#this just has set me off I'm so tired can I be left alone a day or 2 at least please

[teaboot]

This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

[lymtw]

Aftercare

Aftercare with Toji, where after all the roughness and manhandling is over with, he can't take his eyes off of you. All he cares about is making sure that you're not in excruciating pain, yet he hasn't been able to say a word for the past five minutes. You've pressed so many tender kisses to his face and expressed that you're okay enough times to him, but he can't seem to drop the smallest, lingering coil of guilt he feels at the sight of your scuffed up body. You look like you fought off a bear and ripped octopus tentacles off your skin—simultaneously, with all the scratches, bruises, and hickeys that littered you from your jaw to your ankles.

"Quit staring," you say, bringing your knees up and crossing your arms, your hands gripping your biceps.

"Nah- baby..." he finally says, softly, like he's quickly trying to justify the gaze he had set on you. "Come here."

Toji makes quick work of crushing this wave of insecurity that threatens your peace. He knows what you just endured was not the softest experience, and that you practically let him—a man capable of showing the aggression of a pack of wolves, devour you. Really, he did not hold back at all.

You slide down the bed and pull the covers over your body, laying your head on his chest with an arm thrown over his midsection. He pulls you close with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. "You know I love you, right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hum. Minutes ago you would have thought those words were a cruel joke being played on you with the way he gripped onto you like he wanted it to hurt.

"Wasn't trying to hurt your feelings by staring at you like that. Just did a lot of damage, this time, and it looks like it hurts... a lot."

"I'm fine," you repeat, for the nth time. You look up at him, briefly, sparing a smile before resting your cheek on his chest again. "A hot shower will melt it all away, I promise," you mumble.

He brushes over one of the many stains he left on the side of your neck. "My little trooper," he sighs, very much relaxed by your side. "You know i'd be proud even if you told me you were hurting." He knows it'll take more than a shower to get all these new semipermanent tattoos off your pretty skin, but for the sake of not making you feel small, again, he shuts up about it.

"I know," you assure. "I just don't wanna burden you. You're probably just as tired, if not more."

"What do you need?"

You lift your head again and look at him, confusion filling out your features. "You heard me, didn't you? I can take care of myself."

"I know that, and I don't doubt it for a second, but you're really gonna reject me?" He hisses, dramatically clutching his chest. "Damn, mama, just like that?"

"Well, no. Of course not-"

"Right. Of course not," he says, with that horrible tendency he has of cutting you off when the situation benefits you. "Gonna ask you one more time, and if you don't answer, i'm just gonna do what I want for you. What do you need?"

You had to think about it for a minute, about how you wanted him to help you. Independence shone through your thoughts. Everything he could help you with, you could also do alone. You didn't want to be needy.

"Five..." He's timing you, now. "Four..." The countdown has your brain scrambling to pick something. Anything, but you're blanking, losing second by second the already little time you were gifted. "Three... it shouldn't be this hard," he teases, a smirk on his face.

"I don't know, um."

"Two... you're gonna lose the option of telling me what to do, doll."

"No- I don't know."

"One." The countdown ends. "Alright," he groans, pulling you up with him as he sits up. "Let's go."

–

Sure enough, once the lukewarm water hit your skin, you gained a burst of energy. You made the washing of your body an amusing, yet tedious task for Toji. With all your little excitement fueled dances and laughter, what should have been a ten minute session turned into a twenty minute one.

"Doll, turn around. Let me get your back," Toji says, holding back a grin at the sight of you trying to soothe the burning sensation you feel in your nose after inhaling water.

You turn your back to him, before jovially turning to face him again. "Joking, joking," you say, when you catch his lidded eyes. You quickly turn your back to him, again, with giggles slipping past your lips.

He sighs, unable to hold back the gentle curl of his lips any longer. "What am I gonna do with you?" He lathers you from the nape of your neck to your lower back, with soap. The contrast of the white foam and the darkened stains on your skin, were enough to have him thinking about what ended just a little over half an hour ago. There wasn't a spot on you that didn't have some mark of his on it. Your shoulder blades and spine were mottled with stains of his lips, and your hips had opaque fingerprints on them.

You winced and took a step forward, away from Toji's touch, successfully pulling him out of his zoned out state. "You're scrubbing the scratches too hard," you say, turning to him while running your hands over the tender skin.

"Shit," he gently pulls you back and turns your back to him again, "sorry, princess." A few soothing kisses are pressed into the strikes, enough of them to make you forget that it even stung in the first place. He makes sure his mind stays out of the gutter, at least until he's done washing you, so that he doesn't hurt you again.

After showering, you stayed in bed while Toji went to the kitchen to make some tea for you. He did this for you after every night of intimacy, to expedite the betterment of your exhausted throat. He also knows of the calming properties that ease you into slumber. He wants nothing more than for you to sleep off the soreness your body retains.

"There you go, baby. I know you don't like it, but it'll make your throat feel better, so you have to drink the whole thing." He settles down next to you, on his side of the bed and watches you sip on the steaming hot drink.

The familiar scrunch of your nose appears at the taste that hits your taste buds, a sight that Toji has started looking forward to. "I hate the flavor just a little more every time I drink it. Oh well," you say, taking another sip, ignoring the scalding heat that embraces your tongue.

"I know. It sucks," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Hopefully, next time we choose correctly and get something you'll like."

You set the mug down on the nightstand and turn to him. With warm hands, you cup his cheeks and tilt his head up slightly.

"What?" He asks, his eyes directed towards you.

Your smile evolves into a short giggle as you stare at one pinpointed spot on the side of his neck. "I got you, too. Right..." you drag a finger down his neck, gently pressing on the dark spot you left on him. "...here."

His hand tracks your touch and replaces it with his own, feeling the mark. "Damn right, you did. You got me, baby," he says through a grin. "My turn?"

You sigh, with faux irritation. "Fiiine."

"Let's see..." He cups your cheeks the way you did his. "I got this whole area here." His thumb brushes over your jawline, dragging beneath it to where the marks end. "Then there's this entire patch right here." He turns your head, exposing the reddish-purple splotches on the side of your neck to the light. His eyes trace the slope that leads to your shoulder, spotting the marks that remain visible beneath the collar of your shirt. He coordinates his touch with his sight, dragging his fingers over your delicate skin. "Right here," he says, after pulling the collar of your shirt down your shoulder, revealing more of his marks.

"Okay, okay. You win," you say fixing your shirt, covering up again.

"There's one right there," he continues, tapping the column of your neck. "Some more there," his finger glides over your left collarbone.

"Toji, I swear, if you point out one more, i'm gonna bite your finger off."

He stares at you silently, the corners of his lips twitching as you watch him, intently. After a few seconds, he slowly starts directing his finger towards a mark on your chest. Once he makes contact with your skin, he gently presses on the smear of color that marks it, still holding eye contact with you. "Here, too."

You swat his hand away from you, and huff. "Why did I even try to threaten you? You want me to bite your finger off, huh?"

"Not in the slightest. I just knew you weren't actually gonna do it, so I pushed it."

You cross your arms. "Whatever. I'm just gonna put a hoodie on so you can't look at them anymore."

"Woah, baby, put down the knife," he says, hands up in playful surrender. "No need to take drastic measures over this. Don't hide all my hard work."

"Hard work," you mutter, an incredulous scoff following.

Toji's gaze falls on your lips. "You're pouting like you wanna be kissed," he teases.

"And you're... you're being annoying," you say, covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the involuntary lift of your lips.

"Yeah, but you still want me to kiss you," he says, with a sly, knowing smirk on his face. "Look at you. Look at that blush. Even your knuckles are red, doll."

"Oh my god..." you groan with embarrassment. You use both hands to cover your entire face, now.

He chuckles, pulling you into his arms. "You're so pretty, ma. A total work of art." His hands have never gotten lost on you, but for now, in any way he holds you, he'll be able to see the trails his lips left behind.

"Stop..." you mumble, smiling softly at the sweetness poured into his words.

"You look mine, with all these marks," he says, pulling down the collar of your shirt a little, to see the blots of color that appear at the start of your spine.

"Shut up," you say, blushing furiously against his chest.

"Sounds like you still want that kiss, huh?"

"Not anymore," you say, lifting your gaze to meet his. The look in your eyes betrays every ounce of your denial. Toji can very clearly tell that you're lying.

"Those rosy cheeks are saying something else," he says, grinning. "Damn, look at those pretty lips. They're ready for me."

"If you want to kiss me, just say so," you chide, lightheartedly.

"I'm gonna kiss you so hard, doll," he says, cupping your cheeks again. "Your lips lack a little more of me."

[jorjin]

Think I might stay in the city I work at a little longer tomorrow before coming home again. I am terribly tired of dealing with extended family over

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Stuck like glue

Request: "I'm going to scream your domestic character joining coop on his travels from her cabin is SO good 😭 I was wondering if you would write something with the same character in her cabin when coop turns up from nearby having taken one too many bullets? Or maybe he's sick and needs some jet. Some hurt/comfort fluffy sweetness"

A/N: Thank you to the awesome anon who sent the idea! Maybe not AS fluffy as we wanted, but there's for sure some soft Ghoul going on in here. And, oh yeah, the reader has a dog now. No description of said dog has been given, so please imagine as you'd wish.

Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader

WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, brief mentions of sexual interaction.

Summary: Your favorite Ghoul needs to be patched up after a spat with some Raiders, and you always know just how to make him feel better.

Word Count: 2.0k+

Gif credit to @elisefrost from this set

You’re outside attempting to hang clothes to dry when you hear it. 

The soft but distinct sound of jingling metal comes from behind your cabin. You set one hand on the pistol strapped to your thigh and walk in that direction, eyes peeled for any movement. A bark echoes the sound from your porch, and you snap at your four-legged companion in an attempt to get him to stay. 

“Tiger!” You hiss. “Quit!”

 He relents with an indignant huff and returns to the porch, while the metallic noise keeps up in a steady pattern, akin to the cadence of a slow walk. You tilt your head at the thought and eventually move the hand off your pistol; only one person would dare tread this close in broad daylight with such carelessness.

“Coop?”

You don’t see him anywhere, but you’re almost certain it was the sounds of his old spurs that caught your attention. 

“Cooper if you’re tryna scare me, you know I'll gut you.” The threat is an empty one, but saying it gives you some hope that it’s indeed him and not a Raider or Slaver looking to score some loot. 

“No need, babydoll.” His voice sounds ragged, tired. “Don’t think I could scare a bunny rabbit at the moment.” 

You follow his voice to your left, and find the Ghoul leaned up against a tree. He’s practically swaying in the breeze, very apparently unsteady. You rush over just as he slides down and collides with the dirt.. 

“Cooper! What happened to you?” 

Your hands flutter up and down his arms, brusquely checking for any injuries. Nothing obvious jumps out at you, but he heals fast and external wounds are rare. A wheeze claws its way up his throat and morphs into a hacking cough. You recognize the sound as the need for a Vial, and grab at his bag. 

“Do you have any on you?” 

A stuttered cough answers. “Fresh out… s’why I came here.”

Your stash of Vials had been growing just about as long as you’d known Cooper. When you traveled together, he’d hand some off to you for safekeeping, and there always ended up being extras. Upon your return home, he’d tell you to keep them. It wasn’t shocking, given that he found his way back every couple of days.

“Alright, come on.” You crouch down and position yourself beneath Cooper’s arm. 

You can tell he’s weak by the way he leans into you, knees wobbling relentlessly as you pull him up. Another round of coughing wracks his body and you squeeze him reassuringly. 

“Couch isn’t far.” You chose your words carefully, avoiding any inkling of pity. Having an already deteriorating Ghoul is enough, let alone a defensive one who hates being pitied. 

Cooper does his best to keep up with your steps, but his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated. You can feel the heat radiating off of him through his jacket and hear him wheezing beside your ear. Stepping onto the porch gives him some trouble, but you manage to haul him up and inside the door. Tiger whines nervously, circling the pair of you as you trek inside. The Ghoul collapses onto the couch as soon as it’s within reach. 

After making sure Cooper’s not going to slide off the couch, you continue to the med-kit in your makeshift kitchen. The Vials are hidden at the very bottom, wrapped in cloth for extra cushion to prevent shattering. You decide there’s more than enough for him to take two, and carefully extract the mysterious chem. 

Cooper’s laid out on his back when you return with the Vials. One arm is thrown over his eyes and the other dangling off the side of the couch with Tiger perched beneath. The dog nuzzles his favorite person’s hand for attention, and it elicits a chuckle from you. Even as the only conscious person in the room, you were still second in Tiger’s eyes. 

“Coop.” You shake his shoulder gently. “Hey. Hey. Where’s your inhaler?”

You nudge his hat away and he blinks slowly. “Mmm.”

“Ok then.” You mutter and pat down his jacket, searching for the contraption he always carries. The coat yields no results, and you pat down his pants until you feel it tucked away into the pocket at his hip. “Finally.”

Cooper shuffles ever so slightly when you slip your hand into his pocket. “H-hey now. I know you love me, baby, but I-I ain’t got it in me right now.”

An errant smile pushes its way onto your lips. You snap the meds into place on his inhaler 

“Open up.”

He fails to heed your instructions, and you ultimately end up forcing the inhalant into his mouth. It never works instantly, but within a minute or so of administering it there’s movement. One of Cooper’s hands lifts to cup yours, puffing on the inhaler again. 

You release your hold on it and rock back onto the balls of your feet. It’s then you take note of the holes in his clothing, and run a hand down his chest. There’s numerous holes, some as big as your finger and others no larger than a pinhead. 

“Cooper, what happened to you?” You sit on the edge of the couch beside him as he takes his first deep breath without Chems. 

“I just turn’d in a bounty and some Raiders jumped me.” He looks down at your hand on his chest. “Bastards shot me ten or eleven times. Damn buckshot got me good.”

You nod. “I can tell. You were in a bad way, Coop.”

The Ghoul sits up slowly beside you so his legs can swing off the couch. “I’ll be good as new, soon as this stuff starts workin’ good.” 

Tiger hops up on the couch next to him, tail wagging with excitement. The dog licks your cheek on his way to Cooper and pushes his nose into the Ghoul’s shoulder. You chuckle at the interaction, patting the dog’s shoulders. Coopers are still hunched with exhaustion, and his deep-set eyes look even more so. 

“Well until they do, you rest.” You stand, glancing out the still-ajar door. “It’s getting dark anyway.”

Cooper, as usual, opens his mouth to protest. If there’s anything he hates, it’s feeling useless. 

“No arguments.” You point a finger at him. “I mean it.”

He grumbles, but relents. “Fine. Only if you turn somethin’ on that ol’ TV of yours.”

The television turns out to be a perfect method of relaxation. You have to remove Cooper from the couch temporarily, but wrestle it into the pullout bed form and line it with blankets. The Ghoul had given in to his exhaustion rather easily at the prospect of a comfortable bed and kicked off his boots to climb all the way in. You hung his coat on a nail by the door, but made sure to leave his guns, lasso, and assorted weapons within arm’s reach. The TV played some old soap opera from before your time while you snagged a couple of hard candies- a luxury item, as the nearest settlement called them- and made to settle in. 

Cooper had managed to prop himself against the back of the couch, feet kicked out down the length of the thin mattress. Tiger, seeking attention as per usual, is curled up against his right leg. A wet nose rests just beneath Cooper’s knee and twitches in interest when you unwrap the first candy. 

The Ghoul might as well be a dog himself for the way his ears perk at the sound of a wrapper. 

He watches intently as you very gracefully clamber to sit next to him. You pop the fruit-flavored candy in your mouth and scoot around until you find comfort. In this case, it’s leaned up against the Ghoul beside you, head dropping onto his shoulder. His breathing is still shallower than you’d like, but a vast improvement from where it was when he’d shown up. 

“You ain’t gonna share?” 

You open your fist and offer up one of the candies. “I suppose I could. But only for you.”

A smirk twists the corners of his scarred lips. You poke at the candies and attempt to read the labels to no avail. 

“I’d offer you a choice of flavor, but…” You shrug, looking back up to your Ghoul. “Slim pickings.”

He lifts a bare hand to your chin, tilting up. “I think the pickin’s are just fine.”

You smile and lean in to meet him, lips falling into a familiar dance.The hand on your chin slides down to grip your nape and holds you firmly in place. It’s not long before the candy is gone from your mouth. Its remnants remain, mingling with the taste of gunpowder and smoke. A few moments pass before you decide to separate

“Miss me much?” You inquire, cuddling yourself down into his side. 

His arm raises to accommodate your body and lowers it back down to encircle your shoulders once you’re settled. “I always miss you darlin’. For a variety of reasons.”

You hum softly, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Cooper’s hand trails up and down your arm, leaving wide trails of gooseflesh. “Well, the main one happens to be the lack of entertainment.”

You scoff. “I’m your entertainment?”

“Fuck yeah, you are. ‘Specially when you’re hollerin’ at scavengers and shootin’ anything that moves.” The Ghoul chuckles to himself. “Or trippin’ over a sleeping yao guai.”

You shove him playfully. “That was one time, and I shot it dead anyway.”

Cooper pulls you towards him, and you shift until you’re between his legs, back pressed against his chest. “That you did, sweetheart. I ain’t forgot.”

He grabs the nearest blanket and tosses it over your entangled bodies. You curl to the side and rest your cheek to his chest. Tiger shuffles his body with a huff, apparently frustrated with the lack of attention.

“What would you do without me?” You tap his chest gently, relishing in the warmth he produces. “Other than get eaten by a yao guai?”

The Ghoul scratches Tiger’s head. “Prolly go feral. Chase around some folk to scare em’.”

You know he’s joking, but the thought of losing him to ferality scares you to no end. Particularly since he’s just shown up on death’s door and almost hacked a lung onto your floor.

“Don’t say that.” You lift your head to catch his eye. “Please.”

Cooper may be a gruff old Ghoul with a dreadful outlook on the world, but he softens ever so slightly at your words.

“You know I don’t mean it, sugar. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Two scarred fingers hook beneath your jaw and pull you back up to his lips. It’s tame at first, but the Cooper you know wastes no time making an appearance. His teeth nip at your lip gently and one rough hand slides up your side until it cups your breast. You press into him eagerly, climbing upwards until your thighs slot around either side of his hips. He responds by grinding them into you, delicious friction warming you from head to toe.  

Tiger decides he’s disgusted at this point, and hops off the couch with a comical groan.

Unbothered, one of your hands latches onto the lasso that is tossed on top of his pile of weapons. You loop it around his neck, gripping either side of the rope and pulling him in. Cooper smirks against your mouth. 

“Oh I love being stuck with you, Cowpoke.” You whisper against his mouth, earning yourself a quick bite to the bottom lip.

The Ghoul grins and quickly shows how much strength he’s regained by reversing your positions. He snatches the rope faster than you can react, and wraps the fingers of one hand loosely around the column of your throat. There’s just enough pressure to shoot a pang of arousal between your legs. Cooper knows you’re squirming, and presses a knee there to relieve some of the ache. 

“Glad t’hear it.” He murmurs into your neck, “���Cause I sure as hell ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-------------------

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[uncookedfeeler]

CITRUS I🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 4k, light smut, incest,

Part 2

Parenting is one of life's most transformative experiences. It is a journey filled with joy, growth, challenges and the commitment to raise and guide another human being. From the moment a child is born into the world, parents find themselves on a rollercoaster ride of endless new experiences, emotional highs and lows, and unwavering love.

Parents are caregivers, teachers and coaches, constantly trying to decipher their child's needs and feelings. While the joys of parenting are many, the challenges can be daunting. From sleepless nights with a newborn to the complexities of teenage rebellion, each stage of a child's development brings its own set of hurdles.

After more than fifty years on this planet, half of them with your wife, you're lucky enough to have a 20-year-old girl as your child. From day one she has been the ray of sunshine that lights up your life. She is the person you love most and will remain your most precious treasure until your last breath. But your relationship has changed a lot over the years. Your little princess has gone from being Daddy's little girl to a gorgeous woman who has been driving a wedge between you since she was a teenager. 

This distance has increased since she became a famous idol and now lives between the dormitory and your house, although she only stays when she wants to. 

As usual, you come home from work late in the evening and enter the lock code to get into your house. Unlike before, the lights are still out and the house is deserted. You leave your keys on the hall stand and walk into the living room, closing the SAS door behind you.

You sigh as you walk through the living room to your bedroom, the room a bit messy with some of your dirty clothes from the night before still on the tripod, you sit down on your bed to remove your tie and finally free your neck, your suit disappears and you put on more relaxed clothes. At the same time, your phone rings and you see the name of one of your colleagues on the display:

"Sorry to call so late, hope I'm not disturbing you?" says a soft voice at the other end of the line.

"Not at all, Mrs Bae, I just got home, what can I do for you?" you reply, laughing.

"The CEO wants to see you in his office tomorrow, he came by earlier but you already left, he said he wants to talk about the last contract you secured". 

"Ahahah, the old man already knows it seems, ok ok, noted I'll meet him tomorrow, have a good night Ms.Bae".

"You too, Director"

You put your phone on the bed before returning to the kitchen to prepare your meal and pour yourself a well-deserved beer. With your face still in the fridge, you hear the front door open and a familiar voice echo through the room with a simple "I'm home, I'm tired! "

You immediately know who it is and reply, "Welcome my darling, good to see you home, how was your day, are you hungry?"

Without answering, you see a young woman with red hair jumping onto the sofa. 

"Yuna, please take off your shoes before entering the house, and at least take off your jacket, it's quite warm in the house," you begin to reproach your only child.

"Daddy, please don't start, I've already lost my mind today with the girls, leave me alone!" the young woman cries in obvious annoyance.

The routine is back and you make the effort to take off her shoes while she is lying on her stomach on the sofa, you notice her outfit for the day, a black leather jacket hiding a nice white t-shirt and beige trousers, so you take the opportunity to complicate your princess. 

"That's a nice outfit, darling."

"Thank you," she replies, blushing.

You put the shoes down in the hallway next to yours and see her already absorbed in her phone, so you try to get the conversation going again:

"What happened to make my little Yuna so upset?" you say.

"I'm not 13 anymore, Dad, you can call me by my first name".

"Ah ah, sorry, Yuna".

"Those bitches stole my concept for the shoot, we had to choose a fruit and we had matching colour outfits, during the pre-shoot meeting we agreed and as luck would have it today they used their "maknae shoot last" rule and took my fruit!!! "

"Please don't shout, so what happened after that?" you try to calm her down.

"What do you think, I got to the shoot and all that was left were shitty concepts, seriously, who the fuck thinks it's sexy to have a lemon in the middle of a t-shirt, they're going to laugh so hard at me for the pictures, I'm so ashamed, I left right after the shoot," she says as she stands up and faces you.

You can see the sadness in her eyes and you want to hug her and tell her that everything will be fine, but now that she's looking at you, you realise that she probably forgot to take off the famous shirt and with great regret you put a big smile on your face, almost on the verge of tears.

"No, darling, I'm sure it's a great shirt," you reply with difficulty.

"PAPA!!!, WHY ARE YOU SNIGGERING?" the young idol cries before following your eyes to her T-shirt, her face falling as she finally realises the reason, you're so sorry, but the situation is really too funny.

As you wipe your eyes you see your princess's blood red eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks and she slaps you hard in the face "I FUCKING HATE YOU, JUST FUCKING DIE YOU AND MOM" before running into her room, 

For the second time in your life you feel that pain, the pain you feel when you hurt someone you love, just like your wife did 7 years ago. 

The pain on your cheek is almost non-existent, unlike the pain in your heart. You admit that Yuna has become very withdrawn since your wife's departure, and that your clumsiness with her has hurt her before, but never to this extent.

On the one hand, your authority has been challenged once again, and for the first time she's dared to raise a hand to you. On the other hand, there is a deep sadness that hurts you, but also makes you deeply regret your actions.

You hear your daughter's cries through the door and, with a feeble step, you knock on the door before entering.

"Baby....i'm so sorry" you see her lying on her bed, her head in her pillow, her crying stops when she raises her head and looks at you, her face is turned upside down, her make-up has run down her face. Seeing your child like that tears your heart out, even though you're responsible.

"Just go, just go like Mum, you don't even like me, do you? I'm ashamed of you, go and die," she said in a cold, mean tone.

"Baby... "Hearing these words from your little princess hurts and brings tears to your eyes, so you get down on your knees to continue your apology.

"Forgive me," you tell her as your tears begin to fall, Yuna continues to reject you and her words only drive nails into your feelings, you've surely done the irreparable and you decide to get up and leave her room.

You have ruined your last family relationship with the person who meant the most to you. 

"I'll bring you dinner later, just rest," you say in an emotionless tone as you grab the door handle to leave.

Your steps towards the living room are slow and your body heavy, only to suddenly hear someone running behind you, the door slamming against the wall, and feel your sweet daughter's body against your back as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

"PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME SORRY," the red one cries with all her hot tears.

You drop to your knees and take your only child in your arms and hold her close, her head is under your chin as she buries herself in your neck, you stroke her head with one hand while the other pats her back, her arms struggle to wrap around your waist but she clings tightly to you.

"I'm sorry darling, I'm sorry for everything, just let it go now, Daddy's here, I won't leave you, ever"

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I love you"

"I love you too, sweetheart"

You stay like this for many minutes before you plant a loving kiss on her forehead, a sign of your unconditional love for her. She's your treasure and the most important woman in your life.

Yuna's red eyes shine into yours and the young idol plants her lips on yours, the sensation is sweet and pleasant, you are morally in a dilemma, never in a million years would you have imagined kissing your daughter like this, but on the other hand you tell yourself that she's probably had too much rejection for today and is just trying to express her love for me. 

You allow your daughter to express her desires and she wraps her arms around your neck as you hold her kiss, her tongue meets yours in a first dance, the heat in the corridor rises as her body crashes against yours, you feel her small breasts against your chest and her perfume floods your nostrils.

"Yu..na," you try to stop her, tapping her shoulder as she literally tries to eat your lips.

The young idol slowly pulls back, leaving a trickle of drool between your two mouths. You see an incredibly sexy woman, her hair a mess, her breathing heavy and hot, her hands on your chest burning and her eyes devouring you like a hungry tigress.

"The redhead doesn't know what to say when she realises what she's done, her face turning scarlet as she rests her forehead on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault, are you tired?

She nods as you carry her to her room and tuck her into bed, one last kiss before sending your little princess off to dreamland.

"Good night, baby," you say to her as she seems to have gone far away.

.

.

.

The night was harder than expected, and after a light dinner you went to bed with your head still full of the events of the evening, a flurry of emotions running through your body and mind, and faster than you could have imagined, the morning light appeared through your window.

It's almost 7am and you're getting ready for a long day. As soon as you wake up, your body starts to show its age and it takes you a long time to get dressed and get out of your room and into the kitchen. You decide on a quick, simple breakfast of fried egg and rice, and with this morning's appointment, you'll be ready to go in no time, having filled up on vitamins for the day despite your fatigue. As you prepare this, you hear Yuna's bedroom door open and see your daughter come into the kitchen, still wearing her white T-shirt, but her beige trousers have been replaced by blue shorts.

"Morning dad," she says shyly.

"Hi honey, no schedule today?"

"Not this morning," she replies quickly, shaking her head.

Neither of you seem comfortable with the conversation and you do your best to avoid meeting her gaze and vice versa. You discreetly exchange glances and smiles, the redhead in front of you is beautiful and you find yourself ogling her.

You continue to prepare breakfast, making sure you have enough for your daughter. The only exchange you've had since is asking her if she wants a coffee, which she refuses. You see her hovering around the table as if she wants to talk, then she finally gets up and goes behind your back to the fridge.

Then you look back over your shoulder, feel Yuna's embrace around your waist as she buries her face in your back, feel the warmth of her breath again and put your hands on hers.

"Are you all right, darling?"

"I'm sorry dad, my head has been on fire since yesterday, my body has been on fire since I saw you this morning, I just wanted to tell you that I love you very much," she answers as she places kisses on your spine.

You feel the tenderness of her lips on your skin as Yuna gently lifts your work shirt, you say nothing, letting your daughter express her feelings as Yuna's gentle attacks send electric shocks down your back.

"Please look at me," she says as she forces you to turn around, pulling you by your hips until your bottom is resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, face to face with your daughter, who is staring at you for the first time this morning.

Her eyes were trembling and she asked you in a soft, frightened voice: "Tell me you love me, Daddy", while she pressed her body against yours. You felt her soft breasts against your chest and she put her hands on the back of your neck. Your daughter brings her lips to yours, her eyes closed, waiting for you to confirm your feelings.

At this point your morality as a father is the only obstacle standing in the way of this relationship, your daughter may not realise it but it is an immoral relationship waiting to happen, your daughter is still looking for a way to fill the hole in her heart, the love of her members doesn't seem to be working for her and now she is relying on you, her father, to give her what she needs, it is a difficult choice but you are letting yourself be swallowed by the devil, your daughter's happiness is what matters.

You cupped her cheek with one hand before pressing your lips to hers as Yuna melted under the pressure of her emotions, you rediscovered the sensation of love and laid your daughter on the counter while maintaining the kiss.

Your daughter is now sitting on the worktop, the difference in height bringing her face level with yours, she grabs the back of your hair to pull you towards her, her legs wrapped around your hips, your lips still locked as your tongues meet again.

When the seal is finally broken, both your breaths are heavy and noisy, each under the hypnosis of its own pleasure, while your eyes are full of sparkles and plunge into each other's. Your princess's eyes shed small tears, which you hastily wipe away with your finger before giving her a long kiss on the forehead.

Daddy, my heart is going to explode,' she says as she takes your hand to her breast with her t-shirt, the feeling is even better than you had imagined, her small breasts are firm and pleasant to touch, as you gently knead her breasts, the young woman makes little moans that express the pleasure she is receiving.

"Yuna... do you like what Daddy is doing?"

She nods "I want to feel your hand on my skin," she replies as she takes both your hands and places them under her t-shirt, right on her breasts.

"Do you like my lemons daddy? squeeze them hard please" Yuna's sexy face and her words echo in your brain as your hands work on her juicy fruit.

The tension in the room rises and you place your mouth on her little lemon, which you have been kneading for a few minutes, you attack her nipple with your tongue while you suck, hoping to suck something, you alternate your hands, now covered with little red spots, your daughter moans with pleasure and prevents you from withdrawing.

"Daddy, suck on them, play with my little lemons that you love so much, they're yours".

All this excitement had made you hot and a knot had formed in your trousers. Your lips left her two Susson-marked mounds and now attacked her defenceless neck, licking it from bottom to top, following her carotid artery and planting long kisses under her jaw, making her tremble before she gently pushed you away.

"Dad, let me take care of you too, I've been feeling your lump on my leg for a while now".

Your daughter begins to unbuckle your belt, then your trousers, until she can finally see your underpants and cock. Then your daughter puts her hand on the front of your briefs to rub your cock, and you see her other hand go down her shorts, probably to check the state of her briefs.

"I'm soaking wet, keep playing with my tits and come and touch me down there while I take care of you".

Your daughter's hand reaches through your shorts and grabs your cock to stroke it gently, on your side you slide one of your hands up her thigh to her panties and rub her slit directly against her skin, she's wet and you can feel a small bush above her entrance, you wiggle your fingers up and down, taking the opportunity to go back and kiss your princess who moans at your actions.

Yuna's technique isn't the best, but who can blame her, the poor thing is fighting against her own body and the way she arched her back as you delicately knocked on her pussy door, freeing her lips from your kiss, the young idol expressed with volume what she was feeling,

♥Hmm....♥Ah....Papa, continue ♥Hmm, ah....♥

Your daughter's moans are like music to your ears and she quickly lets you know that her orgasm is coming as your fingers begin to penetrate her pussy from the inside, you feel little spasms running down her body and her pussy dripping with wetness, as you pull your fingers out you see the deception in her eyes before devouring her with your mouth, forcing her to let go of your cock in the process. 

Your cock is extremely hard after Yuna's work but your pleasure is not your priority as your tongue slides up and down your daughter's slit, her juices are delicious and you suck them in to capture the taste of her naughty hole in your memory. Her grip on your thin hair is powerful and she blocks your head with her legs as you finally hear the release.

"Daddy, I'm going to come, it's happening, da..." before she can finish her own sentence, stopped by her pleasure, Yuna comes all over your now wet face and falls onto her back on the worktop.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" you ask her, a little worried as she suddenly falls backwards, the pressure of her legs freeing you and you see a close-up of your daughter lying on her back in front of you, her face red and wrung out, her hair falling in the air on the other side of the table, her breasts exposed and marked by your many hickeys and her pretty pink pussy that you've just finished devouring.

You grab both her hands and pull her towards you so that she's at your full height, then you take her in your arms as if you were comforting a small child.

"You're so hard daddy, you can do it if you want to," she says with a little hesitation and tired eyes, then you notice that your cock is at the same height as her pussy.

The choice seems obvious but at the same time you don't want to take it lightly and spoil the moment, the lack of time and place is not what you want to give your princess who is offering herself to you so you shake your head in refusal then plant a long kiss on her lips.

"Not now baby, another time," you reply as you start to pull away from her, only to feel her hand holding you back.

"At least let me make you feel better, I want to make you feel better too," she says as she grabs your cock and starts to jerk it like before.

"Do you like it when I rub your naughty cock? Why does a father turn on his daughter so much?" Yuna tries to be provocative to arouse you, but the tone is off and her lack of experience is glaring, you just smile under your daughter's true words.

Your orgasm builds as Yuna experiments with your cock, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible. You put your hands on her tits again and play with them, which doesn't seem to bother her, far from it.

.

.

"Daddy?"

.

.

"Yes, sweetie?

.

.

"You know ... if you want my lemons to give you their juice, you'll have to give me yours first," she said, pointing to her pussy.

The image crosses your mind, the image of a father and daughter kissing the fruit of their forbidden love, a father giving his love to his daughter and a daughter giving birth to that love, your excitement and shame explode as your cock comes to paint the lower part of your daughter's body, her pussy and thighs marked by your essence.

I'm sorry, I'll clean you up,' you say, looking for something to wipe your cum-filled daughter with.

"It's OK, I'll do it myself,' she says as she scoops up the white liquid and brings it to her mouth.

Any young man would have been revitalised to see such a beautiful woman collecting cum on her body, but your cock is now in a less than glorious state and you pull up your trousers, taking care to get dressed.

"It's almost time darling, I have to go," you tell her as you haven't eaten or slept well, it's going to be a long day.

"Wait," she replies as she approaches you, still naked, "don't forget my goodbye kiss," as she presses her lips hard against yours, then whispers, "we'll continue tonight, I love you.

Your body and mind may be in bad shape, but knowing your princess will be there for you tonight fills your heart with a feeling you've been missing.

Later, in your car on the way to work, you get a notification that someone you're following has just started a live stream, obviously it's Yuna, she's the only one you follow, you pick up the stream on the way, but enough to hear your daughter say

My favourite fruit? mhhhhhhhhhh that's a good question, I'll go with lemon, it's a sweet fruit like me and TMI, but my dad loves lemons'.

______________________________________________________________

[bigfootsboytoy]

Steve ends up heartbroken, lonely and depressed after season 2. Nancy called him bullshit, even after he ditched all his old friends for her. Billy Hargrove took his spot at the top of the food chain. He can have it, Steve doesn't really want it anymore. But Steve does want to find some sort of connection. Someone to have in his life who isn't an 11 year old kid he barely knows. He tries to go on a date one night, take a nice-seeming girl to a party. He wants to find connection, to kill the loneliness that's been building for months, but just as he's feeling kind of good about things, his date ditches him.

So. He decides to drink his feelings. He gets majorly fucked up, and ends up laying on the ground in the backyard, contemplating how much life seems to hate him.

Only to literally get tripped over by Eddie Munson, who was at this party selling pot and is very confused as to why Steve Harrington is alone on the ground with a bottle of vodka clenched in one hand.

Eddie ends up chatting a little with Steve, nothing substantial, but enough to know that Steve is very very drunk, and also very very sad.

He asks if Steve wants to go back to the party, and Steve staunchly refuses. He doesn't want to be around a bunch of annoyingly happy people.

He asks if Steve needs a ride home, and Steve just kind of shrugs. His parents just left for another trip, so home is kind of depressing right now too. But he doesn't exactly have any other friends he can stay with so. Home it'll have to be.

Only Eddie can *tell* he doesn't really want to go home, though he has no idea why Steve wouldn't want to return to his veritable mansion after a shitty night. The reason doesn't matter much. He offers to let Steve crash at his place. Steve can take the couch, or hell he can stay in Eddie's room if he doesn't mind sharing, that way he wouldn't risk being woken up when Wayne comes home that morning.

And well, Steve agrees. Can't think of any reason not too. Munson has been nice so far, he's got a good easy-going energy that Steve likes. Why not stay the night.

By the time they get to Eddie's, Steve is *slightly* more sober. Not much, but he's slurring his words a little less, and he can walk with only a little help.

Eddie grabs them each a little plate of leftovers, because he has no idea if Steve's eaten at all. It's quiet while they eat, Eddie doesn't push Steve to talk, and Steve isn't sure what to say. Eventually Eddie sets the plates aside and give Steve an easy grin.

"So, do you want the couch, or are you crashing with me?"

Steve thinks about it for a while. He hasn't shared a bed with a guy-friend since he was a kid, and he's heard rumors about Eddie, whispers in the hall about the way he looks at other guys. But...Steve can't really bring himself to care. He's tired, and he really doesn't want to be alone.

"I don't mind sharing."

Eddie sets them both up in his room, letting Steve choose which side of the bed he wants, and they both settle in. There's a respectable distance between the two of them, and Eddie says a quick goodnight to Steve, figures they won't talk and just go right to bed.

Except Steve isn't sober, and he really isn't in a good headspace, so he can't stop himself from blurting things out into the quiet of the dark room.

"Are you really gay?"

Eddie stiffens next to him, he can feel it, he can hear the way that the other boys breath cuts off and he seems to stop breathing all-together.

"It's okay if you are, I'm not going to be an asshole about it, I'm trying not to be that guy anymore. I guess I was just curious."

It's quiet for another beat before Eddie seems to loosen just a little. He starts breathing again at least.

"Yeah I uh- I am. Gay. And if that's weird the couch is still open, I can-"

"It's not weird."

"Okay."

Steve let's himself mull over this confirmation, and then his mouth starts moving again, without his permission.

"Is it lonely? Cause I mean, it's got to be hard to date in Hawkins. People here are shitty. Unless you've got like, a secret boyfriend or something."

"No...no secret boyfriend. It does get a little lonely sometimes. I'm lucky though, I've got my uncle, and my friends are pretty great. That's enough most days."

"What do you do when it's not enough?"

"Hmmm?"

"When your uncle and friends aren't enough, what do you do? To try and...make it better?"

Eddie is quiet again for a long stretch before he shrugs.

"I try to focus on something else. I'll play my guitar or work on a new campaign, read a book. Something to take my mind off it."

"Oh."

Now Steve is the one who seems tense, his jaw is tight and he's got his arms wrapped around himself. His next words come out as a whisper, but Eddie manages to catch them.

"I don't know how to do any of that."

He sounds almost choked, and Eddie is caught off guard. He's never seen Steve Harrington as anything other than solid, as happy. He's the king, after all. He's supposed to be all smiles and great hair. Only...Eddie's noticed that he hasn't hung out with his old friends lately, that he's eaten alone at lunch too many times to be anything other than strange.

"Steve...are you lonely?"

Eddie expects a denial, for Steve to laugh it off and tell Eddie that he's perfectly fine and fulfilled. Or maybe he expects a shrug, a non-answer. What he doesn't expect is the gut-wrenching sob that seems to tear past the other boys lips.

He doesn't expect to turn and see Steve Harrington's face, a scant foot from his, shining with tears.

He panics a little at the sight.

"Fuck- I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be." Steve tries to wipe his eyes, to hide the tremble in his voice. "Not your fault there's something wrong with me."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like I'm broken man, like nobody can stand to be around me. Tommy and Carol hate me now, Nancy- hell even my own parents hate being at home with me for more than a week. It's like I'm repellent or something. Couldn't even get a date to stick around for a whole night."

And Eddie's pretty sure *he* might start crying now. He'd never have expected this much from Steve, all that sadness to come pouring out. It wouldn't have happened if Steve was completely sober. Without thinking, he reaches out.

Eddie puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and waits to see if the touch gets rejected, but Steve seems to lean into him, so he lets his hand linger.

"This probably won't help, but I don't think you're repellent. And that's coming from somebody who your whole group used to torture. I don't know much about you, but I kind of liked having you around tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Steve gives him a tiny smile. His eyes are still wet with tears, and the smile doesn't come close to reaching them. He seems impossibly small here in Eddie's bed.

"I don't know man. I just wish-"

He cuts himself off, apparently deciding his words are too far, but Eddie urges him to keep talking.

"What do you wish Steve?"

"I just wish that... there was somebody out there I could have a future with. Somebody who actually loved me, you know?"

It might be the saddest thing Eddie's ever heard, and he blames that fact for what he does next.

He takes his hand off Steve's shoulders and instead hauls Steve closer to him, fitting the other boy against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. It's a move that might get him decked, but he doesn't think it will. And he'll be damned if he doesn't hug Steve right that second.

He doesn't get hit. Steve tenses for a second, but it's just that one instant before he's melting into the embrace.

Eddie feels more tears falling against his shirt, and he couldn't care less. He keeps Steve close, let's him cry into his chest, runs a hand through that famous mop of hair.

He isn't sure how long it takes for Steve to calm down, but eventually he does. His breathing evens out, and he shivers a little before speaking.

"Thanks man."

And Eddie takes another leap of faith.

"I could be that person, you know."

"What?"

"I mean. You know Im... not straight. It may not be exactly what you're wanting but. I think I could picture a future with you. If you want to, just for tonight...I could be that someone who loves you."

Steve looks at Eddie, like he's a puzzle that he needs to solve, before a other shiver seems to wrack his body.

"Just for tonight?"

It comes out as a whisper, but Eddie hears it all the same.

"Yeah. For tonight Steve."

"I think...I think I'd like that."

Eddie gives him the sweetest smile he can muster, and nods.

"Alright sweetheart."

Eddie isn't exactly sure what it means, to love Steve for the night. After all, Steve is straight. He figures it doesn't matter much though, it's only for a night.

He keeps a hold on Steve, let's him get comfortable tucked against Eddie, and he does what feels natural. He runs a hand up and down Steve's spine, traces shapes into the soft fabric of his shirt. He tangles their legs together, and in a moment of insane bravery he presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head.

He's met with a sigh, full of relief, and figures he's on the right track.

"Just close your eyes Stevie, I've got you."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"Hmmm?"

"The future. You said you could see one. Can you tell me?"

And he asks so carefully, he sounds almost afraid, Eddie can't say no to that.

"Do you want the fantasy future, or the realistic future?"

"The real one."

"Alright then. Well, if I'm not going to be a rich and famous rockstar...I'll probably graduate and get a job somewhere in town. A real job, maybe working on cars or something. I'm good with cars. You'd come over all the time, have dinners with me and with Wayne. You'd have to meet Wayne. And we'd have more nights like this, sleeping close."

Steve let's out a pleased sounding hum, and shifts his face so it's buried even closer in Eddie's neck. He can feel Steve's breath on him.

"We could save up money and get a little place together, somewhere outside Hawkins. I have to stay kind of close, for my uncle, but maybe Indy?"

Steve nods, mutters something about staying close 'just in case'. He sounds like he might fall asleep, so Eddie keeps going.

"We could get an apartment, nothing too fancy. We would get two rooms, so nobody gets suspicious, but we would share a bed most nights. I'd play with my band on weekends, just for fun, and you'd join some little local sports team. I'd make sure to schedule DND nights so that I never miss a single game, even though I don't understand a damn thing about sports. We would come home for holidays, but most of the time it would just be us. I'd take good care of you, make sure you never go more than a few hours without me telling you I love you. I'll show up wherever you're working just to give you a hug and a kiss, and make sure you don't forget it. And I'll annoy the hell out of, but you won't mind too much, because I'll make you happy too."

Eddie can think of more. He can think about so many things. How he could give Steve one of his rings, even if they couldn't legally get married, even if Steve would never want that. Just as another reminder that he's loved. They could take trips together and go out to parties where Steve will never have to worry about getting ditched. Eddie doesn't do things halfway, and he has a hell of an imagination. He could picture them growing old together, if he tried, if he let himself. But this is just for tonight, so he doesn't. Instead he runs a hand through Steve's hair again, and listens to his quiet breathing. He thinks he may have fallen asleep, but he's wrong.

"That sounds nice."

It comes out muffled, spoken into Eddie's neck, but he manages to make it out, and he let's the vibration of it sink into his skin.

*It's only for tonight.*

He has to remind himself, because Steve is just feeling lonely. He doesn't want that future with Eddie, he just wants to feel loved.

But even if it's just pretend, just to help Steve for a few hours, he's okay with that.

Steve may think he's broken, but Eddie thinks he would be easy to love for a long time. Loving him for one night is nothing. He doesn't even have to try.

Tomorrow Steve will wake up sober, and he'll thank Eddie for letting him stay over, and they won't talk about it. Eddie will drive Steve back to his car in silence, and they'll say their goodbyes. They may not talk ever again, they never had before.

But for tonight? Eddie Munson will love Steve Harrington, and Steve? He'll let himself be loved, let himself beleive it. And he'll love Eddie right back.

Just for one night.

And if Steve ever needs it again? Eddie will love him for another night. And Steve will give that love right back. He's got plenty to spare, after all. And there's far worse people he could share it with.

[rc-writes]

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: spencer reid x bau!reader

warnings: reader has a headache due to accidentally missing lunch

a/n: one more little blurb i've written due to my criminal minds rewatch journey! as of now i unfortunately have no other little blurbs written so i don't want you guys to think this is me suddenly being active a lot again. like i said in my penelope blurb i make no promises of me posting regularly again, but i definitely want/hope to write more! anyways, this blurb is completely inspired by me forgetting food exists for half a day a few weeks ago and getting a massive headache due to it :/ advice of the day kids, eating is important! lol

You and JJ had been on reading files duty for the day which meant being held up in the tiny room the local police station had set up for the team. Usually, it was Garcia who was in charge of digging through the files for potential suspects, but the station was severely behind on digitizing their files so manual reading was what had to be done.

As the day went on you began to have the world's most annoying headache. It wasn't too debilitating that you couldn't push through it to get through the last few files however, so you continued your reading. That was until you also began to feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you suddenly.

The most you had done all day was walk from one side of the table to the evidence board across the small room, so you weren't sure why you were suddenly on the verge of nodding off. If you were out conducting interviews or going over the crime scenes like you usually did, then maybe that would explain some tiredness, but that wasn't the case today.

"Hey, we're back!" Spencer's sudden voice filling the room made you jump out of your thoughts.

"Hi." You replied back with a soft smile, trying to mask the tiredness. "We managed to narrow the suspect pool to five people."

"Garcia is already on searching for anything that might not be in any of these files." JJ added from her spot at the table.

"Hard to believe anything is not in all these files." You joked, laughing. Mid-laugh your voice seemed to falter, the headache deciding to grow stronger at the sudden higher noise level of the room. You tried to mask your voice fading by slowly turning to face the board again, trying your best to massage your forehead a little.

"Hey are you alright?" Spencer asked as he walked closer to you.

"Yeah, yeah." You lied, turning to face him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just that I noticed your movements seem to be a bit sluggish. Not- not to say that's a problem considering you've been cooped up in here all day. But also, I noticed you're rubbing circles into your forehead which might be a sign of a headache. Which is actually a good thing to do when you have one because researchers say-" Spencer trailed off when he noticed you bringing your hand up again to your forehead. "Sorry, that's not the point. Are you okay?"

"I've been a little tired and have a minor headache. Nothing too bad, don't worry." You admitted, no point in trying to lie anymore. "I'm not sure why though. It's not like I've done much moving around all day, just flipping through piles of paper." You gestured to the table. It was then that you noticed JJ had left you two to be alone. "But I suppose just sitting here all day could be exactly the reason." 

"It is proven that little movement can have just as much effect as too much movement on the body." Spencer agreed. "To add to that, whatever you ate for lunch today could also have an effect as well."

Spencer then began to ramble about the importance of what kind of food you need to eat for which meal, but you didn't hear much as your own thoughts were racing.

A look of slight horror crossed your face. "Oh god, I didn't even realize I skipped lunch completely."

"What?"

"Yeah, I got so caught up in reading over the suspect files that I didn't want to leave when everyone else went to go get something from the break room. Thought I'd wait until I got done reading this one file, but I must have gotten too distracted and completely forgot to ever actually get up."

"Honey, no wonder you're tired and have a headache then." He reached for your hands. "You haven't eaten since we had breakfast together at the hotel." 

You held onto his hands back. "Yeah, and it wasn't exactly a big breakfast either." You both laughed. "I guess a big dinner is in my future then."

Spencer nodded, smiling. His eyes seemed to light up suddenly, you assumed some sort of idea popped into his head. He then immediately headed to the door.

"Where are you going?"

Spencer turned, walking backwards out the room. "To find food! Anything! You need to eat pronto." He bumped into the doorframe before walking completely out the room. From your small frame of vision out the doorway you saw he also nearly bumped into one of the local police officers as he was too focused to notice other people. 

You giggled to yourself at his new sudden mission to find you food. He really would do anything at the drop of a hat for you and you had no idea what you ever did to deserve it. But then you thought about how you'd do the exact same for him and he's said before he didn't deserve someone like you. It truly was a never-ending cycle of caring between you two. 

[adrienneleclerc]

That’s That Me Espresso

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles and Y/N have been dating for a few weeks, they met after the Suzuka Grand Prix. Even though their relationship has been short lived, there’s something about her that has Charles down bad. They are living proof of how the boyfriend should always like the girlfriend more.

Warning: Grammatical and spelling errors

A/N: For those who voted for idea 2, about Charles being auctioned off for charity? Yeah, I'm not vibing with that idea anymore. But i am working on the fanfic where Charles thinks Y/N likes Lando.

Charles was never one to chase girls. Sure, in every relationship he was in, he was the best boyfriend he could be, he would be so devoted to them. But in his current relationship, he has never felt this way before. He was away for the Imola Grand prix and he couldn't sleep so he decided to call Y/N. After a few rings, she answered.

"Bueno?" Y/N asked sleepily.

"Hello, mon ange, did I wake you?" Charles asked.

"Sort of, is something wrong, Charlie?" Y/N asked.

"Oh nothing, I'm just having trouble sleeping without you here, you know?" Charles said.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to this Grand Prix, cariño, i just have a lot of in-person meetings. Plus, you've been to countless races before, you would think you'd be used to sleeping alone." Y/N said.

"Yes, but that was before i met you. Now when i'm in bed alone, it feels like I'm missing something.” Charles confessed.

“You’re so sweet. But seriously, muñeco, you have media day in the morning, and I can’t have you be sleepy during the interviews, Fred would kill you.” Y/N said.

“No he wouldn’t, I’m il predestinato, the prince of Ferrari.” Charles said.

“Muñeco.” Y/N warned.

“Alright Mon ange, I’ll go to sleep, but please FaceTime me before you go to work.” Charles said.

“Of course, Charlie. Te quiero mucho, Goodnight.” Y/N said.

“Yo también te quiero, Goodnight.” Charles tried his best to say in Spanish and he hung up.

The next morning, Y/N woke up, showered, did her after shower routine, got dressed and she was about to make breakfast when Charles decided to FaceTime her. She answered.

“Muñeco, how are you? Did you get some sleep?” Y/N asked.

“I did actually, it took a while though.” Charles said.

“Well when you’re back in Monaco, I’ll be sleeping by your side.” Y/N said, she set her phone against something in the kitchen so she can make pancakes.

“Sounds perfect, I’ll be counting down the days.” Charles said.

“You think you’ll make podium?” Y/N asked.

“I’ll dedicate my podium to you, Mon ange.” Charles said. They kept talking while Y/N made her breakfast, Charles also took his phone with him to eat when his room service came so they had breakfast together,

“Charlie, baby, i need to go to work, okay, I’ll talk to you soon, te quiero.” Y/N said.

“Yo más.” Charles replied and hung up the call. There was a knock on his hotel room door and he opened it to see Carlos. “Good morning, Carlos.”

“Morning. Were you talking with Y/N?” Carlos asked

“Yes i was.” Charles replied smiling.

“Ay, I should have known, she has you completely smitten.” Carlos says.

“I know, mate, there’s just something about her.” Charles said, sighing like a person in love.

“You are whipped, it’s entertaining to see you like that. We need to head to paddock now for the interviews.” Carlos said before him and Charles left the hotel room.

Meanwhile, Y/N was finishing up her third meeting of the day when she got w FaceTime call from Y/N so she excused herself.

“Charlie querido, what is it? I’m technically still in a meeting.” Y/N said.

“Sorry Mon ange, I just wanted to see how you are, I am on break right now and then I have more interviews before the race,” Charles said.

“I’m fine, just a little tired, I call you later tonight okay? Then you can tell me all about your day. Te quiero.” Y/N said, blowing him a kiss.

“Yo más” Charles said, doing the same thing before hanging up. Y/N was about to enter the conference room again but she was stopped by her assistant.

“You got that man wrapped around your finger.” Monica commented,

“Well i wouldn’t necessarily say that I have him wrapped around my finger. Pero es si, lo tengo mal (But Yeah, i got him down bad).” Y/N said.

“How? Like what’s your secret?” Monica asked.

“There’s no secret, it’s just that me espresso.” Y/N said.

“Ha ha, no go, you have a meeting to run.” Monica said. Y/N entered the conference room to continue the meeting.

Her workday was done and she got a text from Charles and it was a link to one of his interviews. She clicked on it and she was watching it but there was a question that Charles answered that surprised her.

“Charles Leclerc, what is your favorite saying?” The interviewer asked.

“I Don’t know if it’s a popular saying or an actual saying in general, but my girlfriend says ‘that’s that me espresso’. When she was younger, her mom would say she was like a shot so espresso because of how hyper and energetic she was as a child, basically bouncing off the walls. So now when I ask her a question about anything she does, she’ll say that’s that me espresso or it’s just that me espresso, meaning that’s just how she is. How do I get crying babies to stop? That’s that me espresso, I have no idea but I guess I just have a calming presence.” Charles said laughing. Y/N stopped the video and FaceTimed Charles,

“Hey Muñeco.” Y/N said.

“Hello, ma Belle, did you see that interview?” Charles asked.

“I did, you used my phrase.” Y/N said.

“Of course I did, it’s my favorite saying in the world, it perfectly describes you. You are a shot of espresso, a moment with you has me smiling for hours, I can’t get enough of you.” Charles said,

“Eres tan cursi (you are so cheesy) but i love that about you.” Y/N said.

They continued talking until it was time for bed.

Race Weekend was done and Y/N can continue working from her home office, she didn’t didn’t have any meetings to attend to in person, she was free. She was finishing up some files when the doorbell rang. Y/N got up and answered the door and she saw a huge bouquet of her favorite flowers (mine are peonies because of Blair Waldorf).

“Whats this?” Y/N asked and the bouquet of flowers were lowered to reveal a smiling Charles Leclerc. “Muñeco!”

“Mon ange!” Charles exclaimed, they entered her apartment and they hugged as soon as charles put the bouquet on the kitchen counter, he spun her around and out her back on the ground to leave her kisses all over her face. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow, did you come here straight from the airport?” Y/N asked, taking in Charles’s hoodie and baggy jeans,

“Yes I did. I stopped by the florist first, obviously.” Charles said, gesturing to the bouquet,

“They’re beautiful.” Y/N said. “What brings you here?”

“Because I wanted to tell you up something important. I know we haven’t been dating for a long time but I have never felt this strongly about someone, I love you, te amo, estoy enamorado de ti (i am in love with you).” Charles said. Y/N starts tearing up,

“Ay muñeco, yo también te amo.” Y/N said, hugging him. “Je suis amoureux de toi.” Now it was Charles’s turn to tear up, she just told him she was in love with him too. They kissed.

“I fall in love with you more and more each day, I can’t get enough of you, how do you do that?” Charles asked, brushing Y/N’s hair back. Y/N just shrugged.

“That’s that me espresso.” Y/N said and both of them laughed, Charles pulled Y/N onto the couch and started talking about where to go out today,

The End

I had no idea where I was going with this short imagine but I hope y’all like it!

[thevoidstaredback]

Every man has his breaking point. Danny's is just a bit higher than everyone else's because he's a king and has a high tolerance for absolute bull shit. No matter how strong that bar is, though, one can only bend so far before snapping.

Unfortunately for everyone around him, Danny has reached his breaking point.

"I wish I could get drunk," he stared into his drink longingly, "Or high. But mostly drunk."

"Why do ya say that?" Billy asked, tilting his head curiously to the left.

Danny sighed, "It's a long story."

"I've got time." he shrugged.

"Are ya sure?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "You don't think any emergencies are gonna crop up? Nothing you'll need to go take care of?"

Billy backed off a little, folding into his seat. "What're you talking about? I'm just some kid on the street. I ain't going anywhere."

Danny rolled his head from side to side. "Mostly, I'm talking about the JL meeting the both of us are gonna skip out on tonight."

"What-?"

"C'mon, Captain, it won't do to talk here," he stood, picking up his coffee and waiting for Billy to do the same.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he looked Danny up and down. "I don't recognise you," he whispered, "Who are you."

Danny produced another calling card from his sleeve as he sipped his drink, holding it in front of himself but not handing it over. When Billy was looking at it, he flipped it over. The white background turned matte black, all the runes in the Ouroboros turning so white that they glowed. The DP in the very middle tinted blue, pulsing with toxic green energy, slightly cold to the touch. The edges started to frost over.

Quickly, Billy pulled the card Danny had given him before from the inner pocket of his jacket. It, too, had changed to match the one Danny held, though there was no longer a DP in the middle. Instead, it said 'Phantom' in fancy calligraphy.

"No way," the kid muttered, his expression awestruck, "Phantom? That's you? No shit?"

Danny chuckled, tucking the card away again, "No shit, kid. Don't tell anyone, though. You're the only one who knows."

"Really?" he squeaked.

"Really."

***

Having someone know his whole story was refreshing, just as he's sure Billy felt good to have someone know his, too. That didn't stop him from feeling bad about dumping it all on the poor kid.

"I still wish I could get drunk," Phantom lamented."

Constantine looked up from the book he was reading. "You can't get drunk?"

"Nope."

"How'd ya figure that one out, kid?"

"Please don't call me a kid."

That's not good. The blond marked the page before setting the book to the side. Phantom had never actually asked him to stop calling him a kid. "What's wrong?" He didn't normally do the whole 'feelings' things, but the was an exception.

Phantom sighed long and sad. He didn't look up from the carpet. "I told you they were going to ask invasive questions."

"Who was it?" It was more of a demand then a question.

"Red Robin,"

"Red- I thought you would've skipped town when we were done there? I sure as hell did."

"I know you did, but I decided to stick around for a bit. Wander, y'know? Red Robin caught up to me and would leave me alone."

Oh, oh no. Those were tears. Were they? Yeah, shit, they are! John is not equipped to handle this!

Phantom sniffled. "He asked me how I died."

Fuck.

John Constantine is not easy to anger. Sure, he gets tired, and irritated, and a whole slew of emotions, but he is very slow to anger.

Phantom, he knows, is not a child. The ghost can very much take care of himself in basically every way one could think of. He saved the world on his own, several times, when he was fourteen. He became a King and Protector when he was fourteen. He died when he was fourteen.

Right now, all he could see was the child who hadn't ever been properly laid to rest. It was hard not to call Phantom a child when he seemed so small, seeking comfort from anyone. Phantom was crying. He'd retreated to the House and locked himself in Constantine's room, only talking when he was ready to, but he'd waited to cry.

Phantom didn't like crying. Every person in the JLD knew this.

No. John Constantine is not quick to anger, but he is scary when he reaches that point. Batman might be the night and vengeance and all that shit, but John Constantine was wrathful.

He sat beside Phantom and let the ghost lean into him and cry. He didn't like dealing with feelings, but this was a child in need of comfort and he was the only one around to offer it. "Do you really want me to stop calling you 'kid'?"

A sniffle and a small head shake. "No."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"...sure."

"How old are you really? As a ghost, not as a human or a halfa. How old are you?"

"Fourteen." he mumbled, "I'll never be any older than fourteen, John," he was getting a bit hysterical now, "I'll never be any older than fourteen! I-I died and-and now I have to rule and-and people keep asking and no one believes me and-!" A sob cut him off, heavy with grief and wet with tears. He cried for hours, giving up on trying to form words. Constantine let him, ignoring the wet patches on his shirt. Eventually, Phantom's sobs died down into hiccups. "I didn't...I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's alright, mate," he meant it, really and truly.

Phantom rubbed his eyes, "I'm gonna go hide somewhere."

"Not gonna share where?"

"No, I want to be alone for a while." He paused at the door, "Whatever you're gonna do, will you leave Captain Marvel out of it?"

Odd request, but, "Alright," he nodded, "I'll talk to the others." And by 'talk', he means lecture. There are boundaries that one shouldn't cross, and not asking the dead how they died should've been obvious! With his League issued communicator, John called an emergency meeting in one hour, required attendance, barring Captain Marvel. First things first, though, he needed to talk to Deadman.

Part 7 Storyboard

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96 @orbr @tkiesai @atomicsheepscientist @8000fangirl @shower-phantom-ideas @blep-23 @aki-bara @chasing-liberosis @weirwulf20 @mynewhyperfixation

[yujiqi]

match made in heaven

stranger!hyunjin x wealthy f!reader

synopsis: you’re feeling desperate tonight so you decide to look for someone to hook up with on a dating app and it seems you guys could be more than a one night stand

genre/s: smut, fluff

warnings: oral f!receiving, vanilla sex, lil bit of dry humping

wc: 1.7k

a/n: listen to singularity - bts while reading! i wrote this 2 years ago so it’s not that good but i feel bad for not posting so heres a little smth! mostly proofread!

you long for evenings like this. sipping on a glass of wine, taking a hot bath with a rich lavender essence filling the bathroom.

"miss y/n, your food has arrived. shall i leave it here?" you hear your butler from the other side of the door.

"leave it on my coffee table, thank you"

you hear his footsteps fading away. being wealthy is fun. many people say money cant buy happiness but you think that's false. they're just saying that because they don't have money.

you live alone, your butler and the others that do your housework come early in the morning, but by midnight, it's just you. a part of you wishes you had someone to spend your nights with. you’re the ceo of the company your dad owns. some say you were born with a silver spoon. they aren't wrong, but it does bother you how people badmouth you behind your back when you could easily end their career.

you take the last sip of your wine and set the glass down. you carefully step out of the bathtub and wrap a towel around yourself. the aroma of food fills your nostrils. you ordered lobster with a couple other sides. your butler left a new bottle of wine right by it. you usually don't have big meals like this but it’s friday and it’s been a tiring week. you hear your phone ring and you hesitate for a moment. you don't feel like talking to anyone right now. it’s your mom calling. she's always bugging you about how you need to get married.

"hello" you finally answer the phone.

"y/n. what did i tell you about ignoring my calls." she sounds mad.

"you know i'm busy, mom"

"too busy to answer the woman that brought you to this planet?"

"mom," you pause for a second because you really don't wanna do this right now. "i have to go"

"when are you going to get married, y/n" you feel like she can practically hear your eye roll at this point.

"why are you so worried about that when i'm literally the ceo of a company? i'm well off, i don’t need a man" you protest.

"i just think it would be best if you settled with a man, have a kid that will soon takeover the company too"

"i'm going to sleep. goodnight" and with that, you hang up.

you’re 26, she seriously needs to back off a bit. although you do feel you should find a man. you don't want a man to settle down with though, you want a man to satisfy you and pleasure you. lord knows you need it. you can't remember the last time you had sex. maybe 3 years ago? you’ve been so busy, you haven't had time to think about yourself. you look at your phone and can't believe what you’re about to do. you open the app store and type in "hookup apps".

you’re shocked you’d stoop this low, but you’re feeling really desperate tonight. you open the app and it asks for the basics. name, age, city, and a few extra questions. the app is very quick to find matches. none of them interest you until someone catches your eye.

hyunjin, 23, seoul

cool, hes 3 years younger than you but you can make it work. you send a request to him and he immediately sends a message.

hyunjin: into younger guys i see?

me: im gonna be honest... im really desperate rn

hyunjin: oh yeah? dont u wanna know even a little bit about me?

me: not really

hyunjin: i could be an old white man yk

me: the fact that ur saying that alr lets me know ur not

hyunjin: true

me: ill give u my address then

hyunjin: already???

me: i told u im desperate

you send him your address and anxiously wait in the lobby area of your penthouse. you mess with the strap on your velvet robe. you’re not wearing anything underneath so easy access, right? you get a message from hyunjin asking for the gate code. you give it to him and soon you hear the doorbell chime throughout the house. you quickly get up and open the massive door for him.

"woah" his mouth wide open, pure shock on his face

"you like it?"

"i'm not talking about the house, i'm talking about you" he says.

well that's a first. you don't get many guests, but when you do, all they talk about is the house.

"you're bold" is all you manage to let out. he's fine. incredibly fine. the way his long black his falls perfectly onto his shoulders. you notice the mole under eye. how unique. he's also very tall, much taller than you at least. he has long, slim fingers and your mind can't help but imagine what he can do with them.

"do you want a glass of wine?" you ask him

"i thought you were horny"

"i am, i'm just building up to it" you look up at him with those eyes. the ones that make any guy melt. you grab his hand and lead him upstairs to your room. we sit on the couch and you pour him a glass. even while he drinks, he doesn't take his eyes off of you. he looks hungry and you like it.

"this is a nice place you have" he says, setting down the glass.

"yeah, i'm the ceo of my dad's company" you’re not really one to brag so you don't know why you said that, internally face palming. he nods and continues to stare into your eyes. he then looks down to catch a glimpse at what you’re wearing. the hunger in his eyes grows even more. with the way he's looking at you, you don't think you can sit still any longer. you get closer to him. he watches you closely. you look at him and ask,

"what do you want?"

"you" is all he says before placing his lips on yours. he kisses you so slow and sensually, just how you like it. you wrap your arms around his neck and your hand moves to the back of his head. he deepens the kiss, if that was even possible. he adjusts himself on the couch, making you sit on his lap. you can't help but to slightly grind against him due to the lack of friction. he lets out a slight groan into the kiss. so he likes this... good to know.

"hyunjin, please" you breathe between kisses

he only lets out a low moan in response. his hands find your robe strap. he wastes no time unraveling it. you get goosebumps from the cold air. but the second his hands land on your bare chest, you feel hot. he plays with your breasts for a while before breaking the kiss. his lips move to your jaw, then neck, then collarbone. you start to breathe heavy as you wait for him to put his mouth where you want it the most.

he kisses the area right above your left nipple and takes it in his mouth soon after. you almost immediately moan at the sensation you haven't felt in forever. you run your fingers gently through his hair as his face is shoved in your chest.

"hyunjin, the bed" you whisper into his ear. he stops feasting on you and looks into your eyes with that same look from before, but this one more desperate. he hurriedly picks you up and places you on your king bed, white satin sheets. your lips connect again with the slow and sensual pace as hyunjin climbs on top of you. it feels like you’ve been doing this all night but its only been a few minutes. you pull his shirt over his head. he has a slim appearance, but also has visible abs. what a sight. he's so beautiful, you admire him before he starts to kiss down your stomach. he gets closer and closer to your pussy and you want to moan before he even does anything. you like that in this moment, no words are needed. you’re taking things slowly. you desperately want him to touch and feel every part of you. he looks up at you before eating you out like you’re his last meal. with every movement of his tongue, you feel like you’re in heaven knowing you’re far from it. you thrust your hips, shoving yourself further into his mouth. he pulls your legs further apart, trying to taste every inch of you. there's that familiar yet unfamiliar feeling building up in you.

a breathy "hyun m’gonna" is all that can come out of your mouth.

"not yet love" he moves away from your pulsing cunt. you’re about to whine before he shuts you up with another kiss. he sits up to unbutton his pants. he discards his boxers as well. he pumps himself a bit before leaning down to place more kisses onto your lips as if he'll never get to feel them again. he adjusts himself before thrusting into you slowly. gosh it's been so long since you’ve felt something this good. he leans forward onto his elbows, his cock buried deep in you. you feel his breath your my ear. you wrap your arms around him tightly. the way you are right now feels so comfortable. it's like you’ve known him your whole life even though you met 30 minutes ago. he ruts into you deeply and passionately.

"y/n you're doing so good" he breathes out. he holds you tighter, kissing the skin by your ear. his thrusts start to get faster as you both get closer to your orgasm, and your moans get louder. there's that feeling again, except it's much more intense this time. with one final thrust, you both release. it's interesting how you’re so in sync with everything. you don't want this to be your last night with him. you guys catch your breath for a second before he removes his head from your neck to look at you.

"you're amazing" he smiles at you, a sincere one.

"you too" you smile back.

for some reason, it feels like you don't need to say anything else. like you both know what the other is feeling and thinking through everything you just did. it's connections like this that you should cherish. you plan on sticking with him.

"lets stay like this for a while, then get cleaned up, yeah?" he says

you just nod, his hair tickles your chin.

you’ve finally found your match, your match made in heaven.

[yanderelionwrites]

I'm Not Sad, Just Tired - Yandere!Leona x Reader

Content Warning: (soft) yandere, implied kidnapping/captivity, Stockholm Syndrome slowly setting in perhaps? 👀

Word Count: 1.1k

(Kind of a part 2 to this but I think this can be read on its own)

It’s another banquet you couldn’t care less about.

You had been strongly encouraged (read: guilt tripped) to accompany Leona to the event by his sister-in-law. And who were you to deny the Queen’s request? You sucked it up and let Leona escort you around, maintaining as far of a distance you could get away with while having your hand placed on his arm.

It’s obvious why Leona was so intent on ditching. This party blows. 

You can’t recall what the celebration is even for. It was most likely for some diplomatic reason, though you’re pretty sure the king just likes throwing parties at this point. Either way, it has only been an hour and you are already tired of it.

The guests had finished eating and were now dancing the night away. You manage to lose Leona in the crowd, taking this chance to be alone and heading out of the venue. You can’t take another minute rubbing elbows with these people.

The palace’s hallway is silent, save for the muffled music coming from the party and the clicking of your shoes against the tiled floor. You stroll down the corridor, not heading anywhere in particular. You just need to clear your head and get some fresh air.

Stumbling upon the palace’s courtyard, you find a bench to rest at. There’s a sense of tranquility here; it’s the perfect place to take a break from faking a smile for all of the Afterglow Savanna. It also gives a nice view of the night sky up above.

You’re enjoying the peace until you hear footsteps approaching you from behind. At first you think it’s Leona, the man who is persistent in keeping you next to him, but the steps sound too light.

Turning around, you see little prince Cheka trying to creep up on you. His big, brown eyes widen in astonishment when you take notice of him and he slightly pouts.

“Awww! I wanted to surprise you! I thought I was being so quiet too…” Cheka whines, hopping up onto the bench to sit beside you.

“Wha- Cheka? What are you doing out here by yourself? You should have been put to bed by now,” you say, swiveling your head left and right to look for any of his attendants.

“I’m not sleepy yet, so I snuck out!” he admitted happily.

You sigh and shake your head, ruffling his hair. “Of course you did. If you don’t go back to your room, Kifaji or your retainers won’t be very happy with you.”

“But I wanna stay with youuu.” Cheka hugs your arm and presses his cheek against your shoulder, nuzzling it. “And with Unca! How come he’s not here with you?”

Grimacing, you shrug and try to brush off the subject. “He’s still at the banquet. Now you should really go back to bed, Cheka-”

The cub ignores your request and plops his head on your lap. Curling up so he can still see your face, he asks, “Do you like Unca Leona?”

Where did that come from? You tense and avoid his curious stare, opting to gaze up at the stars. “Why do you ask?”

“You always look sad near him.” Cheka yawns and turns the other way. “Are you sad?”

Darn this perceptive kid. You don’t want to tell him the truth. You can’t tell him the truth. He wouldn’t understand. How would you even explain to him that his uncle and everyone else in this palace are basically holding you here against your will? That his uncle, his idol, is a selfish, irritating, possessive, clingy, and manipulative prick?

Okay, well, he wasn’t that bad. He makes sure you’re as comfortable as you can be here. And he’s been fairly patient with you even after all the crap you have spewed at him. But still. Not the point.

“I’m not sad, sweetheart,” you lie. “It’s just…complicated.”

“Unca really loves you. And me, Mama, and Papa love you too! So don’t be sad, okay?”

Easier said than done.

You remain silent, petting his hair to try and lull him to sleep. It works like a charm, with Cheka’s soft snores being heard not too long after.

“So this is where you ran off to. You know, it kind of hurts when you decide to up and ditch me like that.”

You don’t have to look up to know who it is. Your small reprieve from Leona is cut short as he stalks into your field of vision. His neutral expression turns into one of slight annoyance at seeing Cheka curled up on your lap.

“Great. I see the little furball has escaped his room once again. Kid never fails to give me a headache.” His voice is just above a whisper so as not to arouse the sleeping child. He knows that if Cheka did wake up now, he’d never fall back asleep.

“We should take him to his room before anyone freaks out about him missing,” you sigh. You move to pick up the young prince, but Leona stops you.

 “I’ll carry him,” he resigns, taking him from your lap.

Trailing after Leona down the hall, you can’t help but think the scene before you is endearing. As much as he denies it, he truly cares for his nephew’s wellbeing.

You two reach Cheka’s bedroom, and Leona sets him down against the massive amounts of pillows and stuffed animals that are strewn across his bed. After unceremoniously draping the blanket over his small frame, Leona leaves just as quickly as he entered. You stay behind, however, taking the time to properly tuck Cheka in and making sure he’s nice and settled. You hesitate for a minute, before leaning down and pressing a light kiss to the young prince’s head, whispering goodnight to him.

Leona watches from the doorway, a hint of jealousy swirling in his eyes. He feels a pang in his heart as he wishes he was the one you’d treat so gently and affectionately. That you’d kiss him goodnight, maybe even cuddle up next to him in his bed before drifting to sleep together. That you’d actually care about him like he does about you.

Your smile drops after you leave Cheka’s room, turning back to that look of disinterest you wear these days. You don’t meet his eyes when you point in the direction of where the banquet was being held.

“Well, I guess break time’s over. Should we head back over now?” you ask.

Leona stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks past you. “Nah. It’s not like we’re needed there. I’m turning in for the night.”

“Oh, ok… Well, goodnight then.”

That’s rare. You’re actually saying that to him this time.

“Yeah… ‘Night.”

And with that, you both go your separate ways towards your rooms. It would be another cold night without you or your love, but Leona will just have to endure.

He’s used to it by now.

~~~

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

[grnpurplgrmln]

with this new version of bluza that we got, i feel like i have to talk about the lyric "da se nagledam lepote te" (and also maybe the entirety of the last verse bc it drives me crazy)

for starters, it is such a romantic lyric i CANNOT get over it

no english translation can do it justice, the closest i can think of off the top of my head is "so i can soak up that beauty", but even that's not quite right

nagledati is a very specific type of verb (idk what the actual name for it would be cause i don't think it's a svršeni verb?? could be wrong idk grammar was never my strong suit)

it comes from the verb gledati (to look) and the prefix na-

the prefix na- gives it a sort of full quality. najesti (na- + jesti (to eat)) would mean that you've eaten so much that you're now full and can't eat anymore. nahodati (na- + hodati (to walk)) would mean that you've walked so much that you're now tired and can't walk anymore etc etc.

now, nagledati, in the context of looking at the person you're in love with, specifically their beauty AND the additional context that you're going to have to be away from them, for an undetermined amount of time?

looking at your lover so closely and so focused, so you can remember their every wrinkle, every blemish, every freckle, every twinkle in their eyes as they stare at you with the same love you feel for them, just in case you start to miss them, because you know you will, your heart would never let you fool yourself into thinking otherwise?

devastating, i want more of it

as i've stated earlier, this whole ending verse just trips me up so bad, in the best way possible

"ne palite još svetla" "don't turn on the lights yet"

"još samo jedan tren" "just one more moment"

"da se nagledam lepote te" "so i can really take in that beauty"

"ne palite još svetla" "don't turn on the lights yet"

"ne prizivajte dan" "don't summon the day"

"spasite me, smislite neki plan" "save me, think up some plan"

"ako svane sunce" "if the sun rises"

"ostat ću sam" "i'll be left alone"

it's so tragically romantic that it makes my heart break.

one thing i noticed here though, are the lyrics "ne palite još svetla" and "spasite me, smislite neki plan" mostly because they're in plural

now, i think it's probably just because that's the closest serbian has to gender neutral pronouns*, but i also think it's interesting to think of bojan, as the "protagonist" of the song, pleading the world to stop so he could get more time with his lover, a moment of selfishness

and the way the rest of the song sets up this almost domestic feeling "soba nam je mala"/"our room is small", which could also be translated to "the room is too small for us" as in "this room is far too small for our love, to handle us"

and i just... how can you not love this song...

additional notes:

* i'm an idiot, i just remembered that singular imperative exists and is also gender neutral so the lyric could have been "spasi me, smisli neki plan" but it's not so the whole protagonist talking to the world stuff might have been the intended purpose

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 3 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 7.2k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, hints of petplay, mild public play notes - part 3 kind of ran away from me, if you can't tell from the word count!! i had a lot of fun with this one, so i hope you enjoy! also on ao3! ♥

Life was teaching you early on in this budding relationship that life without Johnny drags. 

The first day or two he was gone wasn't so bad. Before he'd even left the country, he'd sent you an incredibly drool-worthy photo of him in his fatigues. You've spent more time looking at it over the past week or so than you probably should've—fixated on the size of his arms, the confident pose, and the mic set around his neck. 

The sight of that alone sent your thoughts reeling—and was the part you'd zoomed into on the most, beside Johnny's handsome face. 

Then came the voice note, the one you've been listening to on repeat—addicted to Johnny's words and voice. Finally, you have it captured to listen back to on demand. He'd sent you other voice notes since, shorter ones with "I'm thinking about you." or "Just met a street cat, his collar said his name is Halim!" with a photo accompanying it. 

Those made your heart sing, and your smile wide, but the last one he sent was him explaining he'd be going dark, and he'd message again whenever he could. 

That had been over a week ago now, and the radio silence left your nerves on edge, frayed and tested as you waited for any sign.

Some sense of salvation had come in the form of an after-work drinking session that turned into a full-blown night out—it was a welcome distraction and an oasis of general socialisation after your desert of solitude.

You were dressed up nice, getting a little tipsy and dancing the night away—only checking your phone as you pulled it out to pay for a drink. 

The missed call notification has you rushing to down the drink, so you can head out the back of the club. As soon as the pounding music fades away, you're pressing the phone to your ear and listening to the dial—it feeling tortuously slow as you wait for Johnny to pick up with every ring. Just before it goes to voicemail, his voice is blessing your ears once more. 

"Hey, pretty girl." He greets, his voice seemingly as bright as always. 

"Johnny!" You all but squeal in excitement, a heady combination of missing him and the effects of the alcohol making your enthusiasm bubble over.

He laughs, slow and sweet, as warmth spreads through your chest. "Missed me that much, aye?" 

You missed him far too much considering the current state of your relationship, but even in your intoxicated state, you know to keep that mostly to yourself. "Missed you so much!" You giggle, moving further away from the door as a group of people join you out back—cigarettes hanging from their fingers.

"Missed you too. Where are yer?" Johnny asks, clearly hearing the commotion in the background. 

"I'm out with some people from work, but I'll go home right now, I swear—" 

Johnny cuts you off before you can even finish your offer. "Don't you dare, lass, enjoy your night. I just wanted to let you know I'm back, tha's all."

Hearing from him was such a relief, and you are so glad he called—though now you don't want to stop talking again. "Does that mean we can meet soon?" You ask—voice light, flirtatious, and most importantly hopeful.

"I was thinking Sunday if that works for yer?" 

"Making me wait again, Sergeant?" You practically twirl your hair around your finger as you tease him, smiling unreservedly as you hold the phone to your ear. 

"Keep talking like tha' and I'll come down there right now." His growl is playful, but you can tell using his rank has some sort of effect on him. 

You pull your lip between your teeth, giggling once more and flushing with need. "Do it, I dare you." You taunt.

Johnny's sigh is a little defeated, his tone a little tired and flat compared to usual."I cannae, still got things to wrap up. Tha's why I said Sunday and not tomorrow, sweet thing." 

You relent with your joking, not wanting to keep up with teasing when Johnny seems a little... low. "You're worth the wait." You whisper into the phone, soft and sincere—you hope that makes him smile at least. 

"We'll sort out the details tomorrow, yeah?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "Sounds good." 

He perks up a little bit, even if it sounds somewhat forced. "Feel like doing me a favour before you get back to yer friends?"

"Anything." Your answer is instant, especially if it would cheer him up right now. Coming back from the things he must see has to be hard, and you can't blame him for continuing to be affected by it. Is that why he needed an extra day? To decompress and adjust back to being Johnny instead of a sergeant in the army? 

"Send me a picture of your outfit." The sentence lands somewhere between a question and a command—though you had every intention of complying anyway. 

"Yes sir." You answer instinctually, not putting too much thought into it until you hear Johnny's growl in response. The kind of growl that ignites something deep within you every time you hear it. 

His voice is low, rumbling down the phone with a hint of playful warning. "Bonnie..." 

"Sorry." You laugh lightly, before turning more sincere. "I'm glad you're safe, Johnny."

The line is silent for a moment, just long enough for you to worry you've said the wrong thing, but as always, Johnny washes away your doubt.  "I'm glad you waited for me." 

"Of course." A shiver passes over you, the night air making you want to retreat back inside. You wrap an arm around yourself as you brace yourself from the cold. "Talk tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, for definite. Have a nice night, angel." His wish is sincere, the softness in his voice something you'll replay over and over again. 

"Night, Johnny." 

You wait for him to end the call before you rush back into the club, beelining straight for the bathroom to snap a picture just for Johnny. The dress isn't your usual clubbing outfit, having come straight from work, but you look cute, and you feel confident as you send the picture straight to Johnny.

The next day drags even more than the last few have, especially with the mild hangover thundering your skull. Every part of the day is just about going through the motions, getting through it, so you're one minute closer to seeing Johnny. Every moment is a little dull, until you find yourself waiting for him at the exit of the train station.

The excitement and the nerves wage war inside you—with each passing second, you're getting closer and closer to being swept up in Johnny's arms, to hopefully feeling like you're finally home. But with each second, you're inching closer to vulnerability, to risk, to the possibility that somehow he might decide after today that he never wants to see you again. 

Maybe he'll look at you and realise he doesn't quite like your body, or the way your mouth moves when you talk. Maybe he'll hate your mannerisms, or find that in person you're actually really boring to talk to. Perhaps he'll just know within moments of meeting you that you'll never be his home, never be his.

The thought is terrifying, crawling around the back of your mind as you scan every passing face in the hopes of seeing the silly little mohawk you long to run your fingers through. 

And when you do, the world stills.

You spot him before he spots you, and you get a moment to appreciate his searching gaze, his quietly confident swagger, the way his denim jacket stretches over his shoulders, and his shirt clings to his stomach. 

In short, he's a vision. All man—big and strong and beautiful. It takes everything within you to not launch yourself into his arms as soon as he gets close. 

He continues to look around as he makes his way through the ticket barriers, glancing between the crowds and his phone as he makes his way closer and closer. You emerge from your hidden spot, your legs carrying you without hesitation over to him—and when your eyes meet, you both stop completely still for just a moment. Nothing but wide smiles on your faces and a magnetic pull that draws you together. 

The bodies in between you are a hindrance, a barrier you both need to be gone as you weave through them before finally standing before each other—and at that moment everything feels right. 

"Wow." Johnny says as he looks you up and down and drinks all of you in.

"Wow yourself." You giggle, checking him out just the same and adjusting to just how much more handsome he is in person—as if such a thing were possible. "Hi Johnny." Even you are surprised by how breathless you sound, but it makes perfect sense when you consider how fast your heart is beating, how your hands are starting to shake. 

"Think I must be dreamin'" He blinks in disbelief, unable to keep the radiant, infectious smile off of his face. 

You blush deeply, and find you can no longer meet the intensity of his eyes. "Flatterer." Your word is a whisper as you push yourself to your tip toes and wrap your arms around Johnny's neck, pulling him in for a hug.

His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you close, tightly enveloping you in a serene feeling of safety, as well as his fresh, masculine scent. 

Home. You think it's the closest you ever felt to it, bundled up in his arms as he cradles you like you're the most precious thing on earth to him. 

His hands roam over your back, caressing you so delicately and savouring every bit of you, as your own hands thread around the back of his neck, and you sink your fingers in, grasping him to ground yourself in the moment. It's real, he's real, and being in his arms feels so right it almost hurts. 

"You're even more gorgeous in person, bonnie." He whispers in your ear, breath hot and sending shivers all over your body. Thank god he's holding you upright, as your entire being is so vulnerable right now to every sensation. 

He pulls away slightly, but keeps you close, his eyes returning to yours once more, looking at you like you're everything. 

"I could say the same about you." You giggle, feeling self-conscious beyond belief. "Your eyes..." They're so blue, two oceanic pools of deep emotion, pulling you under the longer you stare. 

Everything you feel is reflected in his eyes—hope, bliss, excitement. 

"Grew them maself." He laughs, his nose wrinkling as he laughs at his own silly joke. 

He has you captivated entirely, as you drink in every single feature on his face—the strong brows, the scar on his lips, the dimples hidden behind his stubble. Every detail makes your heart thump against your rib cage, makes you want to reach out and trace your fingers over every little thing you discover. 

You're snapped out of your reverie when someone's bag brushes past you, and you remember you're in the middle of a train station, blocking people's way. 

"We should move out of the way." 

"Aye." He nods, slipping an arm around you so as to not lose contact as the two of you shuffle out of the path of the commuters. "Fuck. Am not letting you go now." 

His grip tightens around you as he pulls you in once more, hands settling on your waist as he stares down in adoration.

"Good." You can't help the smile on your face, so big and bright your cheeks hurt from how unwavering it is—that's just the feeling Johnny inspires. 

This time, it's him who seems affected by your gaze, as he averts his eyes from yours. "'s a bit weird, though." He admits, a strange shyness to his tone. 

Nothing about Johnny right now would suggest he's anything even close to nervous or uncomfortable, but you figure a man like him is very good at masking how he really feels. Your hands slip to his chest, your thumbs rubbing soothingly back and forth as you try to project a sense of calm to soothe you both. 

"Have you never done this before?" You ask, curiosity brimming but with no underlying judgement.

"No." His cheeks begin to redden as he glances at you briefly, a rare display of shyness from the seemingly endlessly confident man. "Don't laugh, it's ma first time." 

You continue your soothing gesture as you speak from the heart. 

"I wouldn't laugh! I have done this before, and I'm still so fucking nervous." Said nervousness escapes you in the form of a clipped laugh. "... If it wasn't obvious from the blushing and shaking." 

Johnny made you nervous, and yet peaceful all at the same time. His pull was irresistible, concrete, even if you stumbled to him on shaky legs. You knew what he might be feeling right now, if his heart was anything like yours. 

"Oh, am sweatin' a tonne right now, if ya cannae tell." His laugh and smile are almost disgustingly sweet, along with his unbracing honesty. Johnny really is something else, you think. 

You step away from him, intertwining your fingers into his much larger hand, as you start to lead the way out of the train station. "Better get you out into the fresh air then." 

The two of you walk in comfortable silence across the short distance until you're hit with the sun's warmth and a blast of cooler air. You start walking into the city centre, aiming to wander around for a little to kill time.  

As you walk, Johnny's grip tightens, and his hips sway playfully into your own, nudging you only to pull you back to his side with a bright grin on his face. "Meant what I said about not letting go of yer hand." 

"Keep it, it's yours." You squeeze back, looking up at Johnny to see him observing his surroundings keenly—must be a soldier thing, you muse. "Do you come here much?" 

"A little. Usually kept pretty busy back on base." He answers, glancing at you before taking in more of the area.

"Well, I guess you'll be getting familiar." You nudge his hips, returning his earlier playfulness as you flirt with him unashamedly.

His eyes are fixed on you now—a brow raised and a mirthful smile on his face at your assumption.

"Oh, will a now?" 

"I hope so." You admit sincerely, feeling the heat in your cheeks. If you keep smiling as much as you have so far, the expression will be permanently etched onto your face. "But that'll be more, so after we see the kitties. Our slots in 20 minutes, right?" 

"Aye, you excited?" He looks at you as if to confirm your true reaction, his eyes searching. 

"I am, honestly I was expecting just a normal coffee date but as soon as you suggested it, I couldn't let it go." You're practically rambling, but honestly, Johnny's suggestion was perfect. First, it let you know he enjoyed, or at least was at ease around cats, which was always a green flag. Plus, it was something different, catered to the two of you that shows he'd been thinking about it, and who wouldn't swoon at that? 

And on the off chance there was an awkward silence where you didn't know what to do, at least you had furry friends for you both to pay attention to. 

His eyes flicker with doubt for a moment, before he masks it with a distracting smile. "Was worried it might be a bit naff." 

If only he knew how much you had been freaking out about how cute you found the whole thing—and the fact that he might as well have just straight up said it was the beginning of your new dynamic together. You'd be his pet, the whole thing made perfect sense. "If it is naff, it'll only be because I might get jealous." 

"Ach, why?" He asks, seemingly finding the idea of you needing to ever feel such a thing ridiculous. 

You look up at him with soft, pleading eyes and a playful pout on your lips. "Well, you'll be giving all the cats head pats, but will you have any for me?" Even the tone of your voice is designed to tug at his heartstrings, slipping into your role so naturally. 

"I'll always have some for you, kitty." He laughs, letting go of your hand just to ruffle at your hair until you playfully shove him away—then he's grasping at you again, not wanting to relinquish contact for even a second. 

"Besides, they get to wear collars and flaunt it right in front of me. Don't they know what they're doing?" A suggestive smirk is directed at him, which he eagerly returns.

"Oh, you'll be in one before you know it, bonnie." He drops this news so casually, like it's the most natural thing in the world— as if the two of you are just having a regular conversation  "We'll come again, make them jealous right back." 

You swallow thickly, already aching for that eventuality—even if it may be a ways away.

"Sounds like a date." You mumble, filled with shyness and need. Coughing, you take a moment to compose yourself and steer the conversation away from something that will send your thoughts spiraling. "I did look through the website to see what kind of cats they had, and there's a cat with your name, different spelling though." 

Johnny pulls you closer, head dipping slightly to talk close to your ear, his tone dropping to a dangerous low. "Now I'm gonnae be the jealous one." 

His words make you shiver, make it difficult to keep walking like everything is fine—but you can flirt just like he can. You look up at him, fluttering your eyelashes prettily as you smile so sweetly. "I've only got eyes for one Johnny, don't worry." 

The blush that rises to his cheeks tells you that your act had the desired effect.

"That's what I like tae hear." He mumbles, squeezing your hand in an affectionate gesture. 

After wandering the high street for a short while and just enjoying each other's company, you circle back to your destination. The two of you enter the café, kick off your shoes (or boots for Johnny), and are seated at a table toward the back of the room— just a little out of sight from everyone else. You order a tea, while Johnny orders a flavoured coffee, giving you an insight into his tastes and preferences that makes you smile. 

You remind yourself to keep that information in mind for later, filing it away under your list of things about Johnny that you're sure will only expand throughout the day. 

When the server leaves the table, the two of you look upon each other fondly—shy smiles and burning cheeks. There are so many words at the tip of your tongue, so many things you want to say and ask and know about the man before you—as your brain buzzes with energy, so do your hands, feeling a little lost now they're no longer connected to any part of his body. 

It's easy to tell that Johnny sees more than he lets on, as he observes you before him and seemingly filters through your thoughts.

You return the favour and watch Johnny intently—eyes fixated as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, as his throat bobs as he swallows, and your brain is invaded with a deluge of inappropriate thoughts. 

Luckily, you're saved by the bell—a little tinkling noise from a cat beside you as it walks on by and demands your attention with a haughty meow.

"Look, there's Jonny!" You gasp quietly, the cat just a few feet away staring at you curiously. Taking it slow, you lower your hand to the ground and make no move toward the cat, waiting for it to get a smell and a feel for you. It isn't long before the cat in question is launching himself into your lap, drawing delighted laughs from both you and Johnny. 

You run your fingers through the thick fur of the white longhair, figuring out what spots the cat likes most. 

"He likes you." Johnny comments with amusement, shuffling ever so slightly closer until your thighs touch—his arm slips around the booth seat behind you as he settles in.

Your eyes meet his, your skin prickling with the intensity of his closeness. "Hopefully like the human version." 

"Definitely." The arm around the back of the seat comes to settle on your shoulders, as Johnny slowly moves his hand over to the cat and lets him sniff his fingers. Johnny's eyes brighten unmistakably when the feline nuzzles against his hand, and then he breaks out into a mischievous grin. "D'ya think he's cuter than me?" 

Johnny tilts his head to the side, almost puppylike as he preens at your attention—your eyes roaming over him as if you're making a difficult choice.

"Hmm. He has a lot more hair than you do, but I think you win." You give cat Jonny another stroke, while you smile at human Johnny with glee. "I'll have to feel how soft your hair is to make a real decision, though."

You say it mostly as a joke, but Johnny looks sincere as he urges you to do it. "Go on." 

You raise your hand, panic flowing through you as you hesitate for a moment—your fingers hovering inches away from Johnny's head. He leans into your touch, as you stroke through the short tufts of hair. "It's... so soft." You admit, pulling away quickly before you get carried away. 

"What did yer think it was gonna feel like?" Johnny asks with a barked laugh that you can't help but return. 

You crinkle your nose, because honestly, with the fact he clearly uses styling products to make his mohawk stand on end, you hadn't expected it to feel as soft and pleasant as it did. "I don't know, I can't imagine you have premium shampoo and conditioner in the army." 

"They're just naturally luscious locks, dinnae what to tell yer." He swishes his head playfully, as if he's flipping a head full of hair. 

"Effortlessly flawless, just like the rest of you." You tease him, joining in the joking. 

"Oh aye?" He asks with a wink, playfully fishing for more compliments. 

Not that he needs to fish, you think. Surely Johnny knows how handsome he is, and even before meeting him, you've gushed over his good looks.  

Still, you look upon him with genuine admiration and rapidly unfolding infatuation, you're exalting words tumbling freely from you without much thought. "You're just so... gorgeous, godlike, really."  

"As are you, bonnie. Cannae believe it." The look in his eyes is so real, so intense it makes your heart twinge, and leaves no room for you to doubt the sincerity of his words.

The two of you continue to stare into each other's eyes, enjoying the silent conversation that seems to pass between the two of you—the unspoken desire and adoration. 

"Are we just gonna spend the day staring at each other?" You giggle, breaking the moment when it becomes a little bit too intense for you.

"Wouldnae be such a bad thing." Johnny replies swiftly, ever so smoothly. 

Jonny the cat takes that moment to crawl off your lap, rubbing himself along Johnny as he all but demands pets from the man. Johnny indulges him instantly, large fingers scratching at that perfect point between the kitty's ears. Watching it shouldn't make you blush as much as it does.

"I think he likes you too." 

Johnny nods, a serious look on his face. "He knows we're chums."

"You must give really good head pats." You tease, wishing you could take the words back as soon as you said them. Was saying such a thing too much too soon? Was it too early to start to invoke elements of your potential future dynamic? 

Johnny meets your eye, his lips curling into a smirk as his eyes turn mischievous. "Wanna find out?" 

"Of course." Your response is instant, breathless—already offering yourself up to the man before you. You quickly remember your manners. "Please."

Johnny lets the cat on his lap jump down before he turns his attention to you fully, his hand settling on top of your head as he gently, carefully caresses you. Your body is quickly overwhelmed with shivers, an electric sensation coursing through you as his fingers dip deeper into your hair, massaging at the back of your neck until your eyes start to slip shut from the sheer bliss. 

They shoot back open when his fingers dip the chain on your neck, tugging sharply enough to get your attention without putting any real force behind it.

He leans in as if to share a secret, his smirk wolfish as you continue to react so perfectly to his touch. "Nice choker, by the way, pet." 

"Wore it just for you." You whisper, words weak as you tremble with so much need for Johnny. 

He's pulling back, taking all his warmth with you, before he strokes through your hair one more time. "That's my girl."

You could burst into flames right now, or simply melt under the intensity of his gaze. Not even an hour into date one, and you can already feel how wet this man has made you, how much he makes your heart call out to him. Your body and soul burn with need, already wanting more of him in every way.

"Fuck." You sigh in frustration, burying your head into his shoulder to hide your aroused expression. "I hate that there's so many people around right now." 

"Feeling naughty?" He chuckles in such a knowing way, because he knows exactly what he's doing and how you feel about it. 

You meet his gaze, eyes desperate and pleading for mercy. "Johnny, I feel drunk and mindless already and you haven't even actually done anything." 

He moves one of your hands from your thigh to his, holding onto it for a moment. He won't offer you mercy, but he will at least let you see how you make him feel too. "Can I borrow your hand?" 

"Why?" You ask reflexively, before your thoughts catch up to you. Oh. Oh!" 

You allow him to move your hand further up his thigh until your fingers graze over the hardness in his jeans, and you have to stifle your gasp with your other hand.

"Why am letting the cats come to me insteada the other way around." He whispers, voice gravelly and strained. 

The feelings both his words and his body inspire in you are dangerous, causing you to act as you palm at his cock through his jeans, listening to the hitches in his breath as you begin to stroke and caress. He's rock solid, all before you even laid a hand on him, and it's addicting to you that he's clearly in just as deep as you are—that he sees all this as you do. 

His hand moves to grab at your wrist, warning but not painful. "Ach, quit it." He groans, now on the receiving end of such wonderful torture.

"You started it." You whine, taking the chance to grasp him one more time before you stop your teasing. "Johnny you're fucking huge." 

Already your head spins just contemplating it, but Johnny only adds to your delirium. 

"Wait until it's stuffin' yer little cunt full." He purrs, lips brushing against your skin as he does, and you have to resist the urge to moan aloud.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to pull away from Johnny as you slip out of the booth. "Okay, I need a breather, join me at the cat tree when you've... calmed down." 

His smile is devilish, as he watches you go, content to spectate from afar as you coo over the kittens until he can join you.

Your time at the café passes quicker than either of you would have liked, and when it's time for you to vacate your table, the server approaches once more with a bill for the teas and coffees you had enjoyed. 

"Will you be paying together or separately?" They ask, which causes you to glance at Johnny questioningly.

You'd already, in your mind, prepared yourself to offer one or both halves of the bill.

Johnny speaks before you can. "Together." He insists, reaching for his wallet and offering his card to the server—not allowing any room for argument. 

You stay silent until the transaction is complete and the two of you are alone again, before you decide to address it. "Johnny... I would've paid." 

He shakes his head, flipping his wallet shut as he slips it into his back pocket. "Don't be ridiculous." 

You open your mouth to offer further protest, but his brows quirks as he almost challenges you to say another word.

Accepting defeat, you smile graciously and sincerely. "Thank you."

"My ma would pitch a fit if she found out I let yer pay." He continues to wave it off like it's nothing. "Let me spoil yer, aye? You'll hafta get used to it anyway. Okay, kitty?" 

You're not sure if it's the idea of him spoiling you or the nickname that makes you shiver the most, but the combination of both makes your head spin.

"I better start thinking of ways to repay you." You joke, throwing him a flirtatious wink as your hand snakes under his jacket to stroke at his chest. 

Johnny pulls back, face flashing with a realisation and a bright grin. "Oh, before I forget." 

You watch him, just a touch confused, as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small, patterned paper bag—he hands it straight to you. "Got yer a little somethin'" 

"Johnny..." You groan playfully, having not expected a gift, or having brought anything for him either. 

"It's nothin', promise." He smiles, encouraging you to open it. 

You peel open the paper bag to find a handmade, woven bracelet inside—one you've seen in countless stalls across your life, but the sight doesn't fail to make your heart sing.

"Oh my god, a friendship bracelet?" Your delighted gasp is genuine, as you feel touched by the gesture. 

"Needed to buy something at a souvenir shop. Y'know blend in, look like a tourist." He shrugs casually. "Thought of you." 

"I love it, thank you." You clutch it to your chest, genuinely so pleased. "Did you get yourself one?" 

"No?" Johnny plucks the bracelet from you, as he takes hold of your wrist and gets to tying the threads together. 

You pout, half joking and half serious, as you realise you won't be matching. "Wow, guess we're not friends then." 

"Puppy." His tone is warning and serious, drawing your attention to him so obediently. 

You swallow, nerves flooding through you. "Yeah?" 

His eyes never waver from yours, the sincerity within making you tremble. "The things I'll do to yer, friends don't do tae each other, yeah?" His low tone and the lack of a playful smile make you clench. 

"Understood." You nod dumbly, too awestruck and aroused to give him a real response. 

"Good girl." He grins, patting your wrist with the bracelet now attached. "Ready to go?" 

"Yeah..." 

He takes your hand in his once more, leading you back to the entrance to collect your shoes before you make it back onto the street. All the while, you turn his words over in your head, desperately holding on to the soaring feeling in your chest and the pit of arousal deep inside you. The effect he has on you is downright vicious.

"Where to now?" He asks, waiting for you to lead him around the city. 

The cooler air of the street helps calm you down, as you steer your thoughts back to more appropriate things. 

"I was thinking we could just walk around, window-shop. Maybe grab some dinner? When have I got you til?" 

"Last train is at 9." 

You sigh wistfully, already dreading the moment he has to feel. "Doesn't feel like long enough." 

"You'll be sick of me by then, lass." He chuckles, his smile still making you feel as full as it did the first time you saw it. 

"Not if you're sick of me first."

The two of you take in the city streets hand in hand for a little while, wandering around the shops and chatting about anything and everything. The conversation comes just as easy as it always does, and before long the two of you head for something to eat and drink at a nearby pub.

The atmosphere is cosy as the two of you tuck yourselves away at a table in the corner, order your food and drinks and get to chatting once more. You've already teased Johnny for ordering another coffee along with his meal, while he needled you for ordering several side dishes instead of a main. 

Both of you are excited to tuck in when the food arrives, and your conversation turns to getting to know more about the other. 

"So, what can you tell me about work?" You ask, finally feeling brave enough to broach the subject. Johnny's work will come with a lot of complications, you already know that, and one of them is likely that he will have to be careful about the things he shares. That doesn't stop your curiosity, though. 

"What d'ya wanna know?" He responds, open and earnest, as he dips a chip into his sauce.

You think for a moment, trying to conjure up your most pertinent questions. "Who do you work with?" 

Johnny swallows his food before wiping his hands on his napkin and pulling out his fun. He turns it to you when he brings up a photo, zoomed in on an older man in tactical gear.

"Well, first there's the Captain, Price. Best captain we could ask for." He comments, looking to you for your response.

Something in the Captain's eyes tells you he's dependable, and you can hear the respect he holds from Johnny's voice. 

"Interesting facial hair." You giggle, referencing the grown-out mutton chops that surprisingly suit him.

Johnny laughs, nodding in agreement. "Oh aye, a right character he is." He swipes along the photo to another man, much younger but tall too.

His smile is the first thing you notice, so bright and earnest, and with perfect teeth. 

"Gaz, Kyle. We're always getting into shit together." He adds with a mischievous chuckle. "Good lad though."  

"He looks nice." You offer, before scrolling across the image yourself. 

The next man in line is the tallest and broadest, his face hidden behind a skull mask that you find strangely endearing. "Ooh, cool mask." 

"That's Ghost." Johnny whispers, his voice more sombre than before.

The lack of a real name combined with the mask confuses you. "Just Ghost?" You ask. 

"Aye, unless he tells you otherwise. Scary motherfucker, loves a good dad joke though." Johnny humanises him, and the fondness within his voice doesn't escape you. 

All in all, you're left with more questions than answers, but you already feel privileged that Johnny has shared this much with you. Still, there's something pressing on your mind. "Everyone gets a nickname, what's yours?" 

"Soap." He answers firmly, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Soap? Why?" You can't say you're familiar with military nicknames, but Soap certainly seems like a strange one. 

"Am good at cleaning house." There's something underlying his playful tone that you can't quite put your finger on, something hinting at the inevitable darkness underneath. 

Johnny pushes past it like it never happened, turning the attention back on you. "How's your work, anyway?"

"Boring, though I imagine every job is compared to yours." You pause, taking a sip of your drink as you try to conjure up anything interesting about your career. "I work at my PC all day and the highlight is office gossip, which is often about one or two messy people fucking everyone in the building." 

"Like reality TV, but you live it?" He smirks, already seeming amused by the inevitable stories he'll get to hear. It seems Johnny might be a little bit of a gossip. 

"Yes, exactly!" You giggle, finding his intrigue endearing. "So I live in reality TV and you live in one of those gritty military shows." 

"Pretty much." He clicks his tongue, turning to take a sip of his own drink as his eyes glaze over again. 

You dread to think of all the things he's seen—witnessing them on TV is already too much for you, never mind seeing them for real. 

"... It must be tough." You offer earnestly, unsure of what else to say. 

"Sometimes, it's no' so bad, really." He shrugs, a tight smile on his lips. "I'd rather not talk about it while I'm with yer, not now anyway. That okay?" 

The softness in his eyes fuels the guilt gripping at your chest—you never meant to pry or make him uncomfortable, only to offer yourself up as a safe space. "Yeah, I'm sorry." 

"Nothing to apologise for. You'll have plenty of time to get to know that part of me, tha's all." He gives you a smile, a more earnest one this time, as he refuses to let either of you settle in a solemn moment. Instead, he redirects to the idea of you spending time together in the future. 

"Oh, I will?" You ask, voice hopeful—any negative emotions swirling away as Johnny reaches out to stroke your hand.

"Already planning our second date in ma head." He winks cheekily, that gorgeous smile back on his face in full effect. 

You settle back into your meal with a contented warmth spreading through you, feeling like there's nowhere else you'd rather be than by Johnny's side.

When you make it to the train station hours later, your heart starts to sink as you get closer and closer to your goodbye. The sun is only just beginning to dip into the sky, but the train schedule demands Johnny's return to Hereford. 

The two of you stand before the departure boards, savouring your last moments together as you hold each other close.

"How are yer getting home?" Johnny asks, ever the gentleman. 

You don't look him in the eye as you speak words you know he isn't going to enjoy hearing, in fact, you all but hide in his chest as you mumble. "I was planning on walking." 

He stiffens, pulling away slightly. "I'll order an uber." His words are laced with a protectiveness—and whether it's his instincts as a man, a soldier, or a dom you're not sure. Likely, it's a combination of all, making him determined to get you home safe and sound. 

You already know better than to argue with him on this. "I can order my own uber." 

His eyes soften, clearly relaxing upon hearing you relent so easily. "Promise?" 

You nod. "I swear, I will." 

You cuddle back into his chest again, the two of you clinging to each other. With your ear pressed against him, you can hear the steady rhythm of Johnny's heart, and you focus on it beating as you absorb every last moment with him. 

That moment is interrupted by the station announcement, informing you that the next train to depart will be his. 

"I better get going." He loosens his grip on you but still holds your arms as he stares down at you adoringly. 

"Don't want you to." You admit, voice a little forlorn. It already hurts to let him go, especially since you don't know when you'll see each other again. Johnny could be deployed again at any moment, and after making all of this real, the thought seems paralysing.

"I don't want to either, but I'll see yer soon." He whispers soothingly, a hand stroking across your cheek as the promise falls from his lips. 

You force yourself to smile, to feel strong in the face of your separation. Something within you urges you to put on a brave face, to show Johnny that you can be resolute for him. "We'll have to think more on a cool date number two idea." 

"We will." He nods, fingers still stroking oh so delicately across your cheek, as his eyes flicker down to your lips. "Bonnie?" 

"Yeah?" Your response is barely audible, your breath stolen as you know what's coming next, and you crave it so desperately. 

"Gonna kiss yer now, if tha's alright."

"Please." 

Johnny closes the final inches as he presses his lips to yours—soft and gentle at first as his hand cups your cheek, before the other comes to grasp at you too, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss. Your body floods with euphoria, desire, peace—as you kiss back with everything you have and pour all of yourself into him. 

The two of you are lost in each other, all grasping hands and lips caressing lips—two hearts opening up to each other. 

Johnny is the only one of you with enough restraint to pull away, settling his forehead against yours as he smiles unreservedly—his eyes shining with delight. "Fuckin' Christ." 

You push against his chest, putting some distance between you as you giggle. "You better go before we commit acts of public indecency." 

"Aye." He nods, yet he tucks a finger under your chin to angle your mouth up at him. "One more?" 

You nod enthusiastically before diving back in, savouring his lips on yours—the taste of coffee, the softness contrasted with his stubble, the hint of a groan that rumbles through him. 

"Okay." He sighs, forcing himself to step away, even if your hands remain linked. "Message me when you get home, yeah?" 

"I'll be texting you the second you leave, sorry." 

"Oh, I was planning on doing the same, dinnae worry." He winks.

Reluctantly, you let him go—instantly feeling a little more lost without him at your side. 

"See you soon, Johnny." You call out, smile soft as he makes his way over to the ticket gate. 

"Not if I see yer first, sweetheart." He calls back, then turns his attention away to scan his ticket at the barrier. 

On the other side, he catches your eye once more, offering you a tiny, playful salute before he turns to make his way to his train. 

You're left in a weird state between euphoria and emptiness—feeling like you have everything and nothing at the same time. Johnny was everything you could've wanted and more, and you're already counting down the days until you can see him again. 

You watch until his silhouette disappears, and turn your attention to your phone to get to ordering that uber you promised him you'd take. When you unlock your phone, a message from Johnny is waiting for you. 

Miss you already, my pretty kitty <3

[luveline]

hiiii jade! i absolutely adore your writing, and when i saw you might be taking blurb requests i had to jump on it lol

can i request maybe a little blurb where reader goes to pick up her bf remus at the airport after a long time apart/being long distance for several months?

i hope thats not too specific, and please feel free to ignore it if it doesn't inspire you!

thanks gorgeous!

You might have worried that a long separation would make things fall apart. Remus would want things you couldn't offer over the phone, or he'd find someone at his university that was more interesting, but one conversation kept you going, one confession. 

If you can't do it, I won't go, he'd said. 

You hadn't known what he meant at first, still mulling over the idea of his being away for so long. What?

It wasn't fathomable. It was everything he'd ever worked toward, the peak of his career, the culmination of all his successes. You honestly thought before he said it that you wouldn't have a choice. Either you had to make it work for you or he'd leave you to live his life. 

But no. If it means we won't last, I won't go, he'd clarified, looking you in the eye, his lips hooked into one of his fond smiles. You're more to me than any of it. If we can't stretch the distance, I'll stay home. I'm happy to stay home. 

Obviously, he had to go. But it's a lot to know you're loved like that, so deeply he'd give up everything he worked for just to keep you. You'd never make him choose, and hence began the longest, most heart-breaking five months of your life. Every time you were supposed to visit him plans fell through. Each time he tried to come back there were things to do. But you know he got on his plane home, and you're pretty sure you know which escalator he's going to come down. You wait at the bottom of it, waiting, waiting. You start to worry he's somewhere else. 

"You come here often?" a warm voice asks from beside you. 

You flinch. "That's not funny!" you hiss, but then you get a good look at him and have to fight to stave off tears. Remus stands next to you, suitcase to his left, backpack weighing down his shoulders. He looks tired, but excitement lightens his eyes. 

Five months you will never, ever get back, and Remus is still so handsome. 

"Dove," he says. You almost forgot how he says it, like it's yours alone to be called. "Lovely, come here." 

You step into his arms: too much, too rough, almost chinning him as he grabs you. "Remus," you say in a gasp, startled as he bends back under your weight and your heels rise off of the floor. "Don't! Don't do that, I'm gonna crush you." 

He sets you back down carefully, but he doesn't say much, and he certainly doesn't let you go. You don't notice his quiet at first. You're too busy being selfish, soaking in the realness of his arms, the rigidity of his biceps and his forearms wrapped around you. 

"Was your flight okay?" you ask, tipping your head back. 

"It was fine." A silver shine of tears nestles between his soft lashes. "It felt long." 

"Don't cry," you say, again startled. "Remus, don't be upset. I'll start crying too and then we'll be that couple who cries on each other at the airport." 

He smiles and a tear rolls down his cheek. "I missed you. What was I thinking? What was I," —he scrubs at his eyes roughly— "thinking, I could be away from you that long?" 

You wipe his eyes much more gently. "I love you." 

"I love you too," he says, leaning down for a kiss. 

Your first kiss in five months has a lot to live upto. You'd been the one crying as you said goodbye at the airport, and Remus had left you with a kiss to remember, firm and sweet with his hands on either side of your face, as if to say, everything will be alright. 

You have to do the reassuring now. You weave your fingers into the soft mop of his sandy brown hair, his gentle curls, brushing them away from his cheek as you kiss him. It's definitely too open of a kiss for a public place and you're both prone to shyness, so after a few stolen seconds of heat you break the kiss to hide your face in his collar. 

"Please don't go away again." 

Remus laughs and sniffles. "No. I don't think I'd survive it." 

[anyarose011]

"I Would Not Change it Each Time" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: After the assault you faced, all you wanted to do was crawl into your childhood bed and never come out. Yet, as days pass in with your absence, a certain prince regent takes notice.

Part 4 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past attempted SA, past grooming, emotional manipulation, coercion, and spoilers for future seasons

Heyyyyyy, it's meeeee. I'm SOO sorry it took almost 3 months for this entire chapter, but besides wrongfully starting/continuing other series, school has also been killing me. Also, despite this being a long ass chapter, I do not mean for it to sound rushed. I feel like how I ended this may be controversial, but I also wanted to keep it both happy and realistic; so please keep that in mind. I also imagine the character Evrin to be played by Assad Zaman, but you can imagine just any actor you personally find beautiful.

Word Count: 10.1k

You were still covered in his blood when you awoke, your wrist had turned brown, and you had finger shaped bruises on the inside of your thigh.

It was strange…despite ripping a man’s throat out with your teeth, you didn’t have any nightmares. What woke you up was having to use the chamber pot. Something so small and natural.

Dragging yourself out of your room, you stumbled through the hall and went into the closet with the chamber pot and shut the door. After relieving yourself in darkness, you left and was greeted by-.

“Seven Hells!” Your grandmother gasped. You jumped a little, only to then hiss in pain, clutching your stomach.

She held you up as best as she could. “Vivi, sweetie, what happened to you?”

You shook your head, only groaning and trying to escape her hold. Despite being in your state, you managed to slip away from her. She tried to follow after you, but you slammed the door in her face when you were back in your room.

Something caught your eye, and when you looked down, you were met with a sapphire; Aemond’s eye. You bent over slowly, picking up the gem with your unbroken wrist.

Without thinking clearly, you hobbled over to your dresser, opened the top drawer, and buried it under what little clothing you owned.

The dress on you had become too heavy, so you slipped it off your body and collapsed onto your bed; falling into the darkness of sleep once more.

You must have been dreaming, because you thought you heard your grandmother call you by your name for the first time in a while.

Opening your eyes, you were too weak to even sit up in alarm at her standing over you. Your heart quickened and soon slowed once you realized it was just her eyes staring back at you (and not a man’s).

“What happened?” She touched your face.

You groaned, turning away. “Really bad job.”

“Let’s clean you up.”

“Tired.” You inched yourself under your covers, hitching your breath with each movement.

Gigi frowned. “You’ve slept the day away; the sun will set soon.”

“It hurts to move.”

“Then I’ll bring in the pail and rag.”

“Just let me rest.”

She placed her hands on her hips, glaring. “You’re covered in blood that I hope is not yours.”

“Most of it isn’t.”

Sighing, Gigi begged. “At least eat something.”

You laughed painfully. What was there to eat? You only had but a few slices of bread, two carrots, and a little less than a pound of cheese. You were considered wealthy even by those standards. Aemond had closed off all the ports…

No one could get in, and no one could get out; including food.

“It’s not funny.” She frowned. “I’m going to make you something, and you will eat it.”

Gigi didn’t give you enough time to say ‘no’. She wandered out of the room, leaving you alone. The only time you moved to get out of bed that hour was to force yourself onto your feet and lock the door.

No matter how much she banged on wood or cried and begged for you to let her help, you did not open it.

It hurt to cry, but how else would you mourn your old body before it had been bruised and beaten?

You heard countless horrific memories the girls in Sylvi’s brothel would share of being violated; many worse than yours. Still, just as how nothing could’ve prepared you for how pleasureful sex could be, the same was for the pain it brought.

Gigi lessened her attempts in trying to get you to come out of your room. She’d manage to slide food under your door, and you only would eat when you were sure she was away.

Most of the days (how long had it been since you last saw a familiar face?) you spent under the covers in your bed. If you were not sleeping, your mind would wander. Seldomly, it would be to happier memories of your childhood, your mother, Aemond…

And then they would turn cold and dark; especially at the thought of him.

And then you would cry again, and then your eyes would hurt.

It wasn’t an hour later when you were still under the covers that you heard a man’s voice coming from outside your door. No, he did not knock, he kicked it open. You only had time to flinch at the abrupt entrance before Gigi’s voice broke through.

“How dare you! You’ll frighten her even more than she already is, you mindless oaf!”

“I worry for her.”

Aemond…what was he doing here?!

“Do you think I have been neglecting her all this time?” She dared.

“No.”

“Then…please be gentle with her.” Gigi gritted her teeth, and you heard her leave the room, shutting the door but it creaking slightly open.

Sighing, you pictured Aemond turning to look at the lump on the bed that was you. “Do you have any idea the troubles your grandmother would have faced if I were not outside the Red Keep today?”

Silence was your reply.

“It’s almost sunset, if you were wondering.”

You said nothing again, and that was enough for him.

“There I was, heading to spar and clear my mind from the past few days, and I see her rattling the gates, begging the guards to speak to Jahearys.” He hissed. “Had I not rushed over in time, they would have seen it as insult and…”

Though you had no more tears left to cry, the pain in your chest was heavier than ever at the thought of your grandmother being killed like a dog simply for her dwindling mind. Aemond sighed, and you felt a dip at the foot of your bed.

“It was already a risk to travel into the city now. Many of the smallfolk are…troublesome. I’ve neglected you for a day, and I apologize for leaving without telling you two nights ago, but you should not hold that against me. I went to see you last night and you were not there. I asked every girl in that brothel, and they either did not know, or refused to tell me anything more than that you were hurt. I offered coin, and they did not take it.” He scoffed. “I’ve never seen a whore turn away gold. You must mean the world to them.”

Never in your life had you thought that.

“Will you look at me?”

You didn’t want him to. He had caressed and gazed upon every inch of your body, but you wanted to sink into the mattress underneath you, and then into the earth so he could never find you.

But you didn’t get to do that.

The blanket was ripped off you, the cold air of your bedroom penetrating your bare body. On your back, cradling your wrist to your chest, you watched as Aemond sat above you. The eyepatch he wore only proved that he had rushed over from the Red Keep. For the first time since you had known him, you saw that look on his face: Fear.

His mouth parted as his wide eye ran over your body; every bruise and scratch, and all the blood that had tried to meld itself into your skin. His eye lingered on the inside of your thighs, and you whimpered when he placed his hand on the bruises of it.

“Who did this to you?”

His voice hadn’t changed. He asked it as if he was wondering how your day had gone.

Your breathing stuttered when you attempted to glare at him. “The man you sent to have pleasure with me.”

Aemond’s eye softened. “What?”

You forced yourself to sit up despite your painful cries. “Leave me.”

He said your name, sitting at your side and placing his hands on your shoulders. “I haven’t sent anyone-.”

“-Stop!”

“Wait-!”

“-Go away!” You shoved him, trying to stand, but his hands gripped your waist too tightly as he forced you back down onto the bed.

“Listen to me when I speak to you.” He commanded, but you still struggled beneath him. When you were nearly out of his grip, he gripped your face in his hands. “I said listen to me!”

You were both out of breath, huffing together as you calmed your racing heart. His voice was heavy with emotion, and tears were beginning to form.

He took a shuttering breath. “When all of this is over, it’s you who will bear my children. Even if I have to marry a Lannister or a Martell, I will not lay a finger on them. I will be king when Aegon is dead, and it will not matter what my mother, fucking Larys, or any of them think! Centuries will pass and history will remember you as my wife. How could you believe I would ever send a man to taint you after everything you have done? You-you have been the first and the only to ever show me kindness. Do you hear me?! I love you.”

“You’re hurting me.” You sobbed as he squeezed you tighter and tighter.

Aemond immediately loosened his hold but held you close. You placed your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself through your sniffling breaths. He dried your tears with his hand. “Avy jorrāelan. Say it.”

“Aemond.” You shut your eyes.

“Avy jorrāelan.” He kissed them both and trailed his lips over every inch of your face.

Relaxing into his embrace, if you cradled yourself any closer to him you would sink into his skin. He held you for what you wished was the rest of your lifetime.

He set you down too quickly but shushed you when you protested. “I need to fetch hot water to clean you and wrap your wrist. It’s broken.”

Aemond disappeared from your room. When you finally managed to sit up with the pillow supporting behind you, he came back in with a bucket of steaming water, some cloth, and two sticks from the fireplace.

He first began on your wrist, wrapping the cloth around your elbow to your wrist. He then placed the sticks alongside your arm, securing them with more of the cloth tied tightly around on the ends.

After that, he took another spare piece of cloth and dipped it into the water, wringing it out and placing it upon your face. You inched away, hissing.

“Does it hurt?” He asked.

“A little.” You whispered. “It’s warm and…and…”

“What is it?”

“It’s silly.”

“Tell me.”

Swallowing thickly, you professed “I feel-I feel like I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t the only one…bare.”

He looked at you, nodding. “You’re right, that is silly.”

You thought you were being overdramatic how you felt in that moment; you had just gone through something frightening, of course you would be red in the face at his comment.

Still, you weren’t for long. The Prince Regent, the kinslayer who could wipe out all of Kings Landing with just the snap of his fingers, slipped off his eyepatch and his shirt.

“Is that better?” He grinned.

You nodded. Aemond tried his best to be gentle as he cleaned the blood off you. There were times though he’d have to scrub until your skin turned red. When he was finished, he tossed the cloth onto the floor.

“Your nose is bruised, along with your ribs. Besides your wrist, nothing is broken; just abrasions.” He explained.

Again, you merely nodded. Aemond titled his head before unlacing and kicking his shoes off, then bringing his hands to the ties of his trousers. Once untied, he pulled them down along with his undergarments, his cock springing free.

You sat up, your body tense. “No. I-I don’t want-.”

“-Neither do I.” He sat on the empty side of your bed, lifting up the blanket. “Let us hide and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

You didn’t have to be asked again. Slowly as to not damage yourself, you finally slipped yourself under the covers, and Aemond followed.

As soon as you were completely covered, you enveloped yourself around him; your legs intertwining each other and pressing your chest against his. He wrapped his arms around you, fingertips traveling up and down your back. You hid your face within the crook of his neck, and it was then, when you felt safe, did tears fall.

“I didn’t send him.” Aemond repeated into your hair. “You must know that.”

“Where were you?” You cried.

A shameful sigh escaped him. “The Red Keep. A messenger came for me; my brother had taken a turn for the worst.”

“You said you would stay.”

He only pulled you closer. “Tell me what happened.”

“He-.” You took a quaking breath. “He tried to rape me.”

“But you didn’t let him.”

Your lips moved, but barely a sound let them.

He hummed. “What was that?”

“I’m a monster.”

Aemond shook his head. “There is nothing you could have done that would be more horrific than anything I would do if he were still alive.”

“I ripped his throat out with my own mouth.” His gaze traveled down to you, and you shrunk under it. “I-I had to pretend I enjoyed kissing him; I had nothing to defend myself but my teeth.”

“Fine then; you’re a monster.” Your eyes grew round with fright, but before you could refute, he continued. “You are a monster who fought for your survival and won. I know a number of men who would have crumbled if they wore your skin that night. You bared your teeth and refused to lie down and let him steal you. I’ve been told until my ears bleed that every woman is the image of the Mother, but I have not believed it until I saw you tonight. Painted in the blood of the man that had tried to taint you, you have never looked more beautiful.”

Tears had returned to your eyes before you could stop them, and he kissed each one that fell. You pulled away from him to lie flat on your back but clutched his hand.

“It was the man at the brothel when I was first wounded. The one who said he’d give me a little death.” You whispered. “Sylvi came in after I killed him. She-she said you left with a man and…”

His hand went to your cheek, making you look at him. “I did not send him.”

“I know.” Your words were immediate. “I…I think she did.”

“Why?”

You covered your mouth to swallow a sob forming. Breathing deeply, you took your hand away. “She was envious of me, she was envious of you, maybe she thought I was distracted-.”

“-Why would she be envious of me?”

“She had feelings for my mother.” You admitted tiredly. “She was drunk one night and told me. I jested in my mind that perhaps those feelings carried over to me because she’d constantly tell me I looked exactly like my mother. I don’t know for certain but…”

He ran his fingers through your hair. “Every ounce of struggle you have faced has only made you even more fierce.”

“You are not the first nor the last man who will tell me that.”

Aemond hummed, interested in your words. “How old were you when you first heard it?

“Ten, when I went to the pleasure house to find my mother. Thank the Seven I didn’t wander into any men wanting to bed me, but I found a few who were fine speaking to me about their life; their wives, children, and how they hated them. Maybe they wanted to fuck me, maybe they didn’t; I don’t know. All I knew was that I was excellent at talking to them; and I shouldn’t have been.”

He said nothing, nor made a sound. No words of comfort, no verbal indication of anything.

No, he did something far greater.

Aemond moved down the bed until he came to your legs, parting them gently. As you were raising your neck up to see what he was doing, you felt his lips on your stomach. He kissed your skin then up to the scar on your side.

Your breath hitched as he covered it with affection, all the while, tenderly stroking your hip. There was something else that weighed on your mind. Something that wouldn’t matter to him, but it mattered to you. Your hand trailed down into his hair, stopping him.

“You need to tell me the truth with what I ask you next.”

He glanced up at you as his head was still between your legs. “Go on.”

“Would-.” You sniffled. “If that man had violated me…would you have been disgusted with me?”

 He lowered his mouth to your center. He didn’t kiss your cunt, but instead, the bruises close to it. “I will skin the part of any man that touches you, even if it is his shoulder that brushes yours in a crowded street.”

You hated how often you cried that night, more so from his tenderness than of sorrow. Still, it was perhaps the first time in all your life you felt cherished. You felt safe.

“Av-avy,” You babbled, both from the overwhelming emotions and the already difficult pronunciation. “Avy jor-joral.”

Aemond trailed his kisses up your body until they hovered over your mouth, his hands by your head to hold himself above you. He said the words again, slowly.

“Avy jorrāelan.”

You repeated after him. “Avy jorrailaan.”

He cupped your face in his hand, his thumb caressing your lips and whispering into them. “Avy.”

“Avy.” You matched his volume.

“Jorr.”

“Jorr.”

“-āelan.”

“-āelan.”

“Say it to me.” His mouth was so close to yours.

Sighing at the feeling, you finally said. “Avy jorrāelan.”

He kissed you like you’d never been kissed before. He kissed you before with shyness, vigor, passion, but never like this. It was a kiss that held a safety to it; where you felt as if he could protect you from the darkest corners of the world, and the darkest parts of your own mind.

When he pulled away, he rested beside you, running his fingers through your hair. You wrapped your arms around him, trapping him in your embrace.

“I wish we knew each other when we were children.” He gently confessed in the silence of the night.

You nodded against him, then asked. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

He kissed the hollow of your throat. “I’ll be here when you awake.”

“Thank you.”

“You do not need to.”

“No,” you corrected. “thank you for being the first to kiss me. If not…then it would’ve been with the man a few nights ago.”

“Sleep.” He uttered your name into your ear.

And you did.

You don’t remember what you dreamed of, but you know that it wasn’t either bad nor good; it was just strange.

What you certainly remember was Aemond stirring beside you.

You were on your back, but you hadn’t opened your eyes when you awoke. His arm that was once draped over you left, and he slid out of the blankets. You listened as he tried to quietly shuffle around the room, putting his clothes back on. When you heard him sitting to put his shoes on, you finally looked at him.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was hoarse.

He glanced up at you, his eyepatch already on. Sighing, he finished lacing up his first boot. “The sun will be rising soon.”

“How do you know that? You said you’d stay until I woke up.”

“And you’re awake.” He moved onto his other shoe.

“Because of you.”

Aemond groaned your name. “I cannot spend the morning here and cook you and your grandmother breakfast. My brother is on the brink of death, the realm is in shambles, and I don’t even want to ponder what Rhaenyra’s next course of action is.”

“You gave me your word.”

“Did you even listen to any of the words I said just now?”

“I was almost raped and murdered!” You cried, sitting up. “You cannot do this one thing I-?”

“-And how many women will be if I am unable to prevent the Pretender from stealing the throne?” He challenged.

Your face dropped along with your heart. If your body wasn’t weak, you would have left the bed, your room, and perhaps even the house. You wouldn’t know where to go, but you just had to be away from him.

It scared you how that was your first thought.

Upon seeing the fear in your eyes, Aemond sighed, shaking his head. After finishing with his other boot, he sat on the side of your bed.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He ran his finger over your arm. “I do not want what happened to you to happen to any other woman or child. I only want you to be safe.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your lap.

He put his hand under your chin to look at him, saying your name. “I do love you. You must understand that.”

You took his hand, lightly kissing his palm and whispering into it. “Avy jorrāelan.”

A hint of a smile spread across his cheeks, and he stood swiftly. “I will not be able to see you on the morrow, but the day after that, I will meet you at Sylvi’s.”

“I-I won’t be able to perform-.”

“-Does it surprise you I only wish for your mere presence?” He questioned. “You’re not a whore; you are perhaps my greatest treasure.”

With one last kiss upon your head, he left. You heard the front door shut, and you were left stark naked in your bed.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t even feel like wanting too. You had never felt the way you had with him. You never laughed like that in your life until you met him, you had never been so in love with someone. He was a perfect match for your intelligence and your humor.

He never hurt you as you made love. He’d leave his own marks, but the moment you told him ‘no’, or said that you were in pain, he’d stop. He’d pull every orgasm out of you with such ease, like your bodies had been made for each other.

Gods above and devils below, you wanted to wear his skin and become one with him.

And yet…you still felt strange.

You were just sitting there in your darkened room, wrapped in your blankets and staring at the blank wall in front of you. You hadn’t even noticed Gigi came into your room until she was right beside you, holding a tray with two slices of bread and a steaming bowl.

“They say a Targaryen sent ships to feed us.” She smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and placing the tray down. “Marija managed to fight some men for vegetables and chicken of all things!”

The soup was thick and filled with all the contents she mentioned that Marija fought for. It took everything within you to savor it and not burn your mouth while devouring it. You ate silently while Gigi took a slice of bread and dipped it into the soup.

“I thought Jaehaerys would never leave. He’s a nice young man, but-.”

“-How did you know you were in love with that Dornish man?”

She glanced up at you, and after getting over her initial shock, she smiled. “You mean my Qoren?”

“No, that’s not his name.”

“But it is.” She beamed. “He gave me a false one at first but then told me after he had enough drink.”

You giggled with her, despite already being told the story several times. Still, what she was saying was new.

Gigi continued. “Oh, he was so lovely. You know they say Dornish men are passionate, and Seven Hells he was. There was one night after he walked me home-.”

“-What else?” You asked, not particularly wanting to speak of her intimate life and categories of men from Dorne.

“He was gentle with me.” She recounted, grinning shyly. “Not just with my body but with my mind. He loved me proudly too, and loudly. If there were any other men in a tavern who tried to grab onto me, he’d tell the lot of them I was his and that he was mine.”

You smiled. “He sounded very kind.”

“He was.” She nodded. “His eyes were green; very unusual for anyone from Dorne…or were they blue? Or-or were they just brown?”

Sighing you set your meal aside, embracing her. “Were his eyes nice?”

“They were my favorite part of him.” Gig admitted softly.

You hummed, pulling away. “I wish to be alone. Is that alright?”

She rubbed your cheek. “Of course. Please come get me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

She left the half-eaten supper with you, and walked out of your bedroom, trying to shut the door completely.

As you lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind began to ponder. You had been a secret to everyone in Aemond’s life. You were certain no one within the Red Keep knew of your affair, let alone your existence.

But the people in your life, Sylvi, the girls, even your own grandmother? Of course they were aware of you two.

You understood to an extent; what would the royal council in their fancy castle think if the prince regent had fallen in love with a member of the Smallfolk? Would it be better if you were a prostitute?

Immediately, you thought ‘no’ because of Lady Mysaria. There would be past gossip you’d hear throughout the silk street of the whore who had been married to one Prince Daemon and had nearly birthed his child.

It was then that you remembered the war that had been simmering within the walls of Kings Landing for weeks at that point. No doubt, with so much death from both sides, would it finally take place. Thus, you were forced to determine what would happen with only your personal knowledge of the situation.

The best outcome is that the Greens win the war, Aegon dies one way or another, and Aemond is named king. You are his royal concubine while he marries a noble girl, but he never beds her. You are the mother to all his children, and you live comfortably in the Red Keep for the rest of your days.

You would have done the impossible amongst the Smallfolk; be chosen by the prince out of genuine love and not of lust or a weapon in an issue of the family.

Yet, you had many concerns. The first being you didn’t understand how he could be married to a woman from a different house yet not have her produce an heir without being ridiculed by her family. Was that unimportant?

And how was Aemond so certain of his own brother’s passing? Would he be responsible for it if he were to make a recovery?

As these questions rattled on, you then had to face the worst outcome.

On the off chance they would lose, and Rhaenyra was to take the throne as you were officially Aemond’s lover…you had read it in one of the books Aemond had brought you to teach you his mother tongue.

‘When the winners slaughter and maim the man in battle, they shall rape and torture his woman in her own home.’

That was what made your head ache, and you try to sleep. The phrase plagued your mind for hours as you tossed and turned.

The next day, you finally left the house. Draped in the same hood you stole on your night out with Aemond, you entered Sylvi’s pleasure house with your heart churning in your stomach. You felt sick as soon as you stepped into the doorway. A young girl whose name you couldn’t remember was sweeping the entrance.

“We’re not opened yet,” she said. “the men and women need to rest before you can dive your cock into them.”

You pulled your hood down, revealing your bruised and battered face. She stood still at the sight of you and said your name softly. “What happened?”

“I need to speak with Valda and Chansey.” You uttered.

She swallowed, nodding and dashing up the stairs. You leaned against the wall to steady yourself, your wounds still extremely tender. Sooner than you thought, the two women came rushing down the stairs.

Valda’s face fell upon seeing the state of you, and she was by your side in a moment. “Gods above.”

“Is Sylvi here?” You questioned.

Chansey took a quivering breath, coming to your other side and resting her hand on your cheek. She whispered your name. “She…she’s gone.”

Your stomach only tied itself into more knots. “What?”

“No one’s seen her since last night.” She explained. “We looked in her room, but she wasn’t there.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor as they led you to one of the curtained off rooms in the great hall. Normally, you would’ve refused to even step foot into one of them, but your need to sit was far greater.

“You limped out of here after being brutally raped, and you haven’t been here for days.” Valda scolded, but you could hear the pain behind it. “Aemond comes in demanding where you are, and we are none the wiser. What exactly happened?”

Your eyes furrowed as you glanced up at her. “I-I wasn’t raped. I mean, I was almost, but I killed him.”

“You what?!”

“I ripped his throat out.” You explained. “Sylvi came in soon after and said it was Aemond who sent the man. I went home, and a few days later, Aemond came to tell me he didn’t. I-I think it was Sylvi.”

The girls glanced at one another as they processed your account. Valda spoke first. “It…it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary. There was one night when Aegon arrived with other men, seeking Sylvi. Unbeknownst to him, Aemond was here with her. After being taunted, Aemond let them do whatever they wanted to her.”

You didn’t know that, and if you had been told it prior to being attacked, perhaps you would’ve looked upon Aemond with more disgust. What you felt was more so perplexion; did Sylvi send a man to assault you to get back at Aemond for letting men do the same, or did Aemond only see you as a warm place for men to stick their cocks?

No…he loved you. He told you in Common and in High Valyrian.

“You believe she did it to spite him?” You asked.

Valda shook her head. “I only tell you what I know. We all know how dangerous a woman is when she is scorned.”

“I wouldn’t preach the importance of consent and then send a man to molest a girl I’ve known since she was a child!”

“Is it easier for you to believe that Aemond sent him then?!”

You never heard Chansey speak so desperately. What she meant to yell in anger, she instead cried in shame. Her breath quivered in an attempt to repress tears, and both you and Valda coddled her.

“What is it?” You questioned.

She swallowed before speaking. “There was one night but a week ago you hadn’t met with Aemond here, wasn’t there?”

“Chansey-.”

“-You weren’t here one night because he told you the one prior he had to attend to a council meeting.”

Your mouth parted. “How-how did you know?”

 “He asked for eight girls to be sent to the Red Keep.” She whispered. “I was one of them. There was no meeting; we were there to entertain and to please.”

“What do you mean?”

Chansey said your name softly, taking your face into her hands. “I had no say in what he wanted to do to me, or what I to do to him.”

It would have been gentler for her to stick a dagger into your heart and twist it. You thought you had used up all of your tears days prior, but as you sat in that curtained room, you were proven wrong.

You sank into her embrace, feeling Valda wrap her arms around you from behind. Tiny sobs left your throat, but that was it.

“Did he hurt you?” You managed to ask.

She shook her head. “I was worried about hurting you.”

“No.” You pulled away, wiping your face. “You didn’t want to. He…he…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop!” You cried. “Stop it. It’s his…he…what?”

Valda brushed your hair. “May I ask you something?”

“Okay…”

She took a deep breath, dropping her volume. “The three of us and all of King’s Landing knows that the war has already started, it is just a matter of time before it comes here. One of the captain’s my brother works for has offered us passage out of the city; I am allowed to bring one other person.”

“How? You asked first. “They’re not letting any ship in or out of King’s Landing.”

Valda smirked. “Who says they won’t?”

“What?”

“No matter.” She shook her head. “We will make for Pentos first, and then after, everyone may go to where they desire.”

 “That-that will take weeks-.”

“-Weeks to be free over years of possible suffering.” She said your name. “You do not need to say yes…but please think of it.”

Your eyes drifted to Chansey. “Are you not jealous?”

She smiled. “When she thought you were in paradise with the prince, she asked me. My answer is no; my life is in King’s Landing, whether the Targaryens want to make it a living hell or not.”

The offer was tempting…start a new life, leave everything behind and be anyone you wished to be. Still…

“My grandmother.” You stated. “What of her?”

She sighed. “You stay with her or leave without her.”

“But-but is there any way you can speak with your brother? You mustn’t be letting on too many people-.”

“-They are sailors making a profit off of people’s fears.” She interrupted. “Where they are merciful in the offer, they are still greedy.”

It was then that it hit you; the genuine possibility of leaving her behind. What were you to do? She couldn’t take care of herself, but what would happen if the Greens lost? What if they won?

How much of Aemond’s vow was true?

Would it be kinder to tell her you were leaving, or just running away?

Would she even notice?

“When can I give my answer?” You asked.

She swallowed thickly. “We’re leaving tomorrow at the crack of dawn.”

So…no time to ponder what to do. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands and nodded. “My presence or lack thereof will be my answer.”

“I understand.” She held your face in her hands, saying your name. “The third tower on the left of the Iron Gate. That is where we shall meet. Do what you must.”

You embraced her and then Chansey as if your final answer was that you were staying; it wasn’t, but you decided to act as if it was. The whole day had exhausted you, and you didn’t even want to try to find Sylvi; what would you have even said to her? So, you merely made your way back to your house.

You sat there on your bed, holding yourself and pretending your arms were someone else’s; but whose? Gigi? Valda? Your Mother? …Aemond?

Sighing, you had gone over in your head for the hundredth time the endless possibilities of either staying or going.

If you stayed, no matter what, there would be war.

If you left, no matter what, there would be war.

If you stayed, Aemond would possibly keep his promise and treat you like a queen once he was king (though, he never promised you would be the queen).

If you left, you could travel outside of King’s Landing and perhaps be the first in your family to ever do so; see the beauty of all of Westeros.

If you stayed, you could die (but you’d be with Gigi).

If you left, you could die (but you’d be with Valda).

And those were the thoughts that flooded your mind for hours, even when the day bled into night, and with the absence of the sun, came the coldness of the moon.

You got up once you began to shiver, and the blankets weren’t enough to shield you from the freezing air. You pulled out the top drawer of your dresser, pulling out the few clothes you had to layer up.

Something blue fell to the ground with a ‘clang!’

Looking down, it shined in your eyes, blinding you momentarily. You bent down and picked it up.

The sapphire…the forgotten sapphire.

Just as soon as the air had left your lungs, it returned with vigor. You left your room, and knocked on the door of Gigi’s. You didn’t wait for her answer before barging in.

She lay on the bed, knitting and looking up at you.

“Vivi?” she questioned. “What is it?”

You showed her the gem in the palm of your hand, and asked quietly as if you were a child again. “Would you like to visit Dorne with me?”

You didn’t sleep that night; and perhaps that is horrible, but you are still alive. After packing lightly, you and Gigi left an hour before dawn; having enough time to quietly navigate the streets of King’s Landing, all the while avoiding the City Watch, and helping Gigi.

Once you arrived at the third tower on the left of the Iron Gate, you saw perhaps four people there in total. All bearing similar, darkened cloaks that you and Gigi wore.

Immediately, you recognized Valda’s eyes. They were filled with joy for only a moment until they saw Gigi.

She said your name with a warning. “She can’t-.”

“-Let me speak to the captain.” You bargained.

The tallest man among you approached, a straight look on his face. “I assume you are the one Valda requested?”

You nodded.

“So then…why have you brought an old woman with you?”

“Wherever I go, so does she.”

“We cannot-.”

From your pocket, you took the sapphire and held it in front of his eyes that had grown to the size of plates.

“The Eye of the Prince Regent.” You affirmed. “If you wish to not call it that when you sell it for hundreds if not thousands of dragons, that is fine by me. Just know that if you do not take the both of us, I shall return it to Prince Aemond myself and perhaps I shall tell him of who refused to take it.”

It was a horrible thing to say, especially with Valda staring at you as if you were carrying a disease. The captain eclosed his hand in yours that held the jewel, shaking it,

“There’s no need to threaten, now.” His smile tightened. “It’ll just be a tight fit.”

You didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but you didn’t have any other choice than to trust him. Soon after your bargain, the now six of you approached the gates. The captain had paid off one of the guards, because that was the only explanation you could draw from how the gate was opened.

All of you moved swiftly to the beach, and there waiting on the shore, was one of the ships Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen had sent to feed the Smallfolk. It had been pillaged clean, and the captain was right; it was certainly a tight fit.

Yet…everything somehow fell into place. You would make way to Sharp Point first, where the captain had a contact and could only hope would give him a bigger ship. Still, just the mere thought of escaping King’s Landing was enough.

You spent nearly a week on that small boat, and it was a miracle you did not run out of food to feed all six of you. You had grown seasick for the first few days, but it soon surpassed.

Your stay in Sharp Point was short. Gratefully, the captain had managed to convince his friend to give him the ship he hoped for.

Not from the kindness of his heart; only from the sapphire he had recently obtained.

Much debate had gone into how long the five of you should stay in Sharp Point to recover from the week long journey. The ship had also gained a few other travelers who wished to board, considering its size.

Once the ship was acquired, it was settled that you would all leave the next morning.

You would make for Pentos first, then Tyrosh, and finally, Sunspear. It would take a month at least, two at most. You assumed that nothing noteworthy would happen on the journey until perhaps a week or two while at sea.

Never did you expect, as you sat above deck with your grandmother on the first day, to watch as Vhagar soared through the sky above you. You didn’t even see Aemond as he rode her.

To the majority of the people on board, it was an hour-long conversation of excitement and fear. To the few who knew of what had happened between you and the Prince Regent…it kept the lot of you up the whole night.

It wasn’t until you passed by another ship a week later, that it was revealed Aemond Targaryen had set fire to Sharp Point. If you had stayed in the city just a day longer…

The thought alone kept you up for two nights.

Nothing else happened until you awoke one morning having to throw up. It perplexed you; you hadn’t gotten sick from the motion of the boat since journeying to Sharp Point. You grew weary after it stayed with you for a few days, assuming it was a sickness.

When no one else showed any signs of illness, it only wore on you even more. Valda had brought the one doctor on board to you, and he confirmed something you always knew but never wanted to speak aloud:

You were with child.

You were a foolish girl; of course you thought he had genuinely loved you, he was the person you gave your maidenhood too. Still, you had Valda and your grandmother to support you through the long days of sickness and hormonal shift, as well as the nights of depression.

Rumors spread across the ship when it had been evident you were pregnant. Luckily, orders from Valda and the captain (because you were the sole reason he had gotten the ship in the first place), commanded that if there were to be any more gossip around the father of your child, they would be thrown overboard.

The captain was bluffing of course, but you knew Valda wasn’t. Still, the rumors began to stop.

 It was a long month and a half on that boat, only with a few days on Pentos and Tyrosh. Yet finally, you landed in Sunspear; the capital of Dorne.

To your dismay, Valda wouldn’t be staying with you. Deciding that she enjoyed traversing the sea with her brother, she said it was better for her to stay with him.

“We will see each other again.” She held your hands tightly. “Even if it is when you are holding a swaddling child. There are always rich lords and ladies who wish to spend their holidays in a beautiful place as this.”

You wiped your tears away. “I love you. Please don’t do anything rash to get yourself killed.”

“When have I ever?” She kissed your cheek, walking backwards to still look at you. “Bringing you and Gigi was completely sound.”

With what little money you and your grandmother brought, you secured a room in an all-women’s boarding house. Even with it being only for women…that did not stop them from inviting partners over; men or women.

You had known how free people were with affection and sex in Dorne, yet it was different seeing, hearing, and gods above, even smelling it. Despite working in a brothel since you were essentially a child, it more so off put you how…how happy people were.

It should come as a surprise to no one; not every girl working in a pleasure house wants to be there. Almost every sexual act you witnessed was one where the girl wasn’t so willing or desiring to do. You thought that part of you had been healed with Aemond, and perhaps it was…but of course you felt tainted at the end of all things.

Perhaps you were jealous, perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, or perhaps it was just culture shock.

You never found out what had happened to Sylvi; although, you had a suspicion Aemond had something to do with her disappearance…you do not know how you would handle it if it were ever confirmed.

The one large difference that eased you within Dorne, was their treatment of bastards. Seven Hells, most of the women at the boarding house had bastards, yet were never treated any differently when they would go outside.

Yet…if your child were to be cursed with their father’s white hair…than you weren’t sure how well they would be treated.

You spent more time trying to find Qoren, the man who was Gigi's first love. It did not take long before it was revealed he shared the same name with the current prince of Dorne; making him the grandfather to him.

So there was a reason he had given Gigi a fake name…and there was little chance you would get a meeting with him of all people.

Still, you did not drag your ailing grandmother across the sea only to escape possible prosecution in the Dance of the Dragons (that was what the Smallfolk were calling it as you overheard conversations of whether or not the war would come to Dorne).

With a large amount of luck, you secured a job as a tailor for the prince’s daughters. With a miraculous miracle…you were to be welcomed with a feast.

You brought Gigi without question, wearing both the finest outfits you could find. Another thing about the Dornish was how extravagant in joy their festivities were. Even though it wasn’t anything like a fancy ball you assumed many of the lords and ladies in Kings Landing would host, it did not make you feel less alive.

You had almost forgotten your entire purpose for being at the feast as you socialized with several people, until the music suddenly stopped along with the excitement. At the head of the room where the members of the Martell family sat, you watched as the old Prince Qoren slowly made his way through the crowds of people who were once dancing.

He stopped in front of your grandmother, who was sitting by herself, and kneeled down to be at height with her. In the quietness, everyone heard him utter with his throat growing tight.

“Yelena?”

You’d nearly forgotten that was her true name.

Gigi's mouth parted at the sight of him, and with no shame or hesitance, she gently placed her hand upon his cheek. She smiled.

“I knew your eyes were green.”

20 Years Later

“Mama, may I speak with you?”

Despite your eldest daughter Siobhan, named after your mother, being nine and ten, she still spoke to you with the same gentleness she had as a child.

Oh…and how beautiful she was even then.

She was born with her father’s curly hair that was white as Northern snow, and his mouth; yet, she had your eyes and nose. When she grew up, there was no possibility in hiding who she was; considering no other children or adults for that matter shared her hair.

Stil…with the help of the Martell family, and the overall understanding of the Dornish people, neither you nor Siobhan were ever ridiculed.

When Gigi and Qoren were reunited at the feast, you and she were essentially treated like royalty. You lived in the palace with them, spending most days exploring and learning of your grandmother and her lover’s history as they begun to rekindle their relationship.

They never married though; a mere four moons after they found one another…Gigi died.

To try and soothe yourself and Qoren, you had accepted she passed after fulfilling her lifelong goal to find her true love again and felt safe to finally leave this earth once finished.

You were surprised yourself that your birth had not been premature from the stress…but you had someone else to guide you through your grief.

Evrin Sand was the leader of the Dornish Guard, and close companions with the younger Prince Qoren. When you first met him, he presented himself as stoic and silent. Yet, there was something that attracted you to him.

Call it an interest in mystery, call it your past self being drawn to the quiet ones, but it felt different.

It certainly was different; the more you got to know him, the gentler you found him to be. He smiled more often around you, and he never needed to pull you into private areas so much as to speak with you.

He was the first person you confided to about Aemond while you were pregnant, and he never once judged you. When Siobhan was born, he raised her as if she were his own; after you consented of course.

You knew he had a deeper fondness for you, and you with him. Yet, he understood the torment you went through with Aemond and was patient with you.

Three years later, and after much time for healing, you found yourself marrying him. Not so long after, you were blessed with your first boy, Leandro.

Another three years after that, your son Yeray came. Four years later, Yanette was your first and last daughter with Evrin; deciding that four children was perfect.

She was six when Siobhan entered the dress store you owned, and she immediately ran to her older sister.

“Shivi!” Yanette cheered, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Siobhan laughed, the tension leaving her shoulders as she picked her up. “Hello, my little darling! How are you?”

“Mama’s being mean.”

“I’m simply teaching you how to sew a button!” You laughed, standing. “What is it, Siobhan?”

Her smile dropped, and she set her little sister on the ground. “Could you go upstairs and help the ladies with the dresses for the other little girls? I need to speak with mother.”

You knew that if you were to have made the same request, Yanette would throw a tantrum. Yet, because it was her older sister who she aspired to be, she gave no complaint, running up the stairs and leaving the two of you alone.

“What ails you, child?” You questioned yet began to clean up your workspace.

“I don’t know what I want to do with me life.” She sighed, sitting at your desk.

“You are not alone in that.” you tried to comfort, placing rolls of fabric back onto their respected shelves. “I have spoken to numbers of mothers and daughters who both worry about that. Do you remember Lumila? You used to walk to the beach together during holidays and-.”

“-I was thinking of leaving.”

You finally looked at her, and though she stood tall, the moment her eyes met yours, she shrunk.

“Leaving?” You repeated. “Leaving Sunspear?”

“Dorne…” She corrected.

Setting the rest of the fabric down, you placed your hands on your hips, thinking. You had often heard of the fear and grief parents would go through in letting their children go, but never knew you would feel it so immediately.

Wasn’t she just a babe in your arms a day ago? Not even able to open her eyes and gaze upon just how much you loved her?

“Where would you go?” You questioned.

She picked at her nails, and you took her hands into yours, halting her bad habit. “Aunt Valda said I could travel to Essos with her and the cousins…and we would be in King’s Landing too.”

Valda was nearing five and forty, yet she still traveled the same path you both took in your escape from King’s Landing. She had become the captain of the ship after her brother, and had somehow found a husband, birthing a few children of her own.

Of course you were still the closest of friends with her, after all those years.

“When did she tell you that?” You questioned.

“Two moons ago when she last visited.” She explained. “She’ll be here in another one, and who knows if her offer still stands-.”

“-Is it what your heart desires?”

Siobhan titled her head. “What?”

You repeated. “If it is how you want to live your life, who am I to stop you?”

“But I don’t know!” She exploded into tears, and you immediately embraced her. She sobbed. “I don’t want to leave you, and-and father and everyone, but-but-but-!”

Shushing her, you pulled away only to reach for a handkerchief on your desk. You handed it to her and she blew into it until all the snot left her sinuses. She pocketed it, and wiped her eyes.

“Why else are you in such turmoil?” You questioned, knowing it wasn’t simply the question of if she should stay or go.

Siobhan took a shuttering breath, saying softly. “I’ve heard rumors of a boy at Harrenhal…one who shares my hair.”

It wasn’t news to you, although hearing it always brought another thorn into your heart. It was common knowledge that, not long after your departure from King’s Landing, Prince Aemond Targaryen retook the castle Harrenhal from Daemon, as well as the castle’s nurse, Alys Rivers.

As years had passed, it was apparent that there was a possibility in her birthing Aemond’s child after his death. It was only luck that you had heard that rumored uttered years after Siobhan’s birth. If the word had spread quickly…the heartbreak and shock surely would have overtaken you.

He had taken Harrenhal only a few weeks after you left Aemond.

“And you wish to find him…” You finished for her.

She sat down on the steps, and you sat beside her. “It may be pointless, and I may not find him…but I wish to know. I love my home with all my heart, but it also longs to live and breathe in places I have only seen in books and heard from travelers.”

You sighed. “I cannot promise you that people will be as accepting as those in Dorne.”

“And I know that.” She ran a hand through her curls. “Papa has trained me well enough to defend myself, you know this. I will travel with Aunt Valda and her children, so I will never be alone.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“I don’t.” She shook her head. “I do genuinely love working with you. I love creating the most beautiful gowns, I love going to the beach every day, I love my friends, I love Leandro, and Yeray, and Yannette, and you and papa.”

You giggled, taking her face into your hands. “And we will all still be here when you come back! Shivi, you’re so full of life. You can decide one day you’re tired of me yelling at you in the store and decide to pick up your things and go on an adventure of your own. You can decide too as you’re traveling all of Westeros, whether it’s a moon, or a year, when you want to come home.”

She looked at you as if you were somehow the only person in the world who understood her completely. Then, with a nod, she said.

“Okay.”                                                                                                                

Smiling, you kissed her forehead and embraced her once more. It was when she pulled away did Siobhan ask.

“Mama…can I ask about Aemond?”

She never referred to him as her father. It was always easier to speak of him as if he were just the historical figure everyone viewed him as. Yet, it was also strange to do that, knowing that he was a part of her creation.

It was strange for you too.

“Well,” you folded your hands in your lap. “what would you like to know that you already don’t?”

In her defense, you did not tell her that much prior. It wasn’t as if you had much to say in the first place; in hindsight, you only knew him for a month at the most, yet that doesn’t mean your time with him didn’t matter.

Siobhan began. “I know you said he was mean at times, and you thought he would hurt you…but did he love you?”

“…Yes. I like to remember that he did, and it being real.” You answered with a far off look in your eyes. “If I second guess that it was for himself and not for me, then it would tear me apart.”

“And you loved him?”

“I…I think I did. He was the first person to make me feel good, and we had moments where we would just talk, and I’d selfishly wish everyone else in the world turned to dust just so I could have him to myself.”

“Do you think he felt the same?”

You shook your head. “Not in the way I did.”

She drew her eyes away from you, taking it all in. You reached out, holding the back of her head so she would look at you.

“I do not regret any of the time I have spent with him.” You solidified. “It led me to a safer place, and to having you.”

“He wasn’t a good person.” She whispered.

“No.” You shook your head. “He was mistreated as a child, and even when he was older, but you’re right, he wasn’t a good man.”

“Still, I…I wish I could’ve met him. Is that bad?”

“No.” Was your immediate response.

She smiled. “I mean, besides the obvious, it’s for one reason.”

“And what is that?” You chuckled.

“I’m really a princess.” She said with false pride. “And if Aemond was meant to be king, do you think he would’ve let me ascend to the throne?”

You sighed, both out of playful and genuine surprise. “Shivi, if you keep looking into ‘In another world’s-.”

“-Then what world would it be for it to have been true?”

“…In another world where his mother and father were different.”

She looked at you in question. “As in…not the king and queen?”

“No just,” You shook your head. “different choices. Even so, perhaps many things would’ve been changed for your father to be content in being the youngest.”

You don’t know if it was ever possible for Aemond to have not been blinded by a lust for power. You liked to think so, but the more you dwelled on it…the more you began to believe there was no universe it which it was possible.

“I understand.” She said softly. “I just wished to know.”

You combed her hair through your fingers. “And there is no harm in curiosity. So…do you know if you want to leave or not?”

Siobhan sighed, laying her head in your lap. “I don’t. At least I have another moon before Aunt Valda comes to visit.”

“You will.” You comforted. “I have faith you’ll know what to do.”

She hummed, and the two of you stayed in silence together for perhaps another minute before your eldest daughter rose to her feet.

“I promised my friends I’d visit them in the market this afternoon. I’ll see you at supper?”

You nodded. “I’ll make your favorite tonight.”

“I love you!” she kissed your cheek before waving goodbye and rushing out the door. There you were, alone again with your own mind.

It drifted back to when you had heard the news of Aemond’s death. It had been nearly a year since you lived in Sunspear, holding Siobhan was she was just a moon old. When the Dance of the Dragons ended, there wasn’t much of a celebration or mourning, for Dorne had decided not to participate at the start of it all.

So, to hear the news that the Prince Regent Aemond had died spoken so suddenly…you felt your body grow cold. There was a shame in admitting that some of you still loved him.

How couldn’t you though? You held the proof of it in your arms as you cried. You dreamt of him that night, and it was strange. He didn’t do anything but stare at you.

Night after night, you would see him. Sometimes he would talk to you, other times, touch you; again, most of all, he would just look at you.

Apart of you felt like you only slept just to see him.

Yet now, as you sit in your dress shop, and hear your youngest daughter (the proof of Evrin’s unconditional and unselfish devotion to you) rush down the stairs in excitement…

If you were given the choice to go back to the night you first met Aemond Targaryen at the well, you would not change a single thing.

[captainofthedauntless]

Integration

Bayverse Donatello x Reader imagine

Info + Warnings: Donatello finds himself all over your life. No gendered language, pronouns, or Y.N used for Reader, but they use Spotify. Friends-to-lovers type beat. Set a few years after OOTS.

Commentary: While it's not strictly necessary reading, this is the sequel to Glow in the Dark, and is set to this playlist.

Donatello has always prided himself on his observational skills.

He notices things other people don't. He recognizes patterns, he collects data, he observes.

It's why Leo turns to him first for mission analysis.

It's why April sends him documents to proof-read.

It's how he fixes codes that refuse to work and reverse engineers biological weapons and is able to turn scraps into functioning gear.

He sees.

Especially when he's already interested in what he's looking at.

Which is why, in the middle of the night, he glances at your activity in his Spotify sidebar.

It's just in his nature.

He does it every now and again- well, okay, every time he opens Spotify- and it's become a bit of a game for him, to try and hone in on your music taste and then casually send you very casually considered recommendations.

He's the most casual turtle alive, everyone knows that.

Sometimes, he spots you playing a song he's given you, and he gets a dorky little smile on his face as he alt-tabs his way back to work.

This time, it's a song he'd given you months back- StarWaves, off of the Oblivion soundtrack, by M83- and just as his lips quirk up and his fingers find his keyboard, he notices something else.

Just below the song, he spots the playlist title.

It's a purple heart emoji.

He hesitates, hand over keys, eyes lingering on his screen.

His timing is fantastic, because the song changes. Little Dark Age by MGMT, which he'd sent you when he last updated the surveillance system- still on purple heart emoji.

This is why science is such a comfort to him- it ties all of those constant observations to something concrete, makes them matter. Observation alone means nothing; study gives him structure.

This means nothing.

But further study- tabbing back and forth between his latest project and Spotify every three-or-so minutes, noting song after song that he remembers giving you- suggests that the purple heart emoji means him.

It makes his heart do something dizzy in his chest, to think that you've tucked his suggestions somewhere safe. That you've taken them with open hands and set them in a display case.

That you make use of them.

It's not even a week later when you come into the lair with a smile and your computer bag over your shoulders and bags of take out in your hands. You set your phone and keys on his desk, both tangled in your headphones, and head off to dole out food, and he can hear a Phantogram song heavy in the earbuds.

Another one of his, he notes happily.

You come back a few minutes later, a tired and amused expression on your face as you offer him his food.

"I take it Mikey found you," Donnie says in wry, fond amusement, and he's rewarded by a little snort of laughter.

"He did," You respond, setting your own food on the desk- next to your things- and shimmying your bag off your shoulder. "I swear, it's like you all let that guy starve when I'm not here."

"He does a lot of things when you're not here. Starve is not one of them."

He almost misses your response- "Tell that to him, he nearly tackled me for his lo mein!"- because something green catches the light of his computer and, in turn, catches his eye.

It's a little piece of circuit board.

One you'd helped him pull out of a haul of scrap tech, and once he'd deemed that piece useless you'd made a joke about it making a cute keychain.

He'd taken an old soldering iron and melted a hole in the corner, threading a keyring through it, and passed it to you before you left.

It was mostly a joke. You'd been joking. He'd just tapped in and taken the bit to the next level.

And the joke was somehow still in one piece, hanging off your computer bag.

It makes his heart do something fluttery in his chest, to think that you carried that silly (warm, safe, delightful) memory around with you.

It's nearly two weeks after that when he climbs in your window in the early part of the night, a little earlier than he should probably be out, with a bag of snacks hanging from his elbow.

You're in front of your TV, flicking through movie options, and he intentionally scuffs his shoe in the doorway to make sure you know he's there.

He somehow still isn't prepared for the way you tilt your head back to smile at him in greeting.

"I know it's kinda warm out, but I made hot cocoa," You say sweetly. "I got marshmallows on sale, so..."

"I brought those chips you like," He responds, slipping the bag to his palm and holding it up as though you can see through it.

"You're the best!" You chirp, slipping off the couch and leading him to the kitchen.

You already have two mugs set out, filled to the brim with marshmallows- he assumes there's cocoa beneath them somewhere, but has little proof from just looking at them.

One mug is your favorite, the one you've been using as long as he's known you.

The other is new.

It's dark purple and large, with an oversized handle. About the same size as the one he probably left on his desk when he left the lair. Large enough to comfortably fit his hand, he suspects.

It nearly stops him in his tracks.

"What is it?" You ask.

"Is this new?" He asks in place of an answer, nodding at the drinks.

"The mug?" You're using that carefully nonchalant voice you use whenever you do something nice. The one that usually obscures a lot of time and effort. "Yeah, found it at that antiques place I told you about. The one with the iron giraffe by the door?"

He remembers.

"It's- pretty," He says haltingly, trying to keep himself in a logical, reasonable headspace.

It isn't a big deal. It's a mug.

(It feels big. Feels huge. Feels like he's going to suddenly collapse under his own emotional weight and leave a black hole in your kitchen where he had been.)

(It's you adapting to his- and his brothers', he reminds himself sharply, trying to stay in the realm of reasonable and unimpacted- quirks and needs. It's you accommodating him in your own home. It's his color. He thinks his unwieldy feelings for you grow a size right here, standing in your kitchen.)

"I thought so," You agree lightly, your back to him as you grab bowls. "Thought you might like it. Thought maybe it would be nice to have one here. For you."

Reasonable is rapidly becoming less and less realistic as his heart skips a beat. There's weight in your words, despite your best efforts- he's more sure than ever than you'd set out to find this mug, that this had been a mission for you.

You never act this casually about something you're actually casual about.

"Vank- er, very nice," He stumbles over his words, slowing down to enunciate. "Thank you."

You shrug, turning to him with the bowls, eyes trained on them. "Since I like having you here, might as well, like, make it easier for you, huh?"

He's glad, in a way, that he's green. When he blushes, it's a lot more subtle on him than it is on somebody like Casey.

(He hopes you're not feeling particularly observant.)

"Being here is easy," He says quickly, a confession he hadn't really meant to make.

It's simultaneously huge and just-the-surface.

Being around you is easy.

You look up now, eyes meeting his with a searching look, and you smile. "I'm glad," You say, that weight still in your voice, some extra, unknown thing just beyond his ability to figure out. Then it shifts, and you're more smirking than smiling, and the air shifts from uncertain warmth to a familiar playfulness. "That means you can easily pick a movie. I'm sick of looking."

He stays long after the credits roll, listening as you look up tidbits about the movie and the cast and how the effects were done. He's on your couch, one leg crossed beneath the other as he angles his body to you and rests an arm over the back (staying very carefully on his side, thank you).

He chimes in as you read out trivia ("I'm pretty sure that should be lucis, but my Latin's a little rusty." "You're right, according to this. Wonder if that was an error or a stylistic choice?") and laughs as you stop mid-sentence to re-read twice because something is so littered with typos that you can't immediately tell what it's saying.

Neither of you look at the clock.

You finish the chips he brought, and you make popcorn, and the two of you finish that, too.

The movie trivia gives way to a story about your friend's dog, and the laughter from that flows into him telling a similar story about Mikey as a child- because apparently, chewing on skateboards is a more common behavior than he'd thought- which shifts into you showing him the meme Mikey had sent you earlier in the day.

Mikey'd sent it to him, too, but he didn't mention it. He let himself lean into your bubble to half-look at your phone, just to be near you.

When he finally gets home- late, very late, the sun's already planning its ascent- he's grateful that everyone seems to be asleep.

Until he hears a throat clear behind him and he winces.

"Hi, Donnie," Leo says, knowing and smug and making Donnie stifle a groan.

Leo asks how you are.

"Good," He says simply, turning and holding his oldest brother's gaze. "We had lots to catch up on."

"Clearly," Leo says, a clear undertone of teasing.

Donnie resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm glad you had a good time," Leo says, teasing fading from his voice, leaving an earnest tone in its place as he bumps a fist into Donnie's shoulder. "Just let me know next time movie night turns four movies long, yeah? Keeping your dinner safe from Mikey isn't my idea of a good time."

Don can feel the blood in his cheeks again. He hadn't meant to stay so long- disrupting your sleep schedule isn't his idea of a good time- but it just... was easy. "Yeah. Will do."

Leo nods and smiles and takes his mug- strong green tea, if Don's nose is to be believed- towards his room.

Donatello exhales softly. He'd expected worse-

"Oh, Donnie," Leo calls playfully, "Mike's come up with several new songs including "k-i-s-s-i-n-g", so I'd brace myself for a musical breakfast."

This time, Donnie does groan, not bothering to respond as Leo chuckles and leaves.

He eats the dinner Leo'd kept guarded- pasta with meatballs, cold, because Donnie thinks that if the microwave wakes either of his other brothers and he has to deal with them before he sleeps he's going to ask you if he can just live on your couch- before shuffling into his lab and flopping into the chair at his workbench.

He leans back into the chair, stretching his neck out with a soft groan before his eyes land on the little glass sun hanging above him.

He watches it for a moment, a soft smile creeping onto his face.

Then he stretches out- too lazy, too tired to get up- and flicks the lights off.

The sun glows, and it looks almost as bright as his heart feels, and he feels himself sink fully into the chair and memories of you and the unwieldy, bright feelings you spark in his chest.

After a few minutes in comfortable, sweet silence, he shifts forwards and boots his computer up.

Just for some music.

Work will have to wait until he gets some sleep. You'd be livid if he jumps in now.

He pulls up Spotify and his eyes go to the sidebar out of muscle memory more than conscious effort.

Your username is the first on the list, right above a purple heart.

He lets out a little laugh, a you-shaped feeling turning bubbly and warm behind his ribs.

Deciding you have the right idea, he pulls up Random Access Memories and hits play on his favorite track, letting the bass softly fill the room and enjoying the feeling of it beneath his fingers as he quickly types out the few ideas he'd had while at your place.

He's asleep before the song ends, face buried in his forearms on the desk.