#sometimes I just read this before going to sleep

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.5

Chapter Five: As If The Street Lights Pointed In An Arrowhead Leading Us Home

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I was busy writing chapter one of my Richard Reeds fanfic, and my brain went into overdrive. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and my thoughts and writing process will be in the end notes below! Take care out there.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING  

It was the weekend.  

A rare, golden thing in the middle of a chaotic schedule. Sometimes, productions pushed through weekends, forcing actors and crew alike to run on fumes and caffeine, but this week, you’d been given the luxury of a proper break.  

So you did the only logical thing: you slept in.  

No alarms. No early call times. No frantic scrambling to get out the door before the sun had even fully risen. Just the quiet hush of your hotel room, the soft cocoon of blankets, and the gentle hum of the city beyond your window.  

Pedro, on the other hand, was not sleeping in.  

He was downstairs earlier, enjoying breakfast with some of the crew, chatting between bites of eggs and toast. But when he realized he hadn’t seen you—not even a glimpse—something tugged at his chest.  

He checked his phone. No messages from you.  

Not that you had to text him, obviously. But still.  

“Maybe she’s still asleep,” Vanessa mused when he brought it up, sipping her coffee.  

Coco smirked. “Or avoiding you.”  

Pedro shot her a look, unimpressed. “You’re hilarious.”  

Joseph, ever the instigator, leaned in. “You do realize how weirdly invested you are in this, right?”  

Pedro ignored them, pushing back his chair. “I’m gonna go check on her.”  

“OoOoOo, someone’s worried,” Ebon teased, grinning.  

Pedro just flipped them off over his shoulder as he walked away.  

Your side of the room was quiet when he got there.  

Pedro knocked.  

Nothing.  

He frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Hey, you alive in there?”  

Still nothing.  

His concern deepened. He knew you’d been exhausted lately, emotionally drained from the whole Cecilia situation. And yeah, maybe you were just catching up on sleep, but what if you weren’t feeling well? What if—  

He shook his head, pushing the thought away.  

A quick check with the front desk confirmed they had given you a key for emergencies. That was all the justification he needed.  

Carefully, Pedro let himself in.  

The room was dim, curtains drawn just enough to let in a sliver of London’s muted morning light. And there you were, curled up under a mountain of blankets, dead to the world.  

Snoring.  

Pedro exhaled, the tension in his chest dissolving as a slow, amused smile tugged at his lips.  

He took a step closer, just enough to take in the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your hair was a little all over the place. A soft snore left your lips, making him chuckle under his breath.  

God, you were adorable.  

For a brief moment, he debated waking you. Teasing you for sleeping through breakfast, maybe even convincing you to come downstairs with him.  

But then you shifted, letting out the softest sigh as you burrowed deeper into the pillows, and—yeah. No. He couldn’t wake you.  

Instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching for a little longer.  

He’d give you another hour.  

Maybe two.  

And then, well—if you didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to find a way to lure you out with the promise of coffee or something just as tempting.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE MORNING  

The late morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Pedro had been patient—he really had—but after standing around for a while, listening to your soft snoring, he decided you needed to eat something.  

So he had slipped downstairs, grabbed a plate of fresh fruit, some pastries, and a glass of juice, and set everything neatly on the kitchenette counter before making his way back to your bedside.  

The problem?  

You were not a morning person.  

Pedro bit back a grin as you stirred, groaning into your pillow, clearly fighting consciousness with everything in you. He could already tell this wasn’t going to be an easy wake-up.  

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “Time to get up.”  

You groaned again, pulling the blanket over your head. “No.”  

Pedro chuckled. “Not even gonna think about it?”  

“No.”  

He exhaled, amused, and sat on the edge of the bed, nudging your shoulder lightly. “C’mon, I brought you breakfast. Fresh fruit, pastries, coffee… I even got you juice. Thought I was being nice.”  

That earned him a tiny peek of an eye from beneath the blanket. “What kind of juice?”  

He smirked. There we go.  

“Mango,” he answered, watching as you visibly debated with yourself. “And it’s still cold.”  

You groaned but finally—finally—sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you blinked blearily at him. “Fine. But if you’re lying about the juice, I’m going back to bed.”  

Pedro chuckled, standing up. “Noted.”  

As you shuffled out of bed and towards the kitchenette, still wrapped in your blanket like a grumpy little burrito, Pedro bit back another laugh.  

You were trying so hard not to snap at him, despite your obvious morning grumpiness, and he found it strangely endearing. You cared about him—he could see that. Not just in the way a fan might, but as someone who had gotten to know him, really know him, beyond the public persona.  

And for some reason, that made his chest feel warm.  

By the time you took your first sip of juice, you finally looked at him, still groggy but slightly more awake. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled.  

Pedro grinned. “I know.”

Pedro stayed leaning against the kitchenette counter, watching you with quiet amusement as you nibbled on a croissant, still wrapped up in your blanket like you might retreat back into it at any moment.  

"You know," he said, arms crossing over his chest, "I've worked with some pretty serious divas before, but you? You might be the worst morning person I've ever met."  

You narrowed your eyes at him mid-chew, unimpressed. "Bold of you to assume I’m even a person in the morning."  

Pedro laughed, rich and warm, like he hadn't expected you to say that. It sent a flutter through your stomach, but you buried it beneath another bite of food.  

A comfortable silence settled between you as you worked through your breakfast, the weight of last night—the teasing from your friends, the way Pedro had looked at you over dinner, the way he’d listened, really listened, when you brushed off your problems—lingering just beneath the surface.  

It should’ve been awkward. But it wasn’t.  

"So," he finally said, drumming his fingers against the countertop, "what’s the plan for your day off? Big, exciting plans to stay in bed all day?"  

You swallowed a sip of juice, tilting your head at him. "That was the dream, yeah."  

Pedro let out a soft scoff, pushing off the counter. "Nah. Not happening."  

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  

"You’ve been working your ass off all week, and I don’t mean just putting up with the shoot," he said, giving you a knowing look. "I mean all of it. Everything. And since you clearly weren’t gonna tell me how much it was getting to you, I figure it’s my job to make sure you actually do something for yourself today."  

Your stomach twisted at that.  

He had noticed.  

Of course, he had.  

And now, instead of letting you bury it like you had all week, he was making it a thing.  

"Pedro," you sighed, setting your glass down. "I really don’t—"  

"Shh," he cut in, grinning as he pressed a finger to his lips. "No arguing."  

You stared at him, deadpan. "Did you just shush me?"  

"Yeah." He shrugged, completely unfazed. "It’s effective."  

You narrowed your eyes, trying very hard not to laugh. "You’re an idiot."  

"And yet," he said, nodding toward your now-empty plate, "an idiot who got you to wake up, eat breakfast, and seriously consider leaving this hotel room."  

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile.  

Damn it.  

"Okay, fine." You rolled your eyes. "What exactly do you have in mind?"  

Pedro grinned like he’d just won something. "Get dressed, cariño. I’ll tell you on the way."

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY AFTERNOON 

You didn’t know what you had expected Pedro to suggest—maybe a lazy stroll through the city, or coffee at some tucked-away café—but the moment you stepped outside, you realized you had severely underestimated him.  

For one, he had somehow procured a car.  

Not just any car. A sleek, inconspicuous black SUV, complete with a driver who nodded at Pedro like they had some unspoken understanding.  

You frowned, pausing just before getting in. “Please tell me you didn’t hire security just to take me out for the day.”  

Pedro smirked, holding the door open for you. “Relax. It’s just a favor. No secret service level drama.”  

You eyed him suspiciously. “You swear?”  

“Would I lie to you?”  

You didn’t dignify that with a response.  

With a dramatic sigh, you climbed into the passenger seat, and Pedro followed suit, settling in beside you with a satisfied grin.  

“See?” he said as the car pulled away from the hotel. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”  

You shot him a flat look. “I already regret this.”  

Pedro just laughed, tapping his fingers idly against his knee.  

The city stretched out beyond the tinted windows, a blur of old brick buildings, cafés with tiny outdoor tables, and the occasional group of tourists wrapped up in their own adventures.  

For a moment, you let yourself relax, head resting back against the seat, the steady hum of the car filling the silence.  

And then—  

“Are you actually going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, side-eyeing him.  

Pedro hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nah. I like watching you squirm.”  

You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically. “I hate you.”  

“No, you don’t.”  

You turned your head, finding him already watching you, something fond and unreadable flickering behind his glasses.  

Your breath caught in your throat.  

The car hit a stoplight, and he looked away, tapping something into his phone.  

Okay. Fine.  

You could pretend that didn’t just happen.  

The drive continued, weaving through the city until you eventually started to recognize where you were heading.  

Your brows furrowed.  

“Wait a minute—"  

“Surprise,” Pedro said, grinning as the car finally rolled to a stop in front of what was, unmistakably, a bookstore.  

Not just any bookstore.  

One you had mentioned in passing about a few days ago, while sitting with him and a few others on set, talking about places you’d love to visit while in London.  

You turned to him, mouth slightly open. “You remembered?”  

Pedro gave you a look, like the idea of him not remembering was ridiculous.  

“Of course I did,” he said simply, pushing open his door. “Now, are you gonna sit there looking at me like I just grew a second head, or are we actually going in?”  

You scrambled out of the car before he could make another joke, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest.  

Inside, the scent of old paper and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a hug. The place was small but full—every wall lined with shelves, tables stacked with books, mismatched chairs tucked into cozy corners.  

It was perfect.  

Pedro hovered near the entrance, watching your expression, clearly pleased with himself.  

You turned, crossing your arms. “Alright, Pascal. What’s the catch?”  

He smirked. “No catch.”  

You narrowed your eyes.  

He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I might have selfish reasons for bringing you here.”  

You raised an eyebrow. “Which are?”  

Pedro stepped closer, tilting his head. “You’re a pain in the ass when you’re stressed.”  

Your jaw dropped.  

“Excuse me?”  

He laughed, reaching out and flicking the end of your sleeve. “You needed a break. And I—” He paused, eyes softening. “I like seeing you happy.”  

The words were simple.  

Too simple.  

And yet, they settled deep in your chest, curling around something you weren’t ready to name.  

You swallowed, looking away, focusing on the nearest bookshelf like it held all the answers.  

Pedro let the silence stretch for a beat, then nudged you gently.  

“Go on,” he murmured. “Pick something.”  

So you did.

LONDON BOOKSHOP — EARLY AFTERNOON  

You took your time browsing.  

Partly because you wanted to, and partly because Pedro made himself comfortable, dropping into one of the armchairs in the corner like he had all the time in the world.  

He did this thing where he pretended not to be watching you. Flipping through a book, glasses sliding down his nose, but every so often—you caught him. The flicker of his gaze, the tiny smirk when you pulled a book off the shelf and examined the cover with interest.  

It made your skin warm.  

It was still so bizarre—this thing between you two.  

You were still wrapping your head around it, still trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t some overactive, sleep-deprived hallucination.  

Because this was Pedro Pascal.  

And Pedro Pascal had somehow taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay, taking you out on bookstore adventures and—  

Oh god, were you on a date?  

Your heart jumped at the realization, nearly making you fumble the book in your hands.  

No. Not a date.  

Just… Pedro being Pedro.  

Right?  

You exhaled slowly, trying to refocus.  

The book in your hands was a worn, well-loved copy of a classic romance novel. The pages were slightly yellowed, the cover soft with age.  

“That one, huh?”  

You startled slightly, looking up to see Pedro watching you from his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest.  

You shrugged, running your fingers along the spine. “I’ve been meaning to read it.”  

Pedro hummed, tilting his head. “You always do that.”  

You blinked. “Do what?”  

He nodded toward the book in your hands. “That thing. Where you rub the cover before you decide.”  

You froze, caught. “…I do not.”  

Pedro’s grin was entirely too smug. “Oh, you do.”  

You felt warmth creep up your neck. “You’ve been watching me pick books?”  

He lifted a shoulder, like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re cute when you’re indecisive.”  

Your stomach flipped.  

You opened your mouth—only to immediately close it again, because what the fuck were you supposed to say to that?  

Pedro’s grin widened like he knew exactly what he was doing.  

Your fingers curled around the book, gripping it like it could somehow ground you.  

“I—” You cleared your throat, forcing a glare. “I hate you.”  

Pedro just laughed, leaning back in his chair. “No, you don’t.”  

You turned away, cheeks burning, pointedly walking toward the register before he could see how flustered you were.  

The woman behind the counter smiled as she rang up your book, eyes flicking toward Pedro lounging in the corner.  

“That your boyfriend?” she asked casually.  

You nearly choked.  

“What? No. No, no. He’s just—” You gestured vaguely. “Pedro.”  

She just smiled knowingly. “Right.”  

You hurriedly paid, ignoring the way Pedro was definitely smirking behind you, and grabbed the small paper bag with your book inside.  

When you turned, he was already standing, adjusting his glasses. “Ready?”  

You exhaled, nodding.  

As the two of you stepped outside, the chilly afternoon air hit your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bookshop.  

Pedro slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing over. “Lunch?”  

You hesitated. “I don’t know… what if people see us?”  

Pedro just shrugged. “So what?”  

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just— I don’t want people to think—”  

“That you’re hanging out with me?” Pedro finished, raising an eyebrow.  

You let out a breath, rubbing at your temple. “I just don’t want to be weird about it.”  

Pedro was quiet for a beat, then nudged your arm gently. “Hey.”  

You looked up.  

“Let them think whatever they want,” he said, voice softer now. “You’re allowed to exist in public with me, y’know.”  

Your chest ached in a way you weren’t expecting.  

He made it sound so simple.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro grinned. “Good. Now let’s go find some obscenely overpriced pasta.”  

You huffed a laugh, letting him lead the way.

LONDON — AFTERNOON

The restaurant Pedro picked was one of those effortlessly stylish little spots tucked away on a side street, the kind of place with warm lighting, fresh flowers on every table, and a menu written in looping script on a chalkboard.

It smelled like olive oil and fresh bread, like garlic sizzling in butter.

“Obscenely overpriced pasta,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the menu. “You weren’t kidding.”

Pedro chuckled, tilting his head toward you. “Hey, if we’re gonna be reckless, we might as well do it with carbs.”

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t argue.

The two of you had been seated near the window, the view outside hazy with the gray of the London afternoon. Pedro sat opposite you, cap low, glasses on, but even that didn’t do much to disguise him.

It was still him.

Still warm brown eyes and laughter lines, still easy charm and a quiet steadiness that made you feel safer than you probably should.

The restaurant hummed with soft conversation, the gentle clinking of glasses and silverware blending with the distant notes of some old jazz song playing overhead. The air smelled rich—garlic and butter, fresh herbs and warm bread—and for the first time in what felt like days, you felt… light.  

You weren’t thinking about work. Or her.  

Just Pedro. Just this.  

He was leaning back in his chair now, one arm draped over the backrest, fingers idly tracing the rim of his water glass. His cap was still low over his forehead, glasses perched on his nose, but his expression was open, relaxed—like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like the two of you having lunch together was something that had always made sense.  

And maybe it did.  

"So," Pedro said, tearing off a piece of bread from the basket between you. "Tell me something about you that I don’t know yet."  

You huffed a small laugh, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw. "That’s a pretty broad request."  

He shrugged. "Alright, let’s narrow it down. What was little you like?"  

You blinked at him. "Little me?"  

"Yeah." He popped a piece of bread into his mouth. "Like, what were you like as a kid? Were you the quiet, shy one, or were you running around causing problems?"  

You scoffed. "I am the quiet, shy one."  

Pedro gave you a look. "I know you. You’ve got a little chaos in you somewhere."  

You bit back a smile. "Fine. Maybe a little."  

Pedro grinned, leaning in like he was settling in for a story. "Alright, spill."  

You thought for a moment, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. "I was kind of… scrappy, I guess? Like, I wasn’t looking for trouble, but I wouldn’t not fight a kid if they deserved it."  

Pedro nearly choked on his water. "What?"  

Your face heated. "Not like that! I just—I had a strong sense of justice, okay?"  

Pedro wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming with amusement. "So what I’m hearing is that you’ve always been ready to throw hands."  

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. "I shouldn’t have told you that."  

Pedro was grinning so hard. "No, no, I love it. I love picturing little you, all tiny and righteous, just out there laying down the law."  

You peeked at him through your fingers. "It wasn’t that dramatic."  

"Mm-hmm," he said, clearly not convinced.  

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. "Okay, your turn, big shot. What was little Pedro like?"  

His smirk softened into something more nostalgic. "Oh, I was a menace," he admitted.  

You snorted. "Of course you were."  

"I mean, not in a bad way," he amended, breaking off another piece of bread. "I was just… all over the place. Loud, always moving, always talking. My parents were exhausted."  

You smiled. "Sounds like you were a handful."  

"Oh, completely." He took a sip of his drink, glancing at you over the rim. "I grew up in a house that was always full, always noisy. Family coming in and out all the time, music playing, food cooking. I never really knew what quiet was until I got older."  

There was something warm in his voice, something fond in the way he spoke about home.  

"That sounds… nice," you murmured.  

Pedro tilted his head slightly, studying you. "What about you? What was home like?"  

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. "Not like that."  

His brows drew together, but he didn’t push.  

You exhaled softly, running your finger over the condensation on your glass. "I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything. It was just… quieter. A little lonelier."  

Pedro didn’t say anything, just waited.  

You bit your lip, giving a small shrug. "I guess I always felt like I had to work a little harder to fit in. To matter."  

Pedro’s gaze softened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

You cleared your throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, that got depressing—"  

"Hey." His voice was quiet but firm.  

You glanced up.  

Pedro was watching you with something steady, something real in his expression. "You don’t have to apologize for being honest."  

Your stomach flipped.  

You nodded, a little too quickly. "Right. Yeah."  

Pedro gave you a small smile, then nudged your foot under the table. "For what it’s worth," he said lightly, "I think you’re pretty great."  

Your throat felt tight. "Yeah?"  

"Yeah." His smile widened. "Even if you did used to fight kids."  

You groaned. "Oh my god."  

Pedro laughed, and the sound was so warm, so easy, that you couldn’t help but laugh with him.  

And just like that, whatever tension had settled between you melted away, leaving nothing but warmth in its place.

The street was buzzing softly with life when you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun spilling golden light over everything. You hadn’t even fully processed where Pedro was leading you when he suddenly tugged on your wrist and gestured toward a tiny, vintage photo booth tucked just outside the café. Its paint was chipped, its curtain a little worn, but it had the kind of charm that begged you to step inside.  

“C’mon,” Pedro said with a mischievous grin, already pulling you toward it.  

“What? No!” You laughed, glancing around like someone might catch you doing something scandalous. “Pedro, this is so cheesy!”  

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed by your protests. “Cheesy is good. Plus, you owe me for making me think you were a goner this morning.” He gave you a dramatic, pleading look. “One strip of photos. For my emotional recovery.”  

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Fine. One. And only because I feel bad for you.”  

The booth’s tiny space forced you closer together than you expected. Pedro leaned in to fiddle with the ancient machine, his arm brushing against yours. You tried not to think too hard about how warm he was, or how his cologne smelled faintly like cedar and something else you couldn’t quite place.  

“Okay, ready?” Pedro asked, his finger hovering over the button.  

“Wait! What do we—what pose are we doing?”  

He grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”  

The camera counted down—three, two, one.  

The first flash caught you both off guard, faces blank with surprise. You burst into laughter, the kind that made your shoulders shake, and Pedro quickly leaned in for another shot.  

“Okay, okay, serious face,” he instructed, eyes narrowing comically.  

You tried, but the second the flash went off, you broke into giggles again, and Pedro lost it right along with you.  

The third shot was a blur of laughter, your head tipped back, Pedro’s grin wide and unguarded.  

Then, right as the camera beeped for the final shot, Pedro turned toward you.  

You barely had time to register the movement before his lips brushed your cheek, soft and quick but undeniably there.  

The flash went off.  

You froze, eyes wide as you turned to look at him. Pedro’s face mirrored yours for a second—caught somewhere between Did I really just do that? and Yeah, I did. But then, the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish grin.  

The photo strip slid out of the machine, and you grabbed it, holding it up between you. There it was: the first three frames filled with laughter and goofy poses, and the last… the last one where his lips were pressed against your cheek, your eyes wide, his soft and warm, both of you caught mid-smile.  

Your heart fluttered—nervous, exhilarated, but… not scared. Not even a little.  

“You kissed me,” you said, voice soft but teasing.  

Pedro rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look thoughtful. “Hmm. Did I? Feels like that might’ve been you kissing me.”  

You gasped, smacking his arm with the photo strip. “Liar!”  

He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s open to interpretation.”  

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, “here you are. Stuck in a photo booth with me.”  

The air between you shifted then—lighter, but also charged with something else. Something that felt like the beginning of a question neither of you was quite ready to ask.  

For a beat, neither of you moved.  

Then Pedro tapped the photo strip with his finger, breaking the moment. “Well, at least we’ve got proof of how good we look together.”  

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Shut up.”  

“Never,” he replied, already holding out his phone. “Now, do we post this on the internet, or do we keep it as blackmail material for later?”  

You grabbed the photo strip, slipping it into your pocket. “Neither. This one’s ours.”  

Pedro raised his hands in surrender, but the smile on his face told you he didn’t mind one bit.

The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange as the sun began its slow descent. Pedro slipped his phone back into his pocket after calling the driver, glancing at you with a small smile. “We’ve got about ten minutes. Wanna walk a little?”  

You nodded, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs. The streets were alive with a gentle hum—tourists taking photos, locals going about their day, the occasional street performer filling the air with music.  

The city felt like a movie set, every streetlamp and cobblestone path perfectly placed. And in this fleeting moment, it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you, as if the streetlights themselves pointed in an arrowhead, leading you home.  

Pedro noticed the slight chill in the air and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Can’t have you catching a cold,” he said, his voice light but warm with care.  

The jacket smelled like him—faint cologne mixed with something warm and earthy, something Pedro. You tugged it around yourself a little tighter, feeling its weight settle comfortably over your frame.  

A surge of boldness swept over you, the kind you usually talked yourself out of but didn’t this time. You stepped closer, looping your arm around his. His body radiated warmth, steady and solid beneath your touch. Slowly, your fingers found his hand, intertwining with his.  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. His hand squeezed yours gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soft, absentminded rhythm. It was such an easy, natural thing for him, this casual intimacy that felt so rare and comforting.  

You’d learned over the past few days that touch was part of his love language. He was the kind of man who hugged with his whole body, the kind whose touch always felt intentional and grounding, never forced or fleeting.  

Your heart thudded a little harder in your chest. You told yourself it was just from the walk.  

You squeezed his arm lightly, smiling up at him. “Thanks for today, Pedro.”  

He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and crinkling at the edges, those familiar laughter lines making an appearance. “For what?”  

“For everything,” you said softly, almost shy. “For making me laugh. For breakfast. For not running away when I woke up looking like a crypt keeper.”  

Pedro chuckled, his grip on your hand tightening for a brief second. “You looked adorable. Not a crypt keeper—more like… a sleepy little gremlin.”  

You gasped, mock-offended, and smacked his arm with your free hand. “Gremlin? You’re lucky I don’t let go of your hand right now.”  

He grinned, that mischievous spark in his eyes you were quickly becoming fond of. “You wouldn’t. You like me too much.”  

You couldn’t argue with that.  

The streetlamps flickered on as the daylight dimmed, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets. You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. The city hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the steady warmth of Pedro’s hand in yours, the easy rhythm of your steps together, the way everything felt just a little softer, a little brighter with him by your side.  

“You’re really something, you know that?” Pedro said suddenly, his voice quieter now, thoughtful.  

You glanced at him, your breath hitching slightly. “Something good, I hope.”  

Pedro stopped walking for a second, turning toward you. His eyes searched yours, serious now. “The best kind of something.”  

Your chest tightened at the weight of his words, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in your stomach. You tried to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.  

“Well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “right back at you, Pedro.”  

He smiled, that same soft, unguarded smile that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world he was looking at.  

The driver pulled up a few moments later, headlights cutting through the soft twilight. Pedro opened the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slid into the car.  

As the car pulled away, you leaned back into the seat, Pedro’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders, his warmth lingering like a secret you weren’t quite ready to give up.  

And maybe, just maybe, neither was he.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The glow of golden hour had dimmed into soft dusk by the time you returned to Chiltern Firehouse. The lobby was warm and buzzing with quiet energy—guests sipping cocktails, a crackling fireplace, and staff moving seamlessly through the space. Pedro walked beside you, his hand resting gently at the small of your back like it had been there all along.  

You didn’t want the day to end just yet. There was something about the way the air felt, a little lighter, like it had been charged with something electric and unspoken.  

As you approached the front desk, one of the hotel managers, a polished woman in a tailored suit, stepped forward with a warm smile, followed closely by Franklin Latt—Pedro’s manager.  

“Good evening,” the hotel manager greeted. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay. I wanted to let you know that your room is now ready, miss.”  

Your breath hitched for a split second.  

Right. The room.  

It was easy to forget after the last few days, the way you’d fallen into such a natural rhythm with Pedro. Sharing his suite had felt so… effortless. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift.  

“Oh,” you said, your voice soft, almost reluctant. “Right. That was, uh… this week.”  

You glanced at Pedro, and for a fleeting moment, something passed between you—a flicker of disappointment mirrored in his eyes.  

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “Okay, um… I guess I need to pack, then.”  

The hotel manager smiled politely. “The room is ready for you whenever you’re ready to move, miss.”  

Pedro opened his mouth before you could respond, a little too quickly. “Actually, do you think she could switch tomorrow? It’s been a long day, and she still needs to pack her things. We’re both pretty wiped out.”  

His voice was casual, but there was an edge of determination that made you glance up at him, your heart fluttering at how easily he’d jumped in for you.  

The hotel manager hesitated but nodded. “Of course. If you’d prefer to transfer tomorrow, that can be arranged.”  

Franklin, however, raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Pedro. His eyes caught on Pedro’s jacket draped around your shoulders, the sleeves too long for you, the fabric worn in all the right places.  

Your face heated up as you tugged the jacket a little tighter around yourself, hoping it would hide the rush of color in your cheeks.  

Franklin crossed his arms, his expression somewhere between amused and suspicious. “Tired, huh?” he said, his tone light but pointed. “You sure that’s the only reason?”  

Pedro shot him a look, his brow arching in silent warning. “Relax, Frank. We’ve been out all day, walking around the city. She’s exhausted.”  

Franklin chuckled, clearly not buying it but deciding to let it go—for now. “Right. Well, don’t let me keep you.”  

The hotel manager nodded again. “Just let us know when you’re ready to move rooms. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”  

She and Franklin walked off, leaving you and Pedro standing in the middle of the lobby, the hum of quiet conversations around you. For a second, neither of you spoke.  

Pedro scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “So… I guess you’re stuck with me for one more night.”  

You tried to laugh, but it came out softer than you intended. “Guess so.”  

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside together. The air between you felt charged again, like earlier, but now tinged with something deeper—something fragile and new.  

Pedro leaned against the wall of the elevator, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “If I’m being honest, I’m kinda glad you’re not leaving just yet.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Oh yeah? Afraid of being lonely?”  

He chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to having you around.”  

The words settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t sure you were ready to unpack. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything in return, so you just smiled, a little shy, a little flustered.  

When the elevator dinged, Pedro followed you out, his hand resting lightly on your back again as you made your way to the suite. It was such a small thing, but it grounded you in ways you hadn’t expected.

Maybe you’d sort through those feelings tomorrow, when the lines between friendship and something more didn’t feel so blurred.  

But tonight?  

“One last movie night?” you asked softly as you swiped the keycard, pushing the door open. You glanced over your shoulder at Pedro, an almost shy smile playing on your lips.  

Pedro’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, stepping in behind you. “It doesn’t have to be the last one,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “We can have as many movie nights as you want.”  

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you weren’t sure he meant to put there. Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten in the best way possible.  

You kicked off your shoes, trying to shake off the flutter in your stomach, and headed for the couch. Pedro shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, moving to grab a couple of waters from the kitchenette.  

“Okay,” you said, settling into the couch cushions, pulling a blanket over your lap. “But I’m picking the movie this time.”  

Pedro handed you a bottle of water and plopped down beside you, close enough that his knee bumped yours. “Deal. What are we watching?”  

You tapped your chin dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. “Something light. No brooding detectives or tragic endings.”  

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Are you saying my movie choices are too intense?”  

“Not too intense,” you teased, opening the streaming app. “But I’m in the mood for something that won’t make me question the meaning of life.”  

Pedro leaned back, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind you. His fingers brushed your shoulder, barely there, but it sent a spark down your spine anyway. “Fair enough. Surprise me.”  

You clicked on a romantic comedy and settled in, trying to focus on the movie and not the warmth of Pedro beside you. But it was hard to ignore—the way his thigh pressed gently against yours, the sound of his soft chuckle whenever something funny happened on screen, the way he stole glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.  

About halfway through the movie, you felt your head naturally tilt toward his shoulder. You hesitated for a second, nerves twisting in your chest. But then Pedro shifted ever so slightly, making it easier, like he was inviting you to stay.  

“You comfortable?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

“Yeah,” you said softly, your cheek resting against him. “You make a pretty good pillow.”  

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your ear. “I try.”  

Neither of you moved after that, the movie fading into the background. The world outside the suite felt far away, like it didn’t matter. Not right now. Not with him.  

Maybe you’d unpack those feelings tomorrow.  

But tonight?  

Tonight, you let yourself fall a little further. 

End Notes:

This was one of the chapters I was dreading to write. Not cause I didn’t want to write it—

Cause I knew, from a writer’s perspective, at some point, I had to subvert the expectation of, “They’ll be roommates the entire time and fall in love.”

And yes, I did the thing where I gave you something you wanted/something good and then took it away from you LMAO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean… at least you get your own room now! So that counts for something— (please don’t show up at my house aHHHH)

Also, five chapters in, I had to give ya'll a little smooch... just a little... hehe

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta

[stardustrebels]

A Heart Like That- A Joel Miller x f!reader one shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E/ 18+ MDNI WC: 2.7k

Summary: I really wanted to write a Joel Miller Valentine’s Day story, but couldn’t decide between naughty or nice so I wrote both.

Tags: No Outbreak!AU, established relationship, Joel Miller x f!reader, unprotected PIV, oral sex (f receiving) pet names (darlin’, sugar, baby) soft!Joel for days, fluff & gentle sex. A little bit of worship, a whole lot of care. Minimal descriptions of reader, no use of y/n. 

A/N: A little Valentine’s story with a very tired, very soft and very domesticated Joel Miller. PWP but make it sweet. If love isn’t like this, I don’t want it, tbh. 2/2 of my Joel Miller Valentine’s day naughty & nice one shots. Enjoy! 

You could say that you had gotten used to it- the way Joel Miller loved you- but that would be a lie. 

He was a man of few words, but you didn’t need to hear many. His care for you shone through in his actions; in little gestures that you were sure would have fallen by the wayside the longer you dated him, but after nearly a year together they hadn’t. 

He would leave your clothes on the heater for you on cold mornings and set up the coffee machine so that all you had to do was turn it on when you woke up. He kept a mental list of things that you liked, or mentioned in passing; your favourite seasonal flowers, what type of snacks you preferred, books you wanted to read, places you wanted to go. He would surprise you with little trinkets he’d found in your favourite colour, or candles for his place in scents that you loved to make you feel more at home there. He always rested a steadying hand on the small of your back when you walked together and hold you close when you climbed in to bed with him after a long day, lulling you to sleep with kind words whispered in to your hair. He would sometimes wake you in the fresh hours of dawn before he left for work, murmuring those same things into the soft skin of your thigh as he pleasured you with a devotion that you had previously never known.

“I gotta treat my girl right” was all he would say with a shrug and a coy smile whenever you brought it up.

You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, of course. You both knew that. You had for years before you’d welcomed him in to your life. It was one of the first things that made him fall for you, your independence, but Joel revelled in making life just a little bit easier for you, even when it made things more difficult for himself. 

So today, you decided that you wanted to make things easy for him. You weren’t the overly domestic type, but he’d had a long week and you wanted to do something nice. You left work early and stopped by the grocery store on your way to his place to pick up a cute Valentine’s day card and the ingredients to make dinner for him.

You started on dinner as soon as you made it to Joel’s and changed in to some comfy clothes as soon as it was in the oven. The sight of your clothes nestled in against his in the dresser made your heart swoop. You tidied round a little, set the table and set one of Joel’s prized vintage records on the turntable as you waited for him to get home. 

You called a hello over the music when you heard the front door close, and he appeared in the threshold of the kitchen with a bouquet of pink roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. His face broke in to a wide smile when he saw you, but it wasn’t quite enough to cover the weariness that sat heavy on his features. 

“Hey, baby,” he said, leaning in to kiss you when you padded over to him. “Didn’t think you’d beat me here. Wanted to surprise you with these.” 

“Left work early,” you said, accepting the flowers with a smile as he set the wine on the counter. “These are so gorgeous, Joel. Thank you.” 

“Gorgeous flowers for my gorgeous lady,” he murmured, winking at you. You beamed up at him before moving to put the flowers in some water.

“Smells good in here,” Joel said, shrugging off his jacket.

“Made us dinner,” you explained, reaching up to the cupboard for some wine glasses. “It’s pretty much ready, I think.”

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart, we coulda just ordered takeout or somethin’,” Joel said, watching you fondly. 

You shrugged and gestured for him to sit, before turning your attention to the dish in the oven. 

“I wanted to do something nice- you do nice things for me all the time.” 

Joel shifted awkwardly where he stood and flexed his hands against the back of the chair, but kept his eyes fixed on you. You missed the expression that crossed his face. “That’s different,” 

You turned to him with a hand on your hip. “It’s really not. Would you just sit down, Miller? Let me take care of you.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, shooting you a lopsided grin before he did as he was told. 

Dinner was nice, and you were overjoyed to spend some time with Joel like this. He looked relaxed. Happy. The music from the record player floated through from the other room as a sweet soundtrack to your meal. Joel was as tactile as he always was, his knee bumping against yours affectionately under the table as he complimented your cooking. You both sat and talked for a long while after the food was finished, and only moved when Joel yawned so widely his hand didn’t even cover it. 

You cleaned up together, despite your assurances that he could get in to bed and leave you to sort out the mess. Joel had refused and started washing up before you could stop him. 

As you dried the last dish, Joel moved to stand behind you, arms caging you in as he peppered kisses to the side of your neck. 

“I really love comin’ home to you, y’know.” He said between kisses. 

“Oh yeah?” You said, leaning in to his chest. 

“Yeah.” He breathed against your ear. 

Your stomach flipped as you turned and leaned back against the counter to get a good look at him. His eyes didn’t meet yours- he looked at the floor and took a steadying breath before he spoke again. 

“I wondered if… if you’d maybe wanna move in here with me?” He murmured, throwing you an awkward, lopsided smile. “Or find someplace new together? I wanna come home to you every night, darlin’.” 

You stared at him, lips parted in surprise. Not because you hadn’t thought about it before. You had. A lot. But you’d never voiced your desires to him, you weren’t sure if he’d felt the same way, and you hadn’t wanted to fuck anything up by asking him. 

Hearing Joel say it, seeing how tense he was, bracing himself for your response, made something bloom deep within your chest. Your silence must have stretched on a little too long- Joel exhaled sharply, and his arms dropped to his side giving you a chance to move away if you wanted to. 

“Look, I don’t wanna rush anythin’,” he said, the words scraping their way out of his throat, rough under the effort of hiding his disappointment. “Just thought since we’ve been doin’ this a while, and I think you like it here. I figured-”

You cupped his face in your hands, gently tracing your thumbs over the scruff on his jaw, and lifted his head to make him look at you. “Joel.”

The look on his face when his eyes finally met yours made it feel like something was squeezing your heart.  

“I’d love to,” you said, smiling up at him so that there was no room for any doubt. 

His breath hitched, a sweet little sound you’d only ever heard him make when you were in bed together. “You would?”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Yeah.”

Relief washed over his face, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you. His hands splayed over your hips, pulling you even closer. Your fingers slid in to the short curls at the nape of his neck, and as you deepened the kiss you felt his shoulders drop as the last of his tension melted away.

The realisation filled you with a sudden yearning. You wanted him to feel it, to understand just how much you wanted this- wanted him. 

You tightened your fingers in his hair and he let out a low moan, his fingers sliding down to squeeze the backs of your thighs. You pulled back just enough to catch your breath and rested your forehead against his. He looked so beautiful; dark eyes blown with desire and his lips swollen from your kisses. 

“Let’s go to bed, handsome,” you said, taking his hand.   

As soon as you’d closed the bedroom door, Joel was on you. He tugged at your clothes, pulling them off with a fervour that suggested he’d suddenly forgotten how tired he was. 

When he’d stripped of everything except your underwear, he sat you down on the edge of the bed and stayed close, kneeling between your parted knees and sliding his hands up your thighs, thumbs pressing gentle circles in to your soft skin. He looked up at you from his spot on the floor with an expression so full of adoration it made your head spin. 

“You gonna let me take care of you now, sugar?” The want in his voice caused it to crack, and you heard the plea laced through the words.

You nodded, unable to find your own voice as your fingers threaded through his hair again, guiding him down to where he longed to be. He trailed soft open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, pulling a contented sigh from you. 

Joel took his time, as he always did when he had you like this. The soft scratch of his beard left a tingling warmth on your skin, and his hands pressed firmly against your legs, holding you open as he nosed against the damp fabric between them, breathing you in like he was savouring something precious. 

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, pressing a kiss over the damp patch before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and dragging them down your legs.

You barely had time to let out a whimper before he was settling between your thighs pressing his tongue against your aching heat. He groaned at the first taste of you, and it vibrated against your clit so deliciously that you had no choice but to fall back on to the bed, your fingers leaving his hair to clutch at the comforter. 

You gasped his name, thighs beginning to tremble in anticipation of his licks. He dragged his tongue over every sensitive spot he knew by heart, fingers digging in to your skin when your hips raised toward his face in a silent request for more. 

It was almost unbearable- when he took you apart like this- when he made you feel like nothing else in the world existed except you and him and the pleasure that shot through you, building with every moment. 

You bucked your hips again and he groaned against you, pressing his face closer to nudge his nose against your clit as he eased two fingers inside you, curling them just right. 

“Fuck- Joel,” you gasped, chest heaving, 

“I got you, darlin’. It’s alright, I got you.” He murmured before moving his tongue to flick right over your clit. 

He knew exactly how to take you apart. At this point, you’d call him an expert at it with no hint of irony, and as always, it wasn’t long before you were clenching down on his fingers, moaning loudly to the heavens as you came. He hummed against you, a sweet satisfied sound, as he coaxed you through the aftershocks. 

“Joel,” you whined, breath catching. 

His movements stilled slowly and then he was moving, pressing one last lingering kiss against your thigh before shifting to stand, pulling off his clothes before sliding up your body. His hands bracketed your face as he hovered above you. His eyes were dark and hazy with want, his lips glistening, his breathing uneven.

“Yeah?” He murmured, head tilted in appreciation as he looked down at you . “Need me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling at him until your lips brushed against his, tasting yourself on him. “Always,” you whispered. 

A groan rumbled from his chest and he pressed his body flush against yours. You could feel his length hot and heavy, pressing in to your hip as you arched up in to him, desperate for him to be inside you. He pulled back just enough to met your gaze, thumb stroking along your cheek. 

And then he was guiding himself to your entrance, sinking in to you with a slow, deliberate thrust, filling you completely. 

“Jesus,” he rasped, voice tight as if he was holding on to his control by a thread. “You feel so good, darlin’.”

You let out a low, breathy moan against his jaw, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him as close as possible. He was so deep, so warm and solid above you, surrounding you, overwhelming every one of your senses. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, tucking it against his shoulder gently as he thrust in to you. He was all around you, all that you could feel and see- overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. 

He started to move, rocking his hips slowly, dragging his cock against the spot inside you that made you weak, that left you unable to do anything except press crescent shapes in to his back with your fingernails. He kept his pace unhurried, murmuring words of praise that you could hardly hear over your building moans of pleasure. When you came again it was blinding; the pleasure wracked through you like a wild thing, twitching and clenching at your insides before it subsided in to a rolling wave of fuzziness, rippling through to your toes like TV static. Joel let out a string of curses at how hard you clenched around him, and only increased the speed of his movements when you let out a couple of whimpers as the residual spasms of your orgasm rolled through you. 

Joel’s breathing grew heavier, his rhythm faltering somewhat as he chased his own release. He let go of the back of your head to press a rough kiss to your temple as his body started to tremble above you. The way you clenched around him, still pulsing with aftershocks, made his jaw go slack, a deep, broken moan spilling from his lips. 

He buried himself deep with a rough, shuddering exhale, body tensing as he came. His face pressed against your neck, breath hot against your skin as he let himself fall apart in you. You could feel the way he softened, how his hold on you turned from something desperate to something grounding, like he needed you there with him more than anything. 

Joel shifted just enough to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your body, slow and careful. He never pulled away too fast, never left you feeling empty. Instead, he cupped your cheek, guiding your mouth in to a kiss that was soft and lingering as he pulled out of you. 

“You okay, baby?” He murmured, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. 

You hummed, nodding sleepily, and he smiled, tracing his thumb along your cheekbone. 

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the side of your face before shifting to pull you against his chest. 

You nestled in as he pulled blankets around you both. He always did that, always made sure that you were warm, safe, cared for. 

His fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns along your back, his breath deep and steady against the top of your head. The quiet stretched between you, comfortable and warm in your post-orgasm bliss. 

“Love you,” you muttered, pressing a soft kiss against his chest.  Joel’s arms tightened around you, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “Love you too, sweetheart.”  His hand found yours beneath the blanket, fingers slotting together with yours in a practised, effortless way. As sleep began to pull you under, you felt it- how deeply he meant it, the depth of your own love for him, and how you didn’t want to spend another day where you didn’t sleep and wake beside him. He was home, and so were you. 

[blastiebabe]

Hiiii I saw you were open for requests and I liked your writing! if you do Bakugo x reader, can you write Bakugo being with a reader that's very soft? Like, they're kind of quiet, level-headed, mostly unphased by his outbursts, is really kind, etc? <3

stupid paperworks taking you away from me

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader hi anon! thank u for submitting and appreciating my works. here is my take on your request, i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it :>>

You are currently sitting on your home office with a lot of paperwork in front of you. Your husband Pro Hero Dynamight's agency has been having a lot of missions lately and it your job to proofread every one of the finished mission papers before sending it to the Hero Public Safety Commission.

The past week has been busy for you and your husband, Katsuki. You see each other every day yet have little time to really spend time together. Still, your husband always makes sure that you are always beside him when he sleeps at night.

Even before your marriage, Katsuki has always been grumpy and easily annoyed about things when he is not having enough rest, and this day might just be one of the days where his bad temper and attitude comes out.

While doing paperworks at your home office, you hear Katsuki coming home. "Love, where are you?"

"In here." You say loud enough for him to hear you through the door. Katsuki comes in wearing collar and tie. The man just got back from the press interview about a villain he apprehended last night.

It was the middle of the day but the both of you are at home, he knew he will be coming home after the interview so yesterday he announced to everyone in his agency that you will be working from home so the two of you can spend the time together, and anyone who disagree with that plan should go straight to hell.

He heads straight at you, lowered himself while waiting for you to look at him and give him his most deserved kiss. "A minute, love." You say as you finish a page of what you were reading.

"Ugh." He grumbled but still not moving from his position as he wait. After reading the current page, you turn it over the next page, place it over your desk and face you husband giving him the kiss he was waiting for.

"You did a great job today as well, my love." You say after the kiss while cupping his cheek.

Katsuki crouched to be able to face you. "Yeah?"

"Mm hmm. You really did; I am so proud of you." You kiss his forehead as you feel a smile forming in his lips.

"That might just be the rest I needed." He says.

You shake your head, "Nah, you need a proper rest. Go clean yourself up and change your clothes."

Katsuki stands straight. "You comin' after me?"

"I'd finish this first then all my time for the rest of the day is yours."

"But—" Katsuki was about to make another deal.

"Go, clean yourself up first." You say sweetly as you stroke the back of his arm softly.

Katsuki glared at you before moving out of the office, muttering words under his breath. You smile about this reaction of his, the Pro Hero sometimes might just be acting like rebellious teenager. You continue your work.

___________

It's already 3 pm, an hour after your husband came home. Just a few papers left, and you'll be done with work. Without raising your head, you feel Katsuki inside the home office, he goes straight to your table, placing a cup of hot coffee above your table and then proceed to sit at the couch. He is currently wearing a plaid pajama and a white shirt.

Katsuki makes himself comfortable on the couch while staring at you. "Thank you." You say without batting an eye on him.

"You're not even looking at me?" Katsuki says obviously offended.

You chuckle. "I just need to finish these so we can spend time together without any problems. Besides, these are for your agency, Pro Hero."

You look at him, smiling. "Thank you, my love."

"Tch, damn paperwork taking you away from me. Am I not worth your attention or what?" He asks.

"Ugh! I feel like you hate me or somethin'." He grumbled again as he is not succeeding on getting your full attention. He goes out of the office stomping his feet.

"Love you!" You shout as he leaves. He did not reply back even though you are sure he heard it. Katsuki is that petty, but you know he is not being unreasonable. He has all the right to demand time and attention from you after a hell of a week working his ass off saving people.

And of course, you want to spend time with him as much he wants to spend time with you. So, the sooner you finish your work, the sooner he can have your full attention. Again, you continue your work.

__________

Finally done with your last paperwork, you head to the kitchen where Katsuki is. You see him wearing his pink apron. His body stiffened as he feels your hands wrapping his waist and your body resting on his back.

"What, you have time for me now?" Katsuki tells you with a sass. Your grip on him tightens as you feel your body recharge holding the man before you.

"Stupid paperworks making you all worked up and tired." Katsuki continues his rants. "Stupid people at the agency giving you that much work when they know you and I are spending today together."

You release your hold of Katsuki as you feel a thirst for water. You head in front of the refrigerator and grab a pitcher of water. Katsuki is almost done with the mapo tofu that he is cooking; he started setting up the table.

You see his eyebrows still meeting and his face still unpleased. "Love..." You call him softly as you grab a glass and drink water.

"What?" He didn't even look at you and continued his outburst. "Stupid employees, tomorrow I'm gonna start firing some incompetent assholes."

You know he will not. You let him say the things he wants to say, you knew he needed to do that whenever he feels strong emotions. Because if he doesn't, he's going to keep it all up alone again and let it bottled inside him, you do not want that happening again.

Years of being in this marriage has made you understand and perfect the way to handle Katsuki's sudden outbursts. He is a man who gets easily worked up and misunderstood by people but at the same time, you know that all these anger inside him roots from his care and compassion for the people he cares about.

Just like in high school when he challenged Izuku on Ground Beta, his anger came from his care and guilt as he blames himself from what happened to All Might. Katsuki is a good man, there is no doubt about that. There are just days when you need to let him feel the negatives, and your job as a wife is to listen and help him remember the positives which has never bothered you anyway.

You sit on your side of the table as he assembles your early dinner. "Love..." You call him again softly. You know he can hear you.

"Katsuki..." You try again, as to get his attention and calm down for a second. You are actually feeling tired from all the paperwork you have been through and just want to spend the day resting with him.

Katsuki looks straight at you and kneels at the side of the dining chair where you were seating. "Shit, Princess, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry." He apologizes completely regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

"Kats-"

"Just shut the fuck up and eat!" Katsuki shouts as he bring a plate in front of you. You are shocked by the tone he used on you. "Shit." He cursed as he was also shocked by himself and what he just told you.

"I... I promise I didn't mean to. I was just- I was- I don't- ugh-" Katsuki stutters through his words obviously overwhelmed by guilt for shouting at you. He runs his hands on his head as he tugs his hair.

You reach for his hands, removed it from his tight hold on his hair, and brings him closer to you as his head rests on your chest, you wrap your hands behind his nape. "Shh, it's okay. I understand, you were frustrated."

He shakes his head in your arms. "No, no, no. Shouting at you is never okay. I'm really sorry, love. I'm sorry." He breaks free from your arms, stands up, grabs a chair and moves it as close as it can be to you.

Katsuki looks at you straight in the eyes. "Princess, never let me speak like that to you ever again." He said, cupping your left cheek with his right hand. "If I ever speak like that to you ever again, you have all the right to smack the shit out of me, okay?"

Suddenly you feel all the sleepless nights and overwork you have done the past week, you let your head fall in Katsuki's shoulder as he catches you in his arms, wrapping his hands at the small of your back.

You nod as you see the genuine concern and love from your husband's eyes.

"You do not deserve to be talked to like that. I'm sorry my princess, I promise I'll be better and make sure that will never happen again."

"You have done a great job this week, my love. I am so proud of you." Katsuki says as one of his hands caress your hair. You feel vulnerable under his touch as he sings compliments into your ear. "You're so capable. You have been working really hard; you deserve rest my love."

Katsuki closes the space in between as his lips met yours. Expressing his apologies, appreciation, and love for you.

You bring your head up, drawing a space between the two of you, enough to look at him in the eyes. "I love you, Katsuki."

Katsuki smiles as your lips parted. When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you, his ears and face red. "What a beautiful wife I have. With a kind and patient heart. Just what did I do to deserve you?" Katsuki asks.

"I've talked to the Commission and asked them to have tomorrow as your day off, they agreed. I also filed for a leave. So tomorrow, my hero, you are all mine."

You see the clear shift of shock to a breath of relief in your husband's face. He needed that, you needed that. After all, your rest can only be found in each other's arms. Katsuki is a good man; he has always been, and he always will be. And to be a wife of a great man like Bakugo Katsuki, aren't you lucky?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ thank u for reading! :>> . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ more of katsuki, here! ♡

[steddieas-shegoes]

slowly, then all at once

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "as he read, i fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once." from the fault in our stars by john green

rated t | 731 words | cw: nightmares | tags: pre-relationship, feelings realization, literal sleeping together, cuddling

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Steve’s nightmares aren’t a secret. The severity of them, along with the frequency, and how shitty he feels after, those are all secrets. Not even Robin quite knows how bad it gets sometimes.

The summer is worse: the memories of the Russians, the way the pool reflects off his window at night, the humidity clinging to his skin reminding him too much of the way dust and ash and mud clings in the Upside Down.

He feels stupid after spring break, that he should even still have traumatic memories when Eddie almost died. But he does. They’re worse now. He isn’t being tortured, Robin isn’t even in these ones. It’s always Eddie.

Eddie bleeding.

Eddie’s broken body.

Eddie not breathing.

Eddie dying.

It’s weird how quickly he took over Steve’s brain, how he went from being someone Steve barely knew from school to being one of his closest friends. Near-death experiences tended to do that, he supposes.

But it’s almost every night, and he rarely gets more than a couple hours of sleep before they hit, so he’s in a constant state of exhaustion these days. It’s not great for all the volunteering he does, and the usual taking the kids where they need to go, and trying to find a new job, and trying to convince Robin he’s fine. The bags under his eyes and the constant slump of his shoulders says everything.

She worries, but she knows he just has to get over the hump.

They all do.

Eddie stays with him late into the night a lot. It’s like he senses that being alone is the catalyst.

He finds excuses, tries to make it seem like he’s the one who doesn’t wanna be alone. Steve appreciates it, but he’s far past the point of feeling any shame for being afraid of being alone.

He doesn’t turn him away, though. Eddie sticks around for hours most nights, well past the point he should. Sometimes they watch movies, sometimes they just turn music on and sit quietly in the living room. Eddie is always moving a little, fingers tapping, leg jiggling, head bobbing. It’s good, though. It’s nice.

And sometimes he lays down in Steve’s bed with him until he falls asleep. He doesn’t touch him, or really do anything more than just exist in the space while Steve closes his eyes and drifts off. He’s always gone when Steve wakes up.

Tonight, he’s got a book open and Steve’s curled up under his blankets. His bones ache from how tired he is, and he wonders if his body will ever get to the point where exhaustion keeps the nightmares away. Steve’s eyes are closed, but he’s not asleep. Not yet.

Eddie’s voice is soft, accents coming through for some characters, colorful inflections describing the scenery. Steve smiles to himself as his eyes start to feel heavy.

It’s nice to be read to. He doesn’t know which book this is, but it sounds like a dream.

Maybe he’ll dream about this instead of bats circling a body he loves.

Oh.

His eyes open and he looks up at Eddie, who doesn’t stop reading, even when Steve knows he can feel his eyes on him. It’s a beautiful thing, to see Eddie so enraptured in a story that he’s probably read before, to see him still putting the effort into giving Steve a show even though Steve was mostly asleep.

He loves him.

Steve loves Eddie.

Not the way he loves Robin, or the kids. Maybe closer to how he loved Nancy, but even that didn’t feel quite like this.

This feels like a later sunset after a long winter, a fresh breath of air after being stuck in the Upside Down, a glass of cold water in the middle of summer.

It’s refreshing, and waves of calm take over his body.

He settles.

He reaches out, places his arm over Eddie’s stomach, curls his fingers into his shirt. He buries his face into Eddie’s side.

Eddie pauses for a moment, just long enough that Steve worries he shouldn’t have done this. But then one arm covers Steve’s body and he continues, voice softer but no less enthusiastic.

Steve closes his eyes and falls into a deep sleep.

When he wakes, it’s calm. There’s no crying or screaming, no thrashing, no fighting.

Eddie’s there, holding Steve against him.

He loves him.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

I See You As You Are - Pt 7

aemond x f!reader 

Series Masterlist

Summary: The first couple of weeks and months following Aelors birth Aemond becomes more protective than you thought possible. You practically have to beg him to sleep. He reluctantly starts to accept the help people are offering the both of you. Life slowly starts to go back to normal as you both fall more in love with Aelor.

Warnings: 18+ soft family moments that made me want to crash out!, aegon appearance again, overprotective aemond, oral(f), fingering, p in v, breeding kink

Authors Note: i will forever spread my sibling agenda sry – idk why this took me so long to write just so many ideas all at once i guess 😵‍💫  but i love this series and im not abandoning her i just get too attached sometimes and don’t want to see it end - also don’t want to rush the writing of this bc i love it too much - me over explaining myself to no one but myself! n e ways enjoy i love u and i love this chap and story

Word Count: 8k 

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It’s been a little over a week since you brought Aelor into this world and Aemond is positive he only sleeps when.. Maybe when he blinks. He needs to be aware of everything that moves inside your shared chambers. If you breathe too heavily he’s next to you. If Aelor coughs he’s hovering over the crib. You look up at his bloodshot eye with pursed lips as he escorts you back to bed. 

“I don’t want you out of bed.” Aemond presses his lips to yours and helps you lay back into your well of pillows. 

“And when pray tell, will me and Aelor be taken off of bed rest, maester Aemond?” he flares his nostrils and pulls your blanket up your body. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever let you two out of these chambers.” his tone is teasing but you both know how truthful his words are. 

“Husband.” you look up at him. 

“Hush.” he shakes his head. “There is nothing you two need outside of these chambers.” you clear your throat. 

“Come lay with me.” you pat his side of the bed. He slowly crawls into the bed and you both turn and look at each other. “Tell me what you’re scared of.” your words soft.

“He’s so little and you’re still so fragile.” you narrow your eyes at him. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want either of you taken from me. Whether it be a misstep on stairs or a sickness. I won’t allow it.” he shakes his head. “I won’t. I can’t. I’ll die without you and our son. I will. I can-

“Aemond,” you cup his cheek. “We are right here. Healthy and safe.” you nod your head. “One more week.” you press your lips to his. 

“One more week?” he mumbles against your lips. 

“You have one more week to prepare to take Aelor and me on a walk throughout the gardens.” you pull back. 

“I’m sorry I’m overbearing.” he whispers. 

“There is no reason to apologize.” you brush his hair back. “Could I make one more request?” he nods, starting to get up. “Lay back down.” you chuckle. “Please go to sleep. I know you haven’t been.” you wipe your thumb under his eye. 

“Do you promise that you’ll both still be here when I wake?” he whispers, pulling you closer to him and curling against you. 

“Yes, Aemond. We will both be right here.” you smooth his hair back as he lets his eye close and finally begin to rest. 

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You wake up and groan as Aemonds side of the bed is empty. You feel for any warmth but it’s cold and you roll over and look at the ceiling. Pushing the blankets off, you get up and walk over to Aelor’s crib and find him curled up next to the egg with his little fingers reaching out towards it. You brush his wisps of hair back before walking over to the table where you’re sure there’s a letter waiting for you. 

~

Wife and my little son,

Please - for my sanity - do not leave these chambers until I return. I won’t be long, I just went to collect some things. 

I’ve promised you a walk today - which I still plan to deliver. 

I thought we could go to the library and we could read as a family. - Yes, I know you said the gardens.

Tonight is the full moon and I had hoped we might wish upon it as a family. - We’d have to go out a little earlier than normal. 

My wish for the moon: Please don’t let my wife hate me for not letting her and Aelor out of our chambers. 

~

You smile and walk the letter over to the side table and place it with your growing collection. You begin to dress for the day and a warmth settles over you when you hear Aelor start to coo. You quickly finish dressing and go scoop him out of his crib, placing kisses across his face. You carry him over to your chaise and curl up with him watching him smile and grab at your fingers. 

You could stay like this all day, with the exception of having Aemond at your side, curled up with your son enjoying the silence and the song of the breeze through the windows. Though you can’t help but smile at the thought of being able to show your perfect son off. You rise with him and bring him over to the wardrobe to dress him for the day. You hear the door open and close before you hear the familiar steps.

“I half expected you both to be gone.” you can see relief wash through him from that not being the case.

“We would never dream of leaving you.” you walk over to him and he places his lips on your forehead before offering the same to Aelor. “And to address your letter we would never hate you, Aemond. We’re content here, with you.” you nod and he reaches down to press his lips to yours.

“How are you both?” you watch as he scans over the both of you.

“We’re very excited for you to take us to the library.” you smile up at him. “And to see his very first full moon.” you smile as Aemond brushes Aelors hair back. 

“May I?” he holds his arms out and your eyes snap up to him.

“Aemond, of course.” you help place Aelor into his arms. 

“He’s so perfect.” he whispers, looking down at him. 

“Even if he threw up on you this morning?” he smiles and waves you off. 

“Your mother is wrong.” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t even call it a spit up.” he traces his finger along his chin. 

“Mm, is that why you changed your jerkin?” you hum walking back to the wardrobe to pick out clothing for Aelor. 

Your heart swells as you hear Aemond silently coo and talk to Aelor and you push around different fabrics. You were secretly happy Aelor ruined his jerkin because you can finally have them match. You chew your lip pulling out the dark green fabric and basking in its softness. You hold it up and look over it smiling at his little buttons.

“It seems as if your mother is going to have us match today.” Aemond chuckles as he spots the green fabric in your hands. 

“You two will look so handsome.” you coo. 

“I thought we agreed that all three of us have to match?” he raises his brow walking over to you with Aelor. “Something about an early grave?” you purse your lips pretending to be lost in thought. 

“I don’t recall.” you shake your head. You lift off Aelor’s current outfit and begin to pull the green over his head. “Oh my Gods,” you look up at Aemond. “Hold him next to you.” you nod quickly. 

“Like this?” he cradles Aelor in one arm and you bring both of your hands to your cheeks. 

“Aemond.” you softly coo. “You both look so handsome.” you push your bottom lip out. “My distinguished little gentlemen.” you walk over to them. “My sweet boys.” you smooth Aelor’s hair before cupping Aemonds cheek. 

“Are you done?” your eyes snap up to him and you can see a hint of a smile. 

“Nowhere near done.” you shake your head. “Let me just adjust some things.” you smile up at him quickly.

You start to adjust Aemonds hair and straighten out his jerkin. Aelor softly fusses when you smooth out his hair more. You move Aemonds arm to have Aelor more centered and push down his outfit from his neck. Aemond watches you with a small smile as you move them about as you please. You finally stand back and admire them both. 

“May we escort you to the library?” he holds out Aelor’s arm to you and your heart melts. 

“I would love nothing more.” you tickle Aelor’s neck before grabbing onto Aemonds other arm. 

Aemond helps escort you down the stairs of your chambers and the second you step out into the hall you stop and look around to see if anything has changed. You have the same guard and the same tapestries adorn the walls all the way down the hall. There's a small buzz of people in the Keep at this early hour and you smile to finally be a part of it once more. You turn and brush Aelors cheek with your fingers before you take Aemonds arm.

The walk to the library is full of whispers to Aelor of his different surroundings. Aemond has kept a calculating eye on everything going on around the three of you. If someone walks too close he’s silently moving you to the otherside of the hall. You chuckle knowing what he’s doing and you pause and look up at him. 

“Don’t you think people will want to see the new prince?” you raise your brow at him.

“We’re going on a walk to the library not a parade through the city.” he says louder than needed as he looks around at prying eyes. “If we stop for one person we will soon have a line.��� you know he's right enough in the matter.

“Then let us go hideaway in the library.” you smile up at him, patting his arm.

He continues to lead you through the halls and when the massive wooden doors come into view a smile spreads across your face. Aemond pulls open the door for you and motions for you to walk towards his section. You watch as servants start to have tea prepared for you and light a couple of candles. You take your normal seat and open your arms for Aemond to place Aelor into.

Aemond pulls your book down from a shelf and takes his seat. When he turns his gaze to the both of you he’s glad he’s sitting because he’s sure his knees would give out. His wife and son, sitting in his chair, in his section. He brings the book to his lap and opens it in search of the last chapter you both left off on. You lean further back in the chair as Aemonds soft voice greets your ears. You begin to rub Aelors back as he starts to curl into your chest with heavy eyes.

“Do you think I’m boring him?” Aemond looks to you with a worried expression.

“No.” you shake your head once. “I think your voice is very soothing. Comforting. He probably feels safe and at ease.” you look down and see Aelor asleep on your chest.

“Should I keep going?” he whispers.

“I would like that and I think Aelor would too.” you nod with a smile.

Aemond continues on with the story in somehow an even softer voice than the one he started with. He pauses after every chapter and asks if you want him to keep going. Aelor eventually wakes and fusses until you place him in Aemonds arms. Aemond brings the book back to his lap and watches as Aelor spreads his hand across the current page. You watch them with a warm expression as Aemond attempts to continue reading. After the next chapter he closes the book and sets it back on the table to give his full attention to Aelor.

“Do you think he’ll enjoy reading as much as we do?” Aemond watches as Aelor grabs at his rings.

“If we keep this up I’m sure he will. Soon he’ll have his own section in the library.” you chuckle. 

“Maybe you’ll take over my section.” Aemond whispers down to your son.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with Aemond reading to the two of you in short spurts. It only took three times of asking if he could walk you three around the Keep until he agreed on the condition that he can turn everyone away who asks to speak with the three of you. He holds you closely and once he sees your eyes start to droop he insists that the three of you return to your chambers for a nap and you had no complaints with that idea.

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The sun has barely passed the horizon and Aemond is trying to herd you and Aelor to the door with whispers that it’s almost Aelor’s bedtime and you should be fast asleep too. You bat his hands away which are immediately back on your waist as you start your descent down the stairs. 

“Aemond, I know how to walk.” you sigh. 

“I would prefer to carry you both.” you turn your head and he stops you on the stairs. “If you don’t pay attention I will.” his tone not joking.You turn your head back and start moving once more. Once you make it to the bottom of the stairs you stop. “What’s wrong?” he steps in front of you. 

“I figured you wouldn’t want me to touch the door. It might be too strenuous.” you purse your lips. 

“You’re right.” you watch his lips twitch up and you flare your nostrils as he turns to reach for the door handle. 

“Aemond Targaryen.” you hiss and his eye snaps back to yours. 

“Yes?” he wraps his hands around your waist. 

“I’m not going to break.” you huff. 

“I’m aware.” he presses his lips to yours in hopes of removing the soft scowl. “Can I not just dote on you? Is it not my job to do everything for you?” he pulls back. 

“There’s a difference between doting and overbearing.” you hum and step past him to open the door and walk through. 

“I’m sorry.” he makes his way to your side quickly. “Please don’t be mad at me.” he whispers and you stop once more. “Please, I’m sorry.” his heart starts to beat faster at the thought of upsetting you. 

“I’m not mad at you.” you look up at him. “Now give me a kiss, offer me your arm, and take us to the gardens to look upon the moon.” you wait expectantly and you watch as a smile spreads across his face.

He presses his lips to yours before placing them on Aelors forehead and holding out his arm for you. He bites his tongue when you start down the main stairs and takes a step closer to you. You glance at him and he is already staring at you, calculating your every step. 

“How are you feeling?” he whispers once the three of you make it to the main hall. 

“Like I’m going to ask the full moon for you to relax.” you turn to him. 

“Do you still love me?” he searches your eyes. 

“My Gods Aemond of course.” you press your hand to his chest. “I love you more than life itself.” you cup his cheek. “I might love you even more if you take us out to the gardens as promised.” you smile up at him. 

“You’re sure you still love me?” he steps closer to you. 

“I’m sure.” your reach up and bring his lips to yours. 

He starts to escort you once again through the main hall and you sigh in relief at the soft breeze that greets you once the three of you make it outside. You smile as you enter the gardens and adjust Aelor so he can look at all of the life growing around you. Aemond stays glued to your side and an arm hovering around you as you walk Aelor up to different flowers. 

“This was the first place your father took me when we met.” Aemond’s heart skips at your words. “We’ve been coming here ever since.” you whisper carrying him deeper into the gardens. “Tonight is very special.” you turn to Aemond as you enter the small courtyard. 

“It’s the full moon.” Aemond leans down and smooths Aelor’s wayward strands. “If you make a wish upon it when it’s full it’ll come true. I’ll make sure of it.” you smile watching Aemond softly talk to him. 

“What your father didn’t tell you is that he’s actually the moon.” Aemonds eye snaps up to you. “He makes sure we have anything and everything we wish for.” you nod. “We’ll wish for you for the next couple of years but soon you’ll be able to do it on your own with us and you can teach your siblings.” your smile widens. “We can make wishes as a family.” you look up to Aemond and see that his eye is glossy. 

“You want to have more?” he whispers. 

“You didn’t think I’d be content with just one?” you tilt your head. 

“How many do you want?” he steps closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“At least two more.” you nod. 

“And at most?” he tilts his head. 

“Four more?” he nods his head quickly. 

“Yes, I would like that.” he rubs circles into your sides sending warmth throughout your body.. “It’s always up to you. I’ll be content with any number of children.” he lets his mind wander to your chambers filled with children running around and giggling. “A family.” 

“Let’s make our wishes before you start crying.” you cup his face. 

“I’m not crying.” he purses his lips. 

“Mhm.” you nod, wiping your thumb under his eye collecting the tear. “I love you so very much.” you whisper up at him. 

“It sounds as if you might cry now.” he watches your cheeks flush. “And I love you more.” he presses his lips to your forehead. “Look up to the moon so I can get you both back into bed.” he tilts your head up to the sky. 

You let your eyes close and Aemond does the same, never letting his hands leave your sides. He smiles when he feels Aelor grab onto his arm and he cracks his eye open and looks down at him. He watches as his face spreads with a smile and he reaches up to Aemond. You open your eyes when you feel Aemond start to scoop Aelor out of your arms. 

“My wish was to hold him and to offer you a dance.” he holds out his free hand. 

“Let us dance on our balcony while he sleeps.” you offer him a warm smile. 

“I would like that.” he nods. “What did you wish for tonight, my beautiful wife?” he hums, pulling you closer. 

“I had wished for us to dance.” you chew your lip. “And for you to let me kiss you until I fall asleep as I once used to do.” 

“Then let me keep you waiting no longer.” he offers you his arm. 

You curl into his side as he leads you three back to your chambers. Aelor quickly falls asleep in his crib allowing Aemond to whisk you out to the balcony. His hands are on your waist instantly as he begins to sway the both of you across the stone. As the breeze begins to cool you a bit too much and Aemond scoops you up and brings you back inside. 

“This is how I would prefer to take you around the Keep.” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours. “Now let me go get your sleep dress so I can give you your kisses.” he sets you on the bed, letting his lips linger on yours longer than necessary.

“Or might you just stay here for a little while?” you mumble against his lips. “Please?” you hold him closer and sigh when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You try to pull him onto the bed with you and he starts to chuckle. 

“This is more than just kisses.” he kisses down to your neck. 

“Please.” you whisper. “Aemond please,” you whine.

“Let’s get you ready for bed.” he smiles as you shudder when he licks up your neck. “I can tell you’re going to fall asleep soon.” he lifts up and chuckles as you try to pull him back. 

You watch him with a pout as he walks over to your wardrobe and pulls out a night dress for you. He stops to check on Aelor before walking back over to you on the bed. He bites his lip looking and you lidded eyes as you fight to stay awake. He helps you undress and brings your wandering hands to his mouth to place kisses against each finger. 

“Go to bed and I’ll kiss you as much as you want when you wake up.” he pulls the covers up to your chin. 

“I’ll stay awake.” you whine. 

“Your eyes are shutting before me.” he smiles. 

“No.” you shake your head and curl against him as he gets into bed. 

“One more kiss.” he nods and you reach up and bring his lips to yours. 

“One more.” you mumble against him. 

“Rest.” he hums and kisses your forehead.

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Over the past couple of weeks Aemond has slowly relaxed and gone back to a regular sleeping schedule. Aelor is happy and healthy, though this doesn’t stop Aemond from darting to his side when he makes a noise. He’s hesitant to think about the egg, let alone even look at it for too long. He wants it to hatch so badly but maybe that’s why it’s not. 

Maybe since he didn’t have an egg his son's egg will never hatch. It could all be his fault. He could be the reason Aelor grows up like him. Picked on and-

“Aemond.” you grab onto his arm. “Staring at the egg isn’t going to make it hatch.” your words soft. 

“Do you think it’s my fault it hasn’t hatched?” he continues to stare down at the colored egg. 

“Not at all. You’ve been quite the doting mother hen to that egg.” he turns to you with a squinted eye. “I joke.” you cup his cheek. “I believe it’s up to the Gods if his egg will hatch. It will be no one’s ‘fault’ if it does not. You are doing everything right.” you look into his eye and nod. 

“So I should keep doting upon the egg?” the corners of his mouth shift up. 

“I had hoped you might dote upon me?” you tilt your head. “I would just like some kisses.” you nibble on your lip. “For now.” he chuckles. 

“I could indulge you in a kiss or two.” he hums, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. 

The moment his lips touch yours it’s as if all of his worry and doubt drift away. He’s never felt more wanted than when you cling against him trying to be as close as possible. How quickly you open your mouth and invite him in eagerly. The small noises you make when he squeezes into your sides and- He’s pulling off of you and turning back to the crib. 

“He probably just moved.” you whine trying to tug him back. 

“It’s happening.” he shakes his head. “There’s a crack. It’s moving. What do we do? Do we take Aelor out? I need-“ he cuts himself off, not ready to say that name after the words ‘I need,’ and looks between you and Aelor. “I’ll be right back.” he’s thudding down the stairs, leaving you to look after him with wide eyes. 

Aemond doesn’t care about the early hour. He just prays he’s sober enough to help. He doesn’t hesitate at the guard as he pushes himself into his brother's chambers. He walks over to his bed and shakes his shoulder. Aegon pushes his hand away and Aemond yanks him harder. 

“Get up.” Aemond hisses. “If you want to be a family, get up. The egg is hatching and I don’t know what to do.” the words taste foreign on his tongue and he watches Aegon's eyes snap open. 

“Alright.” Aegon nods. “Let’s go.” he rises from the bed and so do Aemonds eyebrows. 

“Put something on. My wife and child are there.” he strides over to Aegon's wardrobe. “Quickly.” he snaps, tossing trousers and a tunic. He pulls Aegon out of his chambers and down the hall once he’s clothed. 

“My Gods, slow down.” Aegon groans. “And get me some water.” he looks up at the stairs to your chambers with tired eyes before he starts his climb. 

“You will have nothing if you don’t help.” you hear Aemonds curt tone as he and Aegon make it to the landing. “Did anything happen?” Aemond is back at your side. “Do we take him out of the crib?” he turns back to Aegon. 

“First we relax and tell me where the water is.” Aegon looks around. 

“No.” Aemond shakes his head. “Come check on the egg and my son first.” he glares at Aegon. 

“Aemond, it's just water.” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Aelor is fine.” you nod up at him. 

“Alright.” Aegon groans and walks over to the crib. “What a handsome boy. You did well, brother.” he grins across the crib at Aemond.

“What of the egg?” Aemond presses looking down at Aelor and the egg.

“It’s hatching.” Aegon nods. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

“Should we leave him with the egg?” Aemond looks over to him.

“Yes.” he nods. “Was that enough to merit me a cup of water?” Aegon blinks at Aemond expectantly.

“I suppose.” Aemond nods his head to the table holding the water pitcher and Aegon is next to it shortly after. “So what happens now?” he brings his attention back to Aelor and the cracking egg. 

“You see when an egg cracks, brother,” Aegon walks over to him. “Something usually comes out.” Aemond flares his nostrils at Aegon's tone. 

“I’m aware.” he says through his teeth. You hold on to his arm tighter hoping it’ll offer him some comfort. “Should we call for the keepers?” his tone a fraction smoother. 

“I figured you already called for them.” Aegon raises his brow, sipping on the water. “So you came to me first?” he smiles. “Do not look at me like that. I’ll go call for them.” he waves Aemond off and walks back down the stairs. 

Aemond’s mind is racing as he keeps his eye on the crib. He refuses to believe an actual dragon is hatching mere feet from him. His little son's very own dragon. You look up at Aemond and see his slightly flushed cheeks and reach up to cup his face and slowly turn him towards you. 

“What’s wrong?” you take in his glossy eye. 

“I’m just so happy for our son. For Aelor. He gets his own dragon. His very own.” his voice barely audible. “There’s soon to be too many people here for me to be this emotional.” he shakes his head and you wipe under his eye. 

“Might I have a hug?” you whisper and Aemond grabs your hand from his face and pulls you against him. “I would still like to have my other kisses later.” you whisper and you feel his small chuckle in his chest, thankful for your distracting words.

“I could provide those for you.” he whispers and starts to pull back. 

“The keepers will be here shortly.” Aegon announces as he makes it to the stop of the stairs once more. “Might you both pick different chambers? I already tire of these stairs.” Aegon groans, going to refill his cup of water once more.

“All the more to keep them. If they’ll deter you from barging in then I think they’re perfect.” you look up at Aemond as if you’re telling him to be nice. 

“Maybe you’ll change your mind when you have more children.” Aegon waves him off. “The offer is always there.” his words are followed by a quick knock and the voice of the keepers coming up the stairs.

“Congratulations, my Prince.” the keeper looks to Aemond before walking over to the crib. “A healthy boy. No wonder his egg is hatching already.” the man muses. 

“Should we have taken him out of the crib? Is there something more I should be doing? Would you like some water?” Aemond rapid fires questions at the keeper.

“He is perfectly fine in the crib. There is nothing for us to do besides wait. Though looking at the egg.. Ten minutes maybe.. Maybe more..” the man shrugs and Aemond nods before turning back to you.

“What did he say?” you look up at him. “I also think you sound so very elegant when you speak in that tongue.” you whisper and watch a small flush spread across his cheeks.

“The egg will hatch soon. We just have to wait now.” he turns his attention back down to Aelor and watches as you reach in and smooth his hair.

“Does the dragon stay here with us?” you look up at him. “Am I now raising our boy and his dragon?” your mind races on how you would even go about doing that. 

“Not necessarily.” Aegon comes to Aemonds side. “Of course it’s so tiny now so it’ll spend more time with Aelor here to help strengthen their bond. When it grows and my Gods do they grow fast, it’ll be housed in the pits that you can visit.. If Aemond releases you from these chambers.” he lets out a small giggle. 

“Aegon.” Aemond warns.

“Relax brother,.” Aegon sighs. “The keepers will tell you everything.” he looks up at him.

The three of you watch the egg slowly crack more and you hear Aemond’s inhale as Aelor slowly wakes. His eye widens when Aegon's hand enters the crib and pinches his little cheeks. Aelor lets out a small coo and turns his head towards the egg. You watch with wide eyes as he grabs onto the crack and you feel Aemond stiffen. Aegon grabs onto Aemonds arm and whispers lowly.

“Let him. He’s safe. There are plenty of people here who know what they’re doing.” Aemond looks down at Aegon and where his hand is placed on his arm.

“And you’re one of the people who know what you’re doing?” Aemond scoffs.

“You did come get me first.” he chuckles. 

As Aemond goes to retort there's a more prominent cracking sound. The keepers slowly walk over and soon the crib is surrounded by watching eyes. You grab onto Aemonds arm and lean closer into his side. A short shriek is heard followed by another crack. You watch as Aelor grabs at the egg and pulls a piece of its shell off. You gasp when you see an eye before it disappears once more. 

“Are you nervous?” Aegon whispers.

“Be quiet.” Aemond hisses.

“So you are.” Aemond turns his head and Aegon bites his lips to stifle his laughter. “I’ll be quiet. Don’t kick me out.” he nods back to the egg. 

You and Aemond inhale at the same time when Aelor pushes his little hand into the growing hole. When he pulls it out you see a small tail wrapped around his wrist before it slips back into the egg. You watch as Aelor pushes his hand into the egg once more, slowly scooting towards it. He pulls another piece of the egg off and your eyes widen as the dragon is now blinking up at everyone. Aelor grabs the dragon and brings it to his side. 

“He has a dragon.” Aemond whispers. 

“He does.” Aegon grins. 

“His very own.” you look up at Aemond and squeeze his arm, knowing how emotional this is for him. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond is stepping forward when the keeper grabs for the dragon.

“We must examine him.” the man nods and scoops the dragon out of the crib.

“Will you bathe him as well?” Aemond looks at the mess starting to spread across Aelor’s linens. 

“Of course.” the man nods and turns to the other keepers before walking to the bathing chambers. 

“They’re cleaning the dragon so we can change Aelor’s sheets.” he turns to you. “Let’s go find him a fresh set.” he holds onto your arm as if it’s his lifeline. 

“Then I suppose it’s just me and you left.” Aegon chuckles and scoops Aelor out of the crib. 

Aemond glances at Aegon and Aelor before deciding Aegon probably knows what he’s doing in that sense too. He shakes his head, not quite ready to accept all of Aegon’s help. Aemond helps you pick out a clean pair of sheets and walks back over to the crib to strip it. You grab a change of clothing for Aelor and hand it to Aegon who smiles up at you from the chaise. 

The next couple minutes in your chambers consists of everyone cleaning and preparing to bring Aelor and his dragon back together. Aegon stands once he has Aelor changed and brings him over to the crib. Aemond takes Aelor from his hands and nods once at Aegon who is well aware that is the only thanks he’ll receive. The keepers come back over and place the small dragon in the crib and nod at Aemond to do the same with Aelor. 

“How is the dragon?” Aemond looks across to the keeper.

“He is well.” Aemond smiles. “We will leave you. Someone will return to care for the dragon and remain down the hall to offer the three of you reprieve until he is no longer fit for the Keep. They will help feed him and help instruct you on anything you should need. Your brother also knows a great deal and could offer you his wisdom.” Aemond chokes back a laugh at Aegons ‘wisdom’ and wonders if he’s ever seen it. 

“Thank you.” Aemond nods at the man.

The keeper nods at you and Aegon as well before taking one last look in the crib with a smile spread across his face. The keepers wave before they leave the three of you to look down at the crib. Aegon looks between Aemond and you and smiles before walking over to the table holding the water once more. 

“I will leave you three. I’ll have them house the keeper close by and I’ll have your guard tell you where. Should you both need anything else don’t hesitate to ask. All I ask is a nicer wake up and maybe some water before I’m dragged out of my chambers.” he raises his cup of water before starting towards the stairs. 

“Wait,” Aemond calls out. “Thank you,” he nods when Aegon turns. “Brother.” Aemond groans at the smile that spreads across Aegon's face. 

“Would you like a hug baby brother?” Aemond scoffs. 

“No. Leave us.” Aemond waves him off.

“One day.” Aegon calls over his shoulder as he starts down the stairs. 

You watch as Aemond stares down into Aelors crib with a furrowed brow. He inhales when your hand enters the crib to brush back Aelors hair. You then bring your delicate touch to the dragon's head and he slowly blinks his eyes open. He lets out a small purr before curling back up with your son. 

“I know nothing of raising a dragon.” you turn and whisper up at Aemond.

“You know some from our readings.” he hums. 

“Mm, shall I start to work towards becoming a dragon keeper?” you purse your lips. 

“My wife, you’re perfect at everything so if that is what your heart desires then I have the utmost faith in you.” he pulls you against him. “But the keeper will remain down the hall and if it’s too much we can always just bring the dragon to Aegon and he’ll deal with it.” he brushes your hair back. 

“Speaking of Aegon..” you look up at him with a raised brow. “I see that your relationship with him is improving.” you don’t want to pry but it warms your heart seeing them hopefully start to mend bridges.

“We’ll see.” Aemond starts to lead you back to the bed. “For now I would like to finish offering you the kisses you asked for while our son sleeps with his dragon.” he can’t help the grin on his face at that statement.

“Maybe soon we can have my handmaidens keep Aelor overnight.” he steps back and looks at you with a raised brow.

“Why?” he presses his lips to yours once.

“So I might enjoy my husband for the night.” you pull his lips back down to yours. “I miss you.” you whine against his lips. 

“I rarely leave your side.” he chuckles, helping you lay back on the bed. “And when I do it’s under an hour.” he starts to crawl over you.

“Must I tell you what I miss?” you pout, pulling him down to you.

“Yes.” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me.” he kisses down to your neck enjoying your small breaths. 

“You haven’t filled me in almost two months now.” you whine softly as he starts to suck on your neck. 

“You’re still fragile.” he lets his teeth graze against your skin.

“I’m not.” you grab onto the back of his jerkin. “Please.” you whisper.

“Ask me again in a couple of weeks.” he kisses back up to your pursed lips.

“I won’t break.” you furrow your brows.

“No, but you deserve one. You just brought our child into this world.” he presses his lips to yours.

“Let me bring us another.” it’s taking all of his restraint not to take you at your breathy words.

“Two weeks.” he grabs your wandering hands and places them at your side. “It’ll just be like the lead up to our wedding.” he presses his lips all over your face. “Now let me go check on our son and his dragon before you take advantage of me in my emotional state.” he starts to detach from you.

He chuckles at your soft string of curses as you try to pull him back to you. You rise from the bed and smooth your skirts before returning to his side once more. Your son is curled up with his dragon and looks like a perfect little prince. 

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You’ve been trying to get Aemonds attention for the past two weeks now but he has resisted all of your advances. The amount of sheer slips you’ve had your handmaidens bring in makes it seem like you’re running a pleasure house. You’ve even gone so far as to sleep naked and he simply covers you with the covers and curls into your side. 

Tonight officially marks the two week mark he set. Gods know why he’s making you wait, you’re ready to combust at the thought of him. Aelor is with your handmaidens for the night and his dragon is with the keepers. Your chambers are clean and there are candles spread throughout offering a warm light. You pace around looking for something to do until you hear the door open. You sprint over to your chaise and spread the sheer silk around your body. 

“Mm, what is the occasion?” Aemond is fully aware that it is exactly two weeks since he told you to wait. 

“Aemond,” you whine. “I’m begging at this point.” you go to get on your knees. 

“No, no.” he shakes his head with a smile. “That’s my spot.” he sinks to his knees before you. “I have also been counting down the days, my insatiable wife.” he presses his lips up one of your calves. “Aelor is with your handmaidens for the entire night?” he looks up at you with a dark eye.

“Yes.” you nod quickly.

“Mm,” he continues to kiss up to your thigh, smiling at how you tremble. “And what is it that you want to do tonight?” he looks up at your already heaving chest. 

“Aemond please,” you spread your legs before him, not caring anymore. “Please,” you groan as he starts to kiss your other calf, enjoying your breathy begging. 

He kisses up to your thigh once more and pulls back softly chuckling at your whine. You look down at him with a soft pout until you feel him starting to push your slip up further. He can see you center glistening in the candle light and looks back up to your pleading eyes. He looks across your body and nods knowing you won’t be getting any type of sleep tonight. 

“You are so very beautiful.” you let out a small whimper at his words. Your nails dig into the plush chaise as he licks up your center. He groans at your sweetness and grabs onto your hips to pull you closer. “Please let me know if it’s too much or if it doesn’t feel right.” he looks up at you. 

“Please just-“ you let out a soft cry as he buries his head between your thighs once more. “Yes,” you gasp as his tongue swirls around your bud. 

He rubs circles into your hips as he continues to lap at you listening to your sounds. You slowly roll your hips against his face and he quickens his movements pulling a gasp from you. He groans as he moves his tongue down to your core and finds your pooling wetness. He moves back up to your bud and encases it and sees your stomach flex. 

“Aemond.” you whine, grabbing onto one of his arms. “I’m- I, please,” soft pleas continue to fall from your mouth as he moves his tongue faster. With another cry of his name you fall apart on his face. “Oh,” you jolt as he starts to move his tongue even faster. 

Aemond can’t get enough of your sounds, it’s been far too long. Gods and your taste and the way you’re gripping onto his arm is spurring him on even more. He moves his other arm and circles one of his fingers around your entrance before slowly dipping it inside. Your broken whimpers are all he needs to hear before he starts pumping into you. 

He looks up at you and sees that your slip has shifted and he groans looking at your breasts. Your eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on the pleasure he’s offering you. When he pushes another finger into you, your pleasure begins to build rapidly. You start arching off the chaise when he pushes his fingers into you faster. He smiles as he laps at you and he hears your wetness coating his fingers. 

“Aem, I’m, please yes.” you squeak and pulse around his fingers. 

“Was that good?” he slowly slips his fingers out and sits back, slipping them into his mouth. “You taste very good.” you whimper at his words.

“Take off your clothes. I need you.” you reach for him but he’s already grabbed onto the hem of your slip and is pulling it over your head. 

“Are these still sensitive?” he whispers as he brushes his fingers against your nipples. Your small whimpers tell him everything he needs to know. He rolls the peaks between his fingers and watches you squeeze your legs shut. 

“Aemond please,” you grip his wrists. 

He chuckles and wraps his arms around you and lifts you to carry you to the bed. You pull at his clothes desperately and whine when he lays you back on the bed. You go to stand but stop when you find him removing his layers. At each reveal of his skin you spread your legs wider. Once he’s bare he crawls into bed with you and presses his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him and pull him as close as you can. 

“Fill me.” you plead into his mouth. “Please,” you wrap your legs around his waist. “Fill me, I need it.” Aemond chuckles but lines up at your entrance nonetheless. 

He slowly pushes in and watches your face relax as small moans pour from your mouth. He presses his forehead against yours as he gets lost in your warmth and feel. When he settles within you he brings his lips to yours and slowly starts to rock his hips. You’re squeezing around him tightly and he’s trying to focus on kissing you to truly enjoy the feeling. 

“Move.” you jerk your hips. “Please.” your breath catches as he snaps his hips. 

“Hush.” he presses his lips to yours once more. “Let me just relish in the feel of you, my perfect wife.” he murmurs and kisses down to your neck. “I probably don’t even have to move to make you come undone.” he smirks against your skin as he brings his thumb down to your bud. 

“Yes,” you dig your nails into his back. He nibbles at your neck as he continues to swirl his thumb around your aching bud. “Please,” you hold him tighter. 

“I can feel how close you are.” he whispers into your neck, starting to roll his hips into yours. “Come for me and I’ll start moving.” he stills his hips once more and you let out a strained whimper. Your body is humming with pleasure as you moan out his name repeatedly. 

“Aemond I’m-“ you gasp as your pleasure slams through you. 

“Just like that.” Aemond lifts his head up and starts to pump into you. “You’re so perfect.” he presses his lips to yours. “Already wanting to be swollen with our child again.” his pace quickens at his words. 

“Yes.” you pant trying to nod your head. “Please let me.” you whine feeling your legs start to tremble from pleasure. 

“I’ll keep you filled with children as long as you please.” after every snap of his hips he rolls them into you after. 

“Thank you.” the two words slightly pleasure slurred as he continues with his pace. “Tha- mm-

“Fuck,” he groans as you pulse around him causing his pleasure to slam through him. 

You sigh with a smile as you feel his warmth spread throughout you. He presses his lips to yours as you both slowly rock against each other not quite ready to separate. You both stay sealed together until you both pull back with swollen lips, softly panting. He pulls out of you and watches a small frown form on your face. 

“We’re not done.” he kisses your lips. “I just need some water.” he chuckles before getting out of bed. “Would you like anything?” he glances over his shoulder watching you still spread out in the bed. 

“To be filled again.” he tilts his head back and laughs at your words. 

“In a moment.” he hums and slows his stride enjoying your whining filling your chambers. 

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masterlist  ⏾ wips  ⏾  taglist

sorry this took me so long sometimes i get stuck on scenes and forget i can skip around the chapter and finish other scenes 🫠 

im prob going to continue my sibling agenda and next chap is going to be a time skip of prob like 3yrs UGH i just want these babies up and talking !!! dad aemond is going to send me to my grave so be patient w me plss

also feeling emo so i love u all who love this story with me and if you have any cute little family and/or dad scenes you want me to try and bring to light lmk and ill sneak it in 👉🏻👈🏻  ok ily bye 

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey @thebirdandthebee

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething @naty-sunshine

[moon---fuu]

« Pourtant, je suis juste passionnel, au point d’en perdre sommeil… »

::Shidou Ryusei x fem!reader

« I'm just so passionate, that I lose sleep over it » - Theodora (the song)

Letting his hands have their way on your waist, while you were laying by his side sleeping soundly, your boyfriend rubs your belly. He sighs, trying to find some sleep, spooning you. Like your sleep would, possibly, stir up his.

Well, sleeping, that’s what your were doing before Ryusei, or Ryu as you like to call him, decided to play with your hair. A habit of his, since the beginning of your relationship. He likes smelling your sweet scent, saying he can « feel you better ».

« Sweetheart… » you hear him calling you, his deep raspy voice coming from behind your neck. Your eyes fluttering open, as you yawn and turn to his side to nuzzle into his bare torso. Being the free spirit he is, when it comes to sleeping, he enjoys being shirtless even naked sometimes.

« Yes Ryu’ » you responded, closing your eyes finding comfort in his arms. « Having trouble…hum…sleeping ? » you added.

Your boyfriend, kissed your forehead, his lips curling into a smile afterwards. You knew him so well, that it makes his cells buzz at the sound of your pleasant voice.

« Yeah..you know.. the usual insomnia.. and…hum..just having a lot on my mind lately. » you nodded before oppeing your arms, for him to cuddle you.

You’ve been with him for 2 years now, so his episode of insomnia were not a surprise anymore. And with time, you know how to react accordingly and give him the comfort he needs.

« Come here Ryu’ » he nuzzle into your chest after your words, smiling like a spoiled kid. And in fact with you, he was.

Your chest was his favorite place to be on earth. Being connect, this way, felt so intimate, so vulnerable, that it would make him sensitive. Hearing you heartbeat would soothes him and the little kisses you would leave on his forehead would drive him, first class, into the dreamworld.

Hearing a sigh of relief, you feel him wrapping his arms around your waist, once more. Giving it a little squeeze this time.

« I love you… » he whispered being as vulnerable as possible. This moment was just supporting, combine with understanding, between two lovers who would go through everything together.

His cells where buzzing around, with your voice murmuring sweet words for him. Even with his dopamine getting high, he relaxed into your arms.

For you, Ryusei was just a man who had his style of expressing himself, in a weird way you admit, but very sensitive. He was responsive to anything and everything. So when the end of the day would come, he would be senseless, no stimulation to distract him from his mind. No way to escape, with his usual habits to break the rules. It’s just him, at night, having to deal with his thoughts.

But now, with you, he could be as passionate as possible and you would be here to giving him the best treatment he needed.

❥ I’m just writing what i wanted to read…

::Moon

[the-universal-sun]

little lee waking up from night terrors and ford and fidds comforting him?

Hey guys, sorry it’s been a while, I’ve had my first and therefore worst ever case of writer’s block, but I really wanted to get something out for you guys! I figured making them head canons rather than a cohesive story would help get me past some of the writer’s block. I don’t think this is the best work, but you guys have been waiting long enough! Again, thank you for sticking around with me! Please enjoy reading these head canons as much as I have enjoyed writing them! Please stay safe and warm and healthy!

As always, I am open to helpful comments and critiques on my writing! Sending all my Love!

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-Stan never likes Ford and F to know he gets nightmares. He's not embarrassed, but the old fashioned sentiments and being manly their father drilled into him are still present. Talking about his emotions makes him feel weird. He'll hide that he had a nightmare if they ask him about it, about what he was mumbling in his sleep for, and avoid them for the rest of the day

-When feeling smaller, it's both the same and different. It really depends on what the nightmare was about. If Lee had a nightmare about a scary movie someone (Ford) let him watch or about some of the specimens around the house that someone (Ford) showed him while little, those are the nightmares he'll wake up crying from, getting up and searching for comfort from his caregivers

-He'll go and stumble into Ford's room, clutching Poindexter in a death grip, his crying waking up Fidds who blearily makes his way out of his room and into Ford's, too. Stan will climb into Ford's bed and shake him until he wakes up, crying and sobbing, babbling about "Scawy Monsters" with 12 eyes.

-It takes Ford a while to wake up and comprehend what's happening, Fidds giving his a small slap upside the head, for "showin' Lee those devil creatures" while he was in his headspace. Ford will jump to action, pulling Stan up in his arms and into his lap, frantically trying to console the loud sobs

-It does not work, Lee will hide his head in Ford's neck and sob and rock, his brother just shushing and petting his hair, rocking with him in efforts to calm him down, but failing in his efforts. Ford's still not quite used to understanding the reasonings behind peoples emotions and action, so he kept trying to explain away what Stan had a nightmare about

-It's not until Fidds brushes Lee's hair back and kisses his forehead, softly murmuring "you must have been pretty scared, huh, Pumpkin Pie. Don't worry, we've got ya', we'll protect ya'." and Stan calms down that Ford realizes oh, he just wanted some comfort

-Once Stan has mostly calmed down, hiccupping and clutching Poindexter and Ford's arms, being gently rocked and soothed by both of them, he'll gently clamber out of Ford's lap and sit in between him and Fidds, sniffling and rubbing the tears away from his eyes

-If Lee wasn't sacred and sad, it would've been the cutest sight either of them have ever seen

-They just there for in silence, Lee hiccupping and sniffling, feeling so embarrassed for crying over a stupid nightmare like a stupid baby. Sometimes, he'll get too into his own head, mean and nasty thoughts getting the best of him. Ford and Fidds are quick to notice, crushing him their arms, whispering sweet words in his ears, telling Lee how sweet he is, and how he's so good and smart.

-It doesn't clear up his thoughts all the way, but it does make Lee feel better, a small smile growing behind the pacifier Fidds slipped in his mouth

-When Lee’s all calmed down, he's exhausted, poor little thing is just tuckered out from all the crying, but he's too antsy to go to sleep again; what if he has another nightmare?

-No need to fear, though, Fidds snagged some books before he left his room to console Little Lee. He presents 3 books: Goodnight Moon, Babe, or Mister Magnolia. Lee, of course, chose Goodnight Moon. It's his favorite bed time book and he needed the comfort after such scary nightmares!

-Lee gets settled in Ford's bed, pulling his twins arm over him, clutching Poindexter, and snuggling into Fidds' side, ready to be read to

-Let's be real, he doesn't make it past the second page, he was already exhausted from his nightmare and the crying, all he needed was the comfort of his Sixer and his Fidds to feel comfortable enough to go to sleep

-If the nightmare while Little is about his Pa' or about his decade of homelessness, those are the kind of nightmares that he wakes up from silently, still crying, but in the way someone who's had to learn to be quiet cries, silent hiccups and heavy breathing.

-He muffles his sobs into Poindexter’s fuzzy stomach, holding his breath as long as he can to get his crying under control

-It’s nightmares like these that leave him his most vulnerable, teetering on the edge of being Big or Little; he’s either almost ripped out of his headspace or plunged right into it, depending on his headspace when he went to bed

-Lee won’t go to Ford or Fidds, too scared and upset to leave his bed, he cries and cries, it’s only if either of them check in him that they see their Little Lee crying himself sick

-If that happens, he’s being immediately scooped up and carried to Ford’s bed (it’s the biggest) to be tucked into to his brother’s side and coddles and cuddled until his Big Tears have settle down some

-Ford and Fidds pet and pat him, talking about their latest project over his head, he doesn’t comprehend what they’re saying, but Lee likes hearing their voices and feeling their chests move under him

-When these nightmares happen, Lee doesn’t need a story to lull him to sleep, he’s already exhausted, the warmth and sound of his caregivers easing him enough to slip off, cuddling his Teddy Bear

[jubileesstuff]

Here is my take on the Batfam deaging trope:

Jason gets hit with a magic spell from a new villain that the Justice League is hunting down. He gets deaged 7 years old, a time before he met Bruce. Of course, Bruce is in an instant on Jason's side, the new Witch Villain completely forgotten. Jason is like, 'What am I doing here? Where is my mommy?'. 

Oh, how are they going to explain all this to Jason? Bruce brings a crying and confused Jason to John Constantine and Zatanna; both of them are like, 'Eh, no clue, never saw something like this before.' They try to help Jason, but nothing works. Jason stays this young.

This brings a lot of chaos to the manor.

Jason, who only knows Bruce from TV and newspapers, wants this mother back. Dick is a crying mess because his little brother is now actually a little child and has to grow up again. Damian is annoyed by the crying from Jason (he is also salty that he isn't the youngest anymore, but he will not admit that). Tim sees this as a chance to be a cool older brother; he takes Jason skating and to arcades with Dick. Tim also wants some blackmail material. Duke is like, 'You're telling me this little angel is Red Hood?' Cass, Barbara, and Stephanie are like, 'Aww, look at this little angel.' They're the best older sisters.

Bruce loves it; finally, he can reconnect with his son and give him a better childhood. Alfred is just like, 'Eh, there is weirder stuff going on in this house sometimes.'. He totally spoils Jason.

He starts to feel more at home with the time going by. He starts to call Bruce 'Dad' after 2 months. They again try to find a spell to get Jason back to his normal age. Nothing works.Bruce isn't really mad about that; he loves Baby Jason. Every time Jason has a nightmare, he comes to Bruce and cuddles with him. Sometimes Baby Jason falls asleep on Bruce when he is working in his office. Bruce has so many pictures of Jason sleeping or playing in his office. When Bruce has online meetings, he lets Jason play under his table or on the floor next to him. Most of the time Jason reads books. He talks so much about them.

Jason is such a great child that even Damian plays with him. Jason and Damian start making a comic about books Jason read. Jason tells Damian the story, and Damian draws it for him. Bruce melts from cuteness.A year after the whole incident, Jason turns back to his actual age. He was visiting the zoo with his family, and when he went to the toilet as an (now) 8-year-old, he came back out as a 21/22-year-old. Everybody misses Baby Jason, but no one will admit it. Jason remembers everything that happened. He also misses being a child. He loved it when the others would cuddle with him, when Bruce would hold him when he had a nightmare. He misses the soft attention.

[soteria-sys]

Can't stop thinking about choosing the right fruits. It would, take trail and error to choose those that, teaste exactly like me, right?

I can feel myself getting excited, hearing Her car in the driveway. It's been a few years, and now I'm allowed a full access to the basement, rather just my cage. But I still choose to sleep in it when She's not home

Doors open, light enters the dark room. Her sweet voice calling me upstairs, to the living room. I know better by now, not to try to jump at Her from excitement, as She snaps her fingers at me, into Position 3rd, Waiting, next to the couch. Back to the couch, on my knees, with my hands resting on them, my back forming a nice arch for Her, with my head within Her hand-reach

I could see that, coffee table is covered in different kinds off fruits. The table itself is covered in extra edition of an, old newspaper, that had my missing person poster on it. She used to read me the article about the investigation and my... "family", speaking to the press, before bed. But, by now I've learned it by heart. She sometimes made me recite it, making sure I'll regret making any mistakes afterwards.

I knew what it all meant. She's been open about Her plans. And...and I've finally reached, its final stages. Hearing her excited voice, describe to me different fruits she was trying, letting me try some of the closer ones and, speak my opinion on them. Her hands, moving across my body. I could always feel just how, hungry Her touch was. But today, it was different. Because...because today was different.

I couldn't help myself but to, shed a few tears, with my head in Her lap. I didn't want to go. I wanted to, stay longer with Her. It's been, just eight years. But Her words got these silly ideas out of my head. It wasn't my decision to make, that's for one. For the second. That's why, we just spent all afternoon trying out different fruits. So I can...I can keep on, being in Her life. So She can, still teaste me. I was so happy to bleed more for Her. My body was, already decorated in, all these beautiful gifts She gave me. I was really happy to have gotten more. After all...She. She needed to make sure, to really compare the teastes. right?...

Later in the night, She finally settled on Mutsu apple. She said it, reminded Her of how fresh I still feel. Just how refreshing my presence was. How my cold skin felt on Her tongue. How that, greet, contrasted with my brown eyes, and how much She liked it.

I was allowed to, sleep in Her bed this night. I was, still a bit shaky, but I've stopped protesting at least, few years ago. It was, going to happen, what She said is going to happen. Laying down in Her arms, with my head on Her chest, listening to Her calm breath, listening to Her heartbeat. I couldn't help it but. Smile to myself happy. How, lucky I was, that She choose me, of all people. How lucky I was, to be changed by Her. Drifting to sleep, I was, excited about tomorrow. I know that excitement in Her voice pretty well. And I couldn't. Wait to hear it tomorrow.

I couldn't wait, to server Her again. It was, but my Purpose. I'll never repay Her, for the kindness She has shown me, in changing me. By showing me love. My body was, full of scars, bruises. Proofs of, just how much She cares. Her hands, grabbing tighter onto me, through Her sleep, making me hiss as She squeezed on, one of my fresh bruises. I couldn't really help but smile. Because...

I wouldn't want it, any other way. But the way, She choose for me -Page

[windblume-wishes]

Ooh, the IEP/504 thing is really interesting! I’ve known what an IEP is for ages (always known lots of kids who had accommodations) and I personally strongly suspect/headcanon that Deuce has some sort of learning disability, but I’ve never thought about what an IEP for him might look like before.

Another student I think would probably require accommodations is Silver, due to his sleeping curse. What do you think an IEP for him might look like?

Hello, Dearie!

I’d definitely like to start off by saying thank you for your feedback and enjoying what I thought about Deuce! I’ve been sitting on that idea for a bit and finally thought I’d best share it now than never! Glad I did! Coming from experience, I can strongly say that Deuce would have a learning disability but that’s what is so cool about him, it shows the reality in TWST. This helps students who may feel uncomfortable with their own learning disabilities feel more comfortable and confident as they are seeing a character just like them walking in their shoes. Well done, Disney and Yana!

Without further ado, let’s dive into this!

For Silver, his situation is definitely one not many would come across but that does not mean it doesn’t happen. For starters I’d like to say that what he may require is actually the 504 Plan rather than the IEP, not saying he can’t have an IEP but if he gets one it will be for some small things.

Let’s refresh on what an IEP really is first:

Provides specialized instruction and services to help students access the curriculum

Includes annual goals and progress tracking

Requires a certified special education teacher or IEP case manager

Includes interventions like reading programs or speech therapy

Silver’s situation would technically fall under narcolepsy even if it’s technically a “curse” it still is narcolepsy in that sense so let’s dive into how this would work for him.

For Silver’s Plan:

More time on tests/quizzes. He is a sleepy guy, he needs to have some extra time to complete his work, whether it be within the class period itself or after school he should be given the accommodation to be able to do this.

Copy of the teacher’s notes. Silver is known to drift off in the middle of a lesson and will miss things, if he does he will require a teacher’s copy of the lesson for that day. This will help him complete his assignments and study.

Ability to turn in late work. This will allow him to catch up on his assignments that may be marked “M” or “Missing” in the grade book and may be bringing his grades down. If this accommodation is in place then he can be able to do his homework and turn it in late given his circumstances.

Be allowed to go to the nurse for rest. If needed, Silver should be able to go to the nurse to rest if his condition gets unbearable. If he raises his hand to say he needs to step out and tend to his situation he will be granted rest in the nurses office without question. - 30 minute nap breaks to manage his exhaustion.

Speech therapy. Silver struggles with certain social cues and understanding certain things so this will benefit him in the long run as he will learn to understand what is being said to him.

Be allowed the opportunity to work from his room. Silvers could work from his room at certain times of the day or on specific days to help with his exhaustion, sometimes being in a comfortable place may be helpful for him.

I feel like he would also require these goals for an IEP:

Understanding when to communicate needs to the teacher.

(Silvers seems to have a difficulty with this, he usually falls asleep before he can communicate.)

Understanding when to advocate for himself in classroom settings.

(Silvers definitely struggles with this in the story… so he will need to work on this in speech therapy by working through scenarios with the therapist.)

Nothing too fancy, these were just two I thought of at the top of my head.

Hope this was good, @ladylolalilly ! It really took a lot for me to dig into all of this and go through my notes~

- Windblume

[sir-fenris]

AAAAAAAAA 🥹 I've lived for the day that I would be getting commentaries too. I can die happy. Thank you <33

Sorry for taking so long to answer. I read it before going to sleep and I giggled so much my cheeks hurt, but I was too tired to answer cohesively. And today I was busy pretty much the whole time :'(

But I was able to write this down while preparing and eating my dinner :D

(My responses organization is kinda messy, don't mind it please XD)

It is real and it is happening, I'm glad Cyrus's yearning was clear and that it seemed a strong start :) I went back and forth with SO MANY begginings, I think I wrote and deleted more than 10 completely different starting paragraphs XD.

I might put the rp on the masterpost soon! I wanted to ask you if I could, first. And find a way to organize it in a way I feel is nice to read.

And well... about the gloves, who knows? :) is it because he can use his magic with any skin contact? What I can say is that all handlers do have gloves with technology, but usually, they're are fingerless gloves. Wilson's hands and arms are fully covered.

(I already changed your emoji <3)

Yes, protection barriers makes him nauseous when he goes in, because it's designed exatcly to keep his magic contained in the tent in case he uses it unauthorized, so it gives him a bad feeling. Once Wilson gives him authorization, the barriers are set down. When the authorization is revoked, they come back up. That's one of the many reasons why Wilson has to communicate when he's about to turn the nullification back of the collar.

A lot of safety measures 😃

Well... I wouldn't say he's allowed to actually refuse food. Wilson just sometimes is "merciful" and allows him to take his breakfast after his comedown is done, because usually Cyrus feels sick before getting to work. (If Cyrus... makes a mess, yk, Wilson will have to report and take care of the situation, and that's too troublesome)

And I'm not one for underestimating trope either, but I guess in LW whump it's interesting because adds to the familiar dehumanization and because the LW is actually very powerful and that gets proven.

"ohhh :( he makes me sad I'm definitely gonna read the comfort ask"

My comfort is also whumpy, because I don't wanna spoil Cyrus too much yet, he's still on the whump arc... but I hope you find the hurt/comfort good enough XD.

":( he knelt fast then. man..."

He dropped down on his knees :') Wilson doesn't let him kneel down slowly.

And Wilson whispered the "behave". Rhe others around don't need to hear the weapon being reminded to behave, just know that it will.

About the other gifted. I'll show the sketches of the gloves soon, but you'll see that it does need a metal manipulator, or else it has to be cut off and re-made on his hand every time. It's 100% closed. So that's why they use other gifted to do it.

(Usually metalokinetics are used around for stuff like that, menial tasks. They only go to battlefield if they are strong enough to destroy enemy's weapons and machines.)

"yeah I know </3 man this is a bunch of info I know cause I've already been exposed to bits of this story but for future newcomers this is probably necessary clarification"

That was the hardest part :') I wanted anyone who didn't knew any context to be able to understand the first chapter (though that's really really hard without a beta/proof reader) and the people who did have context to enjoy it anyway, even though it's pretty much a retelling of the drabble a lot of you already read. I was afraid of giving too little information and making it hard to understand, and of giving too much information and making it too dense.

60% of the chaotic editing was because of this. And 50% of the typos is because I kept changing sentences and missing to change a word or to (like making a sentence about one of his hands, then decide it should be both hands, but forget to put one of the words in plural)

Speaking of that, I need to do a typo checking on the chapter asap... already caught 2 yesterday.

"ugh he's so well trained"

His handler is proud to hear that.

I'LL GIVE YOU ALL THE GRASS EVER SWEET LOVELY BOY </3

Own, that's adorable. He'll have grass in recovery, lots of it, don't worry.

(The bar is very low when touching grass is almost an ultimate reward...)

aaaaaaaaa? wilson my beloved he's so cold

"Wilson" and "beloved" in the same sentence is........ something I was not expecting ever. Huh.

ooooooo :D I remember wondering why the art of him showed him with blue lines in his collar when he was a threat level red!!! fascinating :3

😊 when the nullification is on, it stays blue. When he's being shocked, it flashes yellow, and when his magic is free, it turns red. :D safety measures, too.

About the withering description, thank you! I really think it might be too abstract or dense to some people, especially those who don't have any context, but there's really not much I could do. From Cyrus's view, he's not seeing what the magic is actually doing, and this needed to be included on the first chapter.

But I'll try to slide in some description from Wilson's view of his powers in a canon chapter to make it clearer, perhaps make a separate post showing his vision vs what's actually happening, if I can.

And yeah! On the drabble I was really thinking about that song. But on canon, it became more like a curious fact, because I made it so it's from another language. It doesn't have a set lyrics, though the translation would be something akin to the hurt incantation. No one knows what Cyrus's murmuring means, not even him, it's gibberish to them all.

Yeaaah! I'm happy you saw that "Sweet Creature" follows the same line that "Magic Euphoria" drabble. It's pretty much that drabble, but from his perspective, plus a bit more at the beginning and end. This chapter is the truly canon, since when I did the drabble I didn't have the characters in mind, but Cyrus really does say "yes, sir" because his conditioning runs deep. He doesn't say "okay" ever.

(But Wilson is also an unreliable narrator, so you can consider the drabble him remembering Cyrus's words to be more disobedient than it actually was, since he spoke quietly)

(Poor baby, being shocked not even knowing why, loosing his warmth, being remembered as disrespectful even when he wasn't...)

Metallokinetic whumpee is not well :(

"oooo so he has gloves on when not working got it got it. leather! I assume it's to avoid skin to skin contact? or his hands are the most effective conduit and the higher-ups don't want him touching anything with his hands?"

I like the way you're going :)

(Both Cyrus and Wilson have gloves, but Cyrud's is restrictive)

About the den (his cabin) and mattress.... eh, don't get too happy. Remember, unreliable narrator. And this ask is very important.

(Oh, you reminded me that I wanted to put the images of his cabin and capsule on the chapter, thanks, I'll do that later)

"oooo is his collar nullifying it? or the gloves? capsule??? I think it's the collar"

All of the above. Plus the glasses too. Safety measures :)

the euphoria narration thing is. so fucking good man. but why'd he get shocked?? this isn't in the wilson pov chapter 😔

First, thank you <3

Second, it's not defined, it could have been a lot of different things. But my favorite option is that he started singing without realizing it.

"someone please give him a blanket istg. I know this is a different kind of cold but can he have a blanket :("

He can only earn blanket privileges when he's at the central base. In caimpaings there are no blanket privileges.

If he's very very good, tho, he might earn one night with a blanket.

!!! sneaky :0

🥰 He would look down ashamed at your words. He really didn't mean to be... he just wanted to relieve some of the painful uneasiness.

also love that. “his handler always sees everything.” !!! love love love that love the sheer amount of fear and expecting danger

YEAAA, that's the emotions I wanted to show. Especially since Cyrus is blinded so often. He rarely knows when Wilson is looking, to what he pays attention, what is his expression. It's kinda like the Panopticon Prison. You never know when you're being watched, so you stay on edge the whole time.

Wilson is a smart handler :)

HE'S NOT EVEN ALLOWED TO MOVE WITHOUT PERMISSION??? I mean I expected that but damn. also gloves again. is it a military thing or is this the skin contact thing

He's not allowed to move in the ways Wilson doesn't approve. What moves does Wilson approve? Only Wilson knows.

Cyrus discovers when he's shocked for doing the ones on the "no" list.

And the gloves, ah the gloves. Who knows?

Wilson knows, he's the one that changed their designs too.

pfft I love those moments of like. passive caring about everyday stuff in whump. they're funny but then they're not funny

Yeah, I really like doing that :D

Cyrus doesn't want to go through an hour of Wilson getting his anger out in his hair, leaving him with a sore scalp and holding back tears. His hair is full of broken strands because of it already.

HEY DON'T CALL HIM SNEAKY I DID IT FONDLY >:(

I let out a really genuine laugh 🤣

ough.. he's so scared poor baby

Of Wilson? Always.

D: man I don't even know what to say this is just rlly fuckin good. guilt my beloved

Oh well, thank you <3

huh??? how come he didn't get physically close to any of it

His comedown has really fun hallucinations :)

Auditory, visual, gustatory, tactile, proprioceptive and interoceptive ones. Not all together or at the same comedown, it varies.

WOW!!! love the logic and treating cyrus like so much of an object wilson can just talk out loud while he's there.

:)

man. I love cyrus. I love wilson. I have so many feelings about them both... I rlly love handler whumpers those are so neat I love cold whumpers that are professional. wilson has such a presence in this chapter. cyrus is so cute I wanna wrap him in blankets...

I loved how this was like. stractured with the euphoria and comedown and everything. I also love how despite everything cyrus is still so caring towards others it's so. ough </3

Really, thank you for this <333 I'm really pleasently surprise to see people saying stuff like "doing the fenris thing" for the commentaries. It really makes me happy, like... YEAH? Please do! With me and with others. It's so cool to read these. Even tired, even busy, I just wanted to keep coming here to read yours and others comments.

So thank you <3 really enjoyed reading this, and I really like the way you think :)

-

Sweet Creature

Content: magical living weapon, dehumanization, "it" briefly used as pronoun, dangerous whumpee, magical euphoria, shock collar, sensory (visual) deprivation, manhandling, military whump, implied institutionalized whump, magical slavery, heavily implied mass murder, hallucinations.

(chapter 1) | next chapter ->

(Curse of Withering masterpost)

Cyrus wishes to at least have a look around while outside. It would only be a military camp, soldiers walking around, tents set up, maybe some horses on one side. Not a very pleasant nor interesting view.

But at least he would be seeing the sky, and the grass, and people.

He's not. He's seeing pure black from behind his nullification glasses, being guided by an unrelenting hand on his neck, just above his heavy collar. Not even allowed to feel skin, only the tough material of a glove.

Around Cyrus, talk dies down, and muttering comes to life, as he's used to. It never stops making him feel ashamed.

Also not allowed to curl up or hide in any way, he's just dragged forward to keep walking.

A strong sensation of nausea hits him when they enter his designed post tent of this campaign. It feels like the protection barriers put around the tents are getting stronger each campaign.

Being on an empty stomach doesn't help, either. Regret fills him from refusing breakfast, but he's sure his stomach wouldn't have kept it down anyway.

"... This is it? The rumors made it look spine-chilling, not... this." A voice from his right side says, a bit far back. Further into the tent, then. Cyrus doesn't recognize the voice, but the words are familiar.

The gloved hand on his neck squeezes, and he stops after a second of trying to figure out if it was out of frustration or a command to stand still.

No scolding comes, so it must have been a command. Or both.

"Wait until you see it destroying a whole military camp while laughing like a maniac," Mr. Wilson says. That voice he does recognizes in the very core of his being. And by the coldness of it, his handler is audibly used to that question as well.

Cyrus doesn't have time to feel ashamed of the words before a pressure on his neck commands him to kneel down. Even with the knee pads, a mercy not chosen by his handler, the impact hurts a bit.

"Behave." Is what reaches his ear before the leather gloves are unfastened from his wrists.

Magic wraps around the metal gloves that were beneath the leather ones and bend it open. Cyrus didn't even hear the metallokinetic's handler telling them to do that. Maybe this gifted doesn't have a handler, he knows there's some free Gifted that serve the military willingly.

Unlike Cyrus.

He obediently waits with unmoving hands until his handler applies pressure on his head in another silent command. No one speaks as the nullification glasses are unlocked from his bowed head, nor when his half-necrotic fingertips find the floor beneath him.

It's not grass, it's rocks. He suppresses a disappointed sigh.

Cyrus knows better than to look around or shift from his position, but he's still able to see a bit of the tent's inside. The metallokinetic does in fact have a handler, and a black eye. He can't see anyone else, they're all behind him for safety.

That black eye must hurt, there's probably more bruises under the clothing, it never stops at just one.

Cyrus shouldn't care that the gifted was hurt. But he did. They deserve someone to care.

Mr. Wilson blocks his vision of the gifted by crouching down. The direct, practical delineation of where the enemy camp is sinks into his mind easily as his handler speaks. It's easy to map in his head exactly where he needs to focus on.

"You have permission to use your power, Wither." An uncomfortable eagerness blooms in him at the words.

"Yes, sir," Cyrus whispers and his collar beeps, its blue lights turning red as magic comes to life under his skin once again.

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.

Pain doesn't even register in the sea of feelings building up in his body. The rocks puncturing the palms of his hands aren't nearly enough to ground him, not after years of the magic slowly numbing his nerves.

The tent disappears and all he can see is colors erupting from the blackness, like thousands of little roots travelling through the grass. Ignoring the surrounding life had become easier over the years, and the withering knew to travel until it's closer to the delineated area than to him before branching to reach all soldiers of the other side.

It took less than a minute for him to spiral into euphoria this time.

Faintly, he knew his lips were moving, in that same eerie murmur of always, singing words he couldn't understand, but also couldn't forget. An incantation that breaks the laws of nature. A chant that was never created... only repeated. The echo of something that always existed.

And so he repeats. From the words, waves of withering magic follows the colorful branches and pushes it forward.

His hands crack and dug further into the ground, and he repeats the chant again. Again, again, again...

𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

Cyrus could see, or in a way feel, the life bursting out of the enemy's camp. It was hard to separate what was greenery and what was people, but it didn't matter in the end.

Wither magic fills the entire enemy camp with thousands of black ramifications that only he sees the colors of. Growing, rotting, decaying.

Every cell in his body beams with giddy energy.

A warm mist swirls on his arms pleasantly. Something similar started filling his eyes, and Cyrus's head was pure delight. His chest shudders with a bubbly feeling as a smile grows on his face.

And then everything goes black. The cold, painful reality crashes down on him, harshly taking all the cheerfulness away and leaving behind an itch, a hysteric uneasiness. A faint beeping of his collar tells him he's done today, it had turned blue again.

Cyrus didn't even know he had made a noise until the collar beeps again with a warning electrical shock. With a flinch, he goes dead quiet. An argument was happening over his head.

Cyrus wants to keep using his magic, why can't he? It's so warm and happy-

"It was fucking smiling, it is fine to keep on! What is the point of having a weapon that can't be used?!" A man behind him almost yells. Not the same one from before, a slightly more familiar one. It might be the general, but without seeing it's hard to be sure.

Yes, Cyrus was fine to keep going, he was! It's been less than a minute with the nullification glasses back on, but he misses the colorful cheerfulness already, his body is taut with the need to move, to do something, anything.

But Mr. Wilson is right there, so he stays obediently still.

"I'm not telling it to launch an attack again! The magic would consume it's head and-" Mr. Wilson pauses, and Cyrus recognizes his temper rising. It's an effort not to flinch. "Ugh, you have no idea how bad it gets. Wither. Up, we're leaving."

"Mmn?" The order takes a second to click. "Oh... yes, sir..." To speak was hard, his tongue didn't move the okay he wanted it to. Cyrus could hear the ecstatic smile on his own voice, and he almost winces at it, but without knowing why. To smile was good, wasn't it?

Should he even be speaking, actually? Wilson doesn't usually like him speaking. Did he say "Sir" as he was supposed to? He doesn't think so... but no shock comes. Perhaps he did. It's hard to remember.

The floor seemed to spin beneath Cyrus when he stood up.

A gloved grip squeezes his arm and Cyrus knows to stay completely still, despite the dizziness. Magic envelops his hands as the metal gloves are bent to fit them again. He still couldn't hear the metallokinetic's handler telling them to do it, maybe it had been a silent command.

He feels the leather gloves being fastened on his wrists, too, before Mr. Wilson grabs him by the upper nape and guides him out. The sound of many boots around them tells him the escort team is here already.

On the way back, there's no longer any murmuring. Even blinded, he knows everyone is just staring. There's only the sound of heavy steps and the wind slowly bringing the smell of death into the camp.

The heavy metal door shuts with the escort team outside, and the only steps that echo inside the container are his and Mr. Wilson.

Blindly, he's pushed to sit inside his resting capsule. Oh, that's right, he's at a campaign, his den isn't here... the sad longing only lasts a second.

The thin mattress is cold, and the restraints are too tight. Cyrus hates the cold, but it feels so weird, he can't help but giggle. It sounds off, but he can't pinpoint why.

"Quiet," Mr. Wilson scolds sternly, fastening his legs securely inside the capsule. Cyrus flinches and tenses from the upcoming shock that doesn't arrive.

What a silly thing, to flinch from something that didn't even happen. He suppresses another fit of giggles.

The pressure building up behind his eyes and neck is getting harder to ignore. His fingers twitch with the need to use his magic again, but the nullification doesn't let him.

The pressure gets worse.

𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.

Now the shock comes, and Cyrus's flinch is not so funny this time. It wasn't just a warning shock, but he doesn't know why he has been punished. Mr. Wilson doesn't clarify it, either. He's scared of not knowing.

The twitches are getting worse. He wants to move. The cold is starting to creep in again, and he wants the warmth back.

His hands move slowly under the temporarily loose restrictions, trying to relieve some of the painful nervous energy without grabbing Mr. Wilson's attention.

It doesn't work. His handler always sees everything.

"Did I say you could move, Wither?" Cyrus freezes from the gelid tone. His shoulders go up chastened just before a gloved hand fists his hair harshly. That'll form a knot later... he wants to wash up and detangle his hair already, before it gets too bad.

From how harsh Mr. Wilson's grip is, he doesn't think he'll be allowed that so soon.

"Stop trying to be sneaky, that's the only warning you'll be given." Cold and firm as always. Frightening as always.

"Yes, sir," Cyrus answers quietly. It's weird how he still feels afraid and sad even when he's feeling giggly and euphoric.

Euphoric. Didn't that word mean something important? The headache is getting worse.

Mr. Wilson's grip only grows even more painful. There's more to be said, but Cyrus's head is not working well. He doesn't want to talk, he wants to move.

What weapons want doesn't matter.

He tries again. "I'm... I won't be sneaky again. I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson," he tries. The hand leaves his hair without any further words.

The need to move only gets worse in the silent. He knows Mr. Wilson knows. Cyrus's body is so tense it hurts.

He needs to use his magic, he needs to. It hurts, it's bad, he wants the giddy energy back, and not this nervous, restless cold creeping in. Everything is still pitch black, and the restraints are too heavy, and he wants his magic free again-

So you can kill more people with it?

No. What? No, no, no-

Your handler stopped you before the euphoria truly took place. Where is your gratitude, you vile thing? Why must others die just so you can smile?

That's not what he wants, he just... he just wants the colors back, the happy feeling of-

Of killing.

The memories of colored forms change. Those were people.

People you killed.

"Are you crashing already?" Comes the distant, cold voice. It takes long seconds for Cyrus to recognize it's Mr. Wilson's.

Crashing. Yes. Yes, he's crashing, and he's still on war camp, so he doesn't even get his white den-

Images strafe his mind. People died. People were killed. By him. And he was just smiling. He giggled to people losing their lives. Not only soldiers, there were medics, and servants, and-

A cold, sharp thing runs his arm and he flinched away, swallowing hard. He tastes blood. He knows it's not his.

Vile thing. You're a plague on earth that should be eradicated.

Cyrus's back presses against the capsule mattress, and he can barely separate what is real touch and what isn't. Sharp goosebumps run up his arm, his hands are being held, there's a pressure on his chest and a numbness on his left leg.

"It's euphoric state was pretty fast this time, it was a good timing to retrieve it," Mr. Wilson's out loud thinking reaches his ear along with a faint noise of screams that mustn't be true.

They're true, you're just hearing them too late.

"Today will be easy, then."

Cyrus couldn't disagree more with his handler.

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Want to see Mr. Wilson's pov? This is the drabble this series began as. You can consider it a loose version of this chapter, but in Mr. Wilson's view.

Taglist: @whump-till-ya-jump @floral-comet-whump @paingoes @bonbonbobomb @inhurtandincomfort @half-duck @scoundrelwithboba

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[deathsweetblossoms]

When scars turn from something abhorred and ugly (mostly in one’s own regard) into something beautiful and interesting just because someone had taken one look at them and decided so.

unconditional as quartz (part of the series sillage) by @thefangirlofhp

[xxplastic-cubexx]

chat htey fuckin jumpscared me while im trying to do my assignment

[dreamieparadise]

Random scene that came to mind:

Hayato and Momina paired up in science class to do an experiment. Hayato takes over the entire experiment, so Momina decides to be helpful by gathering the supplies he'd need for the next portion of the experiment. Every time Hayato is about to ask for an item, he turns to find Momina standing there already holding it. He silently accepts the item and continues. Every time this happens, he gets more and more paranoid... how does she know just what he needs!?! AN UMA?!

Momina is reading the instructions...

[outlying-hyppocrate]

coming back here feels like paying a visit to the fucking dead.

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Imagine reading a new manga and joking about it being homoerotic and then it gets explicitly stated that one of the protags is gay

If I don't see any weird romance blossom between those two istg-