#i don’t think i have a tag for my own rambly posts?

[owlgirl495]

ok, so i know i rarely actually post my own words on here but with the last 911 episode i’ve been wanting to say something.

i’ve been reading a lot of what people have written (and i’ve added my own thoughts in the tags of many posts) but now that i’ve had time to process a little, see what others are saying, and talk to my irl friends about it a little, there’s one thing that i’ve only seen mentioned like once and i wanna talk about some more. more people have probably mentioned this and i just probably haven’t seen it and these thoughts are subject to change and all that but here we go:

it makes me really upset how little of buck and tommy’s relationship we actually got to see. and i know that they can’t focus on a side plot like that for a super long time and that it’s not the bucktommy show but i was actually okay with only getting scraps until the breakup and here’s kind of why.

they’ve been dating for six months. SIX MONTHS. and they seem to know NOTHING about each other. and i truly didn’t get this vibe until the last episode (8x06) and i think that’s why it feels so off for me.

at the end of season 7 they looked like they were really trying to get to know each other both on and off screen, they were talking about important things with each other, and actually trying to have real conversations. and then in season 8 there’s just none of that.

i didn’t think anything of it at first because i figured they just had those conversations off-screen in the FOUR MONTHS we didn’t see. but with 8x06 it truly feels like they didn’t have a single real conversation that we hadn’t seen.

8x06 shows us that they don’t know about each others’ exs at all, buck doesn’t know how tommy views his sexuality, tommy doesn’t know that buck hates basketball, so what exactly have they been talking about outside of the silly goofyness of 911 subplots for six months??

tbh i understand having them break up (i really wanted them to be endgame but i understand if that was never actually the plan) but the way they broke up felt so wrong.

i would’ve even understood if the real reason they had broken up was because after six months they realized that they don’t actually know anything about each other but even so, until 8x06, that was never indicated. they had a couple serious conversations with each other in season 7 and since there were no hints either way, i had assumed those had continued off-screen.

to have a well-liked couple with a decent amount of screen time break up without showing us pretty much any of the actual downfall of the relationship, giving what felt like a shoehorned in reason for the breakup, and only giving us last minute hints at the possible actual reason for the relationship ending feels shitty, if i’m being real.

i know it’s just a fictional show and it’s not that serious but this really hurt. i hate how much i let this get to me but i really let this show get my hopes up. it was my main form of escapism and something that consistently made me happy outside of things in my everyday life that have been stressing me out. i thought i could sink a little further into it after the results of the election but now it’s no longer the same form of comfort for me.

i’ll probably still continue watching the show and i absolutely adore all the people i’ve gotten to interact with (even in my really small way of interacting) through this fandom but 911 does feel a little tainted for me at the moment.

i’m probably missing some stuff here and a lot of this is just rambling but that’s it for now, i hope you are all doing okay and hanging on to whatever you can to make this a little easier <3

[tequatls-favorite-spoon]

i thought of a really cool thing about jayrim late last night! so, she’s a charr from elona, though i’ve never been sure about how i feel about her being from the olmakhan? still, she was always meant to be kind of a bandit/outlaw character, but more in a morally gray, skirting-the-law, chaotic neutral way

so i was playing her yesterday to level up huntsman, and bc she’s currently winning the poll for who i bring to the art party, i decided to look at the bank wardrobe to see if i wanted to update her look! she’s had the same outfit for like. years now.

anyway, her headpiece was still the rascal one she got from a level 80 boost forEVER ago. i originally was using it to simulate her heterochromia, since it’s like a skull that covers half the face and you can color the eye, but it doesn’t fit her face very well :/ so i looked through the headgear, and was thinking about going with the adventurers mantle, which has a bandana covering the mouth and nose and goggles over the eyes. i felt like it was appropriate for a gal spending her days in the desert! but i kept looking anyway (partially cuz i felt like it looked a lil clunky, and partially cuz it’s fun :> lol) and i found that the corsair headpiece looked great! and then it felt like the puzzle pieces suddenly fell right into place

jayrim should be a corsair!!! it fits her vibe so well, and i think it helps explain why she and onyx end up breaking up! cuz originally it was meant to be like a difference in ideals? cuz onyx is the commander, and jayrim is kind of a criminal. plus, onyx eventually had to leave the crystal desert, and jayrim wanted to stay. but with her being a corsair, i think it makes even more sense! it gives them a way to meet, and also jayrim has to leave to continue doing corsair stuff while onyx has to leave to do commander stuff.

plus this makes me feel like she doesn’t have to be an olmakhan. like i think i’ll make her be from lions arch originally, and somehow made her way to elona to become a corsair? hm. i should look up more info on the corsairs actually… like idk if they have any non-humans in their group? or if they were as isolated as the rest of elona? and i think that info will affect how i make jayrim a corsair. oh and also i’ve been thinking about an au where onyx isn’t the commander (i like the idea that the main change is that the attack on shaemoor happened like. a day after she left divinity’s reach lol) and she ends up going to lions arch and becoming a pirate :D they could be pirate gfs… Together……

also, jayrim being a corsair gives me a great opportunity to potentially have her and commander onyx meet again, cuz sayida showing up means that other corsairs could too… :3c

kind of related, but i should like, either write or draw a thing where it’s onyx and all of her previous/potential relationships all in the same room

onyx would probably explode

[eighteenoheight]

Unpopular opinion but I actually like Jessica’s diver outfit. I think it’s camp and tacky which is very much her personality. The one leg and the high heels are so stupid I can’t help but love it.

[smiles-rambles]

Ok I’m just gonna say this but people have every right to make a post on why they don’t like a ship on their own blog

However to me, it’s polite to not tag it as that ship because people don’t want to scroll through that tag and see hate.

If you see something you don’t like, idk, be a grown adult and move on with your life. Block and move on. What is wrong with you people

[autism-disco]

tomodachi life is soooo silly it’s like hey man sorry to hear you got broken up with (which i encouraged to happen) and now you’re depressed. have a cracker. and then they’re happy again and everything’s fine it’s incredible truly the pinnacle of realistic emotional gameplay (i’m barely even really being sarcastic here to be honest)

[killuaisaprincess]

my tumblr so much more dead than my twitter

Sadddd

[no1ryomafan]

SRW is such a funny thing for me to think about cause it’s like “wow a trpg game that’s been ongoing for decades that really encapsulates how huge and significant mecha is to japan by having every and all mecha been featured in this giant crossover that also has really cool attack animations that replicate the shows they’re from well, with new original content for some shows sprinkled in as well” at first glance then I proceed to be salty by going “oh wait the main show I like in here is only ever used for one iteration which they end up butchering and all the other mechas I’ve liked have shown up maybe once because I’ve liked the ones that had to flop in Japan- also this game caused tags to be unnecessarily filled with crossovers and people acting like they know a series just because it was in SRW thanks I hate it” and this cycle is only a constant because I haven’t actually played a SRW besides 30s demo for a bit 💀

[jenny-dreadful]

yk when someone confidently slides on their socks into a complex ongoing discourse to be like “um actually. [term] means [thing] 💅” all smug, and expect to be taken seriously, not realizing they completely lack a concept of a specific and contextually-applicable usage which everybody else here already understands. <<<<<<<<<

[rust-spark]

Heyy just as a heads up to my mutuals and whoever sees this I’m gonna be changing my username/url to Rust_Spark soon

No real reason other than I like it and it’s my discord and ao3 username so yeah (I have nothing posted on ao3 atm though)

ALSO I DO INTEND TO POST MORE I HAVE SO MANY INVINCIBLE-REAKTED THINGS I WANNA SHARE I JUST FORGET THAT I HAVE TUMBLR AND THEN I NEVER SHARE ANYTHING HERE :((

[lordramsaybolton]

Honestly Daemyra is one of the only things I’ve shipped that’s actually canon and it feels weird. I mean, you could argue thramsay is canon in a way, but I mean something less strictly dark and, uh, totally non consensual. Also less subtext.

I guess I was writing Reylo for a hot second(when I could still imagine it was incest after TFA lol) but let’s stick to ASOIAF. Obviously looking at fandom stuff it’s a very different vibe from the sort of content I’d been consuming before (tho as a side note it’s been wild to log back in and see thramsay stuff is still being created…if you remember me and don’t hate me due to years old drama & slander feel free to hmu or follow lol)

Anyway I’m glad to be along for the ride for the new ship??

Edited bc I spelled the ship name wrong duhhh my b

[transk0vsky]

What do you think would be the best ending for Daniil?

My honest opinion I think the best ending for him is not going back to the capital (that’s implied to be a death sentence for him. But he could probably get by for a bit without detention at least long enough to collect his things and sort out his affairs.) but I also don’t think staying in the town is a good ending for him either? He doesn’t want to be there long term sure there’s people there he likes but that isn’t enough to keep a person in one place.

Pardon the projection for a moment but I’ve been in a situation where I liked the people but I loathed the place, I stayed there and became unhappy and resentful I slowly spiraled into depressive episodes. I think a similar thing would happen to him while you can argue he’d get used to it after a while! I don’t think that’s a good enough reason for him to stay there? I don’t think he’d want to stay there even if going ‘home’ is no longer in the cards.

Truthfully the best ending for him is going somewhere that’s unrelated to either place restarting his life (while difficult) would probably be his best bet. Also depending on who you view as alive post game the people he cares about in the town who’d be his only reason for staying….aren’t there anymore. I also think post canon he has survivors guilt and he would have ptsd (I think all three healers would actually but that’s not what we’re here discuss) I think the town in of itself would be a huge trigger for him. So staying there even for people he cares of would just be causing him further stress.

I don’t really think there’s a happy ending for him no matter the place he just has to continue living live moves forward no matter what happens to you, it’s sad but true what for you was an earth shattering event for the world isn’t more then just another Wednesday….you have to continue living with scars that won’t heal.

But anyone’s cool to disagree with me obviously but I personally think the best case scenario for him is moving to a brand city and keeping a low profile maybe if he plays his cards right he can be a professor for a university or he could go onto mentor a upcoming thanatologist….maybe he can help someone blossom where he wilted.

[cuteniarose]

Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)

[cinematicreid]

office hours

the one where reader is stressed about her exam and Spencer makes her take a break.

wc 786

tags + the rundown: fem!reader, uni!reader, prof!spencer, fluff!, she is a grad student, boyfriend!spencer, we love him!, pet names, i think that’s all

a/n: in case you need a kinktober break! this is not me hiding from the fact that i’m too nervous to post smut! not at all! feedback always welcome, say hi to me, hugs and kisses always.

~

“You’re distracting me,” you chide, not bothering to look up from your laptop.

“Sorry.”

Spencer isn’t sorry.

He continues to gently blow air on your forehead from across the table as he watches you poorly attempt to focus on studying.

The two of you are holed up in one of the campus library study rooms, which Spencer reserves every other Friday evening to hold office hours for his students.

You rarely join him, given his knack for being a distraction. But it was a slow day, he’d said, and your grad school exam was on Monday.

The problem? Your study guide is nearly twelve pages long and your boyfriend is blowing air at you from across the table.

“I’m going to fail,” you groan, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“You won’t fail,” he says gently, returning to the stack of essays he’s grading.

“Spencer, it’s like I haven’t attended a single class for the past three months. This study guide is stupid.”

“But you have attended class. Every single class. You’re overwhelming yourself by trying to review everything at once.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a headache start to drum in the back of your head.

“And you’ve been staring at your screen for hours without a break. It’s going to give you a headache.”

Damn him.

“Maybe I’m not smart enough for a master’s.”

Spencer hums, unimpressed. You don’t mean it, you both know that.

He sets his pen down, reaches beneath the table and scoops your legs up to rest on his lap.

“You need to take a break, honey,” he begins, running his hands up and down your outstretched calves.

You lower your head to the table, exhausted and defeated.

“I don’t want to take a break, I want to get through this study guide.”

“You’ll have all weekend to study. I’ll help you.”

“But we’re busy this weekend. We need to go grocery shopping, and there’s laundry—why do we own so many clothes? And the closet’s a mess—”

You’re almost too caught up in your ramblings to notice Spencer slowly pulling your laptop toward himself, your calves abandoned. Your head shoots up, and you slam your hands on top of his, glaring at him.

“Do not, Spencer.”

He sighs.

“The closet’s been a mess for weeks. You can’t stress-clean to avoid your test.”

“Says you.”

That earns you a reprimanding look and a poke to your leg.

“And, you do realize that half the things you’re suddenly worried about I can handle, right?”

You stare at your wonderful, slightly-annoying boyfriend.

“You never get the bread I like when you grocery shop.”

He laughs so deep that you can feel his stomach bouncing from where your feet are resting.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to get the bread you like. The point is you don’t need to be pushing yourself like this. It’ll only make your exam go poorly.”

His convincing almost works, until you recall your syllabus. This exam is worth nearly a quarter of your grade.

Spencer watches the train of thought play out on your face, sighing at the chewing you’ve begun on your lip.

You want to cry.

“Angel.”

You ignore him, eyes trained on the table. He nudges your leg with his foot.

“My darling, darling girl.”

Still nothing.

“Baby.”

You finally glance up at him, begging the tears that are prickling the corners of your eyes to retreat.

“Yes?” you manage to whisper.

“Five minutes. Go take a walk outside for at least five minutes.”

“But—“

He gently, firmly, says your name, and you know it’s no use arguing.

“We’ve been in this room for almost three hours. Please.”

He stands, letting your legs fall to the floor and finally closing your laptop, moving it to his side of the table.

He makes his way to you, brushing a single, stray tear from your cheek and pressing a kiss to your forehead as you stand to leave.

“Fine. But because I want to, not because you’re making me.”

He accepts the last of your whining with a soft laugh.

“Of course.”

Spencer is right, because of course he’s right. The evening air immediately eases the tension in your shoulders, and five minutes quickly turn into twenty. By the time you make your way back, Spencer and his car are waiting outside the library.

“Office hours are over. Do you feel better?”

He gets out of the driver’s seat to open your door. You give him a smile and a nod, a grateful kiss on his arm as you settle in.

“I’m glad, baby. Dinner?”

“Yes, please. You’ve had me locked in that room for three hours, I’m starving.”

He laughs, closing the door behind you.

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us V

Summary:

Y.N moves in with Aemond, however he has trouble dealing with his jealousy as Y.N grows closer to Aegon.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Swearing, Jealousy, Insecurity, Miscommunication, Kissing, Semi Public Sex, P in V, Oral Sex (M Recieving).

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 5576

A.N - I used Zac Gabriel as the face claim for Daeron.

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Aemond was almost regretting his suggestion of going baby shopping the moment he stepped foot into the nursery store.

Rows and rows of items surrounded him, none of which he recognized apart from the basics: a cot, a pram and a changing table.

But what was all this other stuff? As he stood there, utterly bewildered, he picked up an odd-looking contraption with tubes and some kind of cup attached. His brow furrowed in confusion as he turned it over in his hands.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Y.N. appeared beside him and gave him an amused smile. “That’s a breast pump,” she explained, gently taking it from him.

Aemond blinked. "Are you going to-breastfeed?"

Y.N. nodded. “I’ll give it a try. I read in one of those baby books that I can eventually express milk so you can help with feeds if you want.”

He gave a quick nod, relief washing over him. That, at least, made sense. He would be involved in every aspect of their baby's life, even the late-night feedings.

They continued walking through the aisles, moving past shelves lined with more creams, lotions, and baby products than Aemond had ever seen in his life.

“Babies have really sensitive skin,” Y.N. explained, picking up a tub of lotion and reading the label. “We’ll have to be careful with what we buy for them.”

Aemond was still trying to make sense of the endless products when Y.N. casually mentioned, “I’m thinking I’ll have to put the cot in my room, at least for now. My flat doesn’t have a spare room, so I’ll probably look for a bigger place when the baby gets a bit older-”

Without thinking, Aemond blurted out, “-You could come live with me.”

Y.N. stopped, turning to him in surprise.

He shifted awkwardly, realizing how fast he’d said it, but he pressed on. “-I have the room, and I could help more with the baby. I don’t want to miss out on anything-and it just makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, we’re having a child together, and I-I want you to feel supported. I want to be there for everything.”

Aemond started rambling, listing reason after reason, but Y.N. interrupted him with a soft smile, placing her hand on his arm.

"I'd like that," she said quietly, "-as long as I can contribute toward the bills. I won’t let you pay for everything."

A wave of relief and happiness washed over him, and he agreed, already picturing them as a family in his penthouse. His focus shifted when he spotted something on a nearby shelf.

A cot mobile, but not just any mobile—this one had tiny, intricately designed dragons hanging from it. He wound it up, and a soft, gentle lullaby began playing as the dragons turned lazily in the air.

Aemond smiled, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve always liked dragons,” he said, nostalgia filling his voice.

Y.N. smiled, too, remembering how his notebooks in school had been covered in his dragon sketches. “I remember.”

“This one,” Aemond said decisively, picking up the boxed version of the mobile. “This is the one I want for our baby.”

Y.N. nodded, touched by his excitement. It was clear how much this meant to him.

As he cradled the box in his hands, she smiled at him, already imagining their baby lying beneath the mobile, lulled to sleep by the soft music and the gentle movement of the dragons.

"Do you know what kind of pram you want?" Aemond asked, trying to sound knowledgeable but still feeling a little out of his depth.

Y.N. chuckled, taking his hand. “I’ve seen a few possibilities. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Aemond had practically marshalled his siblings into helping with Y.N.'s move, each of them assigned specific tasks.

The moving process was well underway, and he was determined that Y.N. wouldn’t lift a finger—especially not anything heavier than a pillow.

So, while Aegon, Daeron, and Aemond handled the heavy lifting, Y.N. and Helaena sat on the floor of her now almost-empty bedroom, packing the last of her things into boxes.

“Honestly, Aemond, I can carry other things,” Y.N. protested as she folded some clothes into a box.

“Absolutely not,” Aemond replied from across the room.

Helaena snickered, helping Y.N. close a box. “He’s being protective. Just let him.”

Y.N. shook her head fondly, turning back to Helaena. “Men.”

Meanwhile, Aegon, ever the opportunist, had loudly volunteered to help with the bedroom packing.

“I’ll handle the personal items!” he announced with a smirk, only to be met with a swift slap on the back of the head from Aemond.

“Go help move the boxes that are already packed and sealed” Aemond ordered, sending Aegon out of the room with a scowl.

Y.N. had already arranged for most of her furniture to go into storage, having decided that she didn’t need much in the way of bulky items.

There was only one exception: her grandfather's beloved armchair. The old, worn chair didn’t match Aemond’s sleek black-and-white decor at all, but Y.N. had insisted on bringing it with her.

Aemond had stood his ground, but when she tied him up in bed and kept edging him during sex, bringing him to the brink of his orgasm as she rode him only to stop, and after four times of being denied the chance to come he caved in, only for him to end up a begging moaning mess as Y.N overstimulated him.

Now, as Daeron worked through her collection of books and DVDs, he raised an eyebrow at what he found.

“She’s got a lot of horror here,” he remarked, flipping through a few titles. “She seriously likes this stuff?”

Aemond, overhearing, glanced over. “It’s her favourite genre. She’s obsessed with creature features and disaster movies, too.”

“Creature features?” Daeron asked, confused.

“You know, movies with killer sharks or giant, man-eating animals,” Aemond replied nonchalantly.

Daeron laughed, shaking his head. “She’s has weird taste-” he teased, only for his eyes to widen when he pulled out a book from a box. “Oh, hello. What’s this? Fifty Shades of—"

Before Daeron could finish, Aemond snatched the book from his hands. “Fifty Shades of Shite, that’s what,” Aemond grumbled. “Now stop messing around and pack.”

Daeron mock saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

Aemond then made his way to check on Aegon, who had unsurprisingly gotten distracted. His elder brother was rifling through a stack of old letters, his face a picture of mischief.

“What the hell are you doing?” Aemond snapped.

“Found some letters-” Aegon replied, waving one around. “-From Jace”

Aemond frowned deeply, but there was a gnawing sense of curiosity that led him to take a glance over Aegon’s shoulder.

Sure enough, Jace’s love-sick declarations and desperate apologies were scrawled across the pages.

Aemond’s scowl deepened, but despite the irritation boiling inside him, he said, “Just put them back. It’s not our business.”

Aegon, with a dramatic sigh, pretended to comply, but when Aemond wasn’t looking, he tossed the letters into the bin.

“So long, Jace, you fucking idiot,” Aegon muttered under his breath.

When Aemond went back to the bedroom, he found Y.N. and Helaena laughing together, nearly finished with the last of the packing. Y.N. was holding up a small box of condoms, grinning.

“Well,” she chuckled, “I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.”

Before Aemond could respond, Aegon’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Hey, I could use them! Saves me buying more.”

Y.N., completely unbothered, shrugged and tossed the box in his direction. “-I didn’t know you was seeing anyone.”

Aegon caught the box and smirked. “Not currently. But I do have my eye on someone,” he replied smugly. “Just a matter of time before she’s mine.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, going back to emptying her drawers.

Meanwhile, Aemond shot his brother a warning glare as Aegon winked suggestively at him, making his blood boil.

“Touch her, and I’ll kill you,” Aemond whispered to Aegon, to which his brother only grinned wider.

Y.N, oblivious to the tension between the brothers, finished packing her things and stood up, hands on her hips.

“Well, I think that’s everything. Let’s get the last boxes out, and then we can head over to the penthouse.”

As Y.N. looked around the penthouse, trying to get her bearings amidst the chaos of moving, she realized something was off.

"Aemond, where are all my things?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Aemond glanced up from the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “They’re in the other spare room,” he said casually, not catching the subtle shift in her expression.

Y.N.’s face fell. “Oh, s-so-I won’t be sharing your room?” she asked, her voice tight with a hint of disappointment.

Aemond, now noticing the change in her mood, looked confused. "I just assumed that you’d want your own space," he replied cautiously. "You know, somewhere you could have to yourself if you ever needed it."

Y.N. forced a smile, though her chest tightened. "N-No, it’s fine, I-I understand," she said quietly before slipping away down the hall and shutting herself into the spare room.

The click of the door felt like a punch to Aemond’s gut.

Aegon, who had been lounging on the couch, shot his brother a look of disbelief. “Well, aren’t you a fucking moron,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Daeron, standing nearby, chimed in with a frown. “You’re in love with her, she’s pregnant with your kid, and you ask her to move in, only to stick her in the spare room? What were you thinking?”

Helaena crossed her arms, giving Aemond a pointed look. “You need to fix this, and fast.” She shoved him gently towards the door.

Aemond swallowed, his stomach churning with guilt as he approached the spare room.

He knocked softly, and after a long moment, he heard her voice call from inside. “Come in.”

Aemond slipped inside, shutting the door gently behind him. Y.N. was sitting on the bed, surrounded by boxes, her eyes red as if she’d been fighting back tears. His heart sank, and he immediately knelt down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.

“I’m so sorry,” Aemond said earnestly. “I should have talked to you first. I shouldn’t have just assumed anything.”

Y.N. gave him a small smile, but her eyes betrayed her hurt. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Aemond shook his head. “No, it’s not. I-I’ve never really lived with anyone before, not like this-” he confessed, his voice soft. “-As an adult, it’s all new to me. With Alys-she would only stay over every so often, but we never lived together. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Y.N.’s gaze softened as he spoke, her hand moving to cup his face gently. “I get that, Aemond. But it still hurt.”

He closed his eye, leaning into her touch. “I just wanted to make sure you were happy,” he murmured. “Of course, I want you in my bed every night, but I thought you might want a space to call your own. Where you can work on your art or-get away from me when I inevitably annoy you.” He smirked slightly at his own words, but his eyes were full of sincerity.

Y.N. smiled at that, her thumb brushing over his scared cheek. “Can I?” she asked hesitantly, motioning towards his eyepatch.

Aemond nodded, and she carefully slid the patch from his face, revealing his sapphire eye. Y.N. smiled softly, gazing at him. “There. Now I can see you,” she whispered.

The tenderness in her voice, the warmth of her touch—it was more than Aemond could take. He surged forward, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss.

His hands slid up her thighs to her waist, pushing her back gently until she was lying on the bed, her body sinking into the soft mattress.

The boxes around them were pushed aside, some tumbling onto the floor with a thud, but neither of them cared.

“I want you,” Aemond groaned into her mouth, his voice low and rough with desire.

Y.N. gasped, her breath shaky. “Your brothers and your sister-are here.”

Aemond smirked, his lips brushing against her neck. “We’d better be quiet then,” he teased, his fingers already working to pull her clothes off, his need for her growing with every passing second.

He peeled off his own shirt and lowered his trousers and boxers just enough to free his already hard cock.

Y.N audibly gasped when she felt Aemond’s fingers rubbing her folds.

“O-Oh Aemond” exclaimed Y.N as he slipped a finger inside her, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Always so warm-so wet for me” muttered Aemond as he added another finger, making sure to use his thumb, sweeping it against her pearl.

“I don’t want to wait-please-Aemond take me” whispered Y.N, as she wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, holding him as close as she could.

Aemond took his cock in hand, running the head along her warm wet folds, before he pressed inside her, inching forward slowly.

“So beautiful, swollen with my child” whispered Aemond.

“P-Please Aemond” whimpered Vaeda.

Aemond began to move with a slow, deep grinding. His movements deliberate and calculated.

“Gods be good,” panted Y.N.

“Fuck. You were made for me. You were made to fit my cock in this sweet cunt of yours.” breathed Aemond as he increased the pace of this thrusts.

“A-Aemond. Please.” exclaimed Y.N as she brought her hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as his thrusts shift her up and down the bed.

Aemond makes a strangled sort of sound and lowers himself onto Y.N even more, kissing her passionately.

His hips rolling against hers, his cock thrusting in and out.

Y.N kissed him back, threading her fingers through his long silky hair, her nails scraping against his scalp, just the way he likes it.

“Mine” muttered Aemond.

Y.N could feel herself clenching around him as his cock keeps hitting the same spot inside her.

“Ooo Aemond-f-faster. P-please”

Aemond lets out a loud groan as he begins to move faster pounding into her, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing around the room.

“Aemond-Aemond-”

“You’re so fucking perfect-come-come for me” growls Aemond.

“Y-Yes., Aemond” moaned Y.N squirming, the heat shooting across her abdomen as her pleasure peaks, and she explodes, her cunt tightening around Aemond.

Aemond lets out a long low groan, his movements becoming erratic. His cock throbbing as he spills inside her.

Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena were sprawled out on the sofa in Aemond’s penthouse, waiting for any sign of their brother.

Daeron leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a curious expression on his face. “Do you think he’s apologized yet?”

Aegon snickered, shaking his head with amusement. “If the sound of the headboard banging against the wall wasn’t enough of an indication, then our brother’s groaning sure was,” he said with a laugh, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open, and Aemond stepped out, looking a little dishevelled.

He was shirtless, wearing only his jeans, his long silver hair was a tousled mess, and his cheeks tinged pink with exertion. Aegon immediately started snickering again, earning a scowl from Aemond.

Helaena raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh of her own. “Is Y.N. going to join us?” she asked innocently, though the amused glint in her eye didn’t go unnoticed.

Aemond rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s, uh-sleeping,” he replied, trying to sound casual.

Daeron’s eyes widened dramatically. “Sleeping? What did you do to her?”

Aegon let out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think we all heard what he did to her,” he said with a teasing grin, leaning back on the couch as if thoroughly entertained by the whole situation.

Aemond shot him a glare. “Shut up, Aegon.”

Still grinning, Aegon shrugged. “Hey, no judgment. Just, you know-it was loud.”

Aemond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “It’s probably best if you all leave” he said, attempting to regain his composure. “Thanks for your help today, but I think we’ll have to rearrange game night-”

Helaena smiled as she stood up, gathering her things. “You’re welcome, Aemond”.

“Fine, but you’re buying the beer next game night.” Aegon quipped with a smirk as he got to his feet.

Aemond rolled his eye but nodded. “Fine, I’ll buy the beer.”

As Daeron grabbed his jacket, he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Bet Y.N. sleeps well tonight-”

Aemond shot him a final look of warning before quickly ushering all three of them toward the door.

“Out. All of you,” he commanded, though the faint smile on his lips showed he wasn’t truly angry.

As they left the penthouse, Aegon couldn’t resist one last comment, leaning back to shout, “Next time, at least soundproof the walls!”

The door slammed behind them, and Aemond leaned against it, exhaling deeply. Peace and quiet at last.

Aemond couldn't help but think that asking Y.N. to move in with him was one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

Life with her was everything he hadn't realized he'd been missing. They settled into an easy rhythm—taking turns cooking, sharing quiet evenings together, and every night, he found himself tangled in bed with her, relishing the warmth and intimacy that had quickly become second nature to them both.

What Aemond liked most, though, was watching Y.N. work. She had claimed a small corner of the penthouse, transforming it into her personal workspace.

All her materials were meticulously arranged—paints, brushes, restoration tools—and her attention to detail was astonishing. He found himself mesmerized by the faces she made when she was deep in concentration.

But more than anything, what drove him wild was as her pregnancy progressed, she often got quite warm, so she would often wear shorts and a sports bra whilst working from home.

The sight of her growing belly made him ache with desire and he spent his nights with his head between her thighs before he made love to her.

He was bursting with pride when she completed the restoration of a statue for the museum and watching her meticulously package up the finished piece, her smile radiant with accomplishment, was a memory he knew he’d never forget.

When she received an invite to the unveiling and insisted that he join her, he agreed without hesitation.

The night of the unveiling, Y.N. looked breathtaking. Her floor-length dress hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her swollen belly and ample curves. Aemond couldn’t take his eye off her the entire evening.

She was in her element, accepting praise and accolades for her work with grace and humility, glowing in the spotlight she so deserved. His heart swelled with pride every time someone came up to compliment her on the restoration.

Of course, the press had been there, snapping photos and recording every moment. It didn’t take long for the word to spread: Aemond Targaryen has not only moved on from Alys Rivers but is also expecting a child with someone new.

 He had known it was inevitable, but he thanked the gods they’d managed to keep it quiet for as long as they had.

Y.N. had handled the attention well, her smile never faltering, though Aemond could sense her relief when they finally made their way back home that night.

Now, with the unveiling behind them, his thoughts turned to their upcoming 20-week scan. He was counting down the days with barely contained excitement.

Soon, they’d find out the gender of the baby, and Aemond could finally start working on the nursery, something he’d been quietly planning in his mind for weeks.

The thought of preparing a space for their child filled him with a warmth that was both unfamiliar and exhilarating.

Aemond and Y.N. attended the 20-week scan with excitement buzzing between them. As Marie, moved the probe over Y.N.'s belly, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of their baby’s heartbeat.

Aemond held Y.N.'s hand tightly, his eye fixed on the monitor, watching in awe as their child appeared in crisp black and white. Everything looked perfect.

When Marie asked if they wanted to know the baby’s gender, Y.N. hesitated for a moment before saying, "Could you write it down and give it to Aemond?" Marie smiled knowingly and handed Aemond an envelope, now containing the secret of their baby's gender.

With the knowledge safely tucked away in his pocket, Aemond's mind quickly shifted to the nursery.

As soon as they got home, he began putting his plans into action.

He forbade Y.N. from stepping foot inside the room and told her the nursery would be a surprise. Soon after, various pieces of furniture were delivered—a cot, a changing table, and everything else they’d need.

To put everything together, Aemond enlisted the help of Aegon and Daeron, which turned into a comical disaster. As Y.N. sat in the living room, she could hear them bickering and swearing through the closed door.

At least twice, she heard Aemond threaten to kill Aegon, which was quickly followed by laughter and the unmistakable clinking of beer bottles.

The constant back and forth amused her—at least it sounded like they were having a good time.

Once the furniture was set up, she made a meal for them all, something hearty to thank them for their efforts.

 When the brothers emerged from the nursery, sweaty but satisfied, Aegon and Daeron couldn't stop smirking and elbowing each other as they watched Aemond gravitate toward Y.N.

He stood behind her, hands resting on her bump as she dished up the food, his eye soft and full of affection.

"Man, he’s totally whipped," Aegon muttered to Daeron, who snickered in agreement.

They couldn’t understand why Aemond hadn’t told Y.N. he was in love with her yet. Or even why he hadn’t asked her to officially be his girlfriend.

Aegon, never one to keep his thoughts to himself, brought it up. “So, bro,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “what’s the deal? Why haven’t you asked Y.N. to be your girlfriend yet? You’re practically married at this point.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and at first, he ignored the question, but Aegon kept poking at him, goading him with teasing comments.

Finally, Aemond snapped, “Because I’m too scared, alright?”

His brothers went quiet, surprised by his outburst. Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his admission.

“I don’t know if she feels the same way. I don’t want to ruin what we have by saying something stupid.”

Aegon and Daeron exchanged a glance, their teasing expressions softening. Aegon, for once, was thoughtful. “You’ve got nothing to be scared of. Look at how she looks at you. I’m pretty sure she’s crazy about you.”

Daeron nodded. “And you’re going to be parents soon. You should tell her how you feel before it drives you mad.”

Aemond knew they were right, but the fear of rejection gnawed at him. What if telling her the truth upset the balance they’d found? He sighed, casting a glance toward the kitchen where Y.N. was laughing softly to herself, completely unaware of the conversation.

One day, he promised himself. One day soon.

At 30 weeks pregnant, Y.N. had been waiting anxiously to see the nursery Aemond had been working on.

He had kept her out of the room for weeks, insisting that it had to be perfect before she could see it.

But now, standing at the door, Aemond smiled and gently took her hands. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, guiding her carefully into the room.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trusting him completely as he led her forward.

Once they were inside, he took a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispered, “Open-”

Y.N.’s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped. The room was stunning. Cream and soft blue hues covered the walls, and the sunlight from the window illuminated the room in a warm, peaceful glow.

The crib stood proudly, adorned with the dragon mobile, its tiny wings gently swaying in the air. A beautifully crafted changing table was positioned nearby, and resting on it was a knitted blue blanket—Helaena’s handiwork.

“A boy-” Y.N. marvelled, her voice barely above a whisper as she admired every detail. She ran her fingers over the blanket, her heart swelling with love for the baby growing inside her.

Then her eyes caught sight of something—a sheet hanging over a section of the wall above the crib.

“What’s that for?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

Aemond stepped closer, his expression soft but a little nervous. “It’s covering the baby’s name,” he explained, watching her face carefully.

Y.N. looked at him in surprise. “But we haven’t really decided on names yet.”

Aemond smiled sheepishly. “I, uh-I kind of already chose one.”

Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but before she could say anything else, Aemond reached up and pulled the sheet away from the wall, revealing the name he had picked.

Y.N. took one look and burst into tears.

Aemond’s eyes widened in panic as he immediately wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding her close. “I thought—I’m sorry if I got it wrong. I can change it.”

But Y.N. shook her head, burying her face against his chest as she sobbed. “No,” she managed to say between tears, “I love it. I love it so much.”

A wave of relief washed over Aemond, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Thank the gods,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. Y.N. wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes still misty but filled with joy.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze drifting back to the wall, where her grandfather’s name was painted in elegant script. “It’s not a traditional Targaryen name though”

Aemond smiled, gently wiping her tears away with his thumb. “So, we break the tradition,” he said softly, his hand resting on her bump. “It’s our choice what to name our son. Besides, we can give him a Targaryen middle name”.

Y.N. placed her hand over his, just as the baby kicked. They both smiled, feeling the life they had created together move beneath their hands.

Aemond chuckled softly. “I think he approves.”

Y.N. laughed, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “I think he does.”

Aemond looked around the nursery, a sense of satisfaction and pride in his work. “Now all that’s left is to get the pram and some clothes, and we’ll be good to go.”

Y.N. nodded, her heart full as she took in the room again, but mostly she looked at Aemond, marvelling at how lucky she was to be building a family with him.

Aemond arrived home after an exhausting day, his mind already wandering to Y.N. and the baby.

As he opened the door, his ears picked up on Y.N.'s voice, sounding almost-playful.

"No, Aegon, it's too hard," she said, a teasing edge to her tone.

Aegon groaned. "So? You love it when it’s hard."

Aemond froze, blood boiling in his veins as he heard Y.N. laugh.

"Okay, fine, let's try again, but give me some time to adjust," she responded.

Aemond saw red. Was his brother seriously fucking the mother of his child in his penthouse? Right under his nose? Whilst she was pregnant?

Rage bubbling inside him, Aemond stormed into the living room, heart pounding.

"What the hell is going on here?" he bellowed, fully prepared to murder Aegon with his bare hands.

To his surprise, he found Y.N. sitting cross-legged on the floor with a PlayStation controller in her hand.

Aegon was sprawled on the sofa beside her, also holding a controller, looking completely unbothered by Aemond's entrance.

"We're playing Mortal Kombat, genius," Aegon said with a lazy grin. "What’s got you so worked up?"

Aemond blinked, his fury deflating but still simmering beneath the surface. "What are you doing here, Aegon?" he snapped, irritation lacing his voice.

Aegon shrugged. "Y.N. called me. She was home alone, and wanted some company."

Aemond shot Y.N. a frustrated look. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve come home.”

Y.N. waved him off. “You were busy, Aemond. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Aegon smirked, clearly enjoying the tension between them. “I’ll be heading out anyway,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Got a date with Cerelle Lannister tonight. As much as I’d love to stick around and wind you up further, I’ve got better things to do.”

“Yeah, fuck off” Aemond muttered, earning a chiding look from Y.N.

“Aemond, don’t be rude,” she said, though Aegon laughed it off.

“No worries. I’m used to his mood swings by now.” He leaned over and planted an exaggerated kiss on Y.N.’s head, grinning when Aemond’s face twisted with annoyance.

“Later, you two,” he called over his shoulder, strolling out of the penthouse as if he hadn’t just wound his brother up like a toy.

The door shut with a soft click, leaving Aemond glaring after him.

"I don’t want him alone here with you," Aemond grumbled, still fuming.

Y.N. rolled her eyes and placed the controller down. “Why? It’s just Aegon.”

"You know how my brother is," Aemond said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t trust him.”

“I’m more than capable of handling Aegon," Y.N. shot back, her voice firm.

Aemond sighed. "I never said you weren’t capable. I just—" He paused, realizing how this was coming across. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I’m just trying to protect you, Y.N. That's all."

Y.N. crossed her arms, a look of mild irritation on her face. "Well, it sounds like you're doubting me."

Her moods had been unpredictable lately. One moment, she’d be happy and relaxed, the next, she was crying over something as simple as the wrong pasta brand or getting angry when he suggested healthier meals instead of her craving for fast food.

More than once, she had snapped at him to stay away, only to come to him moments later in tears, asking him to hold her or take her to bed.

As Y.N. gazed up at him from her position on the floor, Aemond braced himself, unsure of which mood she might descend into now.

But instead of another emotional outburst, she surprised him. Y.N. shifted to her knees, her eyes glinting with mischief as her fingers reached for his belt buckle.

Aemond’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening. "Y.N.," he warned, his voice low, but she silenced him with a smirk, undoing his trousers.

Next thing he knew, Y.N’s warm, wet mouth was wrapped around his soft cock.

Aemond put his hand on the back of her head as started to suck his cock and caress his balls.

Soon his cock sprang to life, and Aemond was losing his mind at the sight of her pink lips stretched around his hard length.

Y.N’s tongue ran around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Y.N!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Y.N ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond’s heart almost stopped when she sucked his stones into her mouth, one at a time.

Her hand moving slowly over the hard length of him.

When Y.N engulfed Aemond’s cock in her mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Y.N was driving him crazy.

Aemond forced himself to open his eyes, he had to watch her sucking his cock. 

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push him too far to control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Y.N’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her pink lips stretched around him. Oh, it was heaven.

Y.N smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

“It feels so good-” groaned Aemond his hand gripping her hair as he began to fuck her face.

“Hmmm” muttered Y.N as she dug her fingers into the flesh of his arse.

“I’m not going to last-if you carry on” Aemond admitted.

Y.N responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of Aemond’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand gently cupped his balls.

“Shit Y.N! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

She took every last drop, swallowing his seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Y.N’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking?” asked Y.N.

“Y-Yes” gasped Aemond.

“Now can I have a Burger King?”

Aemond who was still dazed from his orgasm simply nodded. Damn that mouth of hers, he thought, his mind still reeling.

As he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, he couldn’t help but shake his head with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

He’d come home angry, jealous, ready to fight. Now, he was standing there, utterly undone, with no memory of why he was even frustrated in the first place.

TBC

[ghostboneswrites2]

I really resonated with Daryl x abused reader could you maybe do one where the reader doesn’t let their past define them and shows little signs of abuse like they’re super cheery and happy and doesn’t let their past get them down and but maybe reader has a ptsd attack by Daryl after he confronts her about being so happy especially in an apocalypse and they just realize they relate to each other even if they’re personalities are so drastically and Daryl just comforts reader 🫂

The Painted Bunting

Era: Greene Farm

Summary: Daryl is paired with you on the search for Sophia and snaps at you after growing tiresome of your seemingly endless kindness.

Note: No more laptop for now since the cord broke so I hope you’ll all forgive the lack of my usual post formatting :(

Warnings: profanity, mentions of past abuse, grumpy sassy asshole Daryl (the man we originally fell in love with)

Banner credits on this post

        Shining hair in the rays of the sun, an infectious laugh, a beaming grin that never seemed to dissipate. A glowing beacon in the dark. That was what you were. And, admittedly, it got under his skin a little, so Daryl tended to avoid you. You weren’t oblivious to it, but you accepted it for what it was. After all, you couldn’t win them all, right? 

        You had always been that way; soft, gentle, graceful, kind. If you had never let the past change that for you, you certainly wouldn’t let present day events change it, either. Maybe the world had become a nightmare, but that didn’t mean you had to be one too. 

        Daryl thought that what really gritted his teeth about you was that through everything that had happened, you never changed a single bit. Not like the others had; not like he had. 

        After the world fell, after the camp by the quarry was overrun, after the CDC, after Sophia had gone missing, you remained exactly the same. For all of the afore mentioned, Daryl found you to be one of the most vexing people he ever had the displeasure of interacting with, second only to Shane, who could have easily been traded off for his own brother, Merle.

        Needless to say, he was peeved at the idea that you were sent on search duty with him after he hurt himself in the ravine. Rick decided a buddy system would be beneficial to all of the search party participants, and you volunteered to tag along, because of course you did.

        You weren’t so much looking forward to spending so much one on one time with the man, yourself. You didn’t necessarily have an issue with him, but you were all too aware of the issue he seemed to have with you. Really, you couldn’t relate to him at all. Not everyone around camp was perky and sweet, and rightfully so, but Daryl was such a brooding presence and you just couldn’t put yourself in that frame of mind.

        The two of you had set out just after dawn and the hours ticked by as you made friendly conversation and Daryl occasionally offered you a measly grunt in response. 

        “Do you think we’ll find anyone out here?” You asked. “I mean, aside from Sophia. I know we’ll find her.”

        “Pro’ly better if we don’t find nobody else.” Was his first verbal response all day. You shrugged. 

        “I don’t know. Could be good. I’m sure there are people who could really use some help.”

        “Ain’t our problem.” He argued. “Gotta look out for our own. The hell you worried about helpin’ strangers for when we ain’t even found the little girl we’re after?” 

        “Oh, no.” You chuckled nervously. “It’s not that I was just —“ You cut yourself off, sensing an oncoming ramble. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

        “Mm.” He hummed, pausing his footsteps to take a breath and scan his surroundings. After a moment, he continued forward, and you followed without question . Admittedly, you had no clue how to track, so if anything you were there in case he got hurt.

        “So, if someone needed your help… You wouldn’t help?” You asked innocently.

        He whipped around to face you, the aggression behind his motion drawing you to a dead stop.

        “The hell’s your problem, huh?” He snapped. You blinked. “It’s the end of the goddamn world and you’re askin’ me about some hypothetical moral dilemma? Let me tell you somethin’, girl; ain’t no damn morals in the apocalypse. Ain’t no more law and order! It’s just us,” he paused, sending an arrow through the skull of a walker that had crept up behind you. You flinched and turned to watch its carcass thud on the forest floor. “And them.” He concluded. 

        “I—I was just making conversation.” You mumbled timidly. 

        “Why? It’s not a social call! We’re out here to find that little girl. This is why I didn’t need no damn babysitter.” He complained.

        “I was just trying to be nice.” You defended.

        “Nice?” He scoffed. That simple word seemed to trigger something in him as his eyes lit up with aggravation. “Don’t you get it? It ain’t about bein’ nice anymore. It’s about survival. Got dead people standin’ up and eatin’ people and you’re worried about bein’ nice. Walkin’ around passin’ out water and food and gigglin’ with everybody like we ain’t got a bunch o’ dead bodies stumblin’ around us just waitin’ to take a bite out.” 

        Maybe it was the way he raised his voice, or the way his eyes shot flaming daggers of fury right through your chest, or the way he threw his arms down and spat words at you like you were some puny, wretched little thing. You didn’t know what it was, but somewhere in the whirlwind of heated exchange, his voice slowly blended together with the other voice — the one that still lived in the back of your mind and ate away at you every day.

        The voice that belonged to your own father, the one person who struck true, genuine fear in you. Before you knew it, that old sensation of real terror, the one you’d buried somewhere deep inside you and covered with cement, was breaking free and engulfing you. 

        You were frozen, like a fawn under the scrutinizing gaze of a predator. The humid air felt like a thick paste as you struggled to gulp it down and catch a breath. At first, Daryl felt inclined to criticize your tears as a show of weakness, fragility, inability to handle a little raise of the voice. He quickly noticed, however, that this was no simple burst of reactionary emotions. No, this was something much deeper and it was rattling you to the core. There was a distant look in your wide eyes, one that he came to recognize, even if it took him a minute. 

       He shifted on his feet, scanning you, unsure how to intervene. 

        “Hey.” He eventually called out, but it was clear his voice wasn’t reaching you. This was the final piece of confirmation he needed. You were having an episode, the kind he experienced a few times when he first got out of his father’s abusive home. 

        He sighed and grabbed your trembling shoulders. You jumped but you didn’t flee or strike out. His touch seemed to dry you out and shrivel you up like a raisin. You shrank into yourself, hyperventilating. 

        “C’mon.” He said softly, ushering you done to your knees. “Hey. Ya gotta breathe.” 

        Your breathe only became more shallow and forced. Tears poured down your cheeks as your chest got tighter. 

        “Just breathe. That’s the only way it’s gonna stop.” He urged. He went to grab your wrists but you panicked, snatching your arms away and falling down on your back. 

        “No! Get away! You can’t do this anymore! I’m not a little kid!” You cried out.

        You were making quite a bit of noise by this point, between the gasps for air and the sobs. He crouched over you and grabbed your shoulders. 

        “(Y/N), ya ain’t there anymore. Wherever it is, it’s gone. In the past. It’s just you and me right now, and we ain’t there. We’re here.” He soothed, hoping his voice could find you somewhere in the abyss. “Just listen. Ya hear that? It’s a Painted Bunting. Look,” he pointed up into a tree at a bright multicolored bird, similar in its beauty to a parrot, only much smaller. “It’s right up there. Ya see it?” 

        Your breathing had started to slow down now, those shallow inhales finally reaching a little deeper within. Your eyes lazily followed his finger to the bright little bird singing a flute-like melody. 

        “Ya see it?” He asked again. You managed to nod once, still holding your arms tightly to your chest as you laid flat on the bed of leaves and twigs. He took a moment to see you, to really take you in, and he realized you were beautiful. Not just in the way a pretty girl with a nice personality was beautiful, but in a way that left so much of who you really were unsaid.

        “Just watch it.” He whispered, glancing back up at the feathered creature, hoping it would stick around long enough to bring you back down to earth. “They take two years to look that pretty. Did ya know that?” He asked, glancing back down at you. Your eyes were still on the bird, but you shook your head no. “Yeah. Only the males, too.” He added. “Otherwise, they’re just kinda greenish and yellowish.” 

        Once your chest was rising and falling with a steady rhythm, you finally looked over at him. Humiliation began to set in. You quickly sat yourself up and brushed the dead foliage away from your clothes and hair. 

        “I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.” 

        “‘S okay.” He shrugged, standing himself back up as well. “Happens.”

        “Yeah, we’ll, it shouldn’t. Not nowadays.” 

        “Can’t help it when it does.” He assured you. “I get it.”

        “Maybe I should head back.” You suggested.

        “We both can. If ya wanna. It’ll be dark soon anyways.”  

        “I don’t wanna make you lose your trail or.. Ya know.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

        “Nah. Ain’t no use after dark, anyways. We’d just be stumbling in circles and bumpin’ into each other.” He insisted, contrastingly soft in comparison to before your episode. 

        “Oh. Right.” You nodded. Just as you got ready to turn back toward the farm, he cleared his throat.

        “Ya wanna talk about it?”

        “About what?” You turned back to him. He shifted his weight anxiously, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Offering an ear to listen was at least ten yards outside the perimeter of his comfort zone. “About that?” You asked. “That was nothing. Just something stupid that happens sometimes. That’s all.”

        While his tone was much kinder and warmer than before, yours was cold, dull, and tired. Those episodes could take a lot out of a person, and he was no stranger to that fact. 

        “Sometimes it helps.” He said. “Talkin’ about it. Makes it a little less…” He trailed off, searching for the word he wanted. “Less, uh… Consuming.”

        “It never gets less consuming.” You argued.

        “It does.” He insisted. 

         “And how would you know?” You asked, impatience lacing your words.

        “I used to get ‘em too.” He admitted. “Been awhile but… I just get it. That’s all.”

        You studied him. In all the weeks you’d spent around the man, you’d never seen him so genuine, or really so open. He never seemed to look at you like another person. You were always just another load on his shoulders. 

        “My dad.” You finally spoke. He nodded.

        “Me too.” 

        “I’m sorry.” You sympathized.

        “Me too.” He agreed. 

        “We should go.” You sighed, turning away again. 

        This time you didn’t wait for him, you just started walking, until he called out behind you; “‘M sorry.” You stood still, but you didn’t look back. He knew he had your attention, though, and he knew he had to say something else. “I know I did it this time. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at ya like that.”

        “It’s okay. Maybe you were right.” 

        “Nah.” He shook his head, taking slow steps to catch up to you. “I wasn’t. It’s good. Ya didn’t let none of that shit make ya bitter. Keep it that way. Else you’ll end up a grumpy redneck.” He joked. You suppressed the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

        “Maybe the grumpy rednecks of the world got it figured out.” You said, walking again once you felt him catch up. 

        “Nah. I don’t know shit about shit.” He admitted, eliciting a small laugh from you. You shook your head.

        “I don’t think anyone does.” You reasoned.

        On the hike back to the Greene farm, you two shared some light banter, some stories of the past, some laughs and extended looks. He grew finder of you that day. The critical glares he’d send you from a distance were replaced with admiration and respectful nods. You’d often catch him looking and flash him a big smile, waving at him before you attention was drawn elsewhere. 

       You both learned that maybe the two of you were differently colored fruit, but you grew from the same tree, and you weren’t so different after all. And, that sentiment was never lost or forgotten. It carried with you for as long as you two knew each other. 

Taglist || Masterlist

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[tojisun]

i would give anything for some simon fluff rn bc i feel like my bf is gonna break up with me soon and to have simon be a point of comfort would be everything to me rn. ily sun!

-🔪💕

oh my love, im so sorry to hear that. i hope and wish and pray that he wouldnt; that things could be talked through and issues could be smoothed over. i wish so much love to be on your way right now. i love you so so much and take care.

i rushed this in hopes of u seeing it faster and even then, it still took so long for me to post it; i hope, at least, that it turned out alright and that u can find comfort in this even if just a bit :’(

@/plutism for divider

simon breathes in deeply, quietly, his body slowly leaning to the door frame as he gazes at you.

you still don’t know that he’s back, busy humming to yourself as you finish preparing your breakfast. he has to talk to you about spatial awareness, acutely worried about the fact that you haven’t heard the door open or clocked in the extra shoes stowed in the shoe rack or, the most obvious one, noticed his presence.

yeah, those are worrying alright. but, right now, simon takes it – you – all in slowly. softly. deeply.

he takes in the way you’re dressed in nothing but his clothes – an old military shirt that he didn’t even know you kept, his pyjama pants with the excess fabric folded to hell so that you wouldn’t trip.

his dog tags, their quiet chime ringing in his ears melodiously.

simon ignores the prickles in the back of his eyes or the sudden lump lodged in his throat, busy cataloguing the changes you’ve done in your guys’ home – the potted plants by the kitchen window sill, the new wall clock that’s shaped like a cat instead of the old circular one he remembers getting from the dollar store.

the calendar on the fridge, days marked with x-es as you count down the days until simon’s presumed return from his mission. simon gave you a fake date so that he can still surprise you without fully disrupting your routine. johnny almost gave it away with his ramblings, but it worked out perfect in the end.

because in the end, here he is, basking in your presence, forging reality from what had just been a loving nostalgia of returning to you. because in the end, he is back home

simon carefully knocks on the door, smiling apologetically when you whipped around to look at him with a belted scream. your palm lurches to steady your beating heart, the other grasping the countertops, and simon’s laughter trickles into the air.

“si?” you gasp out, voice so quiet like you are afraid that he isn’t real.

“yeah,” simon replies just as softly; just as fearful of having this beautiful dream of coming back home to you be ripped away from his reach.

you’re running to him in his next breath and simon doesn’t even think, doesn’t even hesitate, before he’s meeting you halfway.

warm bodies collide, pairs of arms snaking around each other, pulling and tugging. he maps his palms on your back, feeling you better, familiarizing your body against his again. your hands fist at his jumper, nose nuzzling along his neck to breathe him in.

he hears you say his name, a trembly little thing. simon whispers your own, hoping you hear the way your name drips from his tongue like honey, packed with reverence and love.

your breath hitches, a choked sob replacing your gasp. “again,” you say, the words pressed on his skin. “say my name again.”

he does, murmuring your name again and again. not stopping even when he scoops you up in his arms to gently prop you up on the countertop.

you are full on sobbing now. “simon,” you reply. “simon. my simon.”

your simon.

that’s right – he is yours. all yours. just yours.

“yeah,” he replies with a hiccup, then a wet chuckle. “yours. and you? you are mine, yeah?”

you pull away just a bit, just enough that your eyes are meeting his. simon’s lips wobble at finally having a proper view of you.

“yes,” you rasp out. “‘m all yours.”

the first kiss is desperate even when it is slow; it is all languid and deep. his palms cup the back of your head and your hands trail hesitant touches before cupping his jaw; not once letting go. not once letting your hands stray away from him.

there are so many things simon wants to say: i missed you. i love you. you look good in my clothes. i love you. you are so beautiful. i love you. but they all fade away as he deepens the kiss because in this moment, nothing else matters but you in his embrace. but him back in your arms.

but this love that sustains him.

i hope, even if just a little, this helped. i love u nonnie <33