#he was supposed to be complaining that he was getting tired

[webslingingslasher]

i hope work gets better<3 how's frat!peter doing today😚

frat!peter is struggling today and here’s why::

peter isn’t sure what went down tonight but you’re in his bed. any other time it would be a celebration but since it’s been a few months since you’ve been there, his head is spinning.

‘um, hello?’ it goes unanswered. it’s not surprising, it’s almost three in the morning and you look asleep.

peter doesn’t know what to do but he’s tired. you wouldn’t sleep in his room without knowing there was a chance of him finding you and crawling in next to you, right?

right?

‘i’m gonna sleep in here too so if you have a problem with it…’

fuck it. he strips to his boxers and gets into bed as quietly as he can, molding around you and doing his best to keep his own space. it’s hard when he joined you while you’re star fishing.

peter gently tugs at the blanket, keeping an eye on your face for any changes. escaping into the warmth, peter hears you let out a quiet hum. he’s scared to breathe, scooting until his back is barely hanging over the edge of the bed.

you hitch your side of the blanket over your shoulder and roll to your back. peter wasn’t quick enough and you land on his arm, your face scrunches and it’s all over. licking your lips, you reach under you- the second you touch his skin, your eyes open and peter throws his hand over your mouth. he can hear the scream before you let it out.

‘it’s just me, it’s just me. you’re fine.’

you have an opposite reaction, flying up and scurrying away from him, pulling the blankets with you.

‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ peter could ask you the same thing but you might take that as a complaint and trust him, he’s not complaining.

‘you’re in my bed.’ you look around like you’ve been pranked, or like you’ve woken up at three am in a panic. ‘because you weren’t supposed to be here!’

‘i-‘ it’s peter’s turn to be confused, he knows why he wasn’t going to be there. but why do you? ‘how did you know that?’

‘ethan said you were at may’s! i wanted to have a sleepover but his white noise machine was too loud.’ ethan set up a really nice bed for you, he splurged on the best air mattress he could find but you couldn’t deal with rainforest sounds. water? fine. birds chirping? you left an hour in.

‘so you stole my bed?’ out of all the couches, you picked his bed. there might be hope after all. ‘you weren’t supposed to come back, you were supposed to sleep at may’s!’

‘i came back early, sorry to ruin your plan.’ you look out his windows, all you can see is the glow of light posts. you look for your phone and baulk at the time.

‘why the hell are you making that trek at three in the morning?’ peter smiles, you notice where you messed up. ‘nope. don’t care, go sleep in ethan’s room.’

‘what? no way, you go sleep in ethan’s room.’ you tried. and failed. ‘i can’t. i tried turning it off and he got mad at me.’

‘and you think he’d be nice to me? yeah, right.’ you pout, ‘no but you’re nice to me and you’ll take my place for me.’

adorable. and it’s not gonna happen.

‘no. either you go back in there and tough it out or you accept defeat and sleep next to me.’

you have a staring contest. if this was anything else, peter would do it to make you happy but he’s got a chance at the best sleep he’s had in months and he’s not letting it go.

you cross your arms and huff, peter uses the opportunity to claim his space. he might bully you into sleeping next to him but he won’t force you into a cuddle. but if you want one… he’ll make it the best one you’ve ever had.

‘peter!’ you whine and he won. you slump next to him and make a point to shuffle away. ‘you better not touch me.’

‘you’re in my bed.’

you sit up to grab a pillow, ‘i’ll sleep on your floor and never shut up about it.’ peter backs down real fast, there’s no way he’d let you hang that over his head.

‘no touching. got it.’ you make sure there’s nothing else- no grin or shiny eyes to give away he’s lying.

‘oh, and if anyone asks, you snuck in. i didn’t allow this.’

[novaursa]

A Lion's Leap (unplanned, unbroken)

- Summary: The king announces the betrothal of his youngest daughter, you, to Tyland Lannister. But even the Lannister Lord is taken off guard, as there has been some miscommunication regarding the proposal.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: flight of fancy

- Next part: strategic truce

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @misspendragonsworld

The battle over Rook’s Rest was supposed to be a decisive, calculated move by Aemond and Aegon, a show of strength to remind the Black faction who truly held power in the skies. But “decisive” and “calculated” went out the window the moment young Daemon and Alyssa joined the fray.

As Viseron and Grey Ghost appeared in the sky, Rhaenys, locked in a furious dance with Aemond and Aegon, spotted her cousins, racing forward as if this were some friendly game. Rhaenys’ lips twisted into a smirk; they had inherited the Targaryen penchant for dramatics, that much was clear.

“Uncle Aemond!” Daemon’s voice echoed through the sky, far too cheerful for the middle of a dragon battle. “Having fun, are we?”

Aemond scowled, tightening his grip on Vhagar’s reins. “You two again?” he shouted back, his voice strained with a mix of irritation and surprise. “Have you nothing better to do than interfere in matters beyond you?”

Alyssa cackled from atop Grey Ghost. “We’re just here to help Rhaenys, Uncle. Thought you could use a little… family support.”

Rhaenys, barely suppressing a laugh, swooped down on Meleys and called out to her young relatives. “Now don’t do anything reckless,” she teased, though her grin betrayed her amusement. “Or do, and give Aemond something to complain about.”

Aegon, astride his golden dragon Sunfyre, had been watching the unfolding chaos with mounting disbelief. As Viseron darted under Vhagar’s massive wings, narrowly avoiding a bite, he let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, this is rich! Aemond, you’re being swarmed by Lannisters!”

Aemond shot his brother a withering glare. “Silence, Aegon,” he growled, struggling to keep Vhagar under control as Viseron swooped up and circled, taunting them with graceful, nimble maneuvers. “This is hardly the time for your amusement.”

“Oh, but it is,” Aegon drawled, grinning as he watched his nephew zip around them. “They’ve made a mockery of you once already; might as well make it twice.”

Aemond’s temper flared as Daemon and Alyssa moved in unison, Grey Ghost darting in to distract Vhagar while Viseron took another run at Sunfyre. Alyssa called out, her voice carrying over the battlefield, “What’s the matter, Uncle? Vhagar getting tired?”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, his voice a snarl. “Enough of this nonsense! Vhagar, show them their place!”

But Viseron and Grey Ghost darted apart just as Vhagar made a powerful dive, her bulk and speed propelling her toward what she thought was an easy target. Instead, she found herself colliding with nothing but open air as the smaller dragons slipped past her grasp, leaving her plummeting toward the ground.

Aegon, who had been thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, burst into laughter as Vhagar crashed unceremoniously into the ground below, dust and rocks flying. “Oh, well done, nephew!” he called to Daemon. “A fine trick!”

Aemond, however, was less than amused. Struggling to right himself as Vhagar recovered, he shot a glare at Aegon. “Are you enjoying this?”

“More than you’ll ever know, brother,” Aegon chuckled, patting Sunfyre’s neck. “Not often I get to see you humbled.”

Meanwhile, Rhaenys seized the opportunity. With a nod of thanks to Daemon and Alyssa, she guided Meleys in a sharp ascent, spiraling up and away from the battlefield. She caught Alyssa’s eye and winked. “Good work, children. I’ll be sure to remember this.”

Alyssa waved back with a grin. “Anytime, Rhaenys! We’re just here to keep things… lively.”

As Rhaenys disappeared into the clouds with Meleys, Aemond seethed, his pride bruised. “You fools,” he hissed, aiming his next attack squarely at his nephews. “I’ve had enough of your insolence!”

Daemon, undaunted, nudged Viseron closer, flashing his uncle a cocky smile. “Oh, come now, Uncle. You’re just upset because we’re faster.”

“Faster?” Aemond spat, his eye blazing with fury. “Do you think speed matters against Vhagar?”

Alyssa piped up, clearly enjoying every second of Aemond’s frustration. “It seems to matter quite a lot, actually.”

Aegon, his face stretched in a grin of pure amusement, waved to his nephews as he steered Sunfyre higher. “Well, I’ve had enough entertainment for one day. Aemond, I’ll leave you to handle your ‘guests’… unless they take you down again!”

With a final cackle, Aegon turned and left, leaving Aemond alone with his meddlesome relatives. Young Daemon and Alyssa exchanged a triumphant look before giving Aemond a mock salute.

“See you next time, Uncle!” Daemon called out, urging Viseron higher.

Alyssa blew Aemond a kiss from atop Grey Ghost. “Try not to be so grumpy next time, Uncle Aemond! It’s not a good look on you.”

With that, the two younger dragons soared back toward the Westerlands, leaving a very battered, very furious Aemond on Vhagar, smoldering in the ruins of Rook’s Rest.

And as Aegon circled back to observe the aftermath from above, he let out one last bark of laughter. “Perhaps next time, brother, you’ll learn to keep up with the family!”

In the grand hall of Casterly Rock, Tyland Lannister sat on the high seat, looking every bit the part of a patient lord holding court—though he would have preferred to be doing anything else. As the younger twin, Tyland was far more accustomed to letting Jason handle the endless stream of minor grievances from vassals, merchants, and local farmers. But with Jason away at Harrenhal alongside Prince Daemon, Tyland found himself reluctantly taking up the role.

To his left, you sat with a serene smile, now visibly pregnant and reclining with all the ease of a princess overseeing her kingdom. Every so often, you would shoot him a look of encouragement, and it was only with your calm presence beside him that Tyland managed to keep his nerves in check.

The first petitioner was a merchant from Lannisport, bowing deeply before launching into his grievance.

“My lord, it’s about the tariffs on spices. They’re higher than last season, and it’s driving away the traders from Essos. They’re going to... to the Tyrells!” he sputtered, clearly horrified at the thought.

Tyland, forcing a diplomatic smile, cleared his throat. “Well, we can’t very well have that, now can we? Though I must remind you that even the Tyrells don’t control dragons.” He gave a quick side-glance to you, as if hoping your dragon-backed presence would reassure the man.

The merchant looked between the two of you, his expression shifting to one of hesitant awe. “Oh, yes, of course, my lord. Dragons. I hadn’t... considered that, naturally. Perhaps I should look into... uh, new imports.”

You gave Tyland a sly smile and leaned over to whisper, “You’re doing well, my lord.”

Tyland managed a weak smile back. “Yes, because spice tariffs are absolutely within my comfort zone,” he muttered.

The next petitioner approached—a plump farmer clutching his hat nervously, his clothes speckled with straw and mud. He shifted uncomfortably before finally speaking.

“Begging your pardon, m’lord,” the farmer began, casting a wary look at you. “But it’s about the sheep. They’ve... been disappearing.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow. “Disappearing? You mean to say someone’s stealing them?”

The farmer shuffled, his face turning a bit red. “Er... not exactly, m’lord. More like they’re... flying away.”

The hall fell silent, and Tyland’s brow creased in confusion. “Flying…?”

The farmer nodded vigorously. “It’s the dragons, m’lord! They’ve been... swooping in from above, taking the sheep right from the fields.”

You stifled a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. Tyland’s face turned an impressive shade of red as he did his best to maintain composure.

“Ah. Yes.” Tyland coughed awkwardly, casting a quick glance at you. “Well, rest assured, we’ll look into… dragon sheep control. Perhaps, uh, perhaps a fence of some sort? Or… more sturdy barn roofs?”

The farmer scratched his head, clearly unimpressed by the suggestion. “A fence, m’lord? Against dragons?”

You leaned forward with a kind smile, your voice gentle. “We’ll make sure to address it, good man. Rest assured, our dragons will find something else to feast on. Perhaps… less flying sheep.”

The farmer, visibly relieved, bowed and backed away, muttering a fervent prayer to the Seven that his sheep might remain on the ground.

Just as Tyland let out a sigh of relief, a noble from one of the smaller Lannister-sworn houses strode forward, looking far too pleased with himself. Lord Wyllis, a minor lord with an impressive mustache and an even more impressive ego, gave an exaggerated bow.

“My lord,” Wyllis began, his tone full of pride, “I bring news of our recent hunts. We’ve managed to clear the boar from the southern woods.” He paused dramatically, casting a look at you. “M’lady, you may sleep soundly knowing your paths are safe.”

Tyland suppressed a smile. “I’m sure she’s grateful, Lord Wyllis.”

Wyllis straightened, a smug look on his face. “It was a feat worthy of a song, truly. Perhaps the lady would care to join us on the next hunt?”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eye. “Ah, but what about the dragons, Lord Wyllis? They might feel… neglected if I went on foot. Do you think they’d appreciate boar over sheep?”

The lord paled, clearly having not considered this particular complication. “Well, uh, I... hadn’t thought of... dragons joining, m’lady.”

Tyland bit back laughter, giving you a conspiratorial smile. “I’m sure we can find a way to keep both the boars and sheep safe, Lord Wyllis. Perhaps we’ll even commission a song for your next feat.”

The final petitioner—a young woman from the nearby village—curtsied nervously, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but there have been... sounds. In the night. Coming from the hills.”

Tyland’s expression turned puzzled. “Sounds?”

“Yes, my lord. Terrible noises… screeching, flapping. We fear it may be some sort of… beast.” She looked over at you nervously. “No offense, m’lady.”

You gave her a reassuring nod. “None taken. I believe those may be our dragons stretching their wings at night. Nothing to fear.”

Tyland added with a nod, “Think of it as… an added layer of security. After all, who would dare invade with dragons patrolling the skies?”

The young woman looked unconvinced but gave a hesitant nod, whispering her thanks before scurrying away.

As the hall began to clear, Tyland leaned back in his seat, looking thoroughly relieved. “Well,” he muttered under his breath, “I think I prefer Jason dealing with the boars and the… flying sheep.”

You laughed, resting a hand on his arm. “You handled it well. Besides, it’s good practice. We may yet have to sort out a great many more dragon-related grievances.”

Tyland chuckled, though he cast a wary glance toward the open window as if expecting one of your dragons to swoop in for a meal. “Yes, and next they’ll be asking us to train the dragons not to take liberties with the livestock. Wonderful.”

You patted his arm, smiling. “You’re handling it brilliantly.”

He gave you a long-suffering smile, though there was warmth in his eyes. “If by ‘brilliantly’ you mean barely keeping my head on straight, then yes, quite.”

And as the last of the petitioners filed out, Tyland let out a sigh of relief, wondering how he’d survive another audience if his dragons didn’t get their fill of sheep sometime soon.

When young Daemon and Alyssa arrived at Harrenhal, perched proudly on Viseron and Grey Ghost, the towering, soot-stained walls of the cursed castle seemed to lean in as if watching them approach. Prince Daemon, already in the courtyard with Jason Lannister and Lord Simon Strong, squinted up at the sky, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two teenage dragonriders descending.

Jason sighed, rubbing his temples. “Just when I thought we’d left all the chaos behind at Casterly Rock…”

Prince Daemon smirked, watching with a glint of pride in his eye. “Chaos? No, my good man, that’s the Targaryen way.”

The dragons landed with a heavy thud that made the stone courtyard tremble, Grey Ghost and Viseron stretching their wings as if claiming this cursed castle as their own. Young Daemon slid down first, giving a cocky bow to his uncles. Alyssa followed, her face alight with mischief as she took in the grand, eerie structure of Harrenhal.

Lord Simon Strong, the current castellan of Harrenhal, watched the whole scene with a mix of awe and amusement. “A sight, isn’t it? Lannister children… on dragons. I would say Harrenhal hasn’t seen anything quite like it.”

“Likely because Harrenhal would prefer to remain standing,” Jason muttered, giving his niece and nephew a wary look.

Young Daemon grinned, clearly picking up on his uncle’s anxiety. “Come now, Uncle Jason. We’re here to lend our support—and perhaps brighten up these gloomy walls.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Brighten up, you say? Harrenhal’s walls aren’t known to take kindly to… brightness. Or guests, for that matter.”

Alyssa, undeterred, stepped forward with a smirk. “Perhaps that’s because Harrenhal hasn’t seen guests like us.”

Lord Simon laughed heartily, clapping his hands together. “Now that’s the spirit, young lady! Harrenhal could use a little excitement. It’s been dreadfully dreary here since… well, since it was built.”

Jason shot him a look, his tone dry. “Let’s not encourage them, Lord Simon. The last time they were unsupervised, half the Lannister sheep population took flight.”

Prince Daemon chuckled, folding his arms. “It seems my niece and nephew are well on their way to mastering the fine art of Targaryen mischief.”

“And Lannister,” Alyssa added with a grin, casting a proud look at her brother.

Young Daemon pointed toward the castle’s ominous towers. “So, where’s the best place to start? This place is practically begging for some… improvements.”

Jason let out a long, suffering sigh. “Preferably somewhere without structural importance.”

But before Jason could protest further, the two teenagers were already exploring, their dragons trailing behind them with bemused, curious expressions. Grey Ghost nudged one of the ancient, cracked walls with his snout, causing a loose stone to tumble down with an echoing thud.

“Careful!” Jason called out, his voice rising with alarm. “This place is practically held together with curses and spiderwebs!”

Young Daemon waved dismissively. “Uncle Jason, if Harrenhal’s survived this long, it’ll survive us.”

They ventured into the main hall, where the thick, ancient walls seemed to breathe with a life of their own. Shadows twisted along the cracked stonework, the grand structure radiating an eerie silence. Alyssa glanced at her brother, a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you think, Daemon? A few more dragon perches?”

Lord Simon, who had been trailing behind, chuckled. “Harrenhal might appreciate a few dragon-sized renovations.”

Young Daemon grinned. “You’re right, Lord Simon! Look at these pillars—they’d make perfect scratching posts for Viseron.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, “Let’s not add ‘desecrated pillars’ to the list of grievances we leave here.”

But despite Jason’s grumblings, Viseron seemed to take the suggestion seriously. The dragon flexed his claws against the stone floor, leaving deep gouges in the ancient rock. Grey Ghost, not wanting to be outdone, flapped his wings, sending centuries-old dust and cobwebs swirling through the air.

“Perfect ambiance!” Alyssa declared, brushing cobwebs from her shoulder. “A little Targaryen touch, wouldn’t you say?”

Prince Daemon laughed, clearly delighted by his niece and nephew’s antics. “I do think Harrenhal looks more… lively already.”

Jason groaned. “Lively? Harrenhal is liable to collapse in protest.”

Lord Simon, grinning from ear to ear, seemed entirely unbothered by the chaos. “Nonsense, my lord! It’s about time these old stones were shaken up a bit. Besides, who wouldn’t want dragons in the family?”

Young Daemon cast an appraising look around, noting the worn tapestries and crumbling statues. “What’s that saying about Harrenhal being cursed?”

Jason, still looking thoroughly exasperated, muttered, “That it destroys every family that holds it. And I’d rather we didn’t test the theory, thank you.”

Alyssa flashed a grin at Jason. “Don’t worry, Uncle. We’re just here for a visit. Harrenhal’s not going to collapse… we’ll leave a few stones standing.”

As they continued exploring, Viseron and Grey Ghost took turns nudging ancient statues, examining the stonework with what could only be described as “dragonly curiosity.” Each time they knocked something loose, Jason flinched, but Lord Simon only chuckled, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Young Daemon suddenly turned to his uncle with a mischievous smile. “You know, Uncle Jason, you could always take a ride on Viseron. It’d give you a different perspective of Harrenhal entirely.”

Jason’s face blanched. “I think I’d rather stay grounded. Thank you.”

Prince Daemon laughed, slapping Jason on the back. “Oh, come now, Lannister. You wouldn’t want to pass up the chance to see Harrenhal from the sky, would you?”

Jason managed a strained smile, his voice barely concealing his dread. “I… I think I’ll pass.”

Alyssa gave an exaggerated sigh. “Pity. You’re missing out, Uncle.”

As the dragons explored, Harrenhal’s walls seemed to groan in protest, the echoes of ancient curses mingling with the gleeful laughter of two young Targaryens and the resigned mutterings of a thoroughly exasperated Lannister lord. And as they moved through the castle, Lord Simon watched the scene with a twinkle in his eye, a man clearly delighted to see Harrenhal brought to life—even if it meant risking a few more crumbling walls.

By the time the sun began to set, Jason was visibly weary, muttering under his breath as he surveyed the damage. “I’ll never hear the end of this from Tyland.”

Prince Daemon clapped him on the shoulder, his grin as sharp as ever. “Consider it a lesson in family unity, Jason. A true bonding experience.”

“Or a lesson in why we avoid bringing dragon-riding siblings to cursed castles,” Jason replied dryly, though there was a reluctant smile on his lips.

And as the dragons settled, Harrenhal’s walls might have been slightly worse for wear, but the ancient castle had never felt more alive—or more thoroughly unsettled by its wild, Targaryen-Lannister visitors.

In the dim glow of the candlelight, you sat at the writing desk, a sheet of parchment before you as you dipped your quill in ink, preparing to write to your sister, Rhaenyra. Tyland, ever the doting husband, was seated beside you, leaning over with that familiar glint in his eye, clearly intending to distract you from your letter.

He watched as you wrote, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. “You know, sometimes I still can’t believe this is real,” he murmured, placing his hand over yours gently, stopping you mid-sentence.

You looked up, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “What do you mean?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Our marriage, for one. A match arranged by a misunderstanding—a ‘happy accident’ at Otto Hightower’s hands.”

You laughed softly, remembering all too well how Otto had arranged your betrothal to the wrong Lannister twin on purpose, thinking he was binding House Lannister to the Hightowers’ cause. “I suppose we should be grateful for his ‘mistake’. He wanted us as pawns, but now he’s lost our support entirely.”

“Not exactly a winning move, was it?” Tyland grinned, clearly reveling in Otto’s failed scheme. “Imagine it—he thought he was securing an ally, and yet here I am, hopelessly in love with the most rebellious Targaryen he could have chosen for me.”

You gave him a light nudge, trying to keep your focus on the letter but finding it increasingly difficult with his mischievous smile so close. “Rebellious now, am I?”

“Oh, unquestionably.” He leaned closer, whispering in a conspiratorial tone. “Marrying you has been nothing but a series of delightful rebellions. Every sheep Viseron steals, every minor lord terrified by your dragons… I can only imagine Otto’s face if he knew.”

A mischievous smirk crossed your lips. “Perhaps I should include that in the letter to Rhaenyra—let her know just how unplanned and yet wonderful this marriage has turned out to be.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow, feigning horror. “Oh, you’ll ruin my image as a respectable lord, you know. What will everyone say?”

You laughed, dipping your quill back into the ink. “They’ll say you’ve been properly Targaryen’d, love. Consider it an honor.”

He pretended to groan, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. “And here I thought Lannisters were supposed to be the ones doing the taming.”

You leaned in close, a teasing grin on your face. “Oh, you’re welcome to try, Lord Lannister. But I warn you, Targaryens are notoriously difficult to tame.”

Tyland chuckled, running a hand through his hair in a mock display of resignation. “Well, I’ve certainly noticed. But, you know… I think I quite like it. All of it.” He placed his hand on your stomach, where the newest addition to your family grew, his expression softening. “You, the children, the dragons—even if they’re liable to eat the tapestries.”

You smiled, placing your hand over his. “We’re a family now, Tyland. And not because Otto intended it, but because we chose it.”

He looked at you, his expression tender. “Exactly. That’s the most unreal part of all, isn’t it? We were supposed to be a political alliance. Yet here I am, utterly, hopelessly yours—and completely unbothered by the thought of our dragons terrorizing Westeros together.”

Laughing, you returned your attention to the letter, writing out a few more lines about your life at Casterly Rock, the amusing mishaps with the dragons, and, of course, Tyland’s adaptation to Targaryen life. “Should I include that last part, do you think?”

Tyland made a show of considering it. “Oh, by all means, do. Let Rhaenyra know her former tame and now rebellious sister has turned her proper Lannister husband into a dragon-handler—however unwilling he might have been at first.”

You smiled, your quill scratching against the parchment as you added the line, a sense of warmth blooming in your chest. “Rhaenyra will be delighted. She warned me this marriage might be a mistake, and yet here we are, proving her wrong.”

“Then we owe it to Otto, don’t we?” Tyland said with a laugh. “An intentional misunderstanding on his part, and now he’s left with nothing but our rebellion in return.”

Leaning over, he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, his voice soft. “Here’s to more misunderstandings, then. The best kind—the ones that bring happiness and laughter rather than war.”

As you finished your letter, sealing it with the wax of House Targaryen and House Lannister combined, you couldn’t help but marvel at how far you’d come together. An unexpected marriage, a union born of conspiracy and miscalculation, had somehow blossomed into something real and precious. And though Otto’s schemes had intended otherwise, they’d given you the best kind of happiness—one with dragons, laughter, and love.

[darkmagyk]

stranded due to inclement weather & pwp - percabeth

Because of the prompt, this one has a little bit of sex in it. Honestly, I don't think it's graphic. But not reason to bombard people.

“We are never doing this again,” Annabeth complained. “It is the beach or bust from now on. I know you can handle a hurricane.”

“Love the faith, babe,” Percy said, but he pulled her closer, too. The cabin had plenty of blankets, and there was plenty of wood for the stove. But still, nothing beat his wife for warmth.

“Do you disagree.”

“Not at all, you’re the one who said you wanted neutral territory.”

Meaning for their weekend getaway babymoon, instead of going out to Montauk or San Francisco or Boston or anywhere else that had a pier or a wharf or a beach, they’d try something completely different, and had rented a little cabin up in the Adirondack.

It was supposed to be isolated, but supremely comfortable. Water and electricity but no internet or cell service. With a series of relatively easy hiking trails around it and a beautiful porch featuring a hot tube they could not use but great views of the changing fall leaves.

Annabeth had brought some nålebinding, Percy had brought Insula Thesauraria and Superbia et Odium at Paul’s suggestion. And they had brought a treasure trove of ingredients so when Percy got sick and tired of reading, he cook them a feast.

It was Sunday evening. They were supposed to leave 3 hours ago. Instead, a freak, late fall Nor’easter had decided to blow through. They had lost power around noon, though Percy was able to keep the pipes running. They’d used an Iris Message to contact her dad at home, and get a confirmation on the weather, and that he could keep babysitting for the next day or so, depending on how long it would take to go.

Then they’d gone back to their favorite babymoon activity. Practicing for the next one. But Percy need some recovery time.

“I didn’t know we were going to get snowed in.” “I mean, you’re the viking princess. Would have thought this was just your speed.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, “The Vikings were all about their boats, you know that. Not remote mountain cabins.”

“Yeah,” He said, “that’s why you like me so much.” He ran his hand down her side, brushing along where the curve of her belly started to jut out, and then down further.

“Are you ready again?” She asked, not quite breathless, but with an anticipatory quiver to her voice.

“No,” he said, sitting up, “but I think you are, aren’t you Princess?”

She shivered, maybe at his touch, maybe at the pet name.

“Maybe we should play a game.” He offered. “You like games, don’t you.”

She just nodded as his nails scratched lightly through the blonde curls, but did not let his fingers even dip into her folds, let alone brushing her clit or pushing into her cunt.

“You’re a viking princess, I think,” He said, finally running one finger along the inner lips, “who traveled down the Dnieper to capture a poor boy who only knows life by the warm Mediterranean Sea.”

“I captured you?” He was shifting now, moving down, until she couldn't really see his face, blocked as it was, between her thighs, and hidden by her belly.

“Of course, you did, Princess. A fine worrier would certainly have no trouble with such things. But now, we’ve been stuck in a cave, all snowed in. And I’ve decided to turn the tables”

The lore got a little lost, after that. But who needed plot, anyway. Viking Princess Annabeth didn’t mind at all.

[chaos-potat]

I really realized I can draw things that aren't comic panels Any other couple I should draw?

If no one says anything I'll probably draw Zach X Casey for my au >:)

[dabihawksluvr]

People are upset by the ending of this chapter, and I kinda get it...but it's not YOUR story. It's Hori's.

Is it perfect? Absolutely not.

But does it deserve the current 'criticism' it's receiving from 'fans'? No.

Don't like the story? Go make your own fanfic or whatever. If you're gonna be toxic and bash Hori for how he wrote his own story, then leave. You're not wanted here, you're just making the fandom even worse the more you speak up.

So sit down, shut up, and enjoy the ride or get out.

[gooopy]

Fml. I have mental illnesses for real fhat arent just garden variety anxiety and depression <- sorry it turned into a vent/rant in the tags. The perilous poster

[redhotarsenic]

god it's like i'm living a constant nightmare. i don't do this shit for my health. this stupid bullshit got so far that my friend is suffering both emotionally and through his income and none of these people are comprehending how massively serious this is.

[nanamis-bigtie]

y'know, I'm really glad Law got away out of this alive cause seeing how people reacted to his relatively positive situation (I mean?? he got away from Blackbeard??), I don't event want to think what would be happening if his situation would be as bad as Kid's

I know there's a big part of Law fandom who likes to roll in the angst, but I have a feeling we've read a completely different chapter? every day I thank god I didn't join fandom during Dressrosa arc, as I had a great opportunity to start One Piece then; y'all would drive me insane with your negativity and rubbing salt into your own wounds

[floral-hex]

I’m about a week and a half into starting Remeron and my main side effect so far is I’m just so dang sleepy all of the time.

[bbq-potato-chip]

unpopular opinion takasugi is boring esp after the shogun assasination arc im sorry i just dont like him

[finexbright]

moving to the UK has made me develop an irrational fear of ordering take out

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

Maybe I just miss havin someone else to blame

[sunsetsimon]

blue collar simon ♡ because i'm going insane

pt 2 here

☼ he's waking up around 4:30am most days, due to starting at a new job site that gives him a longer commute. he's grumbly when his alarm blares, quickly turning it off and sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute to stare off and come to. his footsteps are quiet as he heads to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and giving his face a rinse to clear it from sleep. simon makes sure to keep his hair short, only needing to run his fingers through it to tame a few wild pieces that stick up on the side.

☼ most mornings you get up with him, his alarm waking you up even with as quickly as he turns it off. "go back t'sleep love," he leans over, cupping your cheek lovingly as you try to blink the sleep out of your eyes.

"gonna pack your lunch si," you say, so quietly he almost doesn't hear you. he knows better than to argue though, you're already up and nothing is better than having you help him get ready for his long day.

you slip on one of his hoodies on your way downstairs, practically swimming in the fabric as it rests on your mid thighs, hands covered in the long sleeves. his heart swells, you look so cute when you're tired and stubborn, refusing to let him leave without a proper lunch.

☼ he's not able to talk much throughout the day with how busy he is. sometimes you only get a quick 2 minute call while he's scarfing down his lunch, complaining about how their project manager was being a dick that day.

"'right babe. gettin' back to it so i'll call you when i'm leaving, whenever the fuck that'll be."

"okay si. i love you, be careful."

"always am. love you."

sometimes you get lucky with a random picture of something on the site, having no idea what it is you can only respond with a "what am i looking at?"

"fuckin' dumbass rookie can't mark out a straight line to save his fuckin' life."

whatever the hell that means. simon thinks it's funny though.

☼ comes home with new cuts and bruises everyday, the wrap on one of his fingers soaked with dirt and blood. his hands are cut up and scarred, calloused and rough to the touch but you still love them, those hands provide everything for you. you're constantly having to remind him to clean under his nails after a long day though, refusing to be touched until they're squeaky clean.

☼ he never gets home at the same time, a supposed-to-be 10 hour shift can quickly turn into a 12 or 13 depending on how much work needs to be done. not a week goes by when he doesn't have overtime, and though he makes a lot of money, he's fucking exhausted when he gets home. lazily unlacing and kicking his boots off at the door while coming in, practically with a limp, his knees and feet fighting to not give out from pure exhaustion.

still finds the energy to shove his dirty hands under your shirt though when he catches you at the stove preparing him a plate. his unkempt stubble scratches your neck as he inhales your clean, addicting scent. planting soft kisses along the skin, you almost melt into him until you smell him, dust and sweat clouding your nose.

"ugh simon! you can't be all over me while you're dirty," you whine, trying to pull away from his tightening grip on your hips.

"can't help it when y'look so damn good. missed you all day," he grumbles, pulling your ass back against his growing bulge in his work pants, thrusting against you through layers of clothing.

"eat and take a shower first, then we can talk," you give him another shove - much to his dismay. apparently he wasn't as tired as he thought.

[elizzsush]

Fae Courting Rituals | TWST

Diasomnia Dorm X Reader

Lilia X Reader, Sebek X Reader, Malleus X Reader, Silver X Reader

---- Fae are typically taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 3/3)

Note: Was going To add silver to this list. (I know he isn't a fae, but he was raised by one) but was too tired to write for him)

Savanaclaw Ver. | Octavinelle Ver

Sebek:

He starts following you around for some reason.

Seriously, one day he just woke up and decided to not leave you alone. It helped that you guys shared a bundle of classes together.

You had no clue how you befriended the green hair boy. You weren't complaining though, in this school, where everyone is so set in their ways, you liked having the extra layer of protection that was the loud half fae: Sebek.

He was loud and denies it however, whenever you point out he follows you. He claims to not having even realized he was doing such a thing. "I would never follow around a mere human!" He shouted out his claims with a red face.

It could be true. He did get somewhat spacy sometimes if you'd believe it.

He had a packed schedule, or so he claimed, yet he always found time to be around you. It made a warm feeling blossom in your chest, well, of course before he used this time to rant about Malleus. "Wakasama is the most kind and fit ruler of-" He'd ramble, you'd sigh; put your face in your hand and lean a bit closer to him. You enjoyed hearing him so passionate, even if it was... constant.

He didn't have an off switch, that didn't have to be a bad thing.

Plush, you didn't hate his voice. Not that you'd be as loud about your likes as he was for his.

Though you were pretty positive your friends... and most of the students at NRC were in fact sick of his voice. People have also noticed he is more vocal around you.

Which is… a good thing?

The oddest thing happened once. At one point when the two of you were relaxing in ramshackle. A bag of popcorn and a shitty TV you got on sale at Sam's shop. He wasn't being loud for once in his life, instead his attention was focused on the screen.

You two were sitting pretty close together when, he had grabbed your hand and laid his head on yours. Was he... cuddling you?

You couldn't help but smile and continue to watch the movie. You didn't want to comment on it, you knew if you did, he'd probably get up, make a huge deal out of it (with a red face), and leave.

He started rubbing his forehead against yours before he finally pulled away like it never happened. It was oddly affectionate.

You didn't even think he knew that he was doing it.

He began to do these affectionate things while he was focused on something else. Either it be a show at the movie nights you organized with him, or if he was studying a bit to hard with you.

Your friends wondered how you even managed a movie night with the loud boy but you just shrugged.

Eventually, you had to face it: You really like Sebek.

You really liked this brash boy with a thick skull.

You knew however, even if he did like you back. He'd never admit it, let alone go out with you.

It left you with this odd feeling. A dull pain that ranged from a small ache to feeling like Throns were wrapping around your heart, piercing the organ in your chest.

You tried not to let that get you too down. Instead, you watched him across the lunchroom as subconsciously he blew bubbles into his drink, his green eyes finding yours...

So yes, you'd listen to his rants. You'd go out of your way to hang out with him, you'd enjoy his company while you could.

Because you knew, sooner or later, he'd realize it too. The same reality you had to face. And...

well...

He wouldn't face it.

He'd probably turn you away and never speak to you again. And you'd be fine with that. Even if you didn't want to be because you...

Well, let's save that for another day.. "Hey Sebek, lets hang out!"

"I suppose I can make time for you, Human!"

Lilia:

He was out to get you.

You noticed it. Almost everybody noticed it. You just didn't know what you did to him! He'd pop up everywhere and scare you! Right before disappearing away.

This counted as bullying, right?

You were starting to get... slightly paranoid.

You enjoyed Lilia's company, you really did. But you were tired of constantly looking over your shoulder. So, you started to avoid him, just a bit.

Your own personal revenge for the paranoia.

Now, Lilia has lived a long life. He knows what he's doing and is just having fun. He liked you, he did, but he probably isn't going to be that serious about this. He's in it for the vibes.

So when he see's you avoiding him... he well... He serenades you from outside ramshackle.

He makes his intentions very clear with a love song!

A boombox in Sebek's hand, and a tired Silver who followed along because... well Lilia was making Sebek hold a bomb box and traveling in your direction.

Lilia song his heart out for you. "Everybody loves somebody sometime!~ And although my dream was-"

"It is 2am!! The perfect will go out with you tomorrow!" Grim shouted out the window with a grogy done with it tone. After you threw a pillow at them.

NOTE: Sorry this one is short but I have a hard time writing for Lilia

Malleus:

What do you mean? You started courting him first. Very brave of you indeed child of man. He had even commented on it while you handed a piece of treasure!

That was... well, it was a cheap polished rock. It was well... shiny...?

It started very small. He accepted your gift and was expecting a bit more to be honest. Not even he was exactly sure how this courting would work out; he was prepared to be the one to pursue you!

Initially, he sat back and relaxed. Enjoyed the small sense of harmony you two already had and assumed you guys were dating.

Why would he not? He accepted your courting gift, he assumed their were more to come, the next step up to this would be marriage and he wasn’t sure you were ready for that.

However, you noticed this. You were so confused. He’d began to call you “beloved.” Which was a 180.

When did you two…? Huh??

He’s also been more clingy. Not on the sense he’d follow you around but in the sense of a mountain of handwritten letters and the actual sense that he’s in your personal space when you two do hang out.

So… the two of you are just dating now? “Beloved, you haven’t been responding to my letters. Did I do something?”

“Oh, sorry I just haven’t… quite finished all of them.” You glanced at a room that was empty at one time. Now it held a pile of letters.

This was an exaggeration, they’re were a lot but not a whole room full… yet.

Extra??? Silver:

It started like most seedlings of love, with a dream. A simple one, you were sat beside him, the two of you quiet and happy in each others company. The birds sang as you hummed beside him. The boy was content, more so then he had been in his life.

Then, like it was second nature to both of you. You two shared a kiss, and then he woke up.

Usually, he tried not to lose himself to sleep. But tonight all he wanted was to go back to the dream world and hold you. As soon as the realization crossed his mind however, he woke up even more. Had he ever been this awake? “Am I in love…?”

He, not knowing what to do. Went to Lilia, whom was enthusiastic with this news.

You know when parents find out their four year old has a crush? That’s Lilia, except Silver isn’t four. Every time they see you Lilia shoos Silver off too hang out with you. Sadly, with no prior love life to speak of, silver goes along with it.

Though he is embarrassed about it, he hides it well enough.

“Does Lilia think you like me?” You asked all to happily once, hiding your own happiness behind a giggle at the absurd situation he found himself in.

“Uh, yeah…” he’d just smile at you, his head laying on the lunch table as he was about to go to sleep. he loved to see you laugh even if it was somewhat at his expense. However, Sleep tends to escape him when he was near you. Not that he didn’t feel tired, but he didn’t feel as tired. He couldn’t feel angry about it, in fact he was happy about this. It was like you were some temporary cures for his illness.

Lilia would also insist that Silver gift you things. To show he can provide for you, the Silver hair male couldn’t disagree. So, he’d find things that might fancy you.

His bird and squirrel friends also helped him in his venture to gain your affection. Often leaving flowers at your doorstep and small shiny things.

One day you saw the birds and Squirrels run up to your doorstep, one flower at a time, make a gorgeous bouquet.

You made sure to thank him and his animal friends after that.

In return you'd try and make things for him, find things around he or the animals would like. Nuts for squirrels, seeds for the birds, and a deep red rose you plucked from Heartslabyul during the end of an unbirthday party.

He stayed awake for longer than he ever had that night, staring up at the rose in the dark while his dormmate slept. A smile on his lips as he examined every detail of it.

Ace would call it cheesy. The relationship between the two of you was something out of a romance movie he'd say in a more teasing way. Something like, "Is it Tuesday or Wednesday he's going to chase after you to an airport?" and then roll his eyes. You tell Ace to shut up while looking away with a face as red as riddle's hair.

It was after a test, you pulled your test paper out of your bag ready to check your score after preparing for disappointment when a blue bird swopped down and took it!

You cursed and chased after the bird, rushing past students and looking crazy, eventually you ended up in the forest next to the school.

You were sure you looked ever crazier than you had been running in the school halls, because now you had leaves in your hair, and your shoes were all muddy now...

Eventually, the birds placed the test paper, face down on a certain boy's chest. "Silver... Are you asleep?" You smiled and knelt beside him, a small smile on your face. Rolling your eyes at the perpetually sleeping boy. You sat beside him for a moment taking a deep breath before you grabbed your test.

You almost preferred it this way, to have him here, even if he wasn't fully here. It helped your nerves somewhat. An even bigger smile graced your face as you turned the paper, and a large B was printed at the top.

Standing up, you gifted your friend a small kiss on his forehead and wandered off back to school.

Well, you were stopped by a small, sleepy voice. "Y/N...?"

___________________________

Note: It was this or clean my depression room... Anyway, I want to expand on Sebek's small scenario because I know if it was its own imagine I could make it really good.

Would ya'll enjoy that...?

ANYWAY, these small series is competed! (Unless...?) Thank you for reading them and thanks for reading the note. Not a lot of people do that. Myself included.

I have a hard time writing for Diasomnia...

[seastarlily]

Not to be a "Negative Nancy", but if anyone, and I mean anyone thinks any member of the main voice cast sounds "too old" to be playing their characters and should retire, you're ageist and we cannot be friends.✌

[loveanddeepthroat]

Come Home

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - Sylus has headed out to deal with some business, leaving you concerned for him as he doesn’t return when he told you he would. Fluff and a bit of angst. Sylus and MC aren’t yet in a relationship.

Word count - 2k

A/N - Hi! This is my first little one shot for LADS, and I hope you enjoy it. I do accept requests and look forward to writing more for this fandom 🖤

It had been hours since you last heard from him.

You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t need to worry. That he was more than capable and has always returned in one piece. That your worry is wasted on him anyway, considering the fact that you weren’t even supposed to like him.

But you felt sick.

It was almost impossible not to be concerned. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he has always been reachable. You’ve tried his phone so many times that the battery eventually gave up on your futile attempts and went to sleep—which is what you should be doing at this hour. 

Mephisto had accompanied him on his outing, Luke and Kieran staying at the base with you under Sylus’s orders. They didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that it was currently three hours past the time Sylus had told them he’d be back. They know him better than you do, but their constant reassurance did little to soothe the panic starting to show.

“Please,” you practically beg. “I have this awful feeling that something has happened to him. Please go and look for him.”

Kieran groaned at her, tired of having to repeat himself once more. “We already told you.”

“Boss’s orders are non-negotiable,” Luke chimes in from where he’s lounging in an armchair.

“He’d have our heads as soon as we walked out the door.”

You were becoming more irritated each second by their nonchalant attitude. They didn’t even seem to give a shit, and you weren’t currently in the right mindset to delve into why you gave so much of a shit.

He was a criminal. A man who had such questionable intentions and motives that you didn’t even want to know the bare minimum of what he got up to whenever he headed out alone.

If something had happened to him, however, you wanted names.

As poorly as your acquaintance with him had begun, you found him to be more intriguing with every moment spent in his presence. His likes and dislikes, his attentive nature whenever you’re around, the way he chooses a vinyl record based on the type of mood he’s in—even the way he dresses has you analysing his every six feet and two inches of pure, solid muscle.

He wasn’t bad on the eye, especially when he was looking at you. You couldn’t fully figure it out, but there was a very subtle tenderness to his presence when he was around you. Subtle in a way that didn’t overshadow his ability to be the biggest asshole you’d ever met.

“If you keep pacing like that then I’m going to throw up,” Luke complains.

You shoot him a harsh glare. “If you don’t like it then get out and find your boss,” you grit back.

With an exaggerated huff, he pulls himself out of his seat, stretching his arms over his head. You feel a glimmer of hope, only for it to be shot down almost immediately. “I’ll let you know if I pass by him in my dreams,” he teases, walking out of the lounge and towards his own room.

You wanted to drag him back and push him out of the front door, but the man could probably put you to sleep with a snap of his skilled fingers. Instead, you growl angrily as his chuckles sound from the hallway.

Kieran stood up, too, mimicking his twin with his stretching. He paused for a moment, and you waited for his addition to his brother's teasing.

“He’ll be back,” he assured, surprising you. “If he’s not back by morning, we’ll figure something out. Just go to sleep.”

He doesn’t wait for a response from you as he follows after Luke, both of them turning in for the night. Sleep sounded like pure bliss, but you weren’t going to be able to do so.

You couldn’t even sit down, your legs automatically taking you around every single piece of furniture so many times that you were starting to get dizzy. 

“Please come back,” you chanted quietly to yourself quietly, if only to keep your pacing on track and your mind alert. 

“Please come back. Please come back.”

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but as soon as you heard the front door, you bolted for it on unsteady legs.

He came in quietly, which was completely overshadowed by your crashing into things on your way to get a visual on him. You practically fell through the door that led to the entry hall, where he looked only mildly bewildered and wholly amused.

There were no visual signs of any injury, but light blood splatters dotted across his white shirt, indicating an altercation. Mephisto sat happily on his shoulder, cawing as soon as he laid his mysterious little red eyes on you. The damn bird was never too happy whenever you were around.

Sylus raised an eyebrow at you. “Expecting someone?” 

That asshole.

He dropped off the face of the earth for hours, and had the audacity to greet you with sarcasm. 

Before your brain could warn you about the threat of putting your hands on him, you sprang forward, striking his chest with the palm of your hand. Then again. And again.

It was pathetically weak from your exhaustion, and he didn’t so much as blink as you assaulted his blood-spattered shirt. Mephisto, however, took to fighting back immediately, pecking at your hands and screeching.

Sylus shooed him away quickly, and the mechanical crow reluctantly took his leave. He proceeded to just stand there as his winged companion flew away, entirely unbothered by your outburst.

Your movements were quickly faltering, the already feeble slaps to his torso becoming far and few between. Still, he did not move. Did not speak. He was the most feared man in the N109 Zone, and he was letting you lash out on him.

Your hand finally stopped on the lapel of his coat, gripping it for a second to catch your breath. He waited for you to finally take a step back, your arms crossing over your chest immediately so you could fully close in on yourself. You were certain that your little outburst was going to bring some repercussions.

Unable to fight it, your bottom lip started to tremble. You had been walking around that lounge for so long that you had convinced yourself he was not coming back. That the wrong person had finally found him and gotten the better of him.

And you just know what he would’ve said if you indulged him in that speculation. What a silly little thought, sweetie.

He closed the space between you, your head automatically dropping to avoid his crimson gaze. You couldn’t bear it, the anticipation of what he was going to do. Your ass was likely headed back to Linkon on foot.

Warm fingers curled beneath your chin, lifting your gaze back up to his. He was towering over you, but you strangely didn’t feel intimidated. All you could feel was his warmth, and your wave of emotions crashing into their withering barrier.

His face gave nothing away as he studied you, still holding your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you finished?”

He didn’t ask it sarcastically. He was giving you an opening. If you weren’t, he’d allow you to resume until you got it all out of your system.

But you were done, your arms feeling like jelly to the point that crossing them was taking a big effort from you. You nod, feeling wetness pooling in your eyes. This all felt ridiculous. He didn’t owe you phone calls or explanations, you both barely considered each other friends. 

The surprisingly soft pad of his thumb brushed gently across your shaking lip, his eyes following the movement. “I’m sorry.”

In any other circumstance, those two words would have shocked you enough to make you fall over. But you were a little too far on the delusional side of exhaustion, your body running on the fumes of your panic.

Your eyes flicker away, the wetness tipping over the edge and dripping off of your lashes. He turned your drifting head back to him to lock eyes with you again. He never did like it when you broke his gaze.

“Things got a bit out of hand,” he explained quietly, not needing an explanation for why you were so upset. “You shouldn’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” you lie, earning an amused chuckle from him.

He brushed his knuckle across your cheek to rid you of your tears. “No? Why else would a kitten get her claws out, then? Did Luke and Kieran forget to feed you?”

You scoffed at his teasing, following his lead back into the ease of your strange companionship. “They’re terrible babysitters,” you say, sniffling away the last of your upset. 

He smirked, moving his hand to cup the back of your neck. He pulled you towards him, embracing you gently with a deep inhale. You almost swore he was smelling your hair, but you shut that thought down. It was far too complicated for such a tired mind to dwell over.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve both embraced, but this instance did feel quite different. It felt comforting, rather than nerve wracking. Nobody embraces a man like Sylus without at least a modicum of fear beneath the surface.

“You could have called,” you whispered. “Or…or at least answered my calls.”

He sighed, the blow of breath tickling your hairline. “There isn’t a good signal where I went tonight,” he explains. “I should have mentioned that. I didn’t want to call once I did have service in case you were sleeping. I apologise.”

An overwhelming warmth filled your chest, different to the one emanating off of his body. You look up at him, lifting a hand to his forehead. He humours you by allowing it, his eyes trained on yours as you felt the cool skin beneath the hair falling over his face.

“Are you coming down with something? You’ve apologised to me twice now,” you say, half serious.

He didn’t laugh or tease, his face slipping back into that easy nonchalant expression. “I assure you, I’m not coming down with anything. I could ask you the same thing, though. Since when did you become a worrier, kitten?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. It was something you yourself had to figure out. Caring for him wasn’t on your bingo cards when you first met. If anything, the very first day you met, you’d have been relieved if he hadn’t returned.

“Don’t get used to it,” you murmur, his smirk returning at your half-assed response.

“I’ll try, but I do get attached,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. He looks as though he’s contemplating something, and it takes a moment before he speaks again. “I’ll get us some better communication devices. Something you can carry around that I can alert you on.”

A slight sense of guilt washed over you. “No, it’s okay. You don’t need to be concerned about my insecurities, I shouldn’t be keeping tabs on you.”

Sylus shook his head, his mind already made up. He taps a finger against your temple. “My concern about what goes on in there is for me to deal with. If some better technology eases your troubles, then it eases mine too.”

There it was. That side of him that kept you so very intrigued and made you feel a sense of…home? He often used words that didn’t m quite mean the same as his intentions, but you could see it in him.

He cares.

He rubs a firm hand up and down your back before turning you around, lightly pushing you away from the front door.

“It’s about time we got some sleep,” he says, barely above a whisper. 

You let him guide you through the halls, his lips dropping to your ear as he whispered again.

“Feel free to monitor me.”