#he just got a little silly and lost his temper

[simpfornegan]

this divorced shit is actually hard asf omg😭

[solar4seekstron]

TFOne!D-16/Megatron x Cybertronian!Reader One Shot: Conjunx

Here’s another One Shot with my bbg D-16. This one just cam e into mind so of course i got to writing. I’m pretty proud of this story and I enjoyed writing for only D. I hope you all enjoy!

TW/Tags: Fluff/Wholesomeness at beginning, D is precious and silly, angst after cut after wholesome romance, Implied abuse (mild), kidnapping, toxic relationship at end. Might make part 2? We’ll see what my brain throws at me at 2 am lol

You and D only really hanged out when Orion was around. Not because D was embarrassed but because Orion was usually busy doing something else. You were seen as a quiet bot and also cool by D. You always stood up to the superiors knowing you weren’t out of line. And despite being a few inches smaller then D. You were strong! D won’t admit it but he was defiantly attracted to you.

One day when getting off the train, Orion did something stupid again. Elita dragged him away to do a late mining shift as punishment. Later D was alone and worked on punching the punching bag in the mining quarters. The others left him be, knowing his temper without Orion. He was so focused he didn’t notice you came up behind him. Knowing he might try to punch you if you startled him. You descide to pick him up by the waist strartling him “Hey you glitchin bot! Put me dow- Oh its you.” You put him down. He looked at you no longer startled.

”Sorry D didn’t want you to punch me if I didn’t pick you up.” You chuckled.

”You know you could’ve handled my punches right?”

”Yes but I would’ve had to punch you back.”

”…..Good point.” He pointed his digit to you.

”You mind if we talk?” D almost froze as his smile shows to have strained a bit as he looked at you. “It’s nothing bad.” You chuckled. “Come on lets go where we can see the Iacon 5000 sign.”

“O-ok.” You two walked and once up there you finally spoke.

”So D I’ve been thinking. We’ve been good friends for a good while and was hoping. Since after all this time-“ You continue to speak as his head only started to overthink.

Was so lost in thought of you possibly leaving him that he barely heard you. He then heard you say Conjunx out of the blurr of what you’re saying. But that word brought him out of his thoughts “What you say?”

”D-16 will you be my Conjunx?” You were on one knee. (Thought it be cute shud up) D was dumbfounded until he realized and his face no longer showed a blank expression but had a cute little grin appear on his face. He then shakes a little. Little sounds of metal being heard. You reached a cervo toawrds him once you stood, a bit worried “Uhhh D??”

Then out of no where he hugged you and started spinning, you around as he shouted in cheer and joy. You were now dumbfounded and put your cervos on his shoulders gently patting. “So…..that’s a yes?” He then holds you up with his hands holding your waist.

”YES!!!!” I have been waiting for so lo-“ He looked at you once he stopped. He can tell you were trying to hold in a laugh. “Uhh”

”Guess tonight will be a night to never forget.” You both chuckled and embrace each other. Both of your foreheads touching as you two closed your eyes.

D then lets out a soft sigh as he gently lowers you. You standing once more. Your arms around his neck and his around your waist. Your foreheads still touching as you two stared into each other’s eyes.

”I love you Y/N”

”I love you D. Mine. Always and Forever.”

You both leaned closer together and as your lips both finally touch. The sparks in your chests soon glow. Shinning around you as you two stay in the moment together with the sign of Iacon 5000 behind you both in the dark city.

———————————————————————————

(Last chance guys skip this part if you don’t wanna feel pain)

Megatron sat in his throne as he thought about that night. It is truly the night to remember. After everything. He lost his best friend, his home, and after realizing he has been lied to for all his life up to now. He just couldn’t lose you. The high guard was third to him. His new cause is his new goal but you. YOU are the one thing that truly belongs to him.

As he sat there, his head resting on his fist as he watched the high guards having a meeting. He listened, only glancing down to see you every so often as you rest your head and one of your cervos against his chassis.

Your optics closed as you sat on his lap. You had a cog and a decepticon logo on your chassis. His arm around behind your back and cervo resting on your thigh. Your other cervo that wasn’t on his chest resting on top of his on your thigh. You had a few dents. Proof from when he forced you to come with him when sneaking into the city and take you with him. After some time he had to discipline you to behave. Same thing when he forced you to stay still as the Decepticon logo was put on you. You are His Conjunx. You should really learn to trust him. He even threatened to hurt you more if you chose to break the bond from that very night. Ever since then you’ve been tired and miserable. You always felt his feelings through the bond. But you can still feel that love he has for you. Only it’s much darker now.

You listened to his spark beat as you two stayed silent. Starscream and Shockwave started to argue as Soundwave sat there with a data pad. You’d slowly open your optics. You had a little rust under your eyes. Not very visible if far enough.

You cried. You cry every night after Megatron goes to recharge. The meeting eventually ends and Megatron dismisses everyone. Once everyone was gone he looked down at you. Finally lifting his head so he’s more straight sitting up. Moving his cervo to now hold your chin. Making you look at him as his now red optics narrowed and stared down at you. “Hungry sweetspark?” His voice was darker and rough. It still makes you flinch when he speaks to you.

You didn’t answer. You only shook your head as your optics remained dim. He leaned his head lower a bit. His face only inches from yours. “Almost Obedient…hm…”

You two remain silent for a moment.

“Mine. Always and Forever.”

He closes the distance. His lips connecting with yours once more after so long. His lips now cold as he closed his optics. You closed yours a second after.

But you didn’t return the kiss. His cervo moving from your thigh to the back of your head. Pushing your head a bit closer. Your kiss is no longer the same. His kiss. Is no longer the same. Megatron wasn’t Your D-16.

So….. y’all like 😗? If you wish for a part two please let me know.

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Yandere Aventurine hc's

Obviously tw for toxic relationship dynamic and so on, but it's really mostly fluff tbh

It's not the moment that he lays eyes on you, nor the first time he hears your lovely voice, that sparks his interest

It's later, after a few interactions, that he's left wondering why exactly do your eyes look like that in the sunlight, why can't he help thinking about the last words you said to him, and why on earth does he want to remember how your palms feel against his...

It's annoying, a stupid little weakness that's he's really hoping fizzles out with the rest of his long lost desires

It's even more annoying when it doesn't...

He wants to be around you, to see you happy and content... Wants to be the one that causes that

He tries to appease his little crush in subtle ways

Buying you gifts, taking you out, reluctantly opening up, all hoping for a reaction that would kill that desire, just any emotion that would convince him you weren't the perfect person he's built you up to be

All for not... Every little reaction just grows his want, multiplies his need to have more of you

After fully coming to terms with that, he'll try courting you casually, playing up his charm, his nonchalance

As if his emotionally distant performance can cover the fact that he's only getting more desperate

He's lying to himself, trying to convince his own heart that he doesn't need you

That he doesn't spend every waking second imagining you right beside him, all the pretty expressions you'd make and amusing remarks that'd pull a genuine smile from his lips

It's a coping mechanism, but a poor one in comparison with really have you there

And why can't you be there...?

Texting becomes much more common

Various pictures and paragraphs meticulously detailing where he is and what he's doing, in the hopes that you might choose to show up of your own accord

Silly little good morning or good night texts played off as a joke, as if he isn't anxiously awaiting confirmation that you're still happy and well

He's always been good at reading people, a skill of his trade really, so your emotions are like an open book

Anyone you want him to be, he'll play the part flawlessly

A rich flirty playboy? An impulsive and fearless gambler? Maybe a doting attentive lover? All of those are masks he will happily adorn

You'll know something's up when the gift giving starts to get a little heavy handed

Gorgeous expensive bouquets with his calling card, very pretty jewelry (most of which includes a familiar looking green gemstone), and really a variety of other small gifts that fit in line with interests you told him about in passing

He'll claim complete ignorance to the amount, stating he's only buying what reminds him of you (which is pretty much every little thing he sees—)

And "Oh don't worry, dear friend. Consider it a token of good will! Can't have you forgetting about me.~"

He'll make himself quite a nuisance if you don't eventually give in to his little games

Though his work schedule keeps him from actively stalking you, it's not uncommon for suspicious looking IPC personal to be seen whenever you're out in public

He's just paranoid, really, that's all it is...

He couldn't live with himself if his darling went and got themself hurt

When officially together, you're probably going to spend a lot of time with him...

He'll make his office more accommodating for you! You can decorate your space however you desire, nothing is too good for his love

It generally helps his morale to have you around at work too

He's not nearly as stressed and short tempered with his beautiful perfect love always at arms length, read to be scooped up and showered in affection when he needs a break

"Oh come onnnn... It'd be so boring without you. You wouldn't leave me all alone, right...?" He coos, gently pulling you by your waist closer to him with a needy grin, eyes shining slightly as he tilts his head, pressing a soft little kiss to your wrist before glancing up at your eyes.

It's enough of a difference that the IPC might actually start giving you a paycheck under the title of "emotional support employee" simply to avoid having to deal with him when you're not around

He'll make it up to you by taking you out to fancy lunches, and dinners... and occasional breakfasts—

There's actually a good handful of days that he simply refuses to come in because he woke up with you laying on him and would physically rather die than move

His jealousy issues are a little more pronounced now, too...

He's hates having to get violent, really, but he has absolutely no qualms with calling out and publicly humiliating anybody for staring to long or being passively rude

But if anybody is being outright aggressive towards you, it's a completely different story

Don't they know who you belong to? How easily he could ruin their entire livelihood with a single phone call?

His eyes will narrow, his smile getting a little wider as his grip on you tightens, memorizing the persons face as it drops in realization, oh what a thrill~

He'll be an obsessive possessive mess, but there are worse things than being the sole focus of an attentive and devoted man...

Ignoring how he'd rather suffocate than see you smile so genuinely at anyone else with those perfect lips he just adores, of course

[trulyumai]

sweet wine and messy lips

pairing: emperor geta / empress! reader

synopsis: in which geta and his wife get drunk. even clumsy and lost in a stupor, the emperor still tries to adore you in his own way.

warnings: geta talking down to people, grabbing.

a/n: im re-entering my heimdall phase (gow2) so be on the lookout for that and I apologize in advance for another hyper fixation taking me over completely

enjoy!

your hand nudged the goblet towards geta, tipping it ever so slowly to his lips until a bright maroon dusted across the pink expansion.

“try it— you’ll like it my liege I swear it!”

Geta only scoffed, his cheeks red with drunken clumsiness.

“get that away from me, wife. I’d rather drink poison than to sip on such a disgrace of wine.”

you pouted instantly, already drunk yourself, the sweet wine wafted off your figure like a cheap oil. “pretty please, husband? it’s got all the flavors you like,”

listing them off slowly, your other hand began its decent up his arm and finding passage massaging his shoulder. Geta, ever soft for your hands couldn’t help but relax in such a comforting hold.

“cherries, a hint of cinnamon—“

gods you smelled divine.

so sweet, so alluring to the man that he could sweep you off your feet right then and there.

“did I say grapes? it has honey too, just the right amount—

“wife,” the emperor shuddered. your fingernails found their way up his chest, lightly circling and smoothing their way across it as you were lost in thought, too busy naming of ingredients instead of paying attention to the now flustered lord.

“wife!” Geta interrupted, seizing your moving hand with his own ringed one.

fearing you did something wrong, your posture instantly froze; rigid and stiff.

‘calmly, you fool.’ Geta’s thoughts rang out, his grip lightened and with a feathery touch made its way to the jawline just in front of him.

clenched and tightened with stressful thinking.

“I… apologize, little wife,” he finally gritted out. you were so beautiful tonight. it’s as if the stars molded across your eyes and lit up the expansion of your pupils with untold dreams and conquests.

He wanted to drown in them.

“im tired, hm?”

your lip wobbled before a look of surprise took over the reddened and messy features you displayed.

“of course, my emperor! how could I be so silly?”

getting up off the man’s lap, you felt a tug upon the material of your robe.

it was light, but firm enough for you to turn your neck back around with a slow uneasiness and to the emperor once more.

he laid comfortably against the seat, sagging into it while his legs spread with enough of a widened expansion for your body to mold into.

his arm, the one that wasn’t connected to your delicate robes— sat against the ginger hairs littering his head, with his fingers pushed against the pale temple, making his upper body lean to the side.

he looked relaxed. happy, one might say.

“you will return with me, won’t you, wife?” although it sounded like a question, you knew it wasn’t.

even in your drunken state, the man’s stature—his temper is a trait you won’t easily forget.

so instead of having one more glass, like you had intentions of doing, you nodded in agreement.

it’s all geta needed to hear, or rather, see before clumsily gathering himself out of the throne.

instantly, the party goers raised, bowing their head completely before the man could demand them of it.

usually, the emperor would make a show of this. mumble on about how well trained they are, how obedient.

“their more like animals,” he would scoff, laughing vehemently while tugging you along. possessive fingers grazing your waist with the cool feeling of the rings brushing against any revealing skin.

such a touch brought you back to the present, cold and calculated against the backside of your dress.

following your husbands bounding steps, you avoided the looks that were thrown your way. it wasn’t wise to get drunk in front of so many people, you knew it wasn’t.

but geta had insisted.

“we’re winning the war, dearest.” he had all but giggled, pouring heaps of wine into your (once) empty goblet.

“I ordered it special for you, drink up before Caracalla gets to it, hm?”

you had peered into the drink with newfound interest. a little smile entered your face and pushed against your cheeks. such a sight almost made the emperor flustered—he’d blame it on the wine, most definitely.

it was indeed a light red, the color of the sweet wine you always loved to sip on. upon closer inspection, the smell made its way up and into your senses.

what was a few drinks? you had thought. And with a quick note of appreciation to your husband, the goblet had graced your lips.

who knew it would bring you here, barely holding yourself up against geta as you both made way for the chambers?

his left palm spread out easily against your back. with a firm hold he took lead, guiding you through the stone walls and to the bed that was calling his name.

his other hand braced against the rough wall to the side—just in case he needed to push against it.

“husband?” he heard you call out, with a low drawled out hum, geta responded.

“thank you for the wine.” your sweet voice spoke so low.. so softly against the muffled laughter and voices that spilled out of the throne room.

his fingers came up to the back of your neck, seizing it with a loving grip before his lips crashed upon the top of your head.

he had aimed for your cheek, but this will do.

“anything for you, lovely.” geta purred against the softened locks, already his arms snuck their way under your buttocks, groping and touching the flesh there.

the guards had to move a bit behind, just beside the corner of the wall to avoid any further groping and kissing that was being displayed.

it was turning out to be a sweet night indeed.

[ceilidho]

Ceilidh, I keep thinking about soap and ghost who are absolutely pro omega rights (soap in particular, or at least he’s more vocal about it). Like fuck those old, conservative assholes who think omegas should be seen and not heard, whose only purpose is to lie back, listen to their alpha and take a damn knot when they’re told.

They’ve both worked with omegas that got shit done – civilians AND military operatives, they know better and they’ll damn well shut anyone up who starts spouting that regressive shit.

But their own omega, well that’s a different story. Poor little thing doesn’t know what’s good for her, best if she gets rid of all those silly notions of hers and just let ghost and soap take care of her like they’re s’posed to.

ok in total honesty you almost lost me in the first half because as much as i would love that irl, it doesn't interest me so much in fiction where i want them to be deranged freaks. but you GOT me in that last paragraph.

neither being particularly activistic, but they also don't indulge in the casual omega denigration that some of their colleagues participate in. if an alpha says something shitty while Soap is around, Soap will usually snap back something about how maybe the alpha saying it should take notes from the omega civilian and military operators on base because "at least they're actually proficient at their fucking jobs". he'll genuinely get in fights when his temper flares up just enough - loves sparring when he's taken a particular dislike to someone because it means he has permission to beat the shit out of them.

Ghost doesn't have the patience for verbal fights, but he'll request an immediate transfer of any alpha sergeant or private with the misfortune of thinking that someone of Ghost's stature and size and general look would agree with their primitive beliefs. or he'll riddle them with hard labour and assignments that'll leave them exhausted and broken.

but when it comes to their omega? oh no, she's kept off base in the house they've purchased. they even contemplate retirement after finding her, neither of them comfortable with being away from their omega for extended periods of time. she's taken off her suppressants the second they get her locked up, the two of them helping her work through the withdrawals, getting her nice and relaxed on their knots.

despite the fact that the two of them are alphas, Soap always defers to Ghost, so Ghost is the one that knots her first. Soap gets to work her through the worst of her heats though, stamina letting him go for hours, overstimulating the both of them to the point of pain.

poor girl probably had a job and friends and maybe even volunteered before those two brutes stole her from whatever former life she was living. Soap is so enamoured with her temper tantrums, the way she demands they let her go. pinches her cheeks and coos when she gets worked up to the point of tears. she doesn't understand how they can have so much respect for the omegas in their field while keeping her locked up in their house, but the cognitive dissonance just works for them. their omega is just too soft and breakable to be out in the world (regardless of how tall she is or how she's built, how muscled or tough. to them, she's breakable)

i love writing them as hypocritical assholes :\\\\

[allthethoughtsandstuff]

the movie was ADORABLE and it was QUEER and it was CHEESY and HAPPY and SILLY and CUTE and I LOVED it and I have some THOUGHTS and im going to put them here bc idk what else to DO

bad reputation playing after cakegate into the intro credits was the most slay choice

alex is a bracelets man send tweet

the closet scene at the hospital was such a slay 10/10 alex looking like a pissed off little kid the whole time like yeah buddy throw ur little temper tantrum we love to see it

they didn’t say fuck enough times in this movie they said it so many times in the book wtf like you had the r rating already just use it why would you not use it???

the timeline is hurting my brain they’re shifting stuff around I am questioning reality

rip obtuse fucking asshole

TZP 🫶🏻

HISTORY HUH BET WE COULD MAKE SOME IM CRYING

why did we invent miguel he’s a snake literally for why was he there

while we’re on the topic of miguel I disagree with having alex have been w him bc I think it takes away from his complete obliviousness and his thus huge moment of realization w henry so I think we get less of an alex finding himself and more of an alex exploring this part of him that he already knew was there which isn’t inherently bad for a film or book but I just always found alexs discovery of his queerness and the resulting shifting/understanding of things from his past to be such an important part of the book for me personally like just with the rearranging of things he’s always felt but never noticed or payed attention to is very special and gets lost when you give him this queer experience that he’s fully aware and understanding of

zahra for the win

THEMS ON THE BALCONY WITH THE CROWD OUTSIDE THE PALACE IM SO GLAD THEY DIDNT CUT THE CROWD

ugh the yellow rose tie I’m crying

THE FORCED CONFORMITY OF THE CLOSET CANNOT BE ANSWERED WITH FORCED CONFORMITY IN COMING OUT OF IT SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK IM FUCKING SCREAMING

okay so ur going to talk about alexs eyelashes but NOT give the line to henry excuse me????

“take the american with you” im dying at that

girl they called the election so fast ik things move faster in movies but here’s me knowing how LONG it takes in the book and the SUSPENSE and the ADRENALINE and then it was just over like that before you even know it like damn

uma thurman woman that you are 💗

so I was thinking ab when they do the new years count down and these random girls kiss alex and I’m like damn no what it’s supposed to be nora but you know what then I realized they just made nora into a sister figure for alex since they got rid of june so their relationship is and always has been 100% platonic

it was so slay of them to literally open the movie with alex being nervous and thinking he’s going to mess up at the wedding and get rejected like yes thank you for addressing this boys perfectionism and imposter syndrome head on from the very beginning this is the alex we know and love

putting alex and henry in the same room when they’re talking on the phone to each other was such a good choice I love it

they made this movie for the readers you have to know the LORE you have to understand how DEEP henry and alexs relationship is and you simply cannot get that in a two hour film but goddamn did they do a good job trying

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love. 

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 25.

Xilä is my own creation.

WAIT! Please note this part contains time skips.

~

Part 21 - Epilogue

‘Xilä’s in labor.’

‘My wife is about to have my kid.’

‘Holy shit, my kid. Mine…’

‘I’m going to be a father.’

‘Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.’

To say Neteyam was freaking out was putting it mildly and- Oh fuck. His damn father-in-law was walking towards him. The last thing he wanted was for the man to see him like this. 

The first time Neteyam had a full conversation with Jxo, he was ten years old. 

To him, Jxo had always been a man of very few words. He never smiled, hated small talk and was extremely intimidating. But he was also incredibly respected throughout the entire clan, and well, Salveen liked him a lot, and so did bossy D’avi, so those were good enough reasons for the ten year old to think him alright. 

Being the chief’s son brought its fair share of challenges. There was a time when a group of boys tried to bully him over his “golden boy” status. Neteyam had fought back- and lost. 

He was ten, and a mess after. And instead of returning home, he ran to Sal’s but she’d already gone to the kitchens that evening. 

Jxo, seeing his cuts and bruises beckoned him in and silently cleaned his injuries- a split lip, swollen cheek, scraped knees and bloody knuckles. 

And when the man finally asked, “What happened?” 

Neteyam broke down and sobbed. He was hysterical and mad at himself for not being strong, mad that he was even crying. He was a man for Eywa sake! A soldier! A warrior! Just like his dad. 

But that day he was grateful that Jxo didn’t treat him like a silly kid- like everyone else did. Jxo calmed him. He was his usual gruff self and spoke to him straight. Treated him like an equal and imparted words of advice Neteyam needed to hear.  

Flash forward to fifteen years later, on the night that he would become a father for the first time, Neteyam was hysterical just like that very day. 

Xilä’s water had only broken half an hour ago and Neteyam was spiralling- or freaking out as his visiting brother had been teasing. Irritated and short tempered, he snapped at anyone who got too close to his mate who had been slowly pacing up and down the interior of the Tsahìk’s tent while her birthing room was being prepared. 

And just like he did fifteen years ago, Jxo and his no nonsense- never one to beat around the bush, pulled him outside and called him an idiot- a skxawng, telling him he needed to to get his shit together and stop snarling and hissing at everyone like a “fucking palulukan”. 

When he’d finished telling him off, he blew out a breath then continued- far gentler or as gentle the man could be, parting fatherly words of wisdom and advice with a comforting hand clasped on his shoulder. 

Neteyam humbled himself and took it all in, and by the end he felt lighter, calmer and far more level headed. 

With a final, “Don’t fuck it up. She needs you. So get in there, skxawng,” the soon to be father chuckled with a brisk nod, thanked the elder and headed towards his wife. 

~

“Swear I’ve gone back twenty-five years,” Jake murmured in disbelief at his grandson in his arms. “He looks just like you did, son.” 

Neytiri hastily wiped a tear that escaped her as she too stared transfixed. 

“He’s got Xi’s eyes,” Neteyam announced proudly as he lingered closely. 

“And her ears,” his mother noted with another sniffle. “He’s beautiful.” Neytiri gently stroked Sprout’s little fist. “Jake, you've had him long enough. It is my turn again,” she bossed her husband. 

Passed over to his grandmother, their baby made a soft sound. He whined and twisted slightly before settling back into sleep.

Jxo pressed another kiss to the top of his daughter’s head as she rested against his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, darling,” her father told her for the third time since their parents were let in. “You did good.” 

Sal nodded in agreement, her own eyes swimming in happy tears as she tucked a few of Xi’s braids behind her ear and continued to fuss over her- pouring her another cup of tea to help with the pain. 

Xilä was exhausted but yet a soft smile still graced her face as she watched their parents meet their son for the first time. Jxo was the first to hold him after he’d greeted her with quiet words of praise. And just like Mo’at did, when she eased her son into her father’s arms, she didn’t miss the way his eyes glistened. 

The entire moment was heartwarming, yet slightly comical to a degree. She grinned as she watched her husband hover protectively, scrutinizing every move any of them made as they held their child. 

Even when Jake huffed amused, stating, “You know I had four of you right? I think I know how to hold a baby,” even then Neteyam didn’t care, he still fretted and lectured and adjusted their holds. 

“Oh Eywa, you’re going to be a father just like my Jxo, aren’t you?” Sal chuckled and gently adjusted her grandson with the unnecessary aid of her son-in-law who had told her for the third time to, “Watch his head.” 

“Huh?” Neteyam asked, baffled, the same time Jxo released a noise of offence. 

“Yes, yes. He never liked anyone holding our D’avi. So protective he was.” She hummed wistfully at the memory, eyes never leaving the little one who had taken hold of her finger. “You are so sweet, yes you are. Hi. Hi,” she whispered softly as he blinked up at her, waking from his doze. 

“This does not surprise me,” Neytiri chimed in. “Neteyam was never very good at sharing the things he loves. Xilä, and now our grandson will be included as well I’m afra- Oh Sal, look at his eyes.” 

“Mom!” 

But she ignored him since her and Sal’s attention laid solely on baby Sprout who was yawning, tiny body stretching in Sal’s hold.

“We’d be lucky if we ever get to see the kid,” Jake said, joining in on the teasing. “Knowing our son, he’d keep them locked away.”

Neytiri frowned at this. “My sweet Xi, you won’t let him hide the two of you away all the time, yes? I would like to see my grandson whenever I so pl-”

“Mom. Of course you’d get to see him.” Then after a long pause Neteyam continued with, “But there will be boundaries, and Xilä and I would expect that you all would… respect them.” 

Jake covered his grin of amusement behind his fist and Jxo hid his in Xi’s hair- both men’s eyes automatically cutting to their wives who both had identical looks of indignation. In their heads Neteyam might as well just said they weren’t allowed to see their grandson… ever.

The women looked about ready to protest, but in the end they gave their agreement without so much as a peep. Neytiri however did reach out and pull her son- who was twice her size- into a hug with a, “Eywa, my baby is all grown up now.” 

“Can I have him, mother?” Xi was itching to have her son back in her arms. It hadn’t been long but she missed him already. 

Neteyam was the one to pass him over. His palm found Xi’s nape, thumb stroking her cheek as he stole a kiss from her, uncaring of their audience. 

Sprout stretched with another yawn, fingers opening then curling back up before he nosed at her chest instinctively, cooing a tiny fuss as his legs kicked out. 

Xi tossed a thin cloth over shoulder, covering herself and the babe. She bared one breast and guided him to her nipple. Her baby latched eagerly, little mouth suckling with gusto. 

She knew it was probably a bit silly to want privacy since it was a natural thing to nurse one’s baby in the open. But she wasn’t there quite yet. 

Eyes closed, she listened to the quiet conversation around her and leaned heavily on her husband who curled around her. 

“What have you decided to name him?” Jxo asked his son-in-law. “Have you chosen yet?

Xilä felt smiling lips against her forehead. 

“Zyden. Our son’s name is Zyden.” 

~

Neteyam made his way towards the lively activity at the southern border of the clan- eyes roaming quickly to take in every inch of the scene. 

The mission fleet that had just returned were being aided- travel packs and goods were unloaded while ikran wranglers steadied the restless mountain beasts. 

After being months apart, riders were greeted with open arms by their waiting families and judging by the ease of their smiling faces, Neteyam breathed a small sigh of relief that there seemed to be no pressing worries. 

Tasam who’d led said mission was already talking to the chief. Jake nodded at whatever it was he’d said then clapped him on the shoulder before making his way towards another warrior. 

Neteyam had missed Tasam, he realized. Seeing him after so long filled him with nostalgia, and the memory of them meeting for the first time on their very first day of Iknimaya training played in his mind. 

“‘Teyam! You look good, brother,” Tasam called out. He met him halfway, crooked smile wide at the sight of his comrade and friend. “Fatherhood suits you.”

Neteyam couldn’t hide his pride as they clasped arms in greeting. “Tasam, welcome home. My son… Zyden,” he introduced, titling so that Tasam had a better view of the three month old strapped to his chest. 

A soft swear word escaped Tasam when he saw the baby. He reached out and ran a knuckle along the back of Sprout’s hand in amazement. “He favors your looks.” 

Zyden’s wide silver eyes tracked Tasam’s hand. He cooed loudly then promptly shoved his little fist against his mouth, making sucking sounds as he drooled all over his knuckles.

“I can’t believe I missed so much. How’s Xi? The birth went well?”

“It did, thank Eywa and she’s great. Tired but great.”

Tasam grinned at his friend’s expression. Neteyam was a hardass and as serious as they came. He always seemed to wear a mask of impassiveness that was near impossible to discern most days. Today however, the mask was nowhere to be seen. 

“It’s good to see you this happy.”

“Eywa has bountifully blessed me, how could I not be?” He jerked his head, gesturing for them to walk onwards, a large protective palm resting beneath Zyden. “Tell me, how was the trip? I’m sorry we missed you before you left. I didn’t know you’d be gone so long.”

“I share the same sentiments. As for the trip, it was… interesting. The Sarentu clan… they’re in a bad way. The couple months we stayed we managed to make some good changes, but they still need all the help they can get. I’m hoping another fleet can ride out before the end of the week.”

“It’s that bad?” 

“Their clan is but a fraction of ours and they’re unable to help themselves properly. They have maybe five- six, capable hunters?” he said exasperated. “The clan is exposed. Not enough warriors to provide protection. Not enough hunters to provide food. It is a wonder they have survived this long.”

Neteyam considered his words. “It is things like this that make me glad my father reached out and started this entire initiative. Their chief said as much back at Awa’atlu. He came mainly in the hope that would help.”

With the nearest cluster of communities in sight, Tasam slowed his stroll causing Neteyam to do the same. 

During their walk the father had kept periodically checking in on his son who seemed settled and content against him. Looking down, he saw that Zyden’s eyelids were slowly drooping, little mouth quivering in his sleep as though he were feeding. 

“Do you think Kiri would like bellsprigs? As a gift I mean… It's kind of rare here but bountiful near this clearing I found back at Sarentu.”

The sudden topic change had Neteyam blinking in confusion. 

“Um, sure? I think she’d like them. Wait, aren't those extremely dangerous to harvest?”

“They are- were,” Tasan held up his palm showing off a deep gash that was still healing, “but it’s Kiri. I’d do anything for her.” 

“Huh… You really like her, don’t you?” He got no response and halted, noting his friend was no longer walking beside him. “What is it?” 

“I-” Tasam looked uncomfortable now and was no longer meeting his gaze. “I-” He hesitated again and rubbed at his brow, frowning deeply, almost as if he’d forgotten what he was supposed to say. 

“Tas-”

“I wish for your permission to court Kiri,” he rushed out. 

A long uncomfortable silence proceeded before Neteyam found his voice again. “You- uh, well why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be asking my parents?”

“I’m planning on it. I asked the chief if I could meet with him and your mother after I give my full report tomorrow,” he scratched his neck, “I suppose he knows what I’m going to ask. Your father gave me this weird, blank look then sort of reluctantly agreed… But I- you see…”

It was jarring and almost amusing to Neteyam to see his friend so scatterbrained and fidgety. Was he… nervous? Shit, he was.

“What I’m trying and evidently failing to say here, is- I care for your sister. She has my whole heart and… and although you are my commanding officer and my future chief and I have the highest of respect for you… You’re also my closest friend, and as Kiri’s brother, I’d very much like to have your permission in addition to your parents’.”

Eywa. Neteyam really wished his mate was here. He was not good with these kinds of situations. Not when it came to his sisters. No wonder Jxo always looked like he was about ready to punch his face most times. 

Kiri and Tasam…? His sister and his- well who was Neteyam kidding, Tasam was as good as his best friend. Why did this all seem like a surprise to him though? He somehow knew it would be coming… didn’t he?

He thought back to every interaction between the two. The man was smitten with Kiri, and Kiri… well, Kiri was near unrecognizable around Tasam. 

He made her happy. 

That was all that mattered, no?

“You have my permission.” 

Tasam’s jaw fell a little, then he straightened up when Neteyam’s face turned mildly murderous. 

“But you should know, my sister is precious. I don’t care if you hurt her unintentionally or not… you know what I’m capable of.” 

It should’ve been difficult to take the mighty Neteyam’s threats to heart when he had an adorable infant strapped to his chest. But Tasam still felt the sting of his words.

“Are you nervous to ask my parents?” Neteyam asked when they’d made it to the heart of Home Camp. 

“Am I nervous to ask the clan’s Olo'eyktan and Olo'eykte if I could court their eldest daughter? That’s a joke right?” Tasam huffed. “Course I’m nervous. But I’ve been wanting this for Kiri and I for so long now. That and I already told Kiri I was going to ask her when you all got back.”

Neteyam laughed, accidentally waking his son who woke with a startled cry. He was quick to comfort the baby with soothing strokes and pats on the back. He also gave him his index finger to hold which of course Zyden instantly put in his mouth. 

“You told Kiri you were going to ask her before you asked for my parents permission?” 

Tasam back slapped his arm, careful not to jostle the baby. “If I remember correctly, you did about the same thing with your Xilä.” 

“Shit, that’s right.” 

“And worse… It was all the clan could talk about for months, some still to this very day. No meeting of the parents, no announcements, no ceremonies, no-”

“Alright alright, you made your poi-” 

“You’re back!” a distant voice called excitedly. 

Kiri’s smile was almost giddy as she made her way closer and from the look of Tasam’s he was probably- nope, definitely worse. 

Ugh. Neteyam was suddenly nauseous. While the duo reunited- lovestruck gazes locked on each other, he focused on his son who was still biting away on his finger, drool leaking down his chin and along Neteyam’s palm. 

“Your aunty Kiri and her new boyfriend are going to make your poor daddy sick, aren't they,” he whisper-sang to his son. “Yes they are.” 

Zyden smiled up at this father as if he understood, gurgling while flashing his gums.  

“Oh here, let me help you with that.” Tasam swooped in with ease and hefted the heavy basket Kiri had been straining with. 

“Thank you.” Her cheeks were flushed and she bit her lip to tame her smile while she and the warrior continued to fail at being non obvious lovesick fools. 

Zyden’s coo broke their spell. 

“‘Teyam!” Kiri exclaimed as if shocked to see him standing there.

“Kiri.”

“And Zyden!” His sister snagged the baby right out of his carrier and held him close, squishing his cheek against hers as she rocked him.

Zyden looked slightly alarmed, eyes wide at the sudden movement but he did not cry.

Neteyam simply sighed at the pair all the while and of course, the mighty Tasam was just about melting at the sight. 

~

“What are you up to, my love?”

The baby turned and gave his mother a cheeky grin that showed off all four of his baby teeth and it just about melted her heart. 

But Xi wasn’t fooled by his cuteness, she saw the glint of mischief shining through his expression. 

The determined thing waited until she was busy folding another large sheet before he went off again, crawling towards his most recent fasciation.

“Zyden.” Xilä’s tone was soft but firm. “Uh-uh. No playing over there.”

Zyden released an unhappy whine at the reprimand. And despite his mother’s warning, he still reached and held onto the bottom of the wooden shelf to pull himself up on wobbly legs. 

Even though the shelf that housed her husband’s weapons was sturdy and Xi knew the baby couldn’t reach anything, she still corrected her son- letting him know it was dangerous. 

His little leg tried to lift, dangling with nowhere to perch. Not getting anywhere, he stomped his foot in frustration, though it didn’t stop him from trying again. 

“Zyden Sully!” Xi clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Uh-uh, mama said no. Come down from there.” 

At that, his tiny face scrunched up in anger, bottom lip pouting as tears rapidly pooled along his lash line. He pointed at the shelf and babbled his displeasure.

“I know. I know. But you’re too young for those. When you’re older I’m sure daddy will love teaching you to use them.”

Zyden drew a long, silent breath then promptly wailed louder with his head thrown back. One would swear she’d just ruined his entire life.   

“Aw, come here, my love.” 

She could sense a full blown tantrum brewing and since Sal had told her earlier Zyden missed his afternoon nap, Xi expected her son would turn tired and cranky right around this time. 

Laundry forgotten and scattered around her, she gave him her full attention, beckoning him over. 

“Zyden, my heart, come here.”

Listening, he carefully fell to his butt and crawled towards her. “Mma-ma,” he cried, tiny tail flicking back and forth as he moved.

How was he so perfect? 

Xi gathered him into her arms the second he was within reach and smothered him with kisses- forehead, cheeks, nose, angry twitching ears.

“See? This is why we shouldn’t miss nap time, my love. So cranky,” she cooed in a singsong tone.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned tiredly- proving her point, then impatiently pawed at the cloth that covered her chest.

“Hang on, hang on.”

Settling him against her breast, he nursed more for comfort than hunger and while he fed, Xi stared down at him in adoration. She hummed a song and wiped away his lingering tears, thumb sliding across baby soft skin.

She marvelled over his wild curls while brushing them off his forehead and laughed quietly when he offered her his little foot for her to kiss, tiny toes wiggling cutely. 

Nipple still in mouth, he smiled and reached up to pat her cheek, fingers gentle and stroking much like she’d done to him. 

The action caused a tiny pang of sadness to hit her. He was growing up so fast- too fast.

Every one of his milestones filled her with pride- his first smile, first laugh, first word. She may have shed a tear or two over his first tooth… and maybe over the second, third and fourth ones too. And although she was eager for all the other firsts- especially his first steps, each new milestone always reminded her that he wouldn’t remain a baby forever, so she made sure to relish every moment. 

The clanking sounds of their tent’s chimes alerted her that someone was here, and then the beaming face of her husband entering their home came into view. 

“I’m home!” 

Meal forgotten, Zyden grappled and used her top to help pull himself seated, legs and arms kicking and flailing excitedly at the sight of his daddy, gums and four little teeth proudly on display. 

“Look who’s here, Sprout. Who’s that?”

He glanced back at her and pointed at Neteyam who was hurriedly putting away his things.

Zyden prattled a garble of baby talk, tail slashing so fast, Xi thought it’d flick right off. 

Unable to contain himself any longer and with a loud gleeful shriek, their son crawled right out of her lap and charged full speed across the tapestry-covered ground, towards his father- all traces of his mini tantrum gone. 

Neteyam laughed while scooping him up and tossed him in the air before settling him high on his chest. “Why are you naked, huh little man?” He smacked noisy kisses to Zyden’s chubby cheeks making the baby squeal happily. 

“Your son figured out how to remove his tewng this evening.” Xi adjusted her top and picked up a towel to resume her folding. “Every time I put it back on, he took it off and the game seemed never ending, so I let him win for today.” 

“Oh yeah?” Neteyam grinned proudly, as if she’d told him his son had accomplished some massive achievement. “You’re so clever, Zyden. Daddy’s so proud of you.”

Xilä paused and simply stared at her two favourite people in the universe. Eywa, did she love them with her entire being. 

“Mmba-Da-da.” Zyden babbled, tiny palms smacking Neteyam’s cheek and nose and mouth until he spotted and made a grab for the lone string of beads in his daddy’s hair. 

“That’s right, Sprout, that’s me! I’m daddy.” 

Only recently and after a lot of coaxing, Zyden had started saying dada. Xilä didn’t think she’d ever seen her husband cry that much when he’d said it, but then again she herself was a sobbing sap when his first word was mama. 

Neteyam made his way over and crouched down to greet his wife. She kissed him back and they both broke out into laughter when Sprout leaned over to do the same- drooly lips open against her cheek in his version of a kiss. 

As soon as he was set down, Zyden crawled off towards a forgotten toy. He tossed it away then charged after it, finding fun in doing it over and again. 

“I spoke to Lo’ak and Tsireya this morning,” Neteyam said conversationally as he started helping her fold the laundry. 

“‘Teyam,” she interrupted, using her “mom voice” as her husband so liked to call it. Xi had gotten distracted by the article he’d chosen to fold. 

“What?” he asked in faux innocence. Neteyam snatched up another one after folding it to his best and shot her a naughty wink.

Her mate always went for her undercloths first, forever eager to handle the intimate, flimsy things. She shook her head and snickered while he continued on, telling her about Awa’atlu updates. 

The pair chatted about their day- him informing of the new shipment of goods they were preparing to send to the Sarentu and Ta'unui clans, and her prattling on about her early morning lesson with Mo’at and then filling him in on their son’s fascination with his shelf of weapons. 

At some point Zyden had grown bored of his toy and fussily demanded his daddy’s attention. Neteyam dramatically tossed him amidst a pile of clean furs, keeping him entertained as they fought playfully.  

Later on, it was a battle to get Zyden to put his tewng back on, much less keep it on, but soon after, the little family of three made their way to the communal dinner, with their baby babbling the entire way there.

As if he belonged to her, Neytiri plucked their son out of his father’s arms the second they entered the clearing. Zyden was passed around from grandparent to grandparent before he finally settled contentedly next to his aunty Tuk who fussed over him as if she were a grown up. 

It was honestly quite cute seeing her break off tiny pieces of soft root vegetables and feed them to him. She offered him sips of her water which just splashed right down his chest and scolded him lightly when he ate too fast.  

Neytiri, who was nearer, kept careful watch and intercepted fast grabby hands whenever Zyden went after something he wasn’t supposed to. Neteyam chuckled from his spot when his son made a dive for poor Tasam’s teylu. 

The baby was most unhappy when his grandmother lifted him away with a chiding. He even gave Tuk what looked like a glare of betrayal after she giggled saying, “Zyyyyden. You don’t even have enough teeth to eat that, silly.” 

Midway through their meal, D’av and her family showed up. L’eya- toddler on a mission, plopped herself into Xi’s lap to excitedly show her a bug she’d found on the way. “It- it prewdy huh, aunty Xi? An it-it glows and eberyting too. See?”

Xi oohed and awed over the bug in her niece’s palm and Neteyam did the same- pausing his conversation with Jake when she crawled into his lap as well, before eventually running off to do the same with her grandparents. 

“You’re late. You hate being late,” Xi teased her sister who settled beside her. She frowned when she really looked at her sister.  “Are you unwell? You’re pale. Here let me see your-”

D’avi brushed her fussing off. “Stop that. If mother catches you she’s going to come over here and I don’t need that right now. You’re forgetting Yalnïk and I have two toddlers to wrangle, can you blame me for being la- why are you looking at me like that?” 

The older woman dropped all pretense when she saw her sister’s shocked expression turn into a knowing grin. 

Sighing in defeat, D’avi glanced around their family huddle to make sure they weren’t being overheard by their parents. 

Their mother and father thankfully, both had their hands full. Jxo was eating while balancing Zyden on his knee- the baby focused as he chewed away on a massive piece of fruit and Sal had both L’eo and L’eya who she was fawning over and feeding out of her own meal. 

“You can’t tell our parents yet,” D’avi barely whispered. 

“D’av.” Xi’s tail couldn’t keep its cool, it sprung high in excitement. “So you’re actually-”

“Yep… pregnant. I’m pretty sure it happened the night when Bwiin went and snitched on us.” She scoffed. “Our party was not that loud.” 

Xilä remembered that night. She breastfed so she didn’t indulge in the sweetened wines that were being passed around… D’avi however had just stopped with her little ones, so she went all out, and was pretty much the life of the party. They’d gotten so rowdy, Bwiin, their mother’s nosy and grouchy friend had gone and reported them for disturbing the peace. 

Xi bit her lip. “The night you got drunk at Leati’s bacholet party? And Yalnïk had to come get you?” She butchered that word for sure- every time too.

It was a surprise that Leati even wanted to take part in the odd human custom, but Xilä realized that Ze’lu brought out a side to the woman that outshined her cold and somewhat mean disposition. 

“Yeah. I jumped my mate the moment he tossed my ass in bed... Ugh, and I’ve been so, so cautious, Xi and the one time, the one time I forget to have the damn tea. Bam. Pregnant.” She sighed. “Oh Eywa, truly I pray it’s not twins again.” 

“Are you happy about this though? I can’t tell.” 

D’avi’s eyes turned watery. “Of course I’m happy. To be honest I don’t think it’s completely registered yet, but yes. I’m so happy, Xi. And Yalnïk, ugh. The man is so damn excited. He’s already hovering and-”

“D’av! Do you want ovumshrooms?” 

“Yes, please,” she answered her mate who was currently putting out their food. “He’s the best isn’t he? I mean look at his face, and his body. I’m the luckiest woman in this entire clan, aren’t I?” 

Xi smiled, she felt the exact same way about her own husband. 

She turned towards her son when she heard his cry of frustration. Tuk had just taken something out of his hand when he tried shoving it in his mouth. Zyden seemed to be telling her off in his baby speech, and kept reaching for it, whines turning fussier despite Tuk calmly telling him it wasn’t food. 

“Zyden,” Neteyam called from beside her. 

Their baby pointed at Tuk, as if begging his daddy to make her give it back to him. 

Xilä knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He was tired and cranky and fighting sleep ever since he missed his afternoon nap. She watched him struggle to decide whether to cry or not. Luckily, Zyden was distracted by L’eo’s giggle, so he crawled off towards cousins. 

L’eya was all smiles for the baby. She poked his nose in greeting, mouth full as she chewed her food. L’eo offered him some of the buoyfish he’d been feasting on but Sal was quick to give her youngest grandchild a piece of a mashed bean pod instead. 

D’avi’s low groan pulled Xi’s attention away from their children. Her nose was wrinkled at the meat in her husband’s leaf plate. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Yalnik moved his plate around so it wasn’t too close to her and struck up a conversation with Tasam and Kiri who were on his other side. 

“How are you feeling this time around?” Xi asked. She handed her sister a piece of cider root to chew on.

“My morning sickness feels more like all day sickness and I’ve got this lingering headache that refuses to go away. I’ve drank every tea possible to help ebb my symptoms and they all refuse to work. Can I come by the healer tents tomorrow? So you can check me over, make sure everything’s okay? I’ve been putting off doing that.”

“Of course, D’av.” 

“Eywa. Mother will be mighty pleased. Just look at her now.”

Sal was in her element. The grandmother had all three little ones surrounding her. It was impossible to miss the happiness radiating off of her.  

At home, Zyden was usually clingy with Xilä and she relished in the feeling of him being attached to her, whether it was to be carried or simply wanting her attention at all times. But she wouldn’t be lying when she said she also loved seeing Sprout socialize and bond with their family- especially with his grandparents. It was something she certainly never had growing up. 

Another fifteen minutes passed before it finally happened. 

“Xiiii!” Tuk groaned dramatically as she hefted and carried a wiggly crying Zyden from under his arms. The baby was already reaching out and calling for her. “Sprout wants you. Oof! He’s getting so heavy,” she half laughed, half huffed when handing him over. 

“Hello, my love, are you being a naughty Na'vi for your aunty Tuk?” 

Zyden didn’t waste any time, he stuck his little fist right down her top and gave a frustrated grizzle. 

“Thanks for taking care of him for us, Tuk.”

The little girl beamed at Xi’s praise, and giggled when Neteyam attacked her with his own brotherly affection before she dashed off. 

Xilä quickly tugged down the front of her top and Zyden eagerly found and latched onto her nipple to nurse. She smiled when his small sticky hand rested on her breast as his eyes instantly began to droop. 

“I’m surprised he lasted this long,” Neteyam joked. He leaned over to kiss and nuzzle Zyden’s chubby cheek as he suckled, soft feeding sounds and breathy baby gulps making him and Xi smile at each other. 

L’eo appeared not too long after, food grease shining all over his face and chest. “I all done wid my food,” he told his mother proudly.

D’avi chuckled. “Good job, baby.” She pulled him closer and wiped his face and hands despite his squirming. 

When he made his escape, he approached his aunty. “I play with Zyhen, pwease, addy Xi.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie, but he’s falling asleep.” Xi caressed his cheek in apology. “You’ll get to see him tomorrow, okay?” 

Poor L’eo looked so disappointed. His pout deepened when he turned to find his sister amongst their family, only to find she was already dozing in her grandfather’s lap. 

“C’mere bud,” Yalnïk reached out and scooped him up and D’avi turned to give them both her attention. 

Xi covered herself back up when she felt her nipple slip from Zyden’s lips.

“Oh he’s out,” Neteyam laughed. He gathered their milk drunk baby in his arms and wiped away the trail of liquid that ran down his chubby cheek and into his little neck folds.

“He’s growing up too fast,” Xi sighed, leaning against her husband to peer at their son. Their baby was sprawled without a care in the world, sticky coated skin, pudgy little tummy on display, tail curled up contentedly. “I feel like I blinked and now look at him. Gosh I’m going to miss this age.”

Neteyam nodded in agreement. He kissed her forehead then whispered, “I know the feeling all too well... But you know there’s a solution for that, right?” 

“What do you mean?” she murmured, perching her chin on his bicep. 

“You could always let me put another baby in you. Then another when they grow out of that age, and another when-”

Xilä pressed her fingers to his lips and snickered at his response. “May I remind you we are surrounded by our family. Don’t start with that if you’re not able to do anything about it right now,” she teased back. 

A dangerous glint shined in his eyes, nostrils flaring at her words. 

“I’m not teasing, Xilä. I'm completely serious.” 

“Oh I know. If it were up to you you’d keep me round and pregnant for an eternity, right?” She tucked a braid behind his ear, not so accidentally brushing the tip of his pointed ear with her thumb and smiled when he gave a subtle shudder. 

“You’re playing with fire, baby,” he warned but she simply gave him an innocent look and pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“But on a serious note,” she whispered, “is it terrible that I just want to enjoy it being the three of us for now? I’m not saying no indefinitely, after Zyden I know for sure I want more, but he’s not even a year old yet, he hasn’t even taken his first steps. I want to give him as much attention and love as I can until we decide for sure to grow our family.” 

“Nothing’s wrong with that, sweetheart. I like that plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He sensed a lingering sadness from her, so to lighten the mood, he teased, “And anyway I’ll get to focus on getting my practice in while fucking you senseless.”

“Neteyam!” Her face bloomed in mortification and she glanced around to make sure he wasn’t overheard. 

There’s that smile he so loved to see. 

~

True to her word, L’eo got to see Zyden the next day. 

The boys played loudly with the many block pieces their grandfather had crafted for them. L’eya seemed to find them too rowdy for her, so she sat in her own little world with her toys until Tuk had come by and joined in with her. 

Xilä loved the sound of her son’s laugh and she loved the sounds of her home filled with children playing. 

Zyden squealed and clapped excitedly when L’eo knocked down their pile of wooden blocks and then the two went back to building it all over again- it was mostly L’eo, but Zyden sure helped by handing him each piece. 

They were so stinking cute. 

A little later on when he seemed to have grown bored, her son sought her out. He crawled after her and patted her calf, tiny palms opening and closing- asking for up. 

The second she lifted him, he cuddled her, little face snuggled into her neck and Xi soaked it all up. It was her favourite feeling in the universe. 

Neteyam looked up from his whittling and was quick to join the two. He tried burying his face on the other side of her neck, but Zyden wasn’t having it. 

Their son pushed his daddy’s face away along with a mess of protesting gibberish that had sounds like mama and dada scattered in between. 

“I want cuddles too, you can’t have her to yourself,” Neteyam quarrelled with the biggest grin on his face. 

“Ma-ma!” Zyden argued back fiercely. He leaned his head against hers- their cheeks squished together while he kept batting away his father’s affections for her.  

“Ah,” Neteyam dodged another fist. “I’ll have you know she was mine first.”

“Ma-ma!” Zyden’s both arms locked around her neck. He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek and grinned wide, and those four little teeth just about killed her. 

“Alright, alright. I’m jealous now. Come here, little man, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Neteyam stole him away and dramatically rolled them around on the floor. The baby shrieked and burst into breathy giggles as they play-fought. 

Feeling like he was missing out on the fun, L’eo ran and jumped in with a roar. “I rescue you Zyhen!” To which Neteyam pulled him in too. 

Xilä watched on and called out “oh no’s!” from the sidelines. Through her laughs she couldn’t help feel a bit emotional. Neteyam was an incredible mate, but he was an even better father. 

When he cried out asking for her to come save him, she eagerly and happily joined in until they were all a pile of giggling limbs. 

~

Pillow muffling her screams, Xilä arched as her mate licked her into another mind shattering orgasm. 

It was the middle of the night and she’d already woken on the cusp of one, finding her legs thrown over his broad shoulders with his head bobbing eagerly between her thighs, licking and sucking like a starved man… and he hadn’t moved since. 

“‘Teyam.” Shuddering as she came down from another high, she feebly tried to push his head away, hips failing to escape his clutches. She was too sensitive and he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop any time soon. 

Yet he only tightened his grips and spread her legs wider, holding her firm with a bossy growl. “One more.”

One more. One more. That’s what he’d said the last two times. 

Her voice hitched when he nipped then sucked her clit hard, silencing her protests. He stretched her with his fingers, adding one after the other until she was stuffed with all three- digits curling and fucking her just right. 

White noise clouded her ears and her eyes rolled into her head. Body seizing up as it quickly prepared to shatter again, she struggled to keep her moans at bay. Her poor knuckles were painfully white from their tight grips- one fisted in her mate’s hair, holding on for dear life while the other squeezed the pillow she was biting into. 

She could just about cry when Neteyam slowed his pace. The wicked man wanted to draw out her pleasure and no matter how much she tried to ride his fingers faster, she failed. 

He pushed her hand away when she dared to reach for her throbbing clit. Eywa. She was near delusional at this point. 

“Mine,” he’d snapped when she tried to touch again, and then as if teaching her a lesson, he simply reduced his actions even further, fingers curling deep and dragging torturously slow while he lazily lavished her clit with his tongue. 

Turned into a mewling weepy mess, she was completely at his mercy. It seemed almost never ending.

Embarrassingly loud slick sounds emitted with every motion of his fingers making her arousal drench everything- his hand, face, her thighs, their sheets- shit, she’d just changed these sheets. 

Xilä’s orgasm blindsided her, making her cry out and damn near suffocate her husband with her thighs as her entire body seized up. 

She was almost sure she’d momentarily blacked out too, because when she finally came to her senses, her deep, heavy panting had calmed and the strong ripples of pleasure and orgasmic aftershocks had ebbed away, leaving her with lingering tingles. 

Neteyam, as if he had all the time in the world, was sucking his fingers dry. It shouldn’t have been a sexy sight, but damn if it was. 

Damn him.  

Then the asshole dived back down to lick her clean. 

WACK.

“Baby!” His jaw dropped and he was staring at her in surprise. 

Xi had actually smacked him with her pillow when he had the audacity to run his tongue across her oversensitive clit. He got the message this time. He snickered and just moved along to lick away the slick that coated her inner thighs instead. 

Through their bond, tsaheylu still intact from when they went to sleep, she felt him. Like a rolling storm, he was all consuming. He was so pent up and clouded her with his intensity, she wouldn’t be surprised if he combusted just then and there. It felt good to be the cause of it, honestly. 

“You didn’t come?” Shit. She’d tried to move but her legs felt like flopping fish. 

He shook his head and got up on his knees. She was greeted by an angry leaking dick, throbbing and needy in front her face. 

Xilä licked her lips, and between her thighs pulsed at the sight of him. Sitting up, she watched him wrap a hand around himself and give a firm stroke, thumb swiping across his tip before dragging back down again. 

Although she was still a bit light headed, just like he’d done earlier, she batted his hand away to grip him herself. 

At this he let out a pleased little groan and threaded his fingers through her hair. His hips gave a sudden snap and his dick twitched when she pressed a teasing kiss to the head of it- barely even making contact. 

Xilä smirked when she felt his fingers tighten in her hair, pulling slightly at her roots. “Xilä,” he growled, sending a rippling shiver down her spine. 

“What?” she asked cunningly, “No teasing?”

Through their bond she felt his building frustration, his impatience, his need. Tail circling her wrist, he got her moving. 

So bossy.

She stroked his length and found her pace, setting a rhythm that had her mate quickly blowing out puffs of air as he seemed to be trying to keep his composure. 

Cute, she thought. With her free hand she stroked his tail- its tip still wrapped around her wrist, both hands moving in tandem. 

“Xi-”

Reading his mind, her eyes found his own, locked and dangerous and just what he needed to get closer to his peak. 

He was practically fucking her fist by now, and damn near exploded when her other hand left his tail to squeeze the base of his dick. 

Xi licked him again, tongue running up the underside of him, along a vein, then circling its head. That was it, he couldn’t control himself any longer, he came with a blinding force- a strangled endearment, falling from his lips. 

Hot seed spluttered from him, painting his stomach, Xi’s hand and her pouty lips, a drop even landed on her nose. 

A feeling of victory flooded Xilä. She loved seeing her mate come undone, loved seeing him lose control. A side of him she was the only one to ever see. 

She stroked him all the way through, till his shudders ceased and his body grew lax and so pliant she was able to pull him down, his massive frame covering her entirely. 

Their lips met in the middle for a searing, all consuming kiss. Xi could taste herself on his lips, she was sure it was the same for him. 

Breaking apart for a much needed breath of air, Neteyam nipped her bottom lip. “Sorry I woke you up.” 

Xilä laughed. “No you’re not.” 

He grinned too. “No I'm not.” 

After they basked in the afterglow for another couple minutes, they cleaned themselves up, using water and washcloths to bathe each other, mouths unable to stop stealing kisses and hands unable to stop caressing. 

Returning from checking on their son, he helped her strip their hammock and fasten a clean pelt before they both climbed in- him pulling her on top of his chest immediately. 

“Sprout was still asleep?” she asked, breaking him from his thoughts. 

“Mhmm, out like a light.” He kissed her forehead and she snuggled closer. 

~

Somewhere between sleep and wake, Xi heard a hushed whisper. 

“Mama?”

She felt a familiar weight sat on top of her and the gentle pat, pat of a little palm on her cheek.

“Mama. Mama! Mommy wake up, I have to tell you something really portent.” 

“Mmm, I’m up, I’m up.” Xilä blinked awake to the view of her son’s sweet face. Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, she pulled him into her arms and across her chest, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. “Good morning, my love.” 

Zyden struggled a bit under his mother’s smothering, trying to wiggle out. “Mama stop,” he giggled. “Guess what?” His voice was dramatically hushed despite it only being the two of them in the room. 

“What?” she asked just as quietly to match his energy.

“Daddy say I can go fishing today!” Zyden shared, tail flicking in uncontrollable excitement behind him. As if reminding himself, he made a shhhh sound and pressed a finger to his lips before continuing softer. “And- and I get to use my new bow too. You know the one mama? The big boy one granpather Jxo make me? An- an L’eo and L’eya go too but no Js’avi, cause he-he too small still and then daddy show me how to catch the fish!” 

Xilä gasped dramatically as if she didn’t already know all of this. “Oh my Eywa! That’s all so exciting, my love!”

“Yah! I- I catch you a really big fish, mama. Den you cook it.”

“I like that idea. What kind of fish should I make?” She smiled tiredly and smoothed her hand over his hair. He looked so much like his daddy. 

“Zyden!” Neteyam walked into their room, hands on his hips with a disappointed expression. “I thought I told you we’d tell your mama later. She just fell asleep, son.”

Zyden jumped at being caught, his sweet excited face turning into one of guilt. Brow puckered into a tiny frown, he pointed at his mother, then said as if it made all the sense in the world, “But mama awake now daddy. So I tell her now. Later is too far.”  

Both parents couldn’t hold their amusement. 

This kid. 

“Alright little man, come on.” Neteyam grabbed him up and hung him upside down. Tickling his tummy, he made their son break out in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. 

“Da-ha-ddyy!” 

When he set him on his feet, his father said seriously, “Go on and have your breakfast. All fishermen need to have a good meal before they set off for the day.”

“Ohhhkaaay! Bye mama!” 

Neteyam blew out a breath and made his way over to Xi. “Sorry. I swear I only turned my back away for a second and then he disappeared.” 

“It’s fine,” she assured, stretching her neck and puckering her lips, begging for a kiss as if he hadn’t kissed her only three hours ago when she’d gotten home. 

Her husband obliged and when he pulled back he said, “We missed you last night.” 

“Me too. I'll try not to make it a habit, but I was really needed for the night shift. I’m sorry it was so last minute too.” 

“Stop,” he ordered, nipping her lip in rebuke. 

“But it was date night… We made a promise to never miss a date night. I feel terrible. I promise I’ll make it up to you and-” She was about to apologize again so he silenced her with another kiss. 

“Xilä. It’s your job, baby. You were needed. It's okay. And anyway, Sprout and I had an awesome guys night.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” His voice drew to a deep whisper, “Although if you keep insisting on making it up to me, I’d really really like to fuck you later. It’s been ages.” 

Xi’s snicker was interrupted by a yawn. “You’re being dramatic. Oh that does remind me though, I need to get more Qla’ira root. I’m running out.” 

Neteyam got quiet. He perched his head on her chest, golden eyes almost pleading. “Or you could… not?” 

“Behave.” She batted him playfully and ran her fingers through his braids. 

“I’m being serious. You know Zyden’s been asking for a sibling lately.” 

“I know, but we agreed when he turned five, to start trying again, remember?”

“Technically, it’d be the same thing… If we get a head start from now, he’ll probably be five by the time-” 

“Zyden will be four in a couple months,” she laughed, cupping his face.

They heard a crash, followed by a, “Daaaddy! I had a naccident!” 

“Duty calls.” Neteyam lifted and hovered over her. “Get some sleep, alright? We’ll see you later. And we’re definitely not done talking about this.” 

“Daaadeeeee!” 

“Coming!”

Xi frowned, when he left. She didn’t know why she was even fighting this decision. She herself was ready for another child- and not just because of her mate’s pleas or their son’s little saddened face when he asked them how come he, “didn’t have a baby like L’eo and L’eya had Js’avi.”

Eywa had told her as much that she was ready as well. Her bond with the Great Mother had been growing stronger and stronger everyday. 

So what was stopping her?

~

Later that night, during a family dinner, the kids excitedly ranted about everything that happened that day- all talking over each other and fighting over the attention of the adults. 

It was a full family night. Neteyam and Xi’s home was not only filled with Jake and his family or Jxo and Sal. There was D’av, Yalnik and their three little ones. Also Yalnik’s twin and his mate along with their brood of five kids- who had also gone fishing. 

Xilä saluted the men for having to take on so many of them. She wished she got to see them at it, since apparently they’d roped along Tasam and Ze’lu to get in some practice. 

Speaking of, Tasam and Kiri had even joined their rowdy bunch tonight- newly mated after their courtship. Their story was incredibly sweet. They’d gone the traditional route and followed through the steps of the Omatikaya’s customs.  

Their love was blinding and Xi was so happy for them. Although it had been years now, she still noticed the one or two times poor Spider would shoot them concealed glances. She was rooting for her friend to find his happiness too.   

“An den I shot my bow like,” Sprout made a dramatic reenactment, “an VOOSH! My arrow went so far into the water, and- and-”

“And the same time I shot mine too!” L’eo chimed in. “And it hit a fish!”

“Oh my! You caught one, L’eo?” Sal asked, intrigued by their story. 

“No,” the boy said sadly. “The fish swam away. L’eya got one though.”

The little girl blushed when the room broke out into cheers for her. 

Xilä loved nights like these. Their family dinners were always a boisterous affair. She felt entirely whole- as if she belonged. A feeling she fought to find for years. 

She watched her son seated in the cradle of his dad’s legs. They were both talking animatedly with Mo’at whose aged face was nothing but smiles. 

Something within Xi suddenly clicked. That uncertain emotion that had been plaguing her now had an answer and a flare of guilt followed the revelation. 

Stephan had taught her an expression once, “Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

It made sense now why she herself kept putting off having another baby, because that’s what she’d been doing, wasn’t she?

Waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Waiting for things to go wrong, waiting to be told she no longer belonged. Waiting to see if she and her son would be casted out.

A weight lifted off her shoulders now that she knew what was holding her back. Stupid thoughts that would bear no fruits.

She had her whole life ahead of her. One filled with the joy and love of her and her mate, and of their children. Xi stared at her son, her son. Of course she’d wanted more of him, she Neteyam truly made ridiculously cute babies. 

Before she shook off her thoughts and returned to the present, she gave herself a mini metal pep talk- the reassurance that always seemed to help the times her mind clouded in darkness. 

She was here. 

She was safe. 

She was loved.

And she had found, her Safe Haven. 

 ~

Once again, my deepest thanks goes out to all of you who have taken this journey with me, to all of you who have read, and liked and commented.

Special thanks to all who gave suggestions and ideas. I love interacting and hearing your thoughts!

I poured my heart and soul into this story and the unbelievable feedback I've gotten- there's no greater gift.

Although there is one more part I'd like to put out- "a slice of life" to specify, I am officially marking this story as Complete!

Here's to more stories in the future ahead. 💛

Tags:@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@granddearduck@riatesullironalite@strawberri-blonde@earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop@blkmystery@neteswife@luvteyams@isnt-itstrange@erenjaegerwifee@faatxma@ivysully@bakugouswaif@pinkpantheris @mntx666@ironcaptainnataliabarnes

[lauraneedstochill]

My first choice (part 2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eyed prince to fall in love with. pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~8500 (this is why I divided it into 2 parts lmao) warnings: friends to lovers, more angst (death of a parent, attempted harassment), hurt/comfort, an embarrassing amount of softness, Aegon is the smartest one for once author’s note: this is heavily inspired by “Little women” (2019) and Amy March in particular (read the rest of my long-ass explanation in part 1). again, I apologize for the angst! it gets worse before it gets better.

 Part 2. In a room full of art I stare at you.

It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Aemond. Maybe you were too blind to notice until it was too late or maybe you were doomed from the start. From the moment when the boy, who everyone deemed to be intimidating and reclusive, bent down to you to offer help without any hesitation. The second-born son of the King, tall and close-mouthed, surely had more important things to do than waste time on a strange girl crying over her stupid dress — and yet, he only showed you solicitude, asking for nothing in return.

You thought that mayhaps you owed him, and were seeking the opportunity to return the favor. Or at least that’s how you tried to justify the fact that you were looking for him every chance you got. You often found a reason to chat with Aemond during dinners and feasts, feeling bad for him spending time on his own — and you learned that he was very easy to talk to. You made sure to visit the training yard if he was there and sometimes stayed to watch him train for hours, even — or especially — when everyone else already left. His tenacity and strength had certain allure but under all those layers, you saw a lonely boy whose only friend was probably his dragon.

Despite the circumstances and his preferred solitude, Aemond never rejected your company, however sudden it might have been. Even when Aegon foolishly suggested playing hide and seek one evening, bored out of his mind, and you busted into the library and stumbled upon Aemond, who looked like he had no interest in silly games. And yet, when you awkwardly asked for the best place to hide at, he guided you to the enclosed area of the reading room. It was dimly lit by just a few candles and, somewhere between feeling uncomfortable and getting scared, you reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away. Furthermore, he stayed with you and cheered you up with stories about Old Valyria, making you forget about any childish fears.

As the two of you have grown older, you often heard people being frightened by Aemond’s disposition but you found there to be no ground for that. He’s never been rude to you nor had he lost his temper, regardless of circumstances — and the day you saw him without the eyepatch for the first time was the prime example of that. It was getting late and Aegon had too much to drink and, while running around in a drunken stupor, he cut his hand somewhere in the yard. Luckily, the wound wasn’t too deep but he was bleeding and refused to get help, against your best wishes. He was babbling that scars adorn a man — and then, in an attempt to escape you chasing him, he barged into Aemond’s chambers. You ran in merely a second after, with explanations at the ready, and were met with his younger brother standing there, looking startled. It took you a second to realize he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch.

“My scar will be easier to hide,” Aegon giggled, not recognizing the gravity of the situation.

It was the only time you had to make an effort not to slap him in the face. You thought it was mostly a secondhand embarrassment, which was part of the experience of being Aegon’s friend, but the look on Aemond’s face, hurt and humiliated, also made your heart ache.

“His scar is a reminder of his bravery and the strength of his character that he should only be proud of,” you gave Aegon a death stare. “Yours will be a reminder of your idiocy.”

It seemed to work as his smile vanished and he even muttered an apology, leaving hurriedly to call for the maester. When you turned to Aemond, he already had his eyepatch on, and you fought the urge to come and take him by the hand again. You didn’t want to bother him at such a late hour, so you opted to offer an apology, too, and leave him be.

“His behavior was unworthy. But I meant what I said,” you turned to Aemond on your way out. “And the sapphire looks very pretty,” you could swear you saw a trace of a smile on his face but you chose not to think much of it.

With every encounter, sudden or not, and every conversation, most of which were too short for your liking, you were making more room for Aemond in your heart. You should’ve known you were a lost cause when you actually told yourself — out loud, with hands grabbing the edges of your table — “I will not fall in love with him.” At that point, you already did. He always worked so hard to be seen — and you only had eyes for him all along.

You hid your true feelings well enough for anyone to take notice — but your father was no fool. He also knew better than to meddle with whatever your thinking process was. So he watched from afar for quite some time, until you started catching his curious glances on you every time you went to talk to Aemond. Predictably, after yet another feast he could not resist bringing up the topic.

“Did the royal menace have too many cups of wine again? Haven’t seen him this evening,” he adored Aegon whole-heartedly, and you suspected that their shared love for crude humor was the main reason for that. You didn’t mind.

“Wasn’t that many, actually,” you chuckled. “But he asked me and Aemond to help him to his chambers, said he wasn’t in the mood today.”

“Well, you seem to really enjoy Aemond’s company. I assume that the feeling is mutual?” he looked expressively at you.

Your face grew hot at his words. You also felt your heart break just a little.

“We are merely friends,” you told him, your smile too tense to be believable.

There was a shadow of concern in your father’s gaze, followed by a sad sigh.

“You will let me know if anything changes, though?” he mustered a smile in return and his was much brighter than yours.

“You will be the first one to know,” you promised as he came closer to bring you into a bear hug. You never spoke of it again.

Surprisingly, the only other person who seemed to have suspicions about the nature of your and Aemond’s relationship was his father, the King. You didn’t think he was aware of your existence, and even when your friendship with Aegon grew stronger and you became a regular guest at the castle, you soon realized Viserys barely paid any mind to his younger kids’ whereabouts. You would catch a glimpse of him in the halls and curtsy out of politeness but didn’t expect him to notice. You got too comfortable with his absence — so much so, that one day, when Aegon was carrying your supplies and humorously complained about the lack of art in the castle, you blithely suggested painting a portrait of the King. The last thing you expected was for said man to step out of the corner.

“I would be delighted,” he cut right to the chase. “Lady Y/N, isn’t it?”

He didn’t look scary up close, his face wrinkled and a tad too tired, but quite benevolent. He simply asked if you would be content with drawing him on the Iron Throne and you agreed, just as easily. Truth be told, you didn’t think he would follow up on his offer — being the King and all that, but he sent a carriage down to fetch you literally the next day. Viserys took the task with juvenile ardor, bombarding you with questions — what pose to take, what paint do you use, how quickly will it dry and how did you learn to draw. After he was satisfied with the answers, he changed the subject.

“My wife considers you to have a positive influence on my eldest son,” he pointed out with ill-concealed interest.

“I deeply appreciate her trust but I believe that he is capable of changing on his own,” you corrected him courtly.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he disagreed with a mischievous grin. “I’ve only heard good words about your guidance. It seems that you rein him back so easily, you would’ve made for a fine wife.”

You silently groaned at his comment.

“Your grace, I can assure you, our relationship is strictly of a friendly nature.”

“Oh, I know, I have seen you two,” he said, laughing, and when you peered at him, you saw that it wasn’t his usual uncomfortable-looking crooked grin but an actual genuine laugh.

“Shall you ever lay an eye on any other of my sons,” Viserys continued, much to your surprise. “Do not hesitate to tell me,” and his face suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

You ducked behind the canvas so he didn’t see your heated cheeks.

His suggestion lodged in your memory and even though you wouldn’t dare to actually approach the King, you held out hope that maybe he would give Aemond a similar hint. But months passed, Viserys’s condition drastically worsened, and for whatever reason, he never mended the relationship with his children. And eventually, your hope was gone.

You didn’t lie to Aemond when you told him about having power over who you love. But you failed to mention that said power has its limits — and doesn’t guarantee that your feelings won’t be one-sided. You learned that lesson the hard way when you had to face up to the reality you were in. Your love for Aemond seemed to be as infinite as the ocean — and you had to fit it in a fragile vessel of your heart. At first, you felt the waves raging at the mere glance of his, at every gesture of his goodwill or just upon hearing his voice. The storm of your feelings would splash over the rocks of your self-control but you survived the roaring torrent of love, time after time. The rough ocean grew calm over the years as you came to terms with being in love with someone who didn’t love you back.

You did choose to harbor feelings for Aemond, and you had no regrets about that. But when adulthood came with its own responsibilities that you had to focus on, all your energy was put into finding a husband. You were aware that your choice would have a major impact on your family as their stability depended on it. You approached the issue in a cold-hearted manner, prioritizing the duty above all else. Mayhaps, you were too calculated in your pursuit, and that was how you ended up accepting the courtship of a man who had nothing to give but his wealth.

When it comes to Jason, he never ceases to evoke a few feelings, too, but none of them are pleasant. His arrogance is the first thing that catches the eye — he’s wrapped in it and wears it with pride as if it’s another title of his. You often have to bite your tongue and fake a smile in response to his dismissive remarks and borderline vulgar comments. It doesn’t help that his self-esteem is inflated beyond your comprehension, and if only he could put his own face on their House’s sigil, he would. You are grateful that he keeps his hands to himself but you notice him getting quite handsy with the maids, and it gives you an unsettling feeling. His behavior is so disdainful and frivolous, you have no doubts that once you are married, you will be merely an accessory to him, a pretty wife to show off to his friends without taking your opinion into account. Showing off is the one thing he does best — and each time you can’t help but compare him to Aemond who doesn’t even know how to take a compliment. You find yourself thinking about the prince every time Jason comes by, and these thoughts help you get through tiresome promenades with the lord and endure boring dinners with him.

But after your last conversation with Aemond, you force yourself to stop thinking about him altogether. That decision is remorseless but you believe it’s for the better — or at least that’s what you convince yourself to think after you run out of the garden and into your carriage, only caring about getting home as soon as possible. You pretend that nothing happened, lying to your parents that the prince was too busy and you had to return earlier than planned. And then you lock yourself in your chambers, with hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sound of crying. A small part of you hopes that Aemond will come to you the same day and explain himself. But he doesn’t. When you don’t hear from him for another two days, you come to the conclusion that he regretted his sudden outburst. And that his words actually held no meaning.

Cutting Aemond out of your life does seem to be attainable with some time, and you perceive it as just another task, another skill you can master. But getting him out of your head seems like an impossible goal from the start. You are so used to keeping memories of him, cherishing each and every one, you can’t just erase them all at once. You try your best, you do so with ferocious persistence, but there’s always some annoying little reminder ready to surface and catch you off guard at the most inopportune moment.

It gets even harder when four days later you find yourself sitting next to Jason who is even more presumptuous than usual. At this point, you feel like your nerves are at the limit, so you can’t even find it in yourself to keep up the act. You push your food around the plate, jumping from one pointless thought to another: the tasteless meal, the barely visible crack in your cup, the revolting tone of the lord’s voice. You feel your mother staring at you, clearly displeased with your attitude, yet Jason is oblivious, too wrapped up in bragging about his winery — or whatever else he is talking about, you have no idea because you stopped paying attention about twenty minutes ago.

You think if you stay by his side any longer, you will be physically sick.

So you get up from the table — may be a bit too dramatic for your own liking — and muster out a weak excuse:

“My apologies, I am in need of fresh air.”

You leave before anyone has a chance to stop you.

It seems like an act of disobedience but there’s so much freedom in it, you feel that you can finally take a breath. And you do exactly that once you reach the balcony, several corridors away from the dining hall that felt stuffed with Jason’s ego. As you stand there, soaking up the last rays of the sun, you can’t ignore the obvious question — how is it even possible to marry someone you absolutely cannot tolerate. You never had illusions about the nature of your relationship with him but you at least hoped there would be some ground to build your future on. At yet, right now it looks like you are trying to lay a foundation in the quicksand. For a man of a noble lineage, Jason knows too little of what nobility actually is, and you have enough self-respect to not give him explanations. The prospect of marrying him makes your duty feel like a burden, and you contemplate if you should even take the risk.

You are lost in your thoughts until you hear a thin voice:

“Do you know where the sun lands?”

You turn to find your sister Alyna standing at the door, in her long white nightgown and barefoot, her eyes unnaturally large for her baby-like face. She always talks like that, too thoughtful for her young age, and sometimes she reminds you of Helaena. There you go, another connection to Aemond.

“I do not, my sweetling. Wherever that place is, it’s a well-guarded secret,” you comb her curly hair with your fingers as her curious eyes study your face.

“Maybe it doesn't want to be seen,” she deduces. “Just like you don't.”

Her ability to get straight to the point sometimes blindsides you. It’s also quite liberating to talk to someone who hasn’t yet learned the skill of pretense, and she may be the only sibling of yours with no ulterior motives or hidden agenda. Alyna tilts her head, signaling that she isn’t enjoying your touch anymore — and when you remove your hand, she says, out of the blue:

“Just like Ser Lannister doesn’t.”

You stare at her in bewilderment, and only then notice that the hallway behind her is empty. It dawns on you that Alyna’s nanny Dorea is nowhere to be found. She is only a couple of years older than you, meek and quiet, her trusting nature ever so defenseless — but she is also very pretty. Too pretty for her own good, as your mother likes to say.

You feel a wave of nausea again. This time, it’s followed by a sense of dread curdling in your stomach.

“What did he do?” your voice comes out unusually calm, in striking contrast with how you are really feeling.

“I heard him talking to Dorea outside my chambers. I wanted to join the conversation but he asked me to leave,” her brows slightly furrow. “He said there are some things I am not supposed to see.”

It may be the first thing you and Jason can agree on, you think. It is also the only thing because you certainly will never agree to marry him — and that realization frees you of any false politeness and self-restraint.

“What are those things?” Alyna naively asks, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I shall go and ask him,” you pat her on the cheek. “But you stay here, alright? I will be back before you know it.”

Usually, it would take about a minute to reach your sister’s chambers, but you cover the distance twice as fast. You are a couple of feet away when you hear muffled voices — one is demanding, the other one is scared, and both are well-known to you. You grasp the situation in no time and run to quickly open the door. When you walk in, you feel a flare-up of anger at the sight: Jason grabbed Dorea by the hips, trying to pull her closer, as she weakly protests, her palms pushing at his chest in an attempt to get away. The squeak of the door makes them turn their heads to you, and you see the distressed look on the nanny’s face.

And then their gazes fall behind your back, and Dorea gets horrified.

You easily guess the reason for that — your younger sister isn’t very good at following orders. So Alyna mumbles, standing next to you and looking at her nanny:

“I do not think she likes it.”

“Neither do I,” you throw Jason a baleful stare. “Let her go and get out.”

He removes his hands — so carelessly, it almost seems like he’s offended by your suggestion of his wrongdoing. Dorea immediately comes to your side, ashamed and distraught.

“Did he hurt you?” you inquire, helping to adjust her dress.

“My lady, I think you misinterpreted —” Jason tries to say but you shut him off.

“I am not talking to you,” you scowl in his direction. Your face softens when you ask Dorea again: “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, sheepishly trying to explain:

“I didn’t do anything, I-I didn’t want to, and he said... He said he is a lord and I sh-should be flattered.”

Not only did Jason has the audacity to pull that off but he also wanted to do so at your little sister’s chambers — and you simmer at the thought.

“I believe you,” you gently stroke her shoulder. “I promise you will never see him again.”

“These are some unrealistic expectations,” Jason sneers, walking to you but his grin dies down when you look at him again.

“I know your opinion of women isn’t very high — trust me, the feeling is mutual — but you cannot seriously believe you will fool me,” you sense that now he isn’t pleased with your attitude but you don’t care. “When I told you to get out, I meant it. You are not welcome in this house.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wise decision to make if we are to be wed,” Jason contemptuously hisses.

“Then I guess the wedding is off,” you glare defiance at him. “But whoever you end up marrying, I hope she outlives you. Just so she can spit on your grave,” the last part is meant only for him to hear.

And he definitely does as his face reddens with rage. Jason roughly grabs you by the hand, and your nose fills with the stench of wine when he speaks:

“You are in no position to make demands,” he drawls. “Your family is in debt up to its ears, you little halfwit, so I suggest you choose your words very carefully.”

While he doesn’t see it, Alyna looks between you two, and, out of the corner of your eye, you notice her frowning. She doesn’t do well with conflicts as they upset her deeply, which can only trigger one reaction. Before you can say anything, a high-pitched scream shatters the room, echoing through the whole house.

Jason removes his hand within a second, looking shocked, but Alyna stands innocently with her mouth closed as if nothing happened. Your parents come to her chambers in the blink of an eye.

“What is wrong?” your mother looks at you all uncomprehendingly.

“Ser Lannister got lost,” you cooly explain. “He is already leaving.”

“And why is that?” your father glares at him with suspicion.

You want to spare Dorea the humiliation so you pause for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. But Alyna has no understanding of what a maiden’s honor is — and she loudly proclaims:

“Ser Lannister was touching Dorea, and she didn’t like it.”

No one in the room needs an explanation for that.

“You shameless scoundrel!” your father roars at Jason, who unsurprisingly isn’t as courageous as before.

“Ser, there clearly has been a mistake — ”

“It was a mistake to let you in,” your father rudely interrupts him. “You won’t set foot in my house ever again. Get out of here before I make you!”

Jason doesn’t need to be told twice and storms out of the room as your father’s gaze follows him. He stands with hands clenched into fists, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“Pompous jerk,” he mumbles under his breath. “And to think that I was willing to give him my daughter’s hand...!” his voice breaks, hoarse with ire, and you notice a vein pop on his forehead. You have never seen him so furious.

“He’s been dealt with,” you cautiously say to ease the tension. “That shouldn’t be a cause for your concern anymore.”

He turns to you, his eyes bloodshot and breathing heavy. As you step closer, you hear whistling sounds with his every breath, and his gaze gets absent. You realize that something is wrong as he opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

“Father, are you alright?”

He places a hand over his heart, trying to inhale, a look of fear in his eyes. The chain of events is too sudden to comprehend: his breathing begins to wheeze as he squirms, falls flat on his back and convulses.

And then your evening turns out to be way worse than you could’ve ever imagined. A week later Aegon wakes up at an ungodly hour — and he’s fueled by sole determination to put an end to everyone’s misery. Surely, he must be the only sane person in his house since all his family members seem to be oblivious to what is going on between you and Aemond. Aegon, however, can use his eyes for their intended purpose — and it is clear as day to him that you and his brother are in love with each other.

He caught on to that pretty fast, although the signs were not that obvious at first: you often smile to people purely out of politeness and Aemond may not show his true feelings even under threat of death. So Aegon kept secretly observing you two, taking note of fleeting glances and light touches, of the way you would relax in Aemond’s presence, the way he was always too eager to help you with whatever you needed, and how you two would gravitate toward each other. Both his brother and his best friend were annoyingly stubborn about making their own decisions so Aegon didn’t mean to interrupt — or at least he tried not to. But when your evident mutual pining stretched into years, Aegon started losing his patience.

In the beginning, he initiated small things, asking Aemond to come and greet you (“Oh, I just woke up! And you are already dressed for the occasion”), to deliver you his hand-written message (“Yes, it is incredibly important and I trust no one but you!” — it was his doodling of Aemond), to keep you company during the feast while Aegon stepped out for a moment (he didn’t come back). He asked him to switch places at dinner (so you and Aemond could sit together), to help find the books you wanted (“All those years of you reading should be good for something”), to pick up the portrait of his children (“They are your nephews, is it so hard?! No, I am not being dramatic!”). A couple of times he even pretended to be way more drunk than he actually was just so you and Aemond could help him to his chambers and spend some time alone in the process. None of that worked. At some point, he seriously contemplated locking you both in a room but then came to the conclusion that you would rather team up to find a way out than confess your feelings. Truly, it seemed hopeless, and Aegon thought that maybe he should give up.

But as of recently he couldn’t help but notice that something was clearly off between you and Aemond, although the younger prince refused to talk about it, and you simply stopped visiting the castle. He decided to give it a day or two, hoping that you would sort things out and refusing to even consider the opposite. A week passed and nothing changed, and Aegon cannot bear looking at Aemond’s sour face any longer. So the older prince comes up with a plan.

He is unexpectedly the first one at the breakfast table and everyone who walks in shoots him a surprised glance. They are amazed even more to see that Aegon isn’t drinking which is as rare as a miracle. Aemond comes last and he is the only one who doesn’t notice the change, too wrapped up in his thoughts. Another thing that goes unnoticed is the gleam of sadness on their mother’s face.

Five minutes in, Aegon clears his throat to attract everyone’s attention.

“So, I was thinking,” he drawls loudly.

“That does not sound good,” Otto mutters, unimpressed, which Aegon chooses to ignore and continues.

“Lady Baratheon’s poor taste in men shouldn’t be an obstacle in our way of reaching the grand goal.”

“Which is...?” Otto asks while the younger prince doesn’t move an ear.

“To find a lady worthy of my brother, of course!” Aegon tries his best to say it with a straight face.

Aemond spares him a glance. “I didn’t know you took much interest in that.”

“I always have your best interest in mind,” Aegon slaps him on the shoulder earning a disgruntled hum in return.

“I was just thinking if we should go over the list of requirements once more,” Aegon suggests.

“I don’t have a li—”

“Of course you do!” another slap. “At the very least, she should be of a noble kind. Am I right?”

“Sure,” Aemond absentmindedly agrees.

“And we are definitely looking for someone who is keen on reading.”

“Yes,” Aemond rolls his eye and looks at his plate, already showing no interest in the conversation. That is exactly what Aegon wants — and he starts talking a bit faster:

“Someone with a flexible nature...”

“U-hmm.”

“And with a kind heart...”

“Yes.”

“A great listener...”

“Uh-huh”

“Who will attend to your every need...”

“Sure.”

“And may even be of indescribable beauty...”

“Hmm.”

“...And you will still be miserable because you love Y/N.”

“Yes,” Aemond says without thinking — and then it’s too late to take his word back because everyone’s eyes are already on him. When he turns to his brother, Aegon has a shit-eating grin on his face:

“You are welcome.”

Alicent looks genuinely confused. “Aemond, but why haven’t you mentioned it?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question for years,” Aegon snorts, and Otto raises an eyebrow.

“Years?” his grandsire questions.

“I almost gave up on him,” Aegon keeps talking while his brother just sits there, eye glued to the table.

“She was the one who drew the portrait of our father,” Helaena cheerfully speaks up. “And he kept it.”

“He did,” Alicent nods and gives her son a sympathetic look. “Aemond, she is an admirable young lady. No one would have spoken against it if only you —”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Aemond cuts her off, averting his gaze. “She is to be betrothed to Ser Lannister, and I do not intend to ruin her plans.”

“You cannot be serious!” Aegon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shall you find the courage to propose, she will immediately reject him!”

“She already did,” Alicent avows, to everyone’s surprise.

Aemond looks up at his mother in an instant.

“Did she?” he asks in disbelief.

Alicent gives him a wan smile.

“A week ago, yes. It is rumored that his behavior... left much to be desired,” she explains half-heartedly. Her face, however, doesn’t show any signs of happiness.

“That seems like a reason to celebrate but it doesn’t sound like it,” Aegon looks at her questioningly, and Aemond tenses up in anticipation.

Alicent dithers as her face falls, eyes getting woeful and voice feeble.

“Her father fell ill that very day. Some say he got too upset with the whole situation, and I...,” she takes a deep breath. “I received a message this morning. He passed away three nights ago.”

Everyone falls silent, their faces showing shock that is quickly replaced by sadness.

“Seven hells,” Aegon mumbles.

Aemond doesn’t utter a word, feeling his heart sinking. He knows that you’ve always been your father’s daughter, and the prince cannot even begin to imagine how heartbroken you are right now. He should’ve been there for you, he thinks, full with remorse and guilt.

“You should go,” Aegon turns to him, not a hint of jesting in his voice. “We may give her some time to grieve, but I will gladly take Sunfyre out for —”

“Why would you need to?” Aemond gives him a puzzled look. “I can take Vhagar.”

Aegon emits a long-drawn groan and says to no one in particular:

“And to think he is the smartest one? I am having doubts”, he then glances at Aemond with reproach. “I am sure her mourning family will not at all get terrified at the sight of your monstrous dragon.”

His brother mulls over the idea.

“It is not safe to fly drunk.”

“I will be stone-cold sober.”

“You believe both of us will fit into the saddle?” 

“We will fit just fine, can you stop with your excuses?! I am being reasonable for once, and you are making me regret it!”

“I don’t think it would be wise,” Otto cuts in their bickering, and both princes turn to him.

He holds pause with a blank stare before a sly smile crawls out on his face.

“I would rather recommend the prince goes right away. We don’t want her family to make any rushed decisions,” their grandsire advises, earning a sign of relief from Aegon, who jumps out of his chair.

“We’re leaving this very second! Do I need to drag you out of your —”

“You do not,” Aemond stands up in a hurry — and then Aegon still grabs him by the hand, pulling his brother out of the room.

Alicent gazes fondly after them.

“It was very kind of you,” she says to her father without looking at him.

Otto thinks that, with how well you’ve been handling Aegon, marrying you to Aemond would be a blessing. Because gods know, he is fed up with them both.

On their way to the Dragonpit Aegon can barely hold back his excitement but his brother’s mind is clearly elsewhere. The older prince lets Aemond take time to gather his thoughts and doesn’t bother him along the road. But once they reach the cavernous building and both pop out of the carriage, Aegon decides some encouragement would be fitting. 

“Have I ever told you how I met her? That day at the feast?”

Mentioning your name always works wonders — Aemond turns to him in a flash.

“I was jesting around and she was the only one who didn’t laugh at my jokes. At all. Just stood there with a straight face and ignored me. Can you imagine?” 

Aemond does know the unimpressed look you usually give Aegon, and it causes him to let out a dull chuckle.

“Took me good five minutes to even make her smile — and, frankly, my success didn’t last very long. Pretty sure half of my jokes landed flat. But you know what was the real issue?” Aegon’s smile is melancholic. “Most of the evening she kept asking about you.”

Aemond looks like the very epitome of heartbreak. Not only was he blind, he was also an idiot, he realizes.

“I know, I should’ve told you sooner,” Aegon gives him an apologetic look.

Aemond shakes his head. “I should’ve told her sooner.”

“Well, it’s only been what, seven years?” his brother chortles weakly while the dragon keepers finally bring out Sunfyre, and the dragon casts Aemond a curious look.

Aegon approaches the beast first, running his hand over the scales that shine bright in the sunlight, and the prince can never get tired of that blinding beauty. But his excitement mingles with another feeling.

“I value her friendship, you do know that, right?” he squints at Aemond, who simply nods.

“This is my way of saying that if you mess it up, I might push you off my dragon on our way back,” Aegon casually remarks, grabbing the rope to climb up.

Aemond falters with answering, reluctant to admit.

“There is a chance that I already messed it up.”

Aegon looks down at his brother and gives him a stern glare.

“Unmess it, then.” You don’t remember much from the past week, your days and nights blurred into one another. The only thing that stays on your mind is your father’s face — you can still see it so clearly, with his gentle gaze and his every wrinkle, the corners of his mouth always upturn like he’s a second away from smiling. You also remember how that face contorted in pain, how his body stiffened, and that scene plays on repeat in your head, over and over. And then there are only pieces of memories, torn and mushed together, and you can’t find it in yourself to sort them out.

You spend all your time at your father’s bedside, with a string of never-ending prayers falling from your lips. They don’t seem to help — and nor do the maester’s efforts, and you lose hope with each passing minute. As hours fly, you get a very bad feeling that soon turns into blood-curdling awareness. Deep down, you know what’s to come, and you hate yourself for it. You think you will never stop crying but by the time the maester declares your father’s demise, there are no tears left. Death has many faces — none of them looked at you with mercy.

Your mother wails, overtaken by despair, your sisters don’t leave her side, eyes puffy and full of sorrow, and you are sure that you look the same — yet you feel completely empty. There’s a cleft in a place of your heart, and all the feelings seemed to flow out, leaving you drained and emotionless, but it brings you no relief. Everything in your house reminds you of your father, his presence tangible in the rooms and in the halls, his image still as clear as a reflection in the mirror. The memories of him crawl out of every corner, seep from under the doors, fall on you along with the dust you brush off his things that you can’t make yourself take away.

Stacks of hardcovers with bookmarks in the middle.

The unfinished cup of wine.

The long grey coat hanging on the back of his chair.

Piles of letters left unanswered.

Parchments, ink and a quill that he will never use again.

All the pieces of him that you can’t look at, don’t want to look at — yet it’s all you see, and there’s is no hiding from it. You feel trapped in your own house, and you wait for the walls to collapse so maybe under the weight of them you will find some peace. You are restless in your grief, you are drowning in it.

The day of the funeral leaves a blank space in your memory, void of colors and sounds apart from everyone’s crying. The ceremony is rushed and there is only a handful of family members since your mother couldn’t bring herself to tell everyone yet. You don’t blame her for it — you think she’s too afraid to say it out loud, afraid that speaking the words will make them real, and she’ll have to finally accept his death. You have no problem with acceptance, you just don’t know how to move on. How to stay strong when you are shattered beyond repair.

Your home now feels like a coffin but everyone expects you to be in charge, so you force yourself to. Merely an hour after his body was buried in soil wet with rain, you find yourself sorting out his papers. You look through his diary, his scribbled notes, the calculations he made in attempts to stabilize the emptying coffers. He’s always been the responsible one, keeping count and cutting costs, planning for the future — and yet he’s been robbed of it. None of it makes sense to you and your father isn’t there to teach you. You clench your teeth in frustration, and it makes you want to put your head through a wall.

You push through the second and the third day. You give orders to the maids, who walk on eggshells around the house, sharing concerned looks. You take it upon yourself to bring meals to your mother and all but spoon-feed her so she at least will have some energy to get up from bed. She doesn’t — while you want nothing more than to get away. You’ve had a fair share of responsibilities your entire life but now there’s an abundance of them and it puts you in a chokehold, and you are all alone in your discomfort which brings you no respite at all.

On the fourth day you wake up feeling like the walls are closing in and you can’t breathe, the need to leave anchoring in your lungs. You don’t want to waste another second as you put on a coat right on top of your nightgown, frightened that each moment of stalling might lead to you being dragged into the same routine again. But the house is asleep, and the sun has barely risen when you tiptoe out of your room. You only wake up one maid, telling her you’ll go for a walk so your sudden absence doesn’t come off as a deed of cruelty.

You step outside and close the door behind your back, taking a slow, deep inhale. And just when the guilt is about to sneak up on you — you dart off into the morning fog.

The air is fresh and cooling against your skin as you run away from your house and through the trees, not minding the branches or the damp ground. You breathe the crisp air in, and it makes your body feel weightless, and you speed up, leaving no chance for the responsibilities to catch up with you. Patches of the forest, splattered with all shades of green, bushes and weeds that graze your knees — you pay them no attention as your feet carry you further away, up the hill, to the most remote place you can think of. You don’t know how long it takes for you to reach the narrow wooden bridge and cross the remaining field that ends with a cliff, but when you finally do, your feet ache and your lungs burn and you gulp air.

The sky is draped by the light layer of clouds but the blue of it stretches as far as the eyes can reach, and the movement of the sea can be seen in the distance. The morning is still with silence and it welcomes you, the fresh breeze encircling your body. The feeling of it isn’t gentle as the wind instantly bites every part of your skin that is covered with sweat. You should’ve worn thicker layers, you shouldn’t have rushed, maybe you shouldn’t have come at all — but you are too tired of thinking, of restrictions. Of yourself.

You let the cold seep in and pierce you to the marrow as you watch the waves meeting the horizon. You then close your eyes, hands coming up to cross over your chest. It’s an oblivion of some sort — with no demands and no tears, it’s only you and the wind. The empty space around you matches the emptiness in your heart, and the beating of it sounds like a hollow note. You feel nothing, you feel numb, but it’s so tranquilizing, you can’t help but give in, just to stop brooding for a few minutes — or maybe hours, you care not.

In this state of torpor, you almost miss the sound of wings cutting through the air. When you open your eyes, you only catch a shadow hidden by the clouds and a glimpse of gold but it’s still enough to guess. Sunfyre. At any other time, Aegon’s visit would’ve brought you joy yet right now it feels useless against the doldrums of your soul. At least your sisters will be happy to see him, you think, not having the slightest desire to move from your spot. The wind is now howling, the grass is rustling — and then the small measured sound joins the melody of nature. It sounds like someone’s approaching but their step is nearly noiseless. There is only one person who walks like that, and the realization brings you out of your trance.

You turn to Aemond before he can say anything, your gaze meeting his, and he immediately stands still. The distance between you is just like before, and you only now grasp the amount of time that has passed. You haven’t seen him in two weeks — and so much has changed, and nothing is the same — but when you look at Aemond, at every painfully familiar feature of his, your heart twinges. You really, really missed him, and it’s the first thing you feel in fourteen days.

He notes your lack of protest and hesitantly comes toward you, only pausing when he’s at arm’s length. His cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, the collar of his coat raised to the angles of his jaw.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” his tone is filled with sadness. “Even if you despise me.”

“I could never,” you mirror the words he once said but your voice comes out too quiet and blank.

There is only compassion and understanding in his gaze, and you are hungry for both, so you don’t break eye contact. He doesn’t, either, and reaches out a hand — it moves to your shoulder as he says:

“I am so sor—” when his fingers come in contact with you, Aemond suddenly stops talking, and his eye darts to your arm. There is a flicker of confusion on his face that quickly turns into worry.

“You are freezing,” he breathes out, and his worry grows stronger in an instant.

Aemond cautiously guides his hand up and down your arm — you see the movement, clear as day, but you don’t feel it at all.

“I didn’t really notice,” you mumble.

You want to tell him that staying with your family drove you up the wall, that you lost sleep and the nights bring you no rest, that you accept your emptiness and loathe it. But the wind is still howling, your mind is clouded with exhaustion, and you are afraid that Aemond will get angry at you.

Instead, he pleads.

“Let me take you home,” he continues caressing your arm. “Please, let’s go back. You can’t —”

“I don’t want to,” you retort, and all the unsaid words bubble up and pour out. “I could not stay there any longer, it was all too much, I needed a break, I — it just made me feel like...,” your skin finally absorbs the heat of his touch which sends goosebumps down your spine, and you get short of breath.

“Like I wanted to disappear,” you say, voice barely above the whisper.

Your confession hangs in the air, and you catch that same unreadable emotion in his eye. Three heartbeats later Aemond removes his hand, and the absence of it threatens to strip you of your short-lived comfort. But then he unbuttons his coat — and opens his arms to you:

“Disappear here.”

His words break the ice of your numbness, filling your lungs with air — so much of it, you almost feel light-headed. You are cold, and you are lonely, and you missed him. In a heartbeat you fall into his embrace, with the same force one may plummet down from a cliff — only instead of waves, you are welcomed by his warmth, and you instantly sink into it.

Aemond takes you under his coat, gently putting it over your body, and then holds you tight. You instinctively wrap your hands around his waist, nestling against his chest. Your cold palms glide over his shirt, and Aemond involuntarily shivers but doesn’t budge. He starts slowly stroking your back, and you soak up the calmness that radiates off him. His touch is soothing, quieting your mind, and you lose yourself in the serenity that it brings. 

You are both lost in time, standing quietly, as your body gradually warms up and relaxes. You listen to his heartbeat, the rhythm of it even and lulling, and it makes you feel at peace.

When Aemond looks at you clinging to him, his heart swells with so much love, he can barely contain it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It all happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. Everyone expects something from me now and I... I wish he was still here.”

“Your father was the kindest man I have ever met,” his voice is laced with sorrow. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. I should’ve come sooner but I only found out this morning.”

“And you came,” you remark delicately. “It’s all that matters.”

You snuggle up to him even more and relish in the feeling of his body close to yours, finding solace in it. You let yourself forget about everything else in the world, comforted by his kindness as he shields you from all the worries and the troubles of life.

“Whose idea was it to take Sunfyre?”

“Aegon’s,” the prince chuckles. “He was very persuasive, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he waiting for you on the hill?”

“He went to see your family, offer his condolences. And maybe complain a little since he didn’t particularly enjoy the flight.”

You try imagining the two of them squeezed into the saddle, and you know Aemond must’ve teased Aegon all the way to your house. You feel the tickling of laughter in your throat but it doesn’t go higher and then dissolves. Still, it’s a start.

“How much do you regret agreeing to that?”

Aemond pauses — and then his low voice vines through your hair:

“Right now, I don’t.”

You feel his heart skipping a beat, and for some reason, his pulse speeds up. You wonder what the reason may be, and your cheeks heat up when you are struck by the answer you can’t dare to hope for.

Or maybe you can.

“I’m not marrying Ser Lannister,” you blurt out, your own chest vibrating with anxiety. 

Aemond pulls away just a bit, only to have a look at you.

“I heard about that,” he reveals. “He was never a good —”

“You are under no obligation to say anything or do anything,” you cut him off, nervously lowering your gaze, because if he tries to pity you it will break your heart all over again, and you cannot bear it right now. “I just... I knew I would never love him. So I believe it’s only for the best.”

You keep babbling, but he hardly listens, his eye fixed on your face. Aemond isn’t sure you fully allow yourself to be this vulnerable with anyone. But it’s his favorite side of yours — with your bashful sincerity, your overly complicated explanations that he understands with ease, your habit of talking with hands, with your searching gaze and your eyes bright with life. It’s all the little things that he adores.

It’s what makes his feelings finally spill over.

“...But we don’t need to talk about it, you don’t need to say anyth—”

His touch is so gentle, you barely register when Aemond puts a finger beneath your chin, lifting your head to look at him — and then suddenly his lips cover yours. His mouth is even warmer than his hands, and he gives you a couple of seconds to make sure you won’t pull away. And then he starts kissing you, slowly and steadily, in a way you could only dream of.

Aemond gently cradles your head, his lips are soft and ardent — they meld with yours, and time freezes and sounds fade as you melt into the kiss, into his touch. And at that moment nothing else matters. You are wrapped in his tenderness, the ocean of feelings flooding your body, and he enters your heart like he owns it. He always did.

Aemond is the one to break the kiss, sensing that you are gasping for air. You slowly open your eyes in a daze, as if you’ve been awoken from a dream.

“I will take care of everything,” he affirms, his mouth still only a couple of inches away. “You do not have to worry about a thing.”

One of your hands moved on top of his chest, and you feel that his heart rate is back to normal. The pounding of it pulls you back to reality.

“You mean that?” you whisper. “Aemond, I don’t have that much to offer.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leaves a trail of light kisses up to your temple.

“You have everything a man can wish for,” he reassures you, and his gaze finds yours again. “Everything I have ever wished for.”

The prince takes your face between his hands, and his thumbs follow the contours of your cheeks.

“Even in a room full of art I can only look at you,” Aemond murmurs, his words are flamelike and go straight to your heart, making it flutter.

Only now you notice that the sun emerged from the clouds, and the golden light illuminates everything around you. You bask in it as well as in Aemond’s affection — and he makes you feel seen, safe, cared for. Loved.

“That was very poetic of you,” you tilt your head and lean closer to him.

“I agree with poets on one thing — we have no control over who we love. But I have never regretted loving you,” he can’t stop himself from placing a kiss on the edge of your mouth. “And if I had to choose, it would still be you.”

When you meet his gaze, this time you read it with ease — and you are sure it’s a mere reflection of your own. An overwhelming feeling sweeps over and spreads through you. But the ocean is calm, and you are not cold anymore — and Aemond does love you, after all.

You feel your mouth quirk in a smile, genuine and a very happy one. Aemond presses his forehead to yours and promises:

“From now on, you will always be my first choice,” and then you see him trailing for your lips.

And you believe him.

the taglist: @greenowlfactif, @mischiefmanaged71, @pasta-rask, @imjustboredso, @iiamthehybrid, @m00n5t0n3, @crispmarshmallow, @bellaisasleep, @aemondssuit, @ipadkidsworld, @itisjustwhatitis, @maximizedrhythms, @fckwritersblock, @hiatuswhore, @fantasyreader130, @bibli0thecary, @teapartydreams, @kyuupidwrites, @thelittleswanao3 (I couldn't tag some of you for whatever reason, so I'll just message you guys)

yep, it’s me again!

the title is someone’s quote (I have no idea where it’s from, pls help a girl out)

“Disappear here” are Jonathan Carroll’s words that have been engraved in my memory for years and they just popped into my head while I was writing in a haste and only then I realized wait, technically it’s a quote, you can’t do that?! but guess what, I did! I also tried to rephrase these two words but it looked weird so I’m letting you know that I suck as a writer

the bit when she babbles and he looks smitten with her — I couldn’t help but think of that scene from “North and South” (it screams Aemond to me!)

I imagined the cliff to look like this 🍃

I originally planned to turn the romance down just a notch ’cause I already have 4 sappy fics and I wanted this one to be more “realistic” but… oh well, me and romance go hand in hand, apparently.

you will see this version of Aegon more often because I enjoyed it immensely!

what do you guys think? comments and opinions are VERY welcome! 🥺 ✨ my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[juniperss]

heheh i’ve always wondered how the outsiders boys would kiss. like is it sweet and soft or like heavy and passionate. or even where they like to be kissed 🤭🤭🤭 i love my silly little greaser boys

*kicks my feet* coming right up, anon!!

Kissing the Gang Headcanons:

Darry: 

In ‘Chocolate Kisses’ I wrote that Darry’s kisses are always heavy and full, so allow me to expand on what I mean by that! I fully believe that Darrel kisses with his entire being each and every time he kisses you as if he’s trying to convey how much you mean to him with just his mouth. “Full” meaning that his lips are completely on yours and “heavy” meaning that you’re usually not just kissing, you’re full on making out.  He’s pouring everything he has into those kisses, He’s not big on PDA and since he’s almost always surrounded by the Gang he makes up for lost time by kissing you A LOT in private and with all of his attention. The kinds of kisses that make your chest burn from how long they are.  His lips are usually chapped or dry since he works outside, usually under the sun. He’s a great kisser and has had years of practice (look he was a football star and pretty popular, what do you want me to say???). 

Two Bit:

One word: Fun. His kisses are always followed with a smile from one of, or both of, you. He’s kissing everywhere on your face before he gets to your lips and then he squishes your cheeks as he reaches your mouth. Even when he’s trying to be sexy about it there’s such an element of fun in the way he kisses you. You make him happy and that always comes out in his kisses. I don’t see him having a problem with PDA at all, much to the annoyance of everyone around you two! While he loves to kiss you on the lips, I can definitely see him being a fan of neck or shoulder kisses!! Especially when you two are lounging around or waiting in line for snacks at the drive in; he just presses kisses to your shoulder while he stands behind you. 

Sodapop:

Soda is a romantic, or at least he likes the idea of being a romantic. We see that when he loves someone, he’s completely dedicated to them and that definitely translates into kisses. His kisses are gentle and earnest, always chasing your lips with his even if he’s the one who initiated the kiss. He makes sure he’s wearing chapstick so his lips aren’t rough and he always tastes faintly of mint. Soda is a big fan of kissing you when you’re sitting on the kitchen counter or on one of the cars he’s working on so he can put his arms on either side of you while you two kiss. Really he’s not paying attention to anything around when you’re smooching him and whenever you pull away he’s got this glazed look in his eyes like he’s coming out of a trance. Because he doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings during kisses, you two have been caught kissing A LOT by the guys and that means you have to deal with the roasting that follows.

Dally:

His kisses are either possessive or playful and I don’t think there’s really an in-between. Dallas’s temper and emotions run hot and cold at an incredible speed, so it only makes sense to me that his kisses vary on mood, day and whatever happened .2 seconds prior. His possessive kisses are slow and forceful, one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you still the entire time. His playful kisses are fast, almost teasing and leaving you chasing after his mouth. Dally likes to kiss, he likes to makeout and he’s happy to do it whenever you ask. He’s not much into PDA, he prefers to have his attention on his surroundings and the environment and PDA makes him concerned that he’s not going to be prepared.

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 2 of bracket one

Propaganda:

For Zoro:

Literally training to be the greatest swordsman in the world. Has a special three swords technique (one blade in each hand plus one with the handle held in his teeth). I haven't read the manga or watched the anime but the live action adaptation gives me extremely gay vibes and based on the fandom things I've seen I'm not the only one

bro uses three swords. has one in his mouth. dont ask how the HELL he manages that. one day he will be the worlds greatest swordsman....after he beats the current greatest for both the titles of greatest swordsman and fruitiest swordsman. he's dramatic as FUUUCK like bro what the hell. has homoerotic fights with the local twink like everyday. directionally challenged, can and will get lost in a paper bag, doesnt know left from right...he probably cant read, too. hes too silly ngl

First of all, im in like episode 250 and so far he hasnt been shown attracted to any woman at all during the whole show so far, not even when one changed clothes in the same room as him and this is anime so you know there were other characters with bloody noses and shit. With that out of the way he wields three swords at once [two in his hands, one is his goddamn mouth dude. Its cool af trust me.] When he was little he made a promise to his best friend that he'd be the best swordsman in the world. Later she died in a tragic accident and left her sword which he still uses today. He also carries a cursed sword but he overpowers the curse with a combination of skill and sheer luck. He got stuck in a chimney. While his crewmates sail their ship he takes naps. He learned how to cut through metal by fighting a guy who could turn his body into metal blades. That's metal. He refuses to fight this liberal marine officer because she looks like his childhood best friend and its just understandably really awkward for him. He's autistic. He's a he/him bisexual lesbian. He's a gay man. He's ace/aro. He's whatever you want him to be babey!!

he has 3 swords, wields one in his mouth sometimes, his dream is to be the greatest swordsman in the world

three swords and big aroace-spec gay vibes

He not only has a sword he has *three* swords. He's absolutely gay there's no way to see this man as straight. Also one time he licked his sword for no reason and that was really funny to me so I had to mention it

Look, this man thinks about three things: Swords, His Captain, and Booze. He’s on a quest to be the worlds greatest swordsman. The Live action has a scene where he declares his undying, unwavering loyalty to his captain WHILE reaffirming his promise to be the worlds greatest swordsman. At this point His dream and his Captain are so intertwined it’s crazy. Man is so sword-y he’s got three of them. When one of his swords broke he carried its empty scabbard until he was able to give it a SWORD FUNERAL. He hears a sword is cursed and takes that as a challenge. He will literally tell his swords off for “bad behavior” when they “act up” due to being straight up cursed. He tests one by throwing it in the air and sticking his arm out to see if it is so blood thirsty and ill tempered that it will cut him. Even though he’s literally the first mate if you ask him what his role is he’s going to answer Swordsman.

He's dedicated his life to two things: becoming the greatest swordsman in the world and his captain, Luffy. 

He mastered the three sword style. Its his style. It would've been more swords but he could only fit one sword in each hand and one in his mouth. He wants to be the world's greatest swordsman, a deal he made with his childhood best frenemy (before she died falling down the stairs). He thought he was All That at the start and was almost completely decimated by the actual Worlds Greatest Swordsman. Now, after two years forced training with that guy, he's probably in the top tier no-doubt, and honestly could already be the best but we just don't know for sure yet. Also, did I mention: he's got the whole demon/devil imagery going on at times. And he has absolutely no sense of direction! plus is a total softie when it comes to Chopper and all the children who somehow gravitate towards him. And he loves naps!

One of the guy's main goals in life is to be the best sword fighter and he fights with three swords which I think is telling enough of his skill.

For Sayaka Miki:

my favourite scene is the one where Sayaka turns off all her pain receptors to battle the shadow witch, uncaring of the damage dealt to her body, because what is a body but a decaying vessel you must eventually abandon anyway? that was very depression of her <3 Also there’s that one time (in the rebellion movie) where Sayaka stabs herself on her own sword to release the witch that dwells within her. and then she immediately gets up to fight back to back with her girlfriend. that moment lives rent free in my head. Sayaka is so depression and I love her for it:)

SHES SO GAY ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY SHE FLIRTS W THE MAIN CHARACTER HER NARRATIVE FOIL IS ANOTHER GIRL W TBE OPPOSITE COLOR SCHEME THEYRE RED BLUE LESBIAN MOMENT YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT ELSE ??? SHE COMES TO THIS FALSE REALITY LITERALLY JUST TO SEE HER GIRLFRIEND ALIVE THEY LIVE TOGETHER AND THERES A WHOLE OUTRO SEQUENCE JUST W THE TWO OF THEM SHE STUDIED THE GAY BLADE I STG also she uses a sword 🗡️ love u sayaka

[tenkasato]

could i rrquest some highschool drama with kise ryota? thanks a bunch!

High school drama it is. Please grant me the privilege of being the pettiest, most cliche I could be with this request. Again, sorry for the very long wait. And thank you for sending this request and always being supportive of my work. Enjoy! ^^

Pairing: Kaijo!Kise x reader (implied)

“What did you say?”

Shinohara Tomori looked you straight in the eye as if taunting you. And you were so close, SO CLOSE, to scratching those judgemental eyes out of their sockets and throwing them across the corridor. But you kept your temper at bay and instead waited for this classmate of yours to repeat herself.

“I know you heard me clearly,” Tomori took a step closer and you had to lift your head a bit to keep the eye contact with the taller girl, “Kise-chan doesn’t want to have anything to do with you, so I suggest you stop following him like some lost puppy, because you’re just making a fool out of yourself.”

Seriously? Such a girl existed? You thought you only saw these kinds of scenarios in the movies. 

“First,” you took a step closer, squared your shoulders in an effort to look tough in front of Tomori and her group of (tall) friends, “I don’t follow him around. I’m his tutor and friend. Second, if you’re trying to pull me into a fight and get me to the principal’s office, then you should give up, because I won’t cause a scene.”

A smirk crossed Tomori’s face as her eyes glinted with an almost giddy glee. “You don’t have to pretend. Everybody in this school knows how madly in love you are with Kise-chan. Hate to break it to you, but he’s not interested in someone like you.”

The statement caught you off guard. You bit your lower lip. After graduating from Teiko, you had set your eyes on going to Kaijo for high school. At the same time, Kise was scouted by the Kaijo basketball team. That was a bonus. You were close friends after all. You didn’t follow him here. 

That was the truth, but somehow that wasn’t how others saw it. 

Gathering up your thoughts, you gulped and said calmly, “You know what, you can go and make silly gossips about me. I don’t care. Go and have your fun.”

Pivoting on her heels, you decided to just let them be. You knew the truth to yourself. There was no point in bickering with mindless girls about Kise because in the end, it was up to them to believe in what they wanted to believe in. 

Tomori grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. “Aww, don’t cry. That’s why we’re here, right girls? We’re going to help you move on from your not-so-little crush on Kise-chan.”

“Can you stop calling him that?” you hissed, still struggling to keep your cool, “What are you, close friends or something? I bet Ryouta doesn’t even know who you are—”

You didn’t realize what was happening until you staggered a few steps back after being shoved by Tomori. You weren't given the time to properly recover when the girl started shouting into your face. 

“I’ve dated him several times before, you little bitch!”

One of the girls behind Tomori piped up, “Tomori here is Kise-kun’s type, so stop dreaming for something impossible to happen.”

Please, Kise never dated the same woman twice. There was no way Tomori was telling the truth.

You shrugged. “He doesn’t really pick up girls, just so you know. So I’m not sure where you got the idea that you’re his type.”

That did it. Ohh, boy. Tomori’s face was bright red now—almost as red as her lipstick that you wanted to laugh. She grabbed the front of your shirt forcibly. The rest of the girls were now slowly surrounding you in a circle. 

“Let me get this straight,” Tomori spat hatefully, “You’re just a little bitch who’s hungry for attention. No matter how hard you study, no matter how much you help Kise, he will never look at you the way you want him to. He’s just using you. Wonder why Kise’s never dated you before? Because you’re just a little bitch with a hideous face!”

Despite the situation that you got yourself into, the impending danger you were about to face from these monstrous witches with unimaginably long talons, you found yourself giggling a bit even though you were a breath away from retaliating physically.

“What’s so funny, little bitch?”

You shook your head in amusement. “Is ‘little bitch’ the only insult in your short list of vocabulary?”

“HOW DARE YOU!” came the blood-curdling screech.

You braced yourself from the upcoming blows from the girls. but none came, much to your astonishment. What was even more surprising was the arm that was now wrapped around your shoulders. You raised your head sideways to meet the gaze of a pair of golden irises.

“What’s going on?” 

Shifting your attention from Kise back to Tomori and her band of friends, you noticed how their expressions flickered from smug to surprise and puzzlement just like a light bulb. 

Catching up on the way Kise’s eyes now flaring furiously, you tugged on the sleeves of his shirt and murmured, “Nothing. Let’s go.”

“You can’t just let it slip like that,” he said tiredly, looking back at the girls who were still speechless because of his sudden appearance. 

“It’s okay. Let’s go.”

You wanted to tell him all the mean things they had just said. You wanted so much to see how Kise would put these girls in their place, and Kise would if you told him to, but Kise should not be dragged into this mess.

As you were about to pull him away from the circle, Kise opened his mouth, “I heard everything you told her. I don’t exactly know when we dated, but don’t you ever talk to her that way again.” 

Alarmed, but also slightly please, you started to drag Kise away hastily. This was bad. What if that ruined Kise’s image or something? 

“Go ahead! Run! Nobody wants a stupid model like you when you can’t even pass your exams in—”

Shinohara Tomori wasn't given the chance to finish her sentence and not even Kise was able to react on time despite his quick reflexes, because you had tackled the poor girl to the floor with fist raised.

~ O ~

“Why did you do that?”

You made a noise and chose to ignore him. You sulked on the bench with your favourite cup of milk tea. You looked up and gazed at the setting sun. 

“Hey you, look at me,” Kise urged, sitting down beside you with a worried expression marring his face. “Look what happened to your face. That girl did quite a number on you.”

You chuckled and turned to him, giving him a full view of the length of the now bandaged scratch you had on your cheek. You gave him a conceited smile. “Not as much as I did to her. Didn’t you see her two black-eyes? Also her busted lips and bruised—”

Kise groaned loudly. “Lucky you were just given a warning. If it were someone else, the principal would’ve given a week of suspension.”

Shrug. “Lucky they like me then.”

He scratched his head in frustration. “We were about to walk away, you know? And you just had to.”

“She called you ‘stupid’,” you grumbled, staring at the cup as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

Kise watched you play with the straw quietly and waited for you to elaborate. He was only met with silence. This wasn’t the first time you let hell break loose. There was another time in Teiko when you violently kicked a guy in the groin after finding out that he was hurting the basketball players when the referee had not been looking. If Aomine hadn’t pulled you away in time, Kise knew that you would’ve choked the guy to death.

Instead of reprimanding you, Kise placed an arm around you instead, leaning closer. “Don’t go that far for me again, will you? I can handle myself.”

You huffed in response. “Well, tell your girlfriends to stop bothering me then.”

Kise raised his free hand defensively. “Hey, I can’t tell them to unlove me, you know. It’s not my fault they’re obsessed with me.”

“You should really get a ‘real’ girlfriend,” you rolled your eyes and elbowed his ribs gently, “Maybe your fangirls would back off a little.”

His eyes glimmered the slightest at that, but you didn’t see that quick flash as he leaned his head on top of youra. 

“Yeah, I guess I’ll get one soon, and you’ll be the first to meet her.”

[mylostloversbookmarks]

Do You Want Me Or Do You Not?

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary - You have been with Joel and Sarah for 4 years and your life is pretty perfect. Your evening plans quickly take a turn for the worse.

Word Count - 2.3K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Angst, I mean all the angst, Joel being an asshole? mentions of arguing, mentions of drinking.

A/N - Set Pre-Outbreak! This is my first fic and I would like to say a massive thank you to the beautiful @pedgeitopascal for beta reading and encouraging me to share this! This was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away, open to writing more to this! Feedback is appreciated but pls be kind.

Read Chpt 2 Here! ~ Hold On To Me, Cause' Im A Little Unsteady.

Divider credit to @saradika

You slammed the door so hard that you were surprised it didn’t come off its hinges. Your blood was boiling, leaving a thin sheen of sweat over your skin and prickling up your spine to the back of your neck, making you feel nauseous.

"How could he say that?" you ask yourself quietly.

Staring blankly at the front yard, the streetlights hummed and zinged above your head, making you dizzy. The air was hot and sticky, clinging to your exposed skin like ivy on an old house. You moved slowly, your legs feeling as if they were wading through quicksand. Closing your eyes and inhaling the humid evening air, you feel tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to overflow.

"How did this happen?" you thought to yourself over and over again. Sure, it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to argue, but they were always silly little fights that you blamed on your short temper and his stubbornness. You'd both raised your voices at each other before, and instead of apologising like adults, he'd do or say something that made you laugh, and no matter how hard you tried—and God knows you tried—to hide it with a bitten lip or a turn of the head, He saw right through you. Giving you that "I know you're mad, but you love me" look with a shit-eating grin.

You would roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his waist. Laying your head against his chest as he rested his chin on the top of your head. The small circles you drew on his broad back and the silent kisses he placed on the crown of your head were just unspoken apologies. Not this time. This felt different. This felt final. Like there was no coming back from the venom-laced words he hurled at you.

It was late, around eleven p.m. if you had to guess. You cursed under your breath as you realised you had left your phone on the kitchen counter. Not knowing what to do, you decided to walk around the block and give yourself and him a chance to calm down.

You felt lost, wandering, your face hot from the tears you hadn't noticed were falling freely now. You tried to take another deep, shuddering breath as you wiped the palms of your hands over your face, but all that was coming were silent, wracking sobs, your throat hurting from swallowing around the lump in it. As you walked the empty streets of your suburban neighbourhood, the argument replayed over and over in your head.

Joel had just returned home from work, having promised you and Sarah that he would be home by seven o'clock at the latest. You couldn't lie to yourself, you wished he was home more, but you understood that he needed to finish this job, so you didn't press him on it. He threw his keys into the bowl with a little too much force and sighed heavily.

"Hey, are you going to make dinner?" he muttered under his breath, without even looking at you, staring at the ground as he removed his work boots by the door. "Oh yeah, of course. Shall I just shine your shoes when I'm there, master?" You snarked at him and laughed, not really thinking he was being serious. When you looked up from your laptop, he was staring at you blankly, the question hanging in the air.

"You know I worked a full day too, right? You said you would be home for Seven, so I took Sarah to the mall, picked up her new soccer kit, and then drove her to and picked her up from practice. It got late, so I made something quick for her. I thought we could get takeout when you got back, and you know it wouldn’t hurt for you to cook once in a while, Miller." You laughed, still working away on your laptop, and when no response came, you paid no mind to the back and forth.

"Yeah, and I'm sure there were plenty of better things you would have rather been doing," he muttered under his breath again, clearly intending for it to be loud enough for you to hear in the small living room that joined the kitchen. Your eyes snapped up as you heard the door to the fridge being yanked open with enough force to knock the condiment bottles from their shelf inside the door. Smashing as they met the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.

"God fucking dammit," he cursed. Joel is known for his colourful vocabulary, but this one caught you off guard. What has gotten him so riled up in the five minutes he has been in the house? You stood up and marched into the kitchen, leaving your laptop on the middle seat of the sofa, watching as he stepped over the mess by the fridge and opened the cupboard under the sink for the cleaning supplies. Still not looking at you.

"What is up your ass this evening?" You asked, irritably, as the prospect of a quiet night curled into his chest with Chinese food in hand quickly passed you by. "Nothing, don’t worry about it," he pushed past you, barely brushing your shoulder in his passing. He had yet to look at you. "I get it! You had a shitty day at work, but you don’t need to take it out on me!" You huffed as you walked around the small, worn dining table the three of you usually share your meals.

"Work was fine," he spat. You bent down to help him pick up the glassy mess, but he flinched back from you, bolting to his feet and crossing to the trash can on the other side of the kitchen in two long strides. He threw the jagged shards of glass into the bin with enough force that it rocked from side to side. You have seen Joel angry on plenty of occasions. If things mess up at work. If Tommy needs to be bailed out of jail for the umpteenth time. He has never been this angry, not with you anyway.

"What’s wrong?! And what did you even mean by ‘I'm sure there were plenty of better things you would have rather been doing’ Joel?!" You asked as you deepened your register to mimic his voice and his earlier statement. "Oh, I think you know what I mean," he laughed out with no trace of humour, his voice like ice. There was the beginning of a pit in your stomach, telling you that something was very wrong here. He has never in the four years you have been together, spoken to you like this. Not even remotely close to it.

"Okay, I really don’t understand what is happening here. Is there something you want to get off your chest?! Have I done something to piss you off or something?" You questioned, throwing your arms up in the air, letting them fall to your sides with an audible snap as your hands connected with your jean-covered thighs. You wracked your brain for something, anything, that would explain the way he was acting towards you. You came up blank. He was fine when he left for work this morning, you had to pry his strong arms from around your waist as he trailed tender kisses up your neck, making you wiggle your behind against him. Giggling and telling him if he didn’t leave now, he would be late for work. He left you in bed with a "To be continued" purred into the shell of your ear.

You could feel your temper bubbling under the surface now, threatening to spill over as you take deep, measured breaths, trying your best not to lose it on him. This didn’t make any sense. He was glaring at you from across the room, chest heaving with angered breath. You could see the strain in his arms as he stood ridged, gripping the kitchen counter as if it were the only thing tethering him to the earth. You were worried he would snap it with the way his knuckles turned white as bone under the force.

"I mean, why are you even here, (Y/N)?! With me? With Sarah?!, If I'm such a pain in the ass, why don’t you just go? Go find some other fucking guy to play "house" with! I'm sure they will show you a real good time!" The words rushed out of him like a tsunami, sweeping you and the little happy life you had made with him and his daughter right out to sea. It was as if he slapped you, even though you knew Joel would never slap you, or any woman for that matter, because he was raised right. The words still made you stumble backwards, bumping into one of the dining chairs.

You had to hold onto the chair for support. It felt like your legs would buckle under you. Looking into his eyes, you could tell he regrets saying it; he knew he had hurt you in one of the few ways only he could. You know you're not the most maternal woman around. But you adore Sarah as if she were your own child. Right to your very core. You would do anything for her, and you would protect her like a lioness protects her young. Ferociously. She knows that…they both know that, right?

"Is that what you think of me? That I would rather be somewhere else? With someone else? Why would you say that to me?" You choked out, your voice tight around the lump quickly rising in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel takes a deep breath and releases it in a slow, saddened sigh, like the world is crushing his shoulders with the weight of the words he has just cut you with. He can’t look at you, he won’t. He just stares at the floor as he runs a hand through the mop of dark hair atop his head, just long enough to start curling at the nape of his neck. You have to leave; you have to get out of this kitchen. You feel like the tension in the room will suffocate you if you don’t.

Now you stand in the rain that has just started to mist heavily from the blackened sky. Closing your eyes and tipping your head back and letting the cold rain calm your heated skin, taking in a deep breath, and enjoying the smell of fresh rain on the concrete almost make you smile. Almost. After walking the four blocks around your quiet, deserted neighbourhood, You find yourself outside a bar, deciding that you would rather drown your sorrows in a cheap amber liquid than return to a house where the man you love won't even look you in the eye.

You check the pocket of your jeans, hoping that you didn’t empty them of your change into the bowl on the console beside the door, which held the house's spare change and keys, when you got home from work…to the house that isn’t yours, not really, but before tonight had felt like your home. You shake the thought away immediately; you are tired and don’t want to get emotional in public. You say a silent prayer of thanks to whatever higher power was looking out for you as you fished the two rumpled twenty-dollar bills from your back pocket. Pushing the door to the bar open, you are welcomed by the chatter of happy patrons enjoying their Friday evening.

Opting for a seat at the sparsely occupied bar, you wait patiently for the bartender to be free to serve you. She approaches you with a friendly smile. "What can I get ya?" she asks in a thick Texan accent. It knocks you for six; his face is immediately in your mind, images flashing before your eyes from your first date, vacations spent with Joel, Sarah, and Tommy. Joel comforting you through your father's death, you beneath him between your cotton bedsheets, to his lack of ability to look at you just hours ago.

"Honey? You alright? Can I get you something?" The bartender asked you again, her brows knitted together in concern. You shake your head, trying to physically get rid of the memories that flood your vision. "Uh, yeah, sorry. Can I get a Jamesons…ah, a double on the rocks, please?" You ask, trying not to meet her worried gaze. "Coming right up," you thank her and prop your elbows on the sticky counter of the bar, ignoring the way the sticky sensation makes your stomach churn. Rubbing the heels of your hands into your eyes hard enough that you start to see purple splotches on the inside of your eyelids. You remove your hands when you hear the clink of ice in a glass being set in front of you.

Thanking the bartender again with a small, polite smile, you hand her a twenty, and ask her to keep the change. She thanks you and kindly leaves you to wallow in your thoughts. There is no doubt about how you feel about him. You love Joel like you have never loved before. It is all-encompassing, sometimes you think the depth of your feelings for him could swallow you whole, and the love you have for his daughter is of equal measure. The question that has been circling your exhausted mind for the last few hours comes front and centre again.

"Why? Why would he say what he did? What could have happened to make him doubt your feelings for him? About your little family?" You take another deep, steadying breath as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you again, rubbing your face in your palm while nursing the burn in your throat and rolling the whisky glass in your other. You feel a presence just behind your right shoulder.

"Is this seat taken, Darlin?" a familiar baritone voice asks quietly.

It’s familiar, but it’s not the voice you were hoping to hear…

[jinisnuggets]

１２:４５

ᵖᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʷᵒᵒʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ˣ ᶠᵉᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᵍᵉⁿʳᵉ: ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ, ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: 1.4ᵏ

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᶜᵒᵘᵖˡᵉ ᵃʳᵍᵘᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ, ᵈⁱˢᵃᵍʳᵉᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ, ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ, ᵃᵛᵒⁱᵈⁱⁿᵍ, ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ, ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵉʳ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ, ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵃˡᵏ, ᶜᵘʳˢⁱⁿᵍ, ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉᵃᵛʸ ᵏⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ

ˢʸⁿᵒᵖˢⁱˢ: ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒᵒʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵃ ʰᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃʳᵍᵘᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ, ⁱᵗ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗᵒʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃᵖᵃʳᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ, ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐⁱˢᵗᵃᵏᵉ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵠᵘⁱᶜᵏˡʸ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵈᵉᶜˡⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵘⁿᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ, ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ.

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ: ⁱ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰⁱˢ ʷᵃˢ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵈʳᵃᶠᵗˢ, ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃᵗᵉᵉᶻ, ⁱⁿˢᵖⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ʷᵒᵒʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵉᵗʰᵃᵐ'ˢ ¹²:⁴⁵.

September 9th, Tuesday, 12:40 AM.

Wooyoung was walking along the breeze of the sidewalk, looking out into the water’s darkness, building lights off and the city sounding peacefully quiet.

Dark clouds that were barely visible in the sky, and the only audible noise being that of the light breeze that pushed against the trees.

feeling awfully calm after everything that just happened, annoyance and anger brushing away from his mind.

Stopping for a moment and looked down at his pocket, the only light source was that of his phone. He sighed, grabbing his phone from his pocket and dismissing the call.

He was tired of all the calls he had received that night. After all, he didn't feel in the right mood to answer correctly, he knew he was just gonna be a jerk to anyone who was on the other side of the phone.

Among checking the time on his brightened phone screen, he read 12:43.

It was time to go home, and he knew it, but he wouldn't be at peace yet.

Wooyoung and you had gotten into a bit of an argument, it went from a little chat to full on screams. Although you and Wooyoung had argued before, it had never gotten so bad to the point that he left your apartment before you got to say anything.

This was the first time you both went full on yells, first time one of you left before you could make up. Everything on his mind was so blurry that he couldn't remember the last thing he said before storming out.

But he could remember your words clear as day.

Part of him felt guilty… for yelling at you the way he did, for losing his temper the way he did, for not understanding your way of thought.

He couldn't be at ease with himself until he apologized, and of course, he needed an apology too. Your argument in general seemed silly, but at one point it just became a load of insults, which was when he lost it completely.

All of a sudden, he spotted a small light in the distance. It was a small bar at the end of the street, he'd been there a few times with San, enough to know that it was only ever busy during the early hours of the night.

Although he didn't have the intention of getting drunk, he decided it would be helpful to have a drink or two, everything that he remembered was bothering him, and he wanted to spend time in a silent, secluded area where he wouldn't run into anyone.

Wooyoung entered the small building, the bar was empty except for the bartender, who automatically noticed Wooyoung’s tired and exhausted expression, he could tell he had cried for a few minutes.

“What would you like?” Wooyoung sat down on the counter, and looked at the bartender.

“Just one shot for now.” The bartender nodded, and served him his drink.

“Anything you'd like to share?” The bartender sounded quite sincere, and concerned for him, Wooyoung shaked his head.

“Just normal partner arguments.” The bartender nodded.

“Even those can affect someone badly, it might just be a normal part of relationships but to some it's really serious.”

Wooyoung, again, just nodded.

“I can tell you really love your girlfriend.” Wooyoung drank his glass and placed it on the table.

“More than anything.”

Right that instant, another call rang… the phone which was on the table laying flat, lit up and buzzed as the incoming call rang.

“♡ Yn ♡”

The bartender looked at Wooyoung, already knowing that it was his girlfriend, Wooyoung who was looking back at him, quickly looked back at his phone screen and moved his finger to the decline button.

The bartender quickly looked back up at Wooyoung in shock.

“You can pick up! You probably need it right now…”

“She’s been calling me nonstop, I just need a break.”

The bartender leaned back from his tense position, bringing his arms back down to their original state.

“What-?” Wooyoung scooted his glass over, while leaning on the table.

“I love her… but I just need tonight off.” Wooyoung got up from his seat, and pushed his chair in.

“Thanks for the chat. I hope you have a lovely night.”

The bartender watched him as he left. “Yes, of course.. you too.”

After his visit, he went back home, and finally got some rest. However the next morning he woke up early, took a shower and made his way to your apartment.

“Coming!” The scream of your lovely voice echoed through your room, he couldn't help but smile at your rushed self who continued dropping things on the way to the door.

He saw the familiar decorations start coming into view, the same lights he saw yesterday, the same kitchen, the same hallway, and best of all, the same face.

“Wooyoung!” You gasped, almost not believe your eyes upon seeing him in front of your room.

“I thought you were upset..” you said lowly, almost inaudible.

“We need to talk.” the words coming out of Wooyoung’s mouth was one of the scariest things you could hear. Things started circling in your head, was this the end of your relationship? Was this the end of your memories together?

“Stop overthinking. I'm not breaking up with you.”

He welcomed himself in your apartment, you turned around in shock, if he wanted to visit he should've told you in advance.

“Wooyoung, unless you wanna wait then get out, I'm leaving for work.”

“Cancel it.” You turned around, trying to control yourself from saying something nasty to your boyfriend.

“I can't -”

“Do you wanna make up or make money? Your choice.”

You bit your lip at the question, trying to find an answer to give him, something that wouldn't sound rude.

“I’m visiting you right now because I have time. I'll be busy for a while, so we either make up or end it now.”

Stumbling over your words, you barely got out your sentence starter, before you were able to ask:

“Why break up??”

Wooyoung turned to face you again with a confused expression..

“Because we'll technically be in an argument for a really long time, since I won't see you in a few months.”

“And we have to break up because of a stupid tour?”

“And you can't talk because of your stupid job?”

Wooyoung stood over you, his normal joking pitch was gone, he began to sound angry. You pushed his last button and you knew it.

“I’m sorry, I know these tours are important to you, I didn't think twice about my words just now.”

“Forget it, if I can't communicate with you then it's ove-”

“Don't say that please…” He squeezed his eyes shut while hearing your saddened voice. You were about to cry and it was his fault.

He promised he would never make you cry, and here he was carelessly threatening you.

“I'm sorry, I couldn't break up with you even if I tried, please don't cry.” He pulled you into a hug, grabbing his hoodie and attempting to be strong, holding your tears and not allowing him to see your weak side.

“I hate you so much…” Wooyoung let out a small chuckle and held you tighter.

“No you don't… I can be a jerk… but you could never.”

You hit him, it was your way of saying ‘shut up’ to him, all he did was laugh a bit, while pulling your face from your hidden state and bringing you in front of him.

It was unexpected, you felt his lips touch yours in a warm manner, the innocent kiss soon became wet, and getting more aggressive.

It would've escalated if you hadn't pushed him away.

“Why now? Weren't you just threatening me?”

“You know I didn't mean it… this is my way of telling you that I still love you, that will never change…”

[bunni-v1]

Congrats for 500 followers! If it’s alright, could I have A, G, J, K, P, and S from the sfw prompt list for Idia? Thanks!

🍓Thank you so much! I'm happy to have so many people who like me so much! This event is good practice for me too, and a breather from the intensity of the fic I'm writing right now. (I'm more excited to write for Idia than anything else, he's just so silly, you know?)

A - Affection: Idia is quite a nervous wreck when it comes to affection, that's for sure. Up until getting into a relationship, he thought the couples that were all mushy-gushy with each other were gag-worthy. However, now that he's in a relationship he's desperately craving that same kind of touch. He's like a feral cat, you've gotta coax him into it, and once he's into it he won't want to stop. Seriously, if you catch him at a good time he's so damn clingy. Lays on top of you, have you sit in his lap while he games, cuddles up to you during movie marathons, smothers you in kisses, all the nasty stuff. He'd rather die than be seen doing it in public though.

G - Gentle: Believe me or not, Idia is very gentle. Yeah, he's sarcastic and sharp with other people, but with you he's different. I mean, he's still... sarcastic and sharp, but it's playful and light. He's having fun and he's trying to make you smile, and that's his form of being gentle. If you were ever really hurt by something he said he might just have to end it all. Seriously, it would make him feel so bad, that he'd be groveling at your feet for weeks. Physically, however, I'd say he's gentle but really clumsy. He treats you like the most expensive piece of jewelry in the world, but he also has accidentally almost suffocated you under his weight at some point.

J - Jealousy: Idia is the most jealous man you've ever met. ("You know other men?") He's got an inferiority complex mixed with imposter syndrome and depression, leave him alone. He's not going to force you to stop hanging out with people by any means -- in fact, he's kinda jealous that you have so many friends in the first place. Still, he huffs and puffs and pouts about how much better they would be for you and how much happier you'd be with them. Again he won't act on anything unless he REALLY felt threatened. Like, if Vil ACTUALLY made a move on you? Game Over, Idia is running from his room to intervene.

K - Kisses: Just like everything else, Idia is an AKWARD kisser. It's not his fault he's so anxious, okay, he's doing his best. Idia's specialty, however, is lazy kisses. You know, the ones where you just lay next to each other early in the morning (in his case, late at night), and just kiss slow and easy, like there's nothing else more important. Those are his faves. Speaking of, he LOVES to kiss your cheeks -- you're just so cute when he catches you off guard. It's the same for him, your little surprise kisses on his cheeks may send him into a heart attack, but he does love them so much.

P - Patience (how easily angered are they?): He has a temper, that's for sure. While it's rarely ever directed at you, it can be kind of scary to see him rage. I mean, his hair literally turns orange and flames up -- and damn is it hot when he's angry. Still, his temper only really applies to things like games or tv shows, rarely would he ever have a reason to aim it at you, unless you destroyed his limited edition merch or something.

S - Security (how protective are they?): Idia is a VERY protective person. He's been through a lot, and he's lost a lot, now that he has you he won't be losing you. He texts you constantly throughout the day to see how you are feeling, and what you're up to. If you're stressed, you are always free to come to his dorm and raid his room for all the comfy blankets and yummy snacks you need. He also literally keeps an eye on you from the campus security feed -- if he sees someone bothering you, either he or Ortho will be there within seconds to ensure you're happy and safe. On the other hand, you standing up for him and making him feel like he's worthy of your love and all the good things he has is all he ever wants. It's all he needs.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 12 Insomnia | No. 29 Panic | No. 31 “Take it easy.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Hallucinations

“Can’ sleep again?” Daryl drawled, voice rougher than usual with sleep. He lifted his head from the pillow when he felt the mattress dip with your weight. You shook your head, not meeting his eyes. “S’been days, Y/N. Yer startin’ ta look like a walker.”

“You say the nicest things, Dixon.” You got up and stumbled over to the railing of his perch, looking out over the darkness of the cell block. Your body ached. Your head was fuzzy. You felt nauseous and short tempered. But sleep wouldn’t come. No matter how hard you tried. You could only see the faces of the ones you’d lost. Amy. Jim. Dale. Andrea. Shane. Lori. T-Dog. ‘I couldn’t save any of them.’

“Ya can’ keep holdin’ on ta all tha’.” 

You quickly looked at him over your shoulder. ‘Was I talking out loud?’

“Yeah, ya were.”

“Shit.” You scrubbed a hand roughly over your face. You really were losing it. Daryl was sitting up now, his knees bent under the thin blanket with his forearms lying over them. He looked genuinely concerned. “I don’t wanna be in this world anymore.” You admitted quietly. “I’m scared to be awake. I’m scared to sleep.” Your lip began to tremble, your body too depleted to fight off the sting of tears threatening to fall. “I’m so tired.”

The archer observed you quietly, his expression unreadable. You weren’t sure why you came to him. You weren’t even sure where things stood with him. There had been gentle touches and whispered words, even a few kisses shared in secret, but most days, he just remained impassive and gruff. 

“I should let you get some sleep. I’m sorry I bothered you.” Your feet carried you quickly down the stairs, stumbling over the last step in your haste. 

The shower area was dark but the small windows let in just enough moonlight for you to at least see where you were going. Maybe you could just hide away there until morning. Your cell was too small, the terror and memories smothering you. The rest of the prison was inhabited by your small group and a few strangers. People you’d rather not give any reason to worry about you or your usefulness. You had already allowed Daryl to see too much. 

“He doesn’t feel that way about you, you know.” 

You spun around toward the voice to find the space behind you empty. You could have sworn—

“He doesn’t feel that way about anyone. Daryl is selfish.”

“Lori?” You whispered, spinning around again. And again you were met with no one. 

“You’re just a silly little girl. You’re not helping anyone. You never have, never could.”

“Dale?” You whimpered, the name barely leaving your lips before you heard Andrea just by your ear. 

“At least I was useful! You’re just a burden! They’ll be better off without you!”

“I’m trying! I just—”

“Try harder! Hell, you really wanna help, just go out past the fence and let the walkers take care of you.”

“One less mouth to feed, one less burden.”

“Shane, T… I’m doing my—” 

“Your best?” You heard Lori laugh mockingly as your back met the cold tile of one of the shower stalls, sliding down until you were on the floor. “Your best is pathetic.”

“Pathetic!”

“Pathetic!”

“Pathetic!”

Your hands flew to your ears, the word echoing in a flurry of voices and laughter. Your sobs grew louder, your eyes squeezed shut, and your back met the wall over and over as you rocked on the floor to try and get control over yourself. When you felt their hands on your arms, you screamed and flailed. They were gonna to take you to the walkers. They were going to laugh as you were ripped apart. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Easy.” 

The voices stopped suddenly and you pulled away, flattening yourself against the wall. Your eyes opened to find the space in front of you empty save for a concerned pair of electric blue eyes, the moonlight making them almost gray. 

“Take it easy.” Daryl’s tone was soft, his hold on your forearms was firm yet gentle in the most confusing way. 

“Daryl?” Your voice came out as nothing more than a small squeak being forced past the lump in your throat. 

“S’jus’ me.” When you threw yourself into his arms, he made no move to pull away. He simply remained crouched there, one arm around your shoulders, keeping you grounded for the moment. “Wha’ was tha’ all ‘bout?” He pulled back a little but you chased the feeling of protection he was offering, whether it was intentional or not. You didn’t answer him, but given the way he sighed, you thought he may have already known. “Okay.” He finally muttered and you thought he was going to move away and leave you there. 

He hoisted you up into his arms instead, backing out of the stall and then leaving the showers all together. You thought you could still hear whispers as the door closed behind you, your face instinctively burrowing further into his collarbone. 

“Is she okay?” Carol’s voice was full of concern, a small gentle touch brushing over the center of your back as Daryl kept walking. 

“She’s fine. Jus’ needs ta sleep.” He answered roughly. You were jostled slightly as he began to ascend the steps to your cell. You didn’t want to go there, not now that you had awakened everyone and proven those voices right. 

You were a burden. 

You sniffled and waited for him to deposit you and leave. Your back met the mattress slowly, gently, and the blanket was pulled over you a second later. But instead of the bottom of the top bunk, you saw the high ceiling of the cell block when you opened your eyes. 

You weren’t in your cell. 

“Daryl?” You questioned meekly, turning your head just as the blanket lifted once more and the archer crawled under it at your side. 

You were in his bed. 

“What’re you—” You blinked wide eyes at his chest when you were unexpectedly pulled tightly against him, his chin resting on the top of your head. 

“Try ta sleep now.” 

Your surprise dissolved into something else, walking the fine line between gratitude and guilt. You nodded minutely, wiping your eyes as best you could given the proximity. 

“Quit yer wigglin’.” 

“Sorry.” You muttered, sniffling again before you closed your eyes. You could actually feel the lure of sleep pulling heavily at your subconscious, your mind already growing blank and your eyelids too heavy to open. You felt safe and warm and right. You’d have to talk to him about what happened but that was a problem for tomorrow. “Daryl?” You mumbled, almost slurring the syllables. 

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.” 

His eyes opened, staring at the darkness over your head while the tension left your body and your breaths deepened, soft snores already puffing out against his skin. The archer pulled you a little closer. 

“Don’ ever hafta thank me, Y/N. I gotcha.”

[greenboyfriend]

choose a silly little guy! (tarot card reading)

image source image 1: the silly snail traverses across the great terrain of your dashboard. where will he go? no one knows... image 2: the tortoise sits languid, motionless. he hasn't had his special treat today. image 3: the bat stretches out his big wings as if to say hello! he's not really, though. he's just stretching.

1.・。.・゜✭

it sounds strange, but im getting the feeling that ur going to be joining an institution of some kind. there's a need to "find the right mix" or balance, maybe this system will help you reach your goals, or joining it is the goal itself. this may be a religious institution for some. in joining with others, you will create the perfect synthesis for healing & flourishing. the word "institution" implies a cold, sterile environment, but I dont think this is true for you. or if it is, you need to push against it! this opportunity will benefit from you being creative, outgoing, and bold. be the change you want to see happen. in your enthusiasm, you may inspire others to do the same, thus leading to further camaraderie and joy!!

(temperance, the hierophant, king of wands)

2.・。.・゜✭

it seems like you've lost something or someone important. you're bemoaning your fate, wishing you had done something else. on top of this, your naturally kind, generous nature is being taken advantage of- you're refusing to stand up for yourself and becoming a doormat of sorts. you're probably even aware of this! think of this situation as a way to find out what you truly care about; above all else, what do you value? it may help you to turn your nurturing energy inwards, take care of yourself as you would someone else. you must stop feeling like a victim. be unapologetic. you have to live with yourself for the rest of your life, so why not be kind to who you are? the thesis is this: do you take care of others the way you should take care of yourself?

(queen of pentacles reversed, 5 of cups, the lovers reversed, 10 of swords reversed)

3.・。.・゜✭ a lot like those who chose the first image, ur in some sort of institutionalized setting. u may be well on ur way to achieving ur goal, by using ur intuition as ur guide, and carrying urself with a quiet confidence. others may look to you for inspiration, and may talk about ur successes. although it seems like ur on the right track, ur shying away from stepping into this fiery, leadership energy. the thing is, though, is that you have got it all together- ur emotional power, vibrancy, and dedication to ur group speaks for itself. it's time to step into the limelight! u already find urself naturally becoming the center of attention, why not embrace it? it's true that not everyone is going to approve of the way you do things, but a lot of people support you, and many will come to once you take this stand. believe in urself!! I know a part of u already does ! >_o

(page of cups, queen of wands, the hierophant, king of wands reversed)

thanks for reading! if ur interested in getting an in depth reading with me, send me a dm or an ask!