen again…but it was a lie. He didn’t love me, not really. He loved the control he had over me. No one who truly loves you will ever lay a hand on you without consent.” You explain, meeting the girl's gaze. She started crying softly as you spoke, the weight of her words hitting her like a bus. “I’m scared…I don’t know what to do…” She whispered through her tears. “That’s why we’re here. I didn’t leave because I thought I couldn’t. I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to, no support system. We’re here to help though, we have resources for this, people who can help. Do you have anyone you can talk to about this? Anyone you can stay with right now?” You ask the girl softly, placing your hand on her gently. She nods through her tears. “Good, that’ll help a lot. We have our social worker Kiara coming down to talk to you, show you some resources, some people to talk to that can help. It’ll be okay. I promise. It may not feel okay today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even in a week, but one day it will. I promise. Here…here’s my number, call or text me if you need anything or someone to talk to.” You say softly, grabbing a paper from nearby and scribbling your number on it before handing it to her.

 “Thank you…” The girl sitting in front of you whispers. “How do you move on from it? How do I become okay again?” She asks quietly. You let out a sigh, looking at her again. “Well it’ll probably take awhile, a lot of work, a lot of therapy but my biggest thing was not letting him hold me back, not letting him stop my life because I was scared, because I was upset. That just proves him right, shows him the control he still has over you. So my biggest piece of advice is to feel your feelings, but don’t let them control you. There will be times where they take over, where you feel like you’re right back in that situation again, flashbacks coursing through your head, but those will get better over time.” You explain to her, a soft, empathetic look on your face. The girl nods again, taking in your words. Then at perfect timing the social worker, Kiara, enters the room quietly. You introduce Kiara to the patient in front of you, making sure the patient is okay before you, Robby, and Dana leave the room. 

As Robby listened to you talk about your experience with domestic violence he felt sick to his stomach, the bile bubbling up in the back of his throat, begging to get out, to expel the awful feeling in his gut. He knew that wouldn’t fix it though, and wouldn't take the guilt and shame that filled his being away. He felt anger building up in himself as well, his jaw ticking at your words as he clenched his teeth. He couldn’t believe someone could do that to anyone, let alone you. You, who lit up every room you walked into, who was the kindest and empathetic person he ever met, who had a special skill for making everyone feel comfortable no matter the situation, who made funny faces at the kids in the ER to cheer them up while they got tests done, who lit up his world. The mental image of you battered and bruised in the way you described hurt him, made his chest twist and ache in a way it never has before. He wanted to take you into his arms and never let you go, protect you forever, show you that he’d never let it happen to you again, that he’d never do that to you. He knew he couldn’t though, that he had no right to, especially after what he and Jack did. 

As he listened it hit him exactly what he and Jack did, how bad they really fucked up. He realizes that he and Jack had most likely triggered you and the trauma response and fear you had gained from your experience. This realization hit him like a bus, the guilt and shame worse than ever. He understood now why you had acted the way you did, why you completely drew back from everyone, especially them. You were doing the only thing you knew how to do to protect yourself, to keep yourself from getting in that situation again. He knew he needed to talk to Jack as soon as he got here for shift change, and that they needed to figure out how to make it up to you, to apologize for their actions. 

Once you left the room you left no time for Dana and Robby to talk to you, ask you any questions about what you said. You knew Dana knew the story of everything, she’d been a close family friend for years, a mother like figure to you. But you could see on Robby’s face that he was itching to talk to you and you knew you couldn’t handle it right now. Once you were clear of the exam room you quickly walked to the staff bathroom, shutting and locking it behind you, praising whatever deity was out there that it was a single stall. The door shut and the lock clicked and everything hit you. Every ounce of tension, anxiety, PTSD, etc. hit you…hard. You walked quickly to the toilet, your knees barely hitting the ground before the contents of your stomach were emptied into the toilet in front of you. After it was over you wiped your mouth and sat there for a few minutes, your chest heaving, almost hyper ventilating. The room felt like it was closing in on you, like you couldn’t breath and everything felt heavy. You stood up and leaned on the bathroom sink, staring at your figure in the mirror, your chest heaving, your face flushed, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. The girl in front of you in the mirror scared you…you looked like the girl who was beaten by someone she thought loved her, who was too scared to say anything. Your thoughts were rushing in your head, a headache already coming on. You turn on the sink and splash your face with some cold water, drying it off with your shirt, hoping it would bring you back to reality, save you from the impending breakdown. As much as you wished it worked you still found yourself curled into yourself in the corner of the bathroom, the feeling of the cold tiles under your skin. Your knees were drawn up to your chest, your head shoved against your knees, hands over your ears, your figure rocking in an attempt to comfort yourself as your body wracked with quiet sobs, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The world felt like it was closing in, like it was too loud, too much, and you were all alone.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

hihihi, i LOVE your stuff, long time lurker <3 im not sure if you are still in need of Aemond requests but if you are 👉👈,,,,, heres an idea,,, (or maybe multiple ideas i feel like this could be broken up into a few cute stories sbsvsbbsbsbs)

alpha aemond × omega reader who have been close to each other since they were young, similar interests and generally being the only two who ever thought about the other (niece reader maybe?) and despite everything they never stopped missing each other. they find a way to get letters to each other, and they decide to meet secretly after reader finally claims a dragon and realize they are mates <3

and!!! secret marriage plot! because you KNOW as soon as Aemond realizes he's found his omega he throws nearly all prosperity out the window because i will never get over the idea of secret Valyrian wedding w/Aemond. (Small?? Intimate?? Only super important people? Yes. Dream wedding, babe. My favorite idea is that dragons are considered legitimate witnesses in Valyrian Weddings :])

and the only reason anyone ever finds out what they did, because Aemond and reader be way too good at sneaking around to see each other,, the ‘easily ignored good children who never do anything bad why would they need watched?’ thing y'know? baby. reader gets pregnant and they decide no more separation because well they are havin’ a baby why wouldn't they be together?? well, no one can reverse the marriage now, they are stuck dealing with smug Aemond and a very pampered reader who is way too happy to be a mom for anyone to rain on her parade. (without facing Aemond's wrath which maybe someone tries it because drama lol) except they have twin boys and Aemond gets 10x more smug and annoying (or maybe triplet boys using Omegaverse logic, i'm not sure how safe triplets would be without it lol) smug daddy aemond because i love that he deserves to be a happy dad idc what anyone says

this is long i got carried away sorry! i needed to ramble i guess im gonna go reread all your aemond stuff for the 100th time ok ty!! <3

–🪻

Dragon Witnesses-Alpha!Aemond

I love that your request was so long, give me specifics, I thrive on your creative details! I will never promise that I’ll write it perfectly but when I’m given fun, sweet details that you guys come up with it gives me more ideas to put into the story. I love this request, I’m always excited to see an Aemond request since all of mine are usually Klaus (which is Great! I love writing Klaus fics-they’re my favorite!) so getting requests for Aemond always has my mind going a million miles a minute with ideas! I hope that this is everything that you wanted it to be!

Warnings: Smut! Bullying

They had always been close, ever since they were babies.

Alicent had given birth to Aemond only a few months before Rhaenyra had Y/n and the wet nurse that took care of them kept them close to her which ended with them sleeping in a crib together quite often. As they got older they sought each other out, Y/n would always wake up early and crawl from her bed and end up crawling into her Kepus’ bed where she went back to sleep for an hour or two snuggled to Aemond’s chest-his arms wrapped firmly around her where he believed they belonged. Everyone knew of course, they would walk into breakfast every morning hand in hand and whisper their conversation in Valyrian so that Aegon, Jace and Luke could never understand them as they were all garbage at learning their mother tongue.

As they grew people became worried about their relationship, “People” of course being Alicent and Rhaenyra. They could see how close their children were and they wanted to stop it but keeping them apart never lasted-though honestly neither of the women actually thought for a moment that their children would be mates-would be anything other than the Betas that Targaryens had been for centuries. Neither Aemond nor Y/n minded getting in trouble for breaking any rules if it meant that they could be together. In the end their mothers gave up on keeping them apart after Aemond was found in Y/n’s bed one morning, having spent the night holding her after an entire day not seeing his best friend even once.

It wasn’t until Rhaenyra had Joffrey that they were really pulled apart. Her mother decided to move back to Dragonstone, keeping it from her daughter until she was on the ship. As the ship set off Rhaenyra finally told Y/n what was happening, a guard having to hold her from jumping overboard and swimming back to shore. She watched the dock as they sailed away, seeing her best friend running down the dock and screaming her name as he got to the end, Y/n shouting back and trying to ignore her giggling brothers as she watched her Kepus become smaller and smaller in the distance.

They didn’t see each other again until Laena’s funeral, Y/n jumping into Aemond’s arms and hugging him as tightly as she could, Aemond’s arms clutching to her and refusing to let go. He stayed holding onto her for the entire day, only letting go as she was escorted to bed that night-though she was awoken again abruptly when a guard barged into her room to check on her.

She was escorted through the castle and into the main hall where she violently shoved her way around everyone until she got to her Kepus.

“Aemond!” She gasped, moving to his side and taking his hand into hers, ignoring everyone as they argued angrily with each other. “Are you alright?! I’m so sorry I wasn’t there! I-“

“No, I’m glad you weren’t. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were hurt, and knowing your brothers, after tonight I don’t think they would have cared if they hurt you…I claimed Vhagar! I have a dragon!” He told her as excitedly as he could. They had talked their entire lives about how they were going to grow up and claim dragons of their own, how they would be better than their brothers dragons and no one would ever be able to tease them again.

“That’s amazing! I knew you could do it! You are a dragon rider now…just don’t leave me behind, okay?” Aemond shook his head promptly.

“You’re coming with me! I’m taking you riding first thing in the morning-“

“No. You need to rest Aemond, you need to heal…does it hurt terribly?” She asked, moving to sit on his lap as he pulled her closer and she laid her head in his neck, kissing his throat and hugging him tightly.

“No. I’m alright, don’t you worry Issa jorrāelagon.” (My Love)

“Don’t be so brave Kepus, you are so strong! I would be crying like a toddler if I was you-” (Uncle)

“I would never let this happen to you! You are my beautiful little Princess, no one will ever harm you-and if they try I will feed them to my dragon!”

Y/n stayed there holding onto Aemond for another few minutes until everyone went back to bed and she refused to go anywhere other than Aemond’s bed with him. Alicent relented quickly, unwilling to deny her injured boy what he needed, talking Viserys into allowing it since Rhaenyra would not. She stayed by his side all night, giving him water whenever he woke up and fetching his mother and the maester in the morning. Unlike last time she couldn’t be tricked into boarding the ship to leave and so later that day she was grabbed by a guard that shoved Aemond away as he tried to punch him. She was carried to the ship and locked in her cabin until they set off.

She hated her family after that.

They took the most important person in her world away again-after butchering his face-and none of them cared. They had thankfully found a way to communicate, a Raven that Y/n had nursed back to health after it had broken its wing served as their communication as it delivered letters to each of them without delivering them to anyone else.

They told each other everything, Aemond even telling her what Aegon had done to him on his 13th name day. Y/n had vowed to beat him bloody the next time she saw him which Aemond found sweet-and comedic as he pictured his sweet Princess on top of his older brother, beating his face in while he cried-the image always brought Aemond a smile. Y/n told him the moment that she claimed a dragon of her own, Grey Ghost becoming the girls only friend on Dragonstone and she had an instantly deep connection with the off-white dragon, they both hated people and preferred their solitude.

Aemond and Y/n wrote each other after that, always promising to see each other soon, Aemond trying to find a place somewhere between them that they could meet without anyone else sticking their noses in their business. It wasn’t until their 16th name days that they knew they needed to make that dream of seeing each other come true. Aemond wrote her the night of his 16th name day and told her that he had presented as an Alpha. To say that she was shocked was an understatement but she was also heartbroken. Aemond was an Alpha which means he would need to find his own Omega, his mate, it meant that another girl was going to come along and steal him from her and no matter how much Aemond insisted that he would never want anyone but her, her fears remained…until her 16th name day.

To say that it was hectic would be a massive understatement…a Targaryen Omega hadn’t existed in the world since Aegon the Conqueror’s sister Rhaenys. Rhaenyra was quickly speaking to all of her advisors and trying to find a suitable Alpha for her daughter-though she should have known that her daughter had plans of her own. She wrote Aemond immediately and he sent back a response that night with a location on the piece of paper and nothing else.

Aemond had always been possessive of Y/n, ever since they were 2 years old and he would shove Jace away from her and insist that she belonged to him. No one ever expected anything to come of it, though now it seemed that it all made sense and it always had…

By the time she got there Aemond was already waiting beside Vhagar. She landed Ghost a few hundred yards away, not wanting her dragon to be scared, though he would have to get used to the large she-dragon since they would be seeing a lot of each other. As she slid down Ghosts wing Aemond was already on his way to her, Y/n looking up after petting her dragons nose and locking eyes with her Uncle, her heart fluttering and nearly jumping from her chest as her knees grew weak. She could hear his loud growl from the distance, whimpering pathetically as she began moving her legs and running towards him-jumping into his arms as soon as he was close enough and hugging him as tightly as she could.

‘Look at me!’ He demanded, pulling her back and looking down at her face for a moment and mumbling something about how gorgeous she was before he pulled her body back against his own and pressed his lips to hers possessively.

‘Alpha…’ she purred, her hands clutching tightly to his jacket and allowing him to dominate the kiss as he clearly wanted.

‘You are so perfect Omega! My perfect little mate, did just what your Alpha told you like a good girl.’ He praised-knowing how desperate Omegas were for love and praise and instantly seeing how right he was as she purred louder and wound her arms around his neck. His reward was her allowing his hands to explore her body every which way he wanted. His hands settled on her breasts and he couldn’t help but imagine them large and full along with her belly as he trailed his hands down along her stomach, imagining her full of his babies. ‘Fuck! Need you Omega, your Alpha is going to fuck you so good-mark my pretty little Omega for everyone to see! No one will ever dare take you from me again!’ Just as Aemond’s hands moved to unlace her corset she gasped, pulling away and whining as he growled quite loudly at being denied his Omega the way he wanted.

‘Aemond! No! We can’t-we are mated now, we need to wait until we are married! We can have a wedding that-‘

‘Your mother will never allow that Y/n and you know it.’ He told her, much more calmly this time, hating to see how excited she was since it would never be the way she wanted.

‘N-No…you’re my Alpha! She can’t-‘

‘She can and she will, Omega! She’s probably already searching for an appropriate Alpha for you to marry, she’s not going to let us be together. She will try and wed you off to another house as far from me as possible!’ Aemond’s grip on her waist tightened as he heard her sniffle, seeing the tears running down her cheeks and quickly moving to wipe them away.

Behind Y/n her dragon stepped closer, clearly not enjoying his riders sadness and nudging her back which just shoved her into Aemond’s arms even more before he did it again and Y/n fell onto Aemond chest as he landed on the sand-the dragon roaring out a high pitched noise which had the both of them laughing a moment later. Ghost settled down beside them and Vhagar did the same a few yards away as Aemond just held her on his chest. ‘I want to be married, Aemond. I don’t want to just be some stupid Omega on the side while you end up married to another Omega in Court! I don’t want to be your whore that-‘

‘Not in a million lifetimes Issa jorrāelagon, I would never do that to you-‘

‘And what choice will we have?! You’re right, I will be forced to marry another Alpha and you will be given another Omega and we will just end up sneaking around forever!’ Aemond could see the fear in her eyes as they became glassy, tears falling once again and she began to panic. ‘My babies will be bastards! They won’t know their father, I’m going to end up alone and-‘

‘Enough!’ He shouted, Y/n flinching but finally taking a breath. ‘That’s enough Y/n, your Alpha would never let that happen to you! If you want to be married then we will marry…you’re going to go home and get your pretty little ass in bed and sleep, because tomorrow night you will be right back here with me where we will get married. We will do it in the ways of our ancestors, the way your mother and Daemon did it. All we need is someone to marry us and our dragons can witness just fine-we don’t need anyone else. Then your Alpha will fill this belly with my babies, our children will be legitimate and perfect-and if you ever again insinuate that I would allow my children to be bastards like your brothers I will take you over my knee, Omega.’ He warned, though the smile on his face let her know that he was teasing her but also very much not.

‘Yes Alpha…I’m sorry. Thank you. I will be a good mate, I promise! I will be the perfect Omega-‘

‘You already are, Issa jorrāelagon.’ Aemond swore, helping her up before connecting their lips once again. ‘You are going to go home now and get into bed, you will be right here at the same time tomorrow night and I will have someone here to marry us.’ Aemond swore-and that’s just what he did.

The next night when Y/n arrived she was greeted by not only Vhagar but also Dreamfyre and Sunfyre.

‘Helaena I understand, but Aegon is here too?’ His Omega questioned, Aegon smirking before he swung back the bottle of wine, taking a large gulp from it.

‘You think I’m going to miss my brothers wedding? When our family finds out and begins losing their minds, I want to be able to say I witnessed the whole thing.’ Aegon explained, taking his place as Helaena took Y/n’s hand and pulled her to stand in front of Aemond.

The ceremony was quick as Aemond and Y/n promised themselves to each other for eternity. Helaena married them and Aegon witnessed as well as all 4 of their dragons-dragons having been legitimate witnesses to Targaryen weddings for centuries now-and now that they were married there was nothing that their families could do to tear them apart.

‘I have something to show you. Come.’ Aemond told her, taking his Omega’s hand and pulling her along down the beach. In the tree line, just off the beach there was a large pile of pillows and furs waiting for them.

‘You brought us a nest? Aemond…’ Y/n whimpered, tears falling from her eyes as she was overwhelmed by heavy emotions. ‘It’s beautiful! Thank you!’ She turned around, pulling her Alpha down to her height and pressing her lips back to his roughly. Aemond pushed her back, dropping the both of them down onto the plush nest where he began pulling her dress off of her, stripping her and looking down at his girl bare for him for the first time in his life.

‘You are so beautiful, Omega! So fucking perfect!’ He breathed, needy for his mate in a way Aemond had never felt before as he shed his own clothes, his cock leaking against his toned stomach. ‘Alpha is going to rut you so good Omega, gonna fill you with my pups! You’ll be in my bed in the Keep before you know it, our pups suckling at your breasts while I rut you full of another litter all over again! Gonna give your Alpha all the pups he wants like a good little Omega, aren’t you?’

She nodded into his neck frantically as he pressed his cock into her dripping hole. ‘Yes Alpha! Yes! Give you all the pups you want! Please?! Want to be full of your pups Alpha-Please?!’ She begged, squealing as Aemond thrust up into her for the first time, her hole squeezing him so tight.

‘Oh Fuck! So perfect Omega! Fuck! My good Omega, letting her Alpha fuck her so full! Perfect Omega! My good baby! Gonna fill this hole so full, over and over again until you’re leaking me all night! Fuck! Gonna fill you so good, cum for me Omega! Cum so that Alpha can fill you up!’ As his Omega came, squeezing his cock he pulled her as close as he could get her, burying his cock into her hole and filling her with everything he possibly could.

Aemond held his mate on his chest, fingers running through her hair, allowing her to have a nap before having to wake her and send her back home. He hated the idea of his Omega being away from him, though he knew it would only be for a short while-it never took an Omega long to get pregnant.

And it truly didn’t take long at all. 2 weeks later and she already knew that she was pregnant.

Y/n mounted Ghost the morning she first got sick, knowing that she was supposed to find her Alpha as soon as she shows signs of being pregnant. Flying to Kings Landing didn’t take long, Ghost landing just outside the front gates and waiting there with her until her Alpha arrived.

‘Princess. To what do we owe this surprising pleasure?’ The Queen wondered, having arrived to greet her with her father before her Alpha did.

‘Your Grace. It is lovely to see you, it’s been too long. I am here to see Aemond.’ Y/n explained, Alicent looking surprised by that.

‘I am sure your mother would not want you here, I am in the process of finding my son an Omega to marry as I’m sure your mother searches for an Alpha for you. I think you should-‘

‘That’s enough mother!’ Her Alphas voice shouted from behind them, moving quickly to see his Omega, knowing what her presence means. ‘Please do not be speaking of other Omegas for me, you will upset my wife. She is already in a delicate state, I will not have you hurting her.’ Aemond insisted, making it to her side and pulling Y/n close to his chest, kissing her contently. ‘How are you feeling, Omega?’

‘I woke up this morning quite sick but it has passed and I am actually quite hungry now.’ She answered honestly and Aemond grinned excitedly.

‘Mother, Y/n and I are married. Helaena wed us 2 weeks ago, both Aegon and all of our dragons were there to witness. Now my mate is already showing signs of being pregnant, such a good Omega, carrying my pups already.’ Aemond grinned, excitedly. ‘She will be living here now, I have already moved my chambers to a larger space and my Omega will join me there. Please have a maid bring her up something for lunch? I need to make sure my Omega and our babies are fed.’ Aemond held her hand in his, leading her passed his mother and grandfather just as Ghost took off.

‘Aemond! I am in discussions with 2 families offering their Omega daughters to you! You cannot just-‘

‘I am already married mother, it is a legitimate marriage and cannot be undone-nor do I want it to be. You were perfectly aware of what I wanted and you chose to ignore it in favor of your own agenda, as did Rhaenyra. My wife and I cannot be bothered with your plans falling through. Now, I need to take care of my wife, I will give you time to adjust to this new reality as my wife is carrying my pups, you are going to have more grandkids. You may decide if you would like to be a part of their lives or not.’ With that, Aemond took his Omegas hand and led her into the Keep, straight up the stairs and to their bedchambers.

The couple was content to stay in their chambers in wedded bliss for nearly a week, eventually both of their mothers relenting as they didn’t want to miss out on their grandchildren knowing that Aemond would keep them away if they didn’t choose to accept them.

A little less than 9 months later his Omega gave birth to his pups, 2 boys and a girl-all being put in their cribs with one of Syrax’s eggs beside them waiting to hatch. The Alpha and Omega would have 4 more kids in the next few years-5 boys and 2 girls-no one questioning their relationship again.

Upon Viserys’ death and Rhaenyra’s rise to the throne, Dragonstone was passed down to Y/n who was happy to move her children away from Kings Landing-Aemond and his Omega content to live out the rest of their lives together with their children.

Aemond T. Masterlist

[arlucent]

Title: Learning to Love – Sanemi Shinazugawa x FEM!Reader

「 🌪️🟢⚔️༺🩸༻⚔️🟢🌪️ 」

The Proposal

The wind howled outside the Shinazugawa estate, rattling the wooden shutters with enough force to make the paper panes tremble. Rain lashed against the roof in erratic bursts, the sound nearly drowning out the crackle of the irori's flames. You knelt at the low table, fingers stained with ink as you meticulously recorded the month's expenses. The abacus clicked softly beneath your touch, beads sliding with practiced ease.

Across the room, Sanemi sat with his back against the wall, one knee drawn up as he ran a whetstone down the length of his nichirin blade. The rhythmic scrape of metal filled the silence between you, his violet eyes fixed on his work with single-minded intensity.

"You're staring," he muttered without looking up, the words more accusation than observation.

You didn't deny it. "I'm thinking."

The whetstone stilled. His gaze flicked to you, sharp as the sword in his hands. "About what?"

"You."

He scoffed, returning to his task with more force than necessary. "Tch. Waste of time."

Setting down your brush, you turned fully toward him. "Sanemi, when was the last time you wrote something down?"

His shoulders tensed visibly. "What's it to you?"

"I was going through the household ledgers today," you said carefully, tapping the open ledger before you. "Noticed you never sign anything. Not even receipts."

The air grew heavier. Sanemi's jaw worked silently for a moment before he bit out, "Got a problem with that?"

"No." You traced the edge of the paper with your fingertip. "But I think you should learn."

The whetstone clattered to the floor. "The hell for? I've survived this long without scribbling shit down like some noble's brat."

You met his glare unflinching. "What if I wasn't here to do it for you?"

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. His hand twitched toward the scarred skin of his forearm, fingers digging into old wounds before he caught himself. "Then I'd fucking manage," he growled, the words rough as gravel.

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken things.

Finally, you reached for a fresh sheet of washi paper, dipping your brush in the inkwell with deliberate care. The characters flowed smoothly beneath your hand:

不死川 実弥

Then, just beneath:

[Your Name]

Sanemi watched from the corner of his eye, his breathing just slightly too controlled. When you set the brush down, he made no move to take it.

But he didn't walk away either.

「 🌪️🟢⚔️༺🩸༻⚔️🟢🌪️ 」

The First Lesson

Dawn painted the engawa in pale gold when you arranged the writing supplies the next morning. The inkstone sat precisely at a 45-degree angle from the paper, the brush resting parallel to the table's edge. You'd chosen simple practice sheets with grid lines - the same kind given to children in the village schoolhouse.

The shoji screen slammed open with enough force to rattle the frame.

"The fuck is this?" Sanemi loomed in the doorway, sleep-tousled hair falling into his eyes. The morning light caught the jagged edges of his scars, turning the raised tissue silver.

"Your first lesson," you said, patting the zabuton beside you.

He didn't move. "I never agreed to shit."

You arched a brow. "Scared?"

"Like hell I am!" The reaction was instantaneous, just as you'd known it would be. He stomped forward and dropped onto the cushion with enough force to make the inkwell tremble.

The brush looked absurdly small in his battle-roughened hands. His grip was all wrong - fingers clenched like he was strangling a demon rather than holding a writing tool. The first stroke went sideways, bleeding across the paper like a wound.

"Goddamnit!" He nearly snapped the brush in half.

You caught his wrist before he could destroy another sheet. "Like this." Your fingers slid between his, adjusting the angle. "You don't fight the brush. Guide it."

His breath hitched. For a man who could cleave boulders with a single strike, his hand felt strangely fragile beneath yours.

The next attempt was only marginally better. The kanji for "one" (一) came out crooked, the line wavering like a drunkard's path.

"Again," you said.

He snarled but obeyed.

By the twentieth attempt, sweat beaded at his temples. His strokes grew increasingly violent, ink splattering across the table like blood spatter from a slayed demon.

"Fuck this!" He hurled the brush across the engawa. It left a dark streak on the wooden boards before clattering into the garden.

You waited. Counted to ten in your head. Then stood and retrieved the brush without a word.

When you returned, Sanemi had his face buried in his hands, shoulders hunched like a wounded animal. The paper before him was a massacre of failed attempts.

You set the brush down gently. "Tomorrow, then."

His fingers curled into fists. "...Yeah."

「 🌪️🟢⚔️༺🩸༻⚔️🟢🌪️ 」

The Midnight Confession

The full moon cast long shadows through the shoji screens when you woke to an empty futon. The house was silent save for the occasional creak of aging wood.

You found him in the study, bathed in the flickering light of a single candle. His hair stuck up in every direction, evidence of frustrated hands running through it repeatedly. Dozens of crumpled papers littered the floor around him.

He didn't notice you at first. His entire being was focused on the brush in his hand, moving with painstaking slowness. The tip trembled slightly before touching paper.

家

Home.

The character was uneven, the strokes too thick in places, but recognizable. He stared at it like it was a foreign creature before carefully setting the brush aside.

"You're improving."

Sanemi jerked like he'd been struck. His arm shot out to cover the paper, knocking over the inkwell in the process. Black liquid spread across the tatami like spilt blood.

"Goddamnit!" He swiped at the mess with his sleeve, only making it worse.

You knelt beside him, catching his ink-stained hands. "Leave it. We'll clean it later."

His breathing was ragged, pupils dilated in the low light. "What the hell are you doing up?"

"Missed you." You thumbed the smudge of ink beneath his eye. "Why are you really doing this?"

Sanemi looked away, the candlelight catching the moisture gathering at his lashes. "Tch. None of your business."

You waited. The house creaked around you. Somewhere outside, an owl called.

"...Couldn't sleep," he muttered at last.

You reached for a fresh sheet of paper. "Show me."

His hand shook when he took the brush. The characters came slowly, each stroke an act of will:

お前が

A pause. The brush hovered uncertainly.

大

Wrong stroke order. He cursed under his breath.

好き

The final character was barely legible, the ink bleeding where his hand had trembled.

You traced the words with your fingertip, smudging them further. "Say it."

Sanemi's throat worked. When he spoke, the words were raw, stripped bare:

"お前が...好きだ。"

I love you.

The admission hung between you, fragile as the candle's flame.

You pressed your forehead to his, breathing in the scent of ink and sword oil and him. "I know."

His hands found your waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid you'd disappear. "Damn right you do."

「 🌪️🟢⚔️༺🩸༻⚔️🟢🌪️ 」

The Gift

Spring came softly to the Shinazugawa estate. Cherry blossoms drifted through the open screens, painting the tatami in pale pink.

You were sweeping the engawa when something thumped onto the wooden planks at your feet. A small wooden box, crudely carved but clearly made with care.

Sanemi stood a few paces away, arms crossed, scowling at the garden like it had personally offended him. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

Inside the box lay a single sheet of washi paper, carefully folded. The handwriting was still rough, the strokes uneven, but every character was perfectly legible:

愛してる

No crude "daisuki" this time. The full, formal declaration.

Your vision blurred.

"Tch. Don't cry, you idiot." His voice was gruff, but his hands were gentle when they cupped your face, thumbs brushing away tears. "Just...just words."

You pressed the paper to your chest, right over your heart. "Your words."

Sanemi's breath caught. Then, with more tenderness than you'd ever thought possible from the Wind Hashira, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Yeah," he murmured against your lips. "Yours."

[idanit]

Thank you for the nice words <3 The game was simply called "Kwiatki" and is very easy.

visit a library: I visited a new library and got myself a new card. Libraries are like temples to me — spaces of silence and focus, devoted to reflection and joy. I need to go more often.

go to an art museum or a gallery: I went to an art student exhibition. It was a mixed bag, but overall inspiring, I'd say.

read some Polish poetry: I've been meaning to find some more poems of Tadeusz Nowak for a while and finally managed to do it. I learned about him from Grechuta's "Krajobraz z wilgą i ludzie", a song frankensteined from two separate Nowak poems (which explains why it's hard to follow the lyrics despite their beauty). Nowak writes about nature and the people living in the local landscape — their joys and their sadness — with such deep love. The space seems to be alive, forests behave like people, the wind moves like sand. He's also very sensitive to the mental landscape of people living in the countryside and trying to synthesize their Christianity with their more uneasy world of folktales, drunkenness, dance. The poems remind me of Leśmian (my beloved). There was one weak one in the book I picked, but overall, I love Nowak's poetic imagery, even when it's difficult to parse. Two excerpts from two different poems, "Dziewczyna" and "Dziadek":

Jeszcze o wiośnie chcę zagrać na flecie, ale się wstydzę, bo oto od rzeki idzie dziewczyna i mruży powieki. Ona się w sobie i we mnie kołysze ciałem, o które ociera się we śnie sen nasz i burza i w burzy czereśnie.

///

I oto nagle pułap się otwiera, do izby gwiazdy sypią się ze śniegiem, Bóg się przebudził, Bóg tańczy sztajera, a brzegiem nocy, snu białego brzegiem ucieka chłopiec z dymiącą czupryną. Pies śpi pod stołem, sadem chmury płyną.

discuss a book with people: I discussed "A Little Princess" of all things with a friend of mine, and we had a great discussion about how children's fiction originally written in English is often more compelling to Polish children than Polish children's fiction.

listen to some music by a Polish artist: I listen to a fair amount of Polish music and Spotify actually recommends me more of it than I want (not even respecting the genres I'm interested in). I'll take this opportunity to plug Kirszenbaum's "Zostawcie nas" (the lyrics by Tadeusz Różewicz can be found online under the title "Leave us alone") because I almost always cry when I listen to it.

watch a Polish movie or TV series: I watched "Zaklęte rewiry" (1975) because my partner and I liked the poster. [Spoilers to follow.] It was pretty good, very claustrophobic in a way I enjoyed; a movie about taking the moral high road while the word tries to strip you of your personhood. I'm so glad Fryc did not end up dead and got a job outside the city because he could have easily been killed off for the dramatic impact. I think him living, even beyond pleasing me from a character perspective, makes the movie a stronger story. It is, in the end, true that you could neither love nor die in such a restaurant, and the only way to leave the violence and dishonesty-based system of this workplace on your own terms is to literally walk away from the job. I wonder if Romek truly wrote to Hela, or saw Fryc again, for that matter. The copy I watched on YouTube had "PROPAGANDA" appearing on top of the screen every now and then and I wonder when the text was added. Were the PRL/PPR authorities worried that the images of a pre-war Poland would be too tempting and nostalgic for the viewer despite the violence of the film?

I wanted to at least try to take part in @polish-art-tournament's summertime bingo because this blog is such a warm presence on the Polish side of tumblr.

do an activity with a friend: I played two board games with a friend and her boyfriend in a stuffy attic on a warm June day — one game was about growing flowers and the other one about travelling to Japan.

take a walk in nature: I took a long walk through a forest and the Bug riverside. The weather was perfect, sunny and mild.

cook or bake something to share with others: maybe not in the spirit of the prompt, but I made a strawberry tart with a friend and shared it with her and one other person (I almost never bake anything, but this time I did most of the work).

draw something: I constantly draw and paint, so this is too easy — let's pick this unfinished drawing of a tombstone I made in an abandoned Jewish cemetery (writing not to scale).

paint something: No picture this time, but I painted some landscapes with watercolours.

go to a non-art museum: I visited a kayak museum! I didn't know they used to be made of fabric and some of them can be folded. Adding a photo to the "Polish priests blessing things" collection.

[scienceisfood]

Trans pride TRANS PRIDE AGENDER GENDER FLUID GENDER QUEER NONBINARY PRIDE I SUPPORT AND LOVE YOU ALL TRANS RIGHTS ARE HUMAN RIGHTS AAAAAAAAAAA

[amorremanet]

Man, I realize demanding that someone execute their own brother is pretty fucked up, but He Xuan asking that of Shi Qingxuan still gave them more respect than Shi Qingxuan ever got from Shi Wudu [gave them the ability to make their own choice after finally being given the full story and enough context to actually have the capacity for informed consent, something that Shi Wudu spent centuries denying to Shi Qingxuan] and also, He Xuan did nothing wrong and should be allowed to do all the atrocities he wants, thank you for your time

[sleebyconfy]

...

[quarterlifekitty]

One thing that makes me go feral is when in the middle of fucking, one person gets overstimulated and tries to crawl and squirm away from the overstimulation, and the other person drags them back by the hips like "Where do you think you're going?" 😩 which of the guys do you think is most likely to do this?

(Can you tell I'm ovulating... 🫣)

ALL

cw: daddy kink adjacent stuff for Nik, as per usual. Just a hint of aggression, and marking dubcon just in case

Gaz is literally so sweet about it. Like you’re a little kitten about to walk off the edge of a table and he’s just redirecting you. “No, no, love— this way,” he coos as he puts his hand beneath your hips to cup you and pull you back.

Soap is about to lose his mind, it’s so hot to him— “Ah’m just givin’ it tae ye so good, huh, bonnie? Cannae take it anymore? Too bad,” he tuts, his fingers sunken into your soft flesh as he pins your kicking legs and tugs hard.

Ghost reacts with some real aggression. He’s not mad at you— he’s mad at the idea. The concept of you being separated from him. He’s bruising and yanking your body, manhandling you under his weight. “Don’t fuckin’ run from me, birdie— don’ wanna know what’ll happen if’m pulled outta this cunt—“

Price can’t help but smile. Such a sensitive little thing. “If you’re already in this state— doesn’t bode well for the rest of your night, darl’— cause I ain’t near finished with you.” He’s prepared to wait upon you like you’re his ailing, bedridden queen suffering from the consumption tomorrow, cause you’ll have about as much energy left when he’s done.

König is holding you too tight to let you even begin to squirm away— he can just feel the tense and strain of your muscles against his hands. It makes him kiss you as deep as he can manage— he just thinks it’s so cute, like you’re a little moth with wings beating against his cupped palms.

Nikolai laughs. He laughs at you. You’re just so silly— thinking papochka will show you mercy. He’s not a merciful man, malýshka. He’d best remind you of that— not that you’ll ever really learn. He wouldn’t want you to, really. He likes playing this little game with you. It’s like ballroom dancing to him— very romantic and sweet.

[sacredsorceress]

the fling / bob reynolds

pairing: bob reynolds x f!avengers!reader summary: bob finds out that you had a one night stand with bucky a few years earlier and feelings bubble to the surface. a/n: heavy on the dialogue since i'm still trying to learn how to write for these characters I'm sorry. for the people who went to thunderbolts for bucky and walked out with a crush on bob- I hope this is okay!! first time writing in a bit word count: 4.3k warnings: no smut, but there are mentions of sexual content so minors please dni!!, former one night stand with bucky (y/n living the dream life fr), john walker!! jumpscare!! (kidding, but he is in it), feelings of worthlessness- anything that would have been in thunderbolts*, drug mention

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Just one more time?" You asked. "Please? For me?"

Maybe you batted your eyelashes on purpose- your smile soft and warm, as you brushed your baby hairs from your face. Maybe it was on accident. Even you had been unable to differentiate between the blurred lines of how you instinctively reacted to his presence versus when you consciously tried to impress him.

You had been in the training room for an hour and although the ceiling fan whirred incessantly above the both of you and the fluorescent lighting had begun to give you a headache, you weren't ready to quit.

A glass of water stood on the far side of the room, among a few small puddles that had spilt as Bob had tried (and failed) to successfully raise it in the air telekinetically. A month earlier you had offered to help train Bob; with abilities the most similar to his out of anyone in the group, it felt like a natural step.

But as days turned to weeks, you needed a win just as much as him.

"Try to feel the energy running through you." You said, laying your hand against his shoulder. "I can feel it radiating off of you. You have to remind yourself that you're the one in control, Bob."

Bob's skin rose underneath his sweater- tiny goosebumps scattered across the expanse of his body. A shiver ran down his spine at the spark of your touch. As your hand trailed from his shoulder down his arm, his heart raced.

"It's all you." You whispered. "Now concentrate. Focus on the energy coursing through you. From your fingertips, up your arms," your fingers tracing up his arm as you spoke until they reached for his chest. "...to your heart..."

When Bob could feel your fingertips ghosting over his chest, pressing through the sweater that hung loosely on his frame, his breath hitched. His brain- a jumble of emotions that had far less to do with whatever god-like power was flowing through his veins and more to do with the brain of a man fogged by the woman he loved- lost focus on the task at hand.

His eyes screwed shut as the glass shattered in midair.

"Nice going, Bobby." Walker called, learning against the door frame.

Suddenly aware of how close you had become, you swiftly pulled away from Bob.

You scoffed.

"Don't be an ass, John."

The tension in the room was palpable as the three of you stood in silence. Only the mechanic whir of the fan click, click, clicking as it rattled on the ceiling kept you from hearing each other's breaths.

Glancing between John and Bob, you rolled your eyes and scooped your things up off the floor.

"Good work today, Bob." You said turning back with one last smile as you headed for the door. "See you at dinner."

Bob raised his hand to say something back, but before he could, you had scurried out of the room leaving him with Walker. Wonderful.

As if the room had been vacuum sealed and released, it was as though the liveliness of the room had been sucked out with your departure.

John gestured to the door.

"So you two are getting close, huh?" He asked, striding into the room with a beer bottle in his hand.

Bob felt the heat rise to his cheeks- was it that obvious?

"Oh uh... I guess." Bob smiled politely, shoving his hands in his pockets.

John's feet dragged against the floor as he walked, the sound of rubber against concrete like nails on a chalkboard in Bob's ears. Walker's gaze travelled across the room as if he was seeing it for the first time and hadn't trained in it himself daily, until his focus landed on the water spill from moments earlier. He kicked a stray piece of glass with his foot.

The super soldier cleared his throat.

"You know, man-to-man, Bobby: I'd be careful with her if I was you." Walker chuckled dryly. "Y'know, after what happened with Bucky."

Just as quickly as it had raced by your touch, his heart now stopped.

Everything that had been bothering him previously- the mechanic clicking of the fan, the bright white lights that reminded him a bit too much of a ward, the crisp tag that scratched the back of his neck, the way John spoke with drops of beer still hanging on his lips- it was endless, really- had faded into the background.

What did Bucky have to do with you?

He fidgeted with his hands, digging into the nail beds that were still dried with blood.

"What uh.." A nervous laugh escaped his throat. "What happened with Bucky?"

"Hooked up." Walker said, bringing the bottle to his lips. "Yeah.. it was like, a while ago back in my Captain America days." He raised his eyebrows. A pause. "She didn't tell you?"

As much as Bob had a difficult time lifting a glass, his heart had no problem dropping into his stomach.

One thing that Bob had always been cursed with from a young age was a hyper-active imagination that rarely ever served his own benefit. Now, it plagued him with the idea of you and Bucky together. Blurry images of you falling into bed together- your laugh in his ear. His lips on yours. His hands running up and down the length of your body...

He could be sick.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

They all had their flaws but Bucky had been forced into a life of heinous acts and had still managed to come out on top. Captain America's best friend. A hero against Thanos. Fuck, he was even a congressman... meanwhile you had been there to witness the vivid memory of Bob high out of his mind working as a sign flipper first hand. He didn't even work for his abilities, he received them on the hunt for another high.

What was he thinking?

Bob's eyes fell to his hands as they fiddled in his lap and he shook his head.

"No uh, no..." He coughed, attempting to mask the tremble in his voice. "She never um.. mentioned it."

"Huh."

"What?"

John took another swig from his bottle.

"Nothing, nothing..." Walker said with a shrug. "I just figured you guys were close. Always hanging out n' all."

And by all means you were.

There was no coffee run complete without Bob's vanilla milkshake, or a night where you fell asleep on the couch without him by your side. He tasted everything you made before it managed to find its way into the oven. He came with you to every bookstore and supermarket run under the guise of 'wanting to feel useful', while really just wanting to observe you in mundanity outside the tower and carry the bags for you effortlessly home.

Him and Yelena were close, but you and him were partners.

Bob had understood that his more-than-friendly feelings for you would likely have been in vain, but he had never considered that yours were already taken by another.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Bob tugged at his hair and scratched the scruff that had begun to grow on his jaw.

"Yeah..." He shrugged. "I mean.."

John sized Bob up, trying to estimate how he was feeling. He was a difficult one to read- chronically calm in the face of adversity as if it was the life he was assigned to live. Staring at the polite smile that Walker could've sworn was glued to Bob's face, he accepted that he wouldn't know.

"Well, anyway," John said. "Time for dinner, right?"

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Can I ask you a question?"

It was a simple question. One that you didn't think would have much bearing. Afterall, the two of you were finally organizing your bookshelf- the final step in making Avengers Tower your home. You figured that it would be about where to place a book or how you liked it.

You would have never anticipated where the conversation was heading.

You absentmindedly flipped through the pages of one of your paperbacks before slipping it onto the shelf.

"You can ask me anything, Bob." You replied. "I'm an open book."

Bob watched where you were knelt on the floor below. The sun peeking in through the window behind him had cast a golden glow on your face, highlighting the crinkles that formed as you focused on the task at hand.

Did he want to know if you were Bucky's? Now, with the two of you alone in your room, doing a mundane task like organizing your bookshelf he could convince himself that this was his life. That you were his.

The truth could shatter that illusion.

What was he thinking? Of course he wanted to know.

The sound of his sock feet shuffling on the floor pulled your focus from the shelf to his flushed face.

"Is everything okay, Bob?"

You pulled your hand from the pile and laid it gently against Bob's clothed leg.

Bob cleared his throat.

"Are you and Bucky.. are you... did you-" Bob tugged at his hair. "Fuck, uh.. this is awkward. Were you two ever...?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you listened and you swear you felt your blood pressure spike.

How did he know?

Bob was the last person on Earth you wanted knowing about your sex history- especially with someone so close to the two of you. His spluttering only dragged the moment on and you needed a mercy kill.

"Are you asking if Buck and I were a thing?"

Buck. Bob's mind raced. She's the only one in the tower he lets call him that. How did I not notice?

You watched him physically deflate once you posed the question for him- whether that was out of defeat or relief at the awkwardness being stripped from his own hands and shoved into your own, you weren't sure.

Your eyes trailed to the books in front of you.

"I guess, once." You replied trying to even the thumping in your chest. You were never sure of the extent of Bob's powers and if super-hearing had slipped its way into his skillset. "It was a one time thing. I think we just got lost in the heat of it all and when we were done with our mission, we got busy with our own things and it just... fizzled, you know? We're just friends now, Bob."

Without realizing it, your hands had clasped together, circling around one another nervously as you spoke. Noting your demeanor, you picked up another book from the pile.

"Walker just made it seem like-" Bob started.

Of fucking course it was Walker.

You shoved a hardcover into a free space on the shelf with a thud.

"Well Walker's an asshole." You stated flatly, loosing the composure that had been held together by the wringing of your hands. "There's nothing there, Bob. I mean, Buck is a good friend, but he's not the type of guy who'll grab coffee with you, or read your book recommendations, or-" You stopped yourself short, realizing the relationship you were describing was your own. "He's just.. he's not the guy for me."

A silence hung in the air for a brief moment until you could no longer take it.

"I'll be right back."

Before Bob had the chance to argue, you were on your feet, slipping through the door, and rushing down the hallway.

You welcomed yourself inside Yelena's room and shut the door behind you.

"I could kill John!"

Yelena, who had been sat on her bed reading, threw her book to the side.

"Uh, hello?" Yelena said pulling out an earbud. "Have you heard of knocking?"

Waving away her argument, you paced the length of her room.

"Walker told Bob that I had sex with Bucky."

Yelena had become well acquainted with John Walker's slights in the time since meeting him- he enjoyed getting under someone's skin like no other- a natural instigator- though, the team had become immune to it. But watching you now, burning a whole in the carpet with your pacing, Yelena realized she had never seen you so frantic.

"Well?" She asked. "Did you?"

You gave her a pointed look and sighed. That's all she needed to know.

Her jaw dropped.

"When was this!" She shouted, waving her arm in the air.

"Three years ago!" You yelled back. "But that's not the point- the point is that Walker told Bob!"

Yelena, quickly digesting the grenade of a revelation you just threw at her, shrugged.

"Well you just told me," she said. "Who cares if Bob knows?"

"I care!" You said flopping onto the bed. "It's different."

The blonde furrowed her brows.

"Why is it different?"

Staring up at her ceiling, you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Because you're a girl."

Yelena tapped her finger against her chin: "Well Walker knew and you did not care until he told Bob."

"That's because he was there, Yel." You argued. "I wouldn't want Alexei to know either."

A dry laugh escaped her lips.

"That is different." Yelena said. "Alexei would tell the whole world that you had sex with Barnes and the news would call you the Avengers' whore."

You reached for one of her pillows and threw it at her.

"Oh my god, Yelena!"

You hid your face in your palms.

"Not that I am calling you a whore!" She defended herself. "I am just saying-"

"Yelena." You said, face still hidden behind your hands. "Focus."

"I just do not understand why you care if Bob knows!" Yelena said with an exasperated sigh, running her hand in circles on your back. "You two are very close. He won't judge you. I mean, he is very awkward, but I am sure he's had sex before. It won't affect your-"

As if a cartoon lightbulb had appeared above her head, the thought finally came to her. Yelena ceased the motion with her hands.

"Wait." She said, pulling herself away from your touch. "Do you like him?"

You rolled your eyes.

"What are we?" You said, deflecting. "Kindergarteners?"

"Aha!" Yelena said, hopping off the bed. "I knew it!"

Somehow telling another person only made your feelings more real, tangible. Before you could deny that they had ever existed, but now that it was out in the open, you were vulnerable not only to your feelings but Bob's too. You could feel your face burning from the confession and groaned.

"You like Bob!" She said with a pout, as if it were the most wholesome idea in the world. "That is so cute. Why do you not you tell him?"

She asked it as if it were simple. As if the only thing that stood between you and what you wanted was a sentence. And that if things didn't go the way you hoped, that your desires would blow away like dust in the wind.

If anything, the revived information that you had a history with Bucky only further pushed down your inclination to confess your feelings to Bob. If three years had passed since a mutual one night stand and that was still haunting you, how would an unrequited love with your roommate be?

You weren't sure you could take it.

"You're joking, right?" You wrapped your arms around your legs and tucked your knee under your chin. "He's literally 'the golden god'. I mean Bob's just... he's so attractive and fit and nice... there's just no way he would feel the same and then it would make everything so awkward."

Yelena quirked her eyebrow at you.

"I am confused." She said. "Are we talking about the same Bob?"

You gave her a sad smile and swat at her arm.

"Yelena. I'm serious." Your argued. "Just think about it."

Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, tut, tut, tuting you as she brushed her hand against your forehead.

"Y/n, before you started training with Bob, he could throw us all across the room without even thinking about it." Yelena said, stroking your hair. "Now, he can't even pick up a glass of water. Do you know why that is?"

You hadn't considered it.

"Do I make him uncomfortable?" You asked.

"No! I mean, yes, but it's not like that." She said, pulling away. "You make him so nervous that he cannot think straight. We all know that he's in love with you, we just did not think you felt the same."

You pulled yourself up onto your elbow to get a better look at Yelena, the sheets crinkling under your touch. In your chest, you swore you could feel your heart thumping against its cage.

Bob liked you? You?

As if you were a kid again you felt an adrenaline rush through your veins, begging you to hop off the bed, skip around the room and run into the arms of the man you loved.

But you were an adult who lived with both a man from your past and one who would, hopefully, be your future. Care and precision was needed.

"Really?" You asked, pressing your hand to your chest to steady your breathing. "Don't mess with me, Yelena."

Yelena laughed.

"Oh yes. He is very obvious." Yelena shook her head. "Always making the googly eyes at you when you talk and asking where you are... it's gross."

Without thinking, you closed the space between you and Yelena by gripping her hand.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." She assured you, squeezing your fingers, "And you should tell him. Now that he knows about Bucky it is going to mess with his head. It is better to tell him soon."

Suddenly, you thought of Bob's feelings. The way he must have felt learning about Bucky.. if you were in his shoes and he had been with a member of your group, you think you would be sick.

As much as you wanted him- to hold him, to tell him you love him and hear it back, to be able to call him yours- it wasn't your feelings that drove you, but Bob's.

Yelena could be wrong, but she could also be right. You couldn't risk the latter by fear of the former.

You'd tell him tonight.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

After your conversation with Yelena, you had headed back to your room only to find it abandoned by Bob. The afternoon had dragged on in agony, avoiding Bob like the plague until dinner. Even once the dishes had been served, wine was poured, and you had relaxed into your seat beside him, it had taken you all dinner to get up the nerve to speak to him again.

Afterall, what if Yelena's intuition was wrong?

"Can we talk after dinner?" You asked.

You turned your head towards Bob and whispered, careful that the other members of the table wouldn't hear. Bob, who had been half-heartedly been picking fries off of his plate the entire dinner, bit his tongue at the sound of your voice.

"Ow- what? Y-yeah," He said with a polite smile. "We can talk."

You smiled.

"Perfect." You smiled. "It's a date."

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Your footsteps were the first thing he heard.

They were soft, hesitant. As if you had to convince yourself to take another step. You had wrapped your sweater tight around yourself to brace the chill that came with being so high above the ground and all Bob could think was he would warm you up if you let him.

But he'd never say that.

Instead, he braced himself against the railing and greeted you with a wordless smile.

"Hey."

"Hi."

You glanced down at your shoes then back to his face.

Just do it.

"I'm sorry that you had to find out about Bucky and I from Walker." You glanced between Bob and the traffic lights on the street below. His stare, so filled with kindness and care, made your breath catch in your throat. "But it's only because it's one hundred percent in the past. And I... was afraid that you'd look at me differently because of it if you knew."

Bob, usually the victim of low self-confidence, hated the look on you. Not because it made you look weak or worthless, no- but that he wished he could take whatever weight it carried in your body and absorb it into his own. Valentina may have called him the golden god, but you were the shining light that kept him him.

"Why?" He asked. "I could never judge you."

Your eyes locked with his and for a brief moment it was like the rest of the world fell away. You studied the blue in his eyes and the way gold specs floated around in them- as if the power within him was always just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. You took it in. If this all went south, at least you could remember him like that.

"Fuck." You laughed, taking a sudden interest in your shoes. "This sounds so childish, but I really don't know how else to say it..." Wrapping your arms tighter around you to brace the wind, you looked up at him and smiled. "I like you, Bob. Like more than... more than I probably should."

A shiver visibly rattled your body as another gust of wind hit. Rather than suggest that you go inside, Bob laid his hands against your arms, warming them.

"What do you... what do you mean by that?" He asked.

"C'mon, Bob." You sighed, shielding your face in your palms and burying your face into his chest. "You know what I mean. I just look at you and don't even know what to do with myself anymore; and I know I'm supposed to be your friend, but I can't keep pretending that I'm not having a heart attack every time you look at me like that."

A deep sigh shook your frame.

"Anyway just tell me you don't feel the same and I'll forget it." You said, "and we can pretend this never happened."

He could feel his heart shatter in his chest.

He knew the tremble in your voice well. The tone. The complete lack of confidence. It was unfamiliar coming from your lips but he had heard it come from his own every time he opened his mouth. To hear it come from you was not just unfathomable, but heart breaking.

How you could think that way about yourself in comparison to him... he couldn't believe it.

"Don't... don't say that." He said no more than above a whisper. "You're like, just perfect to me."

Bob stepped back, leaving space to get a better look at you. Running his hands up your arms, he reached your cheeks. He cupped your face in his hands, gently as if one wrong move would make his earth shatter, and guided your face up to meet his gaze.

"Look, I'm uh.. I'm not good at this whole... relationship thing..." Bob said, eyes darting from your face to your hair, to the space behind you as the glimmer in your eyes made him nervous. "But I- I feel the same... About you."

He laughed. The same sweet, nervous laugh that followed you into your dreams and gave you a reason to come home; and you felt your heart swell at the familiar smile painted on his face- this time for you.

"Really?"

Your fingers clung to the fabric of his sweater as if you feared that if you let go, it would turn out to just a figment of your imagination.

"Yeah."

Tendrils hung in his eyes as he leaned further, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin and and breath fanning your face. When your noses touched, ever so slightly brushing at the tips, you placed your finger against his lips.

Confusion and hurt painted his features until you gestured behind him.

"We have company." You whispered.

Framed by the warm light of the tower behind them, five all-too-familiar figures watched from the doorway.

"Should we be worried about the two most powerful people on the planet being in love?" Ava asked, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

"I'm more worried about the mental stability of their future kids." John deadpanned.

"No!" Alexei argued, slapping his hands against Ava and Walker's backs. "What are you saying? They will make strong babies!" He raised his fist in the air: "And they will be the pride of the New Avengerz!"

"Alexei!" Yelena groaned. "Stop making it weird."

As if Yelena had physically stung him with her words, Alexei's hands flew to his own chest.

"I do not make it weird." He argued. "I am being supportive. How is that weird?"

"They have not even kissed and you are talking about super babies!" Yelena shouted. "You are lucky they cannot hear you."

You called back.

"Oh no, we can hear you!"

Bob pointed to his ears and mouthed: "Super hearing."

Still cradled in Bob's arms, your eyes met Bucky's from across the landing pad. He smiled softly.

"C'mon." Bucky said waving the onlookers inside. "Let's go. Leave them alone."

Waiting until they left your sight, you looked back at Bob and breathed him in. His cheeks had begun to burn a bright pink that was visible even in the dim light of dusk, but he looked at you with eyes that could only be described as love drunk.

"So..." You said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The palm that still laid flat against his chest felt his heart skip a beat. "Where were we?"

[kkusuka]

more roommate simon!

i love the idea that simon thinks he's super open and available with his emotions and reader thinking he's really cold and disinterested. is he ooc? yeah. do i care? no. if you want cannon ghost, play the game!

simon riley doesn't know when you became so important to him.

the only reason he even put out the ad for a roommate was because his landlord though he'd moved out while he was away and he'd rather have some bird in his place than deal with that again.

you were just so easy; showing up to the coffee shop (where you requested to have your first meeting just in case he was some crazy murderer) face flushed, strands of hair all over the place, and sweater a mess; rushing to explain how you got sprayed by a sprinkler on your walk over then chased by a dog. and just as you repeat sorry for the 30th time simon thinks he's in love. you're officially his roommate 30 minutes later.

but it's so out of character for him. he hasn't been around anything other than hard ass military men since he was a teenager. fuck, he's killed hundreds of men in his line of work, tortured thousands more. (he doesn't like to think that that's why he's so drawn to you. that you're so different from who he has to be, someone he's been for so long, that being around you lets him breathe. that he feels like he can actually sit and enjoy his moments away from the field in your tiny manchester apartment.)

he thinks it actually started with the decorations.

the small trinkets you let around the common spaces when he was away. it starts with your room obviously; fairy lights above your bed that spills light into the hallway when he comes home in the early morning hours, paintings on the wall that eventually flow over into the living room, the small plants in your window sill that you ask him to water one day after you leave for work.

then the dinner table suddenly has checkerboard placemats and a vase of flowers that change with the season. and his run-down couch has decorative pillows and a throw blanket (both words he learned from you when he questions what the fuck is on his couch). then the bathroom in the hallway gets a new soap stand, and a mat is placed at your front door, next to the shoe organizer and coat rack.

so he starts buying things too; the penguin plushie in the supermarket window, the vase that matches the curtains in the living room, and a small skull magnet to rest on the face of your fridge.

and before simon knows it his dreary, cold apartment actually looks lived in. and instead of coming home to a dark hallway and an empty fridge, your flower lamp is on, some random show from the 90s is playing, and there's food on the table.

he gets to know you more than he thought he would; he knows what foods you don't like, the books you're reading and the ones you refuse to read again, and even that dick from work he promises to take care of if he bothers you again (it's evident that you think it's a joke and not something that he would genuinely do but simon doesn't think he's ever been more serious).

but he never lets you know too much about him, you don't need to know about it and the less you find out the better.

then came dinners, actual dinner not just him showing up while you already had food ready. you would ask if he wanted whatever you had made ( 'i'm already making food and i normally don't eat is all anyway, so i might as well share' ). so suddenly he was spending his nights at your table with a homecooked meal and simon doesn't think he could ever let this go.

then he gets sent away again, for way longer this time. he makes sure to update his paperwork, changes his emergency contact, your name swirled onto the spouse line. you were probably as close as he'll ever get to one and if you're there they'll tell you if anything happens to him faster. he doesn't want to think of how nice your first name looks with his last name. and you'll probably never even know, simon's never gotten that injured before and he doesn't plan on it now.

months in the heat of the middle east return him to hard shell of a man he was. coming home caked in dirt, blood speckled on his clothes; he doesn't want you to see him like this, he doesn't want you to know this version of him. and for the first time he regrets letting you come into his life.

you are home when he gets back, 2:30 in the morning and every light is off, he opens your door to make sure. you're asleep, not shocking, cuddled into the giant octopus you won at an arcade. he tries not to move, he just wants to look at you for a little bit.

he wakes up the next morning to breakfast and a new pair of combat boots. he's only home for a week this time, not that he's ever home for longer than a month, and he tries to soak up all of your time. you complain about your car, he's on it. the heater started being testy, that's fine he'll take care of it. he's going grocery shopping with you, he watching that weird hospital show, and he enjoys his time in domestic bliss before getting thrown back into some random country.

somehow that all led him here. laying in a hospital bed with two bullets lodged in his shoulder with you sitting in some shitty chair pulled as close to the bed as you could.

"so uh, i'm mrs. riley now?"

"yeah, ya are. 'av been for a while."

[lymtw]

Deceiving Dreams

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Toji woke up sweating, a foul feeling in his chest after what he just dreamt. You were the star and your co-star was not him, but some random dude who was way too comfortable with touching you. His hands would brush over your shoulders and your thighs like he was familiar with your body, but what was absolutely stomach churning, was the way he kissed you softly and slowly. You didn't even push him away, instead you reciprocated the gesture. You did the sweet things that you only do with him, like smiling at this man in that way that makes wonder brim your eyes. You kissed the corner of this stranger's lips, on the same side that Toji's scar is on, coincidentally, and you wrapped your arms around this stranger with that same amount of hesitance you show Toji, as if this person you've known for mere minutes summed up the butterflies and electric feelings your lover makes you feel in that short span of time.

Toji hasn't been this unsettled by something regarding you since the time you cried during an argument that spiraled out of his jealousy. Things got out of hand, but since then, he's learned that he can't do things that way with you. He can't shut you out, and he can't snap at you or you will crumble to the ground.

Patience is a hard thing to learn, and though being with you has taught Toji how to be more careful with his words and to be understanding of your struggles to communicate certain things, at the end of the day, he's still learning. How does anyone deal with this kind of thing in a gentle and unassuming manner? He can't just spring such a question on you without it rubbing you wrong. "Are you cheating on me?" No. That is a recipe for disaster and just asking for unwanted distance. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows it, but that dream... It just seemed so real.

Hey, ma. You awake?

It's two in the morning, and you probably won't answer, but as Toji lies there in his bed, waiting for a response from you, he realizes he can't wait to hear from you, so he does the next best thing—he calls you.

The line rings a couple times, and by the third time, he's ready to end the call before he gets sent to voicemail, deeming his reason for pulling you out of sleep so early in the morning to be ridiculous. It was a dream. You're not cheating on him. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows this, yet, here he is, trying to sleep in your bed with you, like a child who woke up from a nightmare, tiptoeing over to their parents' bedroom.

"Hi, Toji," you answer, your voice quiet and slightly raspy with sleep. "Toji?" You call, again, when you get nothing from him. "Are you okay?"

He feels somewhat embarrassed for having woken you up for this, but if the deed has already been done, then he needs to make the most of it.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm doing just fine. Everything's fine. Listen, would it be alright if I came over?" He asks, already sitting up and getting out of bed.

"It's a little late, isn't it? It's..." you hum as you quickly check your phone, "...two seventeen," you respond, trying your hardest not to nod off as you lie comfortably on your side, your phone placed between your ear and your pillow, again.

"I know. I'm sorry. You don't have to wait up for me, though. I can let myself in. You gave me your spare, remember?"

You blink, tiredly, and remain silent for a few seconds until Toji calls for you. "Yeah, okay, then. Drive safe. It's raining really hard."

"Will do, mama. I'll see you soon. Love you."

"Love you," you mumble, before hanging up the phone. You went right back to sleep, afterwards. The sound of the rain pouring outside was soothing and the coldness that came with the weather made the perfect contrast to the warmth of the blanket you bundled yourself in.

Toji got to your place twenty-something minutes later. His hoodie was heavily spotted with the raindrops it caught during the walk to your front door from his car. He fishes out his keys from his pocket and looks for a shiny, bronze key on his keyring. Once he has it, getting into your warm home goes smoothly. From taking off his shoes and setting them beside yours, to removing his hoodie so that the wetness doesn't touch you, he moves quickly. He doesn't stray from his path to finding you, not even to grab a snack from your kitchen cabinets like he normally does, no matter the time—he just goes straight to your room.

When he opens the door, Toji is met with nothing more than the adorable sight of you curled up in bed, like a puppy sleeping peacefully under a heap of toasty blankets. He shuts the door behind him, quietly, and moves swiftly, but carefully, so that he doesn't wake you up before he even starts crawling into bed with you. He gently lifts the blanket off the vacant side of your bed, and slides into his place beside you. Instantly greeted by the warmth you generated, he feels the urge to pull you into his arms and just hold you all night.

"Sorry, baby. I know i'm cold," he says, softly, when you stir at the iciness of his fingers dragging up and down the side of your neck.

You blink your heavy eyes open and take in the sight of Toji right in front of you. Him calling you wasn't part of a hyper realistic dream, he's actually in bed with you.

"What's wrong?" You ask, concerned for his reason for wanting to be there in the early hours of the morning, rather than just waiting until later on in the day. You had plans to meet, anyway. What is so important that he couldn't wait until then?

"It's nothing to worry about. Just wanted to be here with you," he responds, not totally lying, but also not telling the whole truth.

"Remember what I told you when we first met?" You mumble, not satisfied with the vagueness of his response. There seems to be more that he isn't telling you.

"You said a lot of things to me that day," he responds, with a low chuckle.

"I did," you agree, smiling softly at the memory. "I also told you something important that day, didn't I?"

You watch the contemplative expression on his face, the outward appearance of his brain whirring. It's cute, even in his handsomeness. "Do you want a hint?" You ask, though when you see his eyes widen a little, you know he won't need it.

"You're better at listening than you are at talking," he recites, with a smirk, like he's patting himself on the back for being able to remember.

"Right. So, if there's something wrong, I want to know about it. I know i'm not the best conversationalist, but you know that I always try for you."

Now that you're more awake, Toji doesn't feel so heartless for handling you like you're merely a teddy bear, so that you're lying on top of him. He wants you close to him all the time, but when you say things like that, he instantly feels the need to bring you closer. It's pure instinct by now.

"You ever get tired of me just scooping you up out of nowhere?" He asks, lips curled in amusement as he watches and feels you wiggling around, trying to make yourself comfortable. Finally, you rest your head on the upper part of his chest and let your arms go limp beside him.

"Never," you respond, simply, smiling when a low chuckle rumbles out of Toji's chest.

His arms tighten around you a little more when the room goes silent, and then he remembers why he's here. He can't lose this. Your warmth, your careful affection, the way you constantly look at him like he's the reason the moon and the stars shine at night. He never wants you to look at him another way. There's absolutely nothing hard about loving you, and if you can't believe it on your own, he'll prove it to you.

"You know how much I love you, don't you, doll?" He asks, his palms finally warm enough to work as heating pads for your back.

"I do," you assure. Maybe this is his concern—that he's not showing you enough love. No, that can't be it. If that was it, he would've waited until later on in the day to see you and talk about it.

"And how much I need you? Do you know that, too?" To that, he doesn't get a response from you. He knows you aren't sleeping, because he can feel your legs shifting against his every once in a while.

"Doll?" He calls.

You let out a soft breath, before responding with your truth.

"I don't know if you need me, Toji. When you tell me you love me, I believe it, because I feel it and I know it, but I don't think you need me."

"Don't..." he sighs, not expecting this as a response from you. "...don't say that. Don't you dare say that. What does that even mean? Because I don't fucking get it. I really don't, ma."

Your heart rate picks up a little, but you try to keep yourself as calm as possible. You understand that this isn't something he wants to hear, as the one who's helped you through so much, but you can't help but share how things feel on your end.

"Don't you ever think about how much better it would be for you to love someone who makes things easier on you rather than overcomplicating them? Someone who tells you what they want straight up, instead of having you basically pry the words from them?"

Toji stays quiet this time, not because he agrees, but because he's figuring out how to say things without it being explosive. He knows that those few seconds of relief will be followed up by a tidal wave of regret. It's not worth it. You're his little sunshine and he would never forgive himself if he was the reason for why your light died out.

"I love you, Toji, but I think about that a lot. I want you to know that if you ever get tired of me-"

"Don't finish that sentence," he cuts. "I don't wanna hear it."

There's no playfulness or warmth to his tone. Nothing but the weight of his words. Your heart feels a little heavier, but you brush it off and utter a phrase that you're all too familiar with.

"Sorry."

You feel nervous, and not in the "good" way. Not in the way that makes your cheeks heat up and your stomach swarm with butterflies, but instead the way that makes your chest feel strange, and like there's a knot forming in your throat.

"I don't wanna hear that either, doll," Toji says in response, his tone softer, now, his thoughts collected. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that. You know I love you." He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs the center of your back in soothing motions. The silence that returns makes your heart beat even faster. You wonder if Toji can hear it through the lack of sound in the room.

"I had a really stupid dream," Toji finally confesses, a low, humorless chuckle vibrating against his chest. "I mean, really stupid. Can I tell you about it?"

"You don't have to ask, baby," you respond. Your cheeks go warm at your use of the pet name, but it felt right in the moment. Maybe this is what's been lodged in his mind this whole time. You want him to feel as comfortable as possible as he recounts it to you.

Toji smiles softly at the term of endearment you used for him. Somehow, the way you said the word made it sound softer and even more cushioned than it already is.

His arms readjust around you, tightening the perfect amount so that you're secure against him and he can feel more of your body's warmth on his. He peppers a few more kisses on the top of your head before going on to tell you about his dream.

"So, I kind of just spawned into a room where you and some random guy were sitting on a bench, and he was getting really touchy with you. His hands were rubbing your thighs and your shoulders and..." He pauses. This is his least favorite part. He didn't like any part of it, but this part took the cake, because no one kisses your lips but him.

"It's okay," you say, encouragingly. You rub his side a few times and endure a squeeze of his arms—the equivalence of a rush of emotional support in a gesture.

"Well, you and him started locking lips, and it looked like you were really enjoying it. Your eyes were sparkly and you were smiling at him all pretty." He sighs, bothered anew, the same way he was when he first woke up. "See, I told you it was stupid," he grumbles, mildly embarrassed. "Obviously not stupid enough for me to sleep in my own bed for the night. It's fucking ridiculous. Sorry, doll."

You utter another phrase you're all too familiar with—not one you say often, but one you hear from Toji plenty.

"Don't apologize," you murmur. A few seconds pass, and you know just what to say. "Toji?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

You say it like it's as easy as breathing, because it is. There's nothing hard about loving Toji. He's good to you. It's a love you've never experienced with another, and you do your damn best for him, which is why him showing up at two a.m. isn't a problem. Him crawling into your bed, and reaching for you with hands that are cold as ice isn't a problem. He needs comfort this time, and all you can do is hope that the way you console him is enough.

"Only you, and that's how it'll always be. Your brain thought it would be funny to trick you, but it grayed on the fact that I suck at talking to people."

That made him snicker. It wasn't a reaction meant to ridicule you, rather one of immediate relief, due to the confirmation you gave him about his place as your only love.

"Not that i'm interested in pursuing others, but how am I gonna go for someone else, when I can barely talk to you?"

Now that made him full on chuckle, and you just lay there on him, withstanding the crushing sensation of his arms squeezing you impossibly tighter. You fear he might break you, but you would endure that momentary loss of breath any day if it means his heart remains whole.

"God, I love you so damn much," he murmurs, low against the top of your head. "I love you," he says, pressing yet another affectionate kiss to the area. "And I need you. I want you to understand that by... now. I need you to understand it, right now, baby."

"I don't think that's how it works," you say, humming out a soft laugh.

"Well, we're gonna make it work. Alright? You're gonna understand how much I need you."

"Okay," you say, resigned to his perseverance.

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Yeah," you confirm, lips curling, amusedly.

"Yeah?" He copies once more, knowing it'll grant him one of his favorite little sounds from you.

You giggle. "Yes, Toji."

With that, he's flipping you over, his position expressively dominant, now. It's dark in your room, so you can't really see much, but you can make out most of his handsome features, and you can feel his body heat embracing you, just as much as it did a few seconds ago. His hands are planted right beside your head and he's peering down at you, smirking at the way you look at him, like you haven't caught up with how he handled you so delicately yet efficiently to switch positions.

"You always look so pretty under me," he murmurs, leaning in closer. You in so that you see nothing but him. His hands ball up the sheets beneath them, carelessly wrinkling them as he remains merely inches above you. You slowly release the breath you've been holding in. "You mad at me, baby?"

"No," you answer, trying to remain calm, despite the heat that is beginning to seep into your face. "You've done nothing for me to be mad about, so why would I be mad at you?"

His lips press against the lower part of your cheek—a deep kiss right above your jaw. "'Cause i'm kinda dumb and do shit like this. I woke you up, and now you're losing sleep," he murmurs, against your skin.

"It's okay, Toji," you gently reassure. "I understand and I'm not mad at you." Your hands come up to his back, tentatively, feeling the body warmth that seeps through his shirt.

"No?" He asks, pressing a soft kiss closer to the corner of your lips. "You promise?"

As if trying to further comfort the giant hovering over you, you rub his back in gentle motions.

"There's nothing to be mad about. You've done nothing wrong and you're always welcome here, love." You smile when he continues planting little kisses on your cheek while you keep talking. "You have my spare key, because I trust you and I have nothing to hide from you. If giving you that key means you show up here in the early hours of the morning, because you don't want to be alone, that's okay, too. So, yes, I promise i'm not mad."

A low hum comes from Toji as his kisses inch towards your lips. A few land on the corner of your lips, then he's just a little bit off, and then finally, his lips center on yours. You feel butterflies begin to flutter around your stomach as he collects kiss after kiss from you.

"You tired, pretty baby?" He asks, his voice only audible between you and him. Not even the thin walls of your room can take away the intimacy.

"I wanna be awake with you," you respond, your voice matching the low volume of his.

"You sure?" He asks, and you do your best to convince him that you are. Your hands pull away from where they once rested on his back and you raise them to cup his cheeks with slightly shaky hands. Your touch is gentle, maybe even a little hesitant, as you begin to slowly stroke the softness of his skin. This is one of the very rare times when Toji accepts your actions in place of your words.

Your thumb brushes over the scar on his lips, and before you can even process it, his lips are on yours, again. You can feel the flourishing warmth of his face beneath your palms as he kisses you with an unexpected amount of fervor. You hear soft panting from him, as a result of him hungrily chasing kiss after kiss from you. He challenges your lungs, letting them feel a slight burn when he doesn't pull away after you've reached your limit. It's not until you're breathing heavily that he lets you go, and begins to scatter soft kisses along the side of your neck.

"Baby," he hums against your neck, leaving another kiss behind. "My sweet, pretty baby. How do you do it?"

"Do what?" You ask, smiling as he continues to let his lips feed off the warmth and softness of your skin.

"How do always manage to keep things so peaceful?" He responds. His heart beats slightly faster when you release a precious laugh at the question. "Things are just... so damn simple with you," he says, softly, as he goes lower down your body. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and begin to slowly roll it above your stomach. He instantly takes note of the goosebumps that rise when his palms graze your bare skin.

"I know how much you try for me, and fuck, i'm not dismissing your effort, but I also want you to understand that it's not hard to treat you right." His hands grip your waist, loosely, and he leans in to place a kiss on your stomach.

"There's nothing hard about being with you..." he murmurs beneath your ribs, "...and waiting for you. You aren't difficult like you think you are, sweet girl."

"You promise, Toji?" You ask, glancing down at him as he continues leaving kisses on your skin.

"I promise," he assures, meeting your gaze as he presses another kiss right beneath your chest. "You want me to stop?" He asks, aware of the lack of coverage for your chest under your shirt.

"You can keep going," you respond, willing yourself to relax under his touch. He doesn't waste any time, and immediately buries his face in your bare chest. For a moment, there's no major movement coming from him, just his breathing. You think maybe he's just savoring the warmth that you've accumulated after spending hours under your blanket, but he full on melts into your body. His arms go beneath you, allowing him to wrap around you tightly once more, and he releases an audibly heavy sigh.

"It's okay," you say, softly. You keep one hand on his upper back, while the other gently plays with his hair.

He's not sure if he deserves the tenderness your touch holds for him. He tries to be as gentle and careful with you as he can, but he's so scared that one day you'll shatter and it'll be his fault. You'll walk away from him with no intention of ever coming back and something that was so good to him will be gone. You deserve to be happy—always. He knows this, but he doesn't want to picture somebody else making you happy like he does. He can't accept that. You're his girl.

"Toji?" You call. You know your little place isn't the most high end of them all, but you also know that it's not falling apart. There's no way for the rain to reach your skin if there's no hole in your roof.

"Toji?" You call once more when he doesn't answer. Your hands still on him when you feel his shoulders stutter. You have your own glum cloud resting on top of you. You feel something wet land on your chest—it's starting to rain a little.

"It's okay," you whisper, resuming the gentle motions on his back and the back of his head. "It's okay." You feel him begin to leave languid, spaced out, featherlight kisses on your chest, and you want to freeze. You want to express how impactful the gestures are, and how they animate the butterflies that reside in your stomach, but you can't. You can't and you won't do it, because it's your turn to prove that you'll take care of him when he's not at one hundred percent.

"It's... it's gonna be okay. I have you," you assure, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers as you repeatedly thread them through, and the movement of his back beneath your other hand as he breathes. "And you will always have me, and I love you with all my heart, Toji. I need you to understand that, right now," you tease, lightheartedly, echoing his earlier words back to him in an attempt to make him feel better. You hear a congested sound, something between a laugh and a hitch in his breathing.

Not another sound is made for the next few minutes, no words spoken. Your skin catches a few more of Toji's tears as he continues to brush his lips against the entirety of your chest, reveling in the warmth of your skin. Toji can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest—the way it always is whenever he's around you. Normally, he teases you about it. 'Your heart's gonna explode if you don't calm down.' 'We don't even have to do cardio to get your heart going.' Sometimes, he just holds his fingers against the pulse point on your neck and laughs at the rapid thrumming against his fingertips. He finds it endearing, but right now, it's a comfort.

You don't mind the occasional slight pinch of his lips—the more physical proof of his appreciative affection. You simply remain focused on soothing him and reassuring him of how strong your love for him is and will always be.

"Don't know what I'd do without you, ma," he mumbles, his cheek resting on your chest. He could fall asleep so easily to the sound of your heartbeat in his ears, the feeling of you playing with his hair, and the way you slowly rub his back, but he's torn between staying where he is and coming back up to hold you close through the rest of the early morning.

"I promise I'm not going anywhere," you assure, wholeheartedly.

With that response, Toji makes his choice. He pulls his arms out from beneath you and sits on his knees, between your legs for the quick second it takes him to fix your shirt. After, he lifts the blanket and reclaims his rightful spot beside you.

"Come here," he murmurs, pulling you into his arms without an ounce of struggle. He waits for you to settle, back against his chest, before fully enveloping you in his warm embrace.

"It sounds like pebbles hitting the roof instead of raindrops."

"Mhm," he hums, into your neck, letting his hand slide beneath the front of your shirt to caress the soft skin of your abdomen. "If your roof starts leaking, you're coming to stay with me." It's not a question or an offer.

You laugh. "The rain isn't that bad."

"Mm..." His lips home to your shoulder, a gentle peck placed on the concealed area. "Love seeing your pretty face first thing in the morning. You stay with me if your ceiling ever caves. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, through a giggle. "You'll be my first call."

"Good," he murmurs.

"I'll make you breakfast later, when we wake up."

And though Toji responds with, "Sounds good, ma," all he can think about is how you're going to struggle so hard to get out of bed because he's going to make it nearly impossible for you to do so. The gears are already turning in his head. He'll pin you down, he'll strengthen his hold around you, he'll roll on top of you "in his sleep". You're too polite for your own good, you most likely won't try to wake him up. He'll swaddle you in the blanket, he'll tie your shirts together in a tight knot-

"Goodnight, Toji," you mumble, feeling your tiredness return as he continues drawing little lines and shapes on your stomach.

"'Night, baby," he murmurs, feeling much more content and at peace with the idea of sleeping knowing that you're in his arms, not in anyone else's.

[darlingsblackbook]

Zayne x CrushingNurse!Reader | Part Five

Where has your smile gone? ANGST PT.2

Part One • Part Two • Part Three • Part Four

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

I | Zayne drops his voice a little lower than necessary while standing beside you knowing it will usually make you nervous, murmuring, “You’ve stopped stuttering. I almost miss it.” Your heart skips a beat but you keep your face neutral, “I practiced.”, you reply before walking away.

II | Zayne purposely asks you to help with something simple, things he could easily do himself. He knew it made you nervous, he could always feel the ice around his heart melt everytime he saw your hands shake as you tried to help. What he loved even more was teasing you about it. “Hands shaking today?” he asks lightly- carefully. You don’t even smile. “Not at all." He frowns.

III | “Your notes are unusually thorough, much more than usual. Am I making you nervous again?”

“No.”

He pauses. He pauses in that way that would always make you squirm, eye darting everywhere but his way, fingers twisting in the cloth of your scrubs.Now, you don’t even blush.

IV | During rounds, he lingers at your side a beat too long- long enough that you’d normally turn tomato-red and trip over your words. Now, you just shift away and keep taking notes. He stares at you. Silent.

V | You haven't brought him coffee today, nor did you yesterday - or the day before that actually. A routine you had been stuck to for months, suddenly halted. Zayne tried to recall the few days before you started acting so distant, had he done something? Said something? Where has your smile gone? Zayne thought, just as he saw you walk past his office- cup of coffee in hand.

VI | He bumps your shoulder very lightly while reaching for a chart. “Careful,” he says dryly, “wouldn't want our nurse to fall and get hurt." You reply, “There are things that cause a lot more pain than just a fall." He stops mid-motion, like what?

VII | He starts standing closer when reviewing reports with you—close enough that your elbow brushes his. You used to flinch. Now you don’t even react. You shift your chair away and don't even look his way.

VIII | “Nurse." Zayne calls out one day, "Could I speak to you for a moment?" You hesitated for a moment before taking a step forward before halting again at the faint sound of giggles. "I'm busy, Doctor." “Yeah." Zayne mutters, eyes locked on you, "You seem to be a lot these days.” You could barely keep your bottom lip from trembling, responding with a simple, "Yeah." before you walked away.

IX | Zayne starts correcting your minor errors in a purposely sharp voice, just enough to gurantuee a reaction from you - at least it used to. You only say, “Thanks for pointing it out." and fix it. It feels too calm. Too clinical. Nothing like his nurse.

X | He tries to joke during a lull between patients: “Still not a slightest hint of a smile. Should I be worried?” You just reply, “Probably not,” without even looking up. Zayne’s smile falters just slightly.

XI | He casually mentions, “You haven’t tripped over the IV cart all week.” You respond, “I learned how to walk.” There’s no laughter in your voice. It doesn’t sit right with him at all.

XII | He walks up behind you while you’re writing and says your name. A few weeks ago that would’ve made you jump and stammer. Now, you turn slowly, blink, and wait.

“…Yes, Doctor?”

It irritates him- if only you knew how much.

XV | He's done, he can't take it anymore. He corners you one day, just as you're about to leavs, quietly and not so casually this time, “Did I… do something?”

You give him a polite smile. “Of course not.”

"Then why? Why have you been acting like this? Who hurt you?" He fires one question after another.

You feel the tears pool in your eyes but you don't say a word. Not one. You just push those tears back and smile sadly, breaking the doctor's heart into a millions of pieces and walk past him and out of the door.

All Rights Reserved © DarlingsBlackBook

This is a bit of a filler part but it is needed to fill the gap between the last part and the next one ( a lot of drama will go down )

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