#'i don't understand what it is to be loved

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Post war/coma comic about Gai struggling with his recovery

Since tumblr hates long form comics, I have to split this into 2 bc its 36 images. This is the first part, part 2 i'll either do as a reblog or a separate post right after this, stay tuned! Links to support me in pinned post <3

tw: s*icidal thoughts, injury, a little blood

Bisuke: Gai's Back!

Gai: GRAAH!

Kks: Im home Gai: Welcome back Kks: [wheels rolling] Hey,

Kks: Ga-!? Gai: Im fine. The tile is cool on my face. Kks: Wanna go lay down in bed? Gai: I am so /sick/ of lying down. Kks: Ok. What do you want for supper?

Gai: You're not going to comment? Kks: I already know what happened. You overdid it again. I should be able to keep up with chores, kakashi. Kks: You can. Just don' bull through it all in one go. Do you want to end up in the hospital again? Gai: Please don't. Kks: I know sitting still is hard for you, and "too much" is in your DNA, but you have to take this slow so you don't exacerbate your injuries, Gai. You went from hyper-aware to pretending your body limits dont exist. Gai: Like you haven't done the same.

Gai: You've proved your point. Kks: It's not about that. And you've dragged me to bed and out of bed repeatedly when I needed it. You were burning alive from the inside. Tsunade told you your immune system is out of whack. You need to take it easy. /I/ know you're capable, but are you trying to prove to /yourself/ you are? Gai: You want me to admit my embarrassment? Kks: If something serioud happens, You'll be even more embarrassed then

Gai: How could you possibly know how I FEEL?! How could you EVER KNOW HOW I FEEL?! Kks: I DON'T! But I've /been/ the one ouking and sobbing on your bathroom floor because I couldn't take living anymore! And I don't want that for YOU!

Kks: I'm sorry, Gai. Gai: I'm sorry

Kks: I can't stand knowing you're in pain, and I can't get you help. If there was a way, I'd do anything. Gai: You do so much to help me already.... And I yelled at you Kks: I've screamed at you so much, that was pretty tame. I wish I was like you with things like this. Not great with what to say...... But I can listen.

Gai: I hate feeling so weak. I'm tired all the time, in constant pain, I can't even walk-..... I can tell tenten and the boys worry despite my efforts to appear positive. Kks: They're just not sure how to react. They know you hate being babied, but don't want to push you into hurting yourself. You hate being told you can't do something. They love you. You get stronger everyday, everyone is cheering you on.

Gai: I know it's irrational, but... I feel like you gave up the Hokage position to take care of me. Kks: Haa!? I'm grateful if anything. I'd be retired too if I could. That'd be amazing. I'm dreading just helping Tsunade but as long as you're by my side, I'll be fine. We're still equals, rivals, friends, partners

Gai: Even if I can't- Kks: /Always/ wil be, dickhead. Gai: You worry about me hurting myself? Kks: I know you think about it

Kks: We're the same in that regard Gai: I would never act on this, please believe me, these thoughts are rare........... Kks: It's ok, Gai. Gai: Sometimes I think i should have just died. I feel so out of place on the streets I used to feel so at home at. I never asked to live. I didn't plan to. I just don't know how to-...

Kks: I understand that. Though, dying didn't feel any better. Gai: I know I didn't fully pass like you did. I didn't see papa. Just for a moment, I wish I could have seen him.

Kks: As much as I'm sure he wants to see you again, It's too soon. Dai'd slap the shit out of you for wanting to waste your youth just to see him. Gai: [chuckle] probably. Kks: I have those thoughts less and less now, but they're still there. "why am I the one who survives?" "Burden" "Gai will come to his senses eventually"

Gai: FALSE!! None of my grief is with you! I love living here with you! My love for you only burns hotter each day! You're so lovely inside and out! Kks: Maa What did I do to deserve such praise from teh mouth of the hottest man in Konoha?? Gai: YOU STILL THINK I'M HOT?! Kks: YOU-! [CACKLE]

Kks: Your bad taste is the only reason I had a chance before someone snatched you up. Gai: The worst. Kks: Thought we'd irritate eachother, but it's been pretty smooth. Even though you still get played by the dogs. Gai: You really wanna throw those stones?

Gai: They play you just as easily. don't lie. Kks: My point is, whatever you need from me, you have it. No questions asked. Even if you yell and scream, i can take it. You held me together when I was unraveling, and I'll never forget it. Didn't trust anyone else to see me like that. Broken

Gai: I never saw you as that. Kks: I'll never see you as that

[suiana]

✎ yandere! demon who is absolutely enamoured by you. you're his perfect little angel, so kind, so innocent, and oh so caring. how could you even care for a demon like him?

✎ yandere! demon who is absolutely distraught when you tell him you have to leave him, to go do some angel duties or something... what? you're just leaving him like that? after showing him what kindness feels like? oh that won't do. not at all.

✎ yandere! demon who rips out your wings, ripping you away from your divinity that you cherished with all your heart. he knows it hurts, he knows you'll hate him for a bit. but it was justified, obviously. you were going to leave him. ...not to worry! he's sure you'll love him again soon, and maybe he'll even give you some demonic wings to match with him?

✎ yandere! demon who will do anything to keep you by his side. right beside him, that's where you belong and that's how it's going to stay.

"you ruined me!"

"yeah? and I'm a demon, sweetheart. I'm selfish and i take what i want."

your chest heaves heavily, your face absolutely distraught as the demon coos at you, cheeks flushed and a lovesick expression on his face as he holds your face in his hands. you lock eyes with him, staring straight into his deluded ones, and you can't help but let out a shaky breath.

you feel disgusting.

violated.

and most importantly, naked.

you felt absolutely naked without your wings, the wings you cherished and loved over anything else. the very wings that even god himself praised. the wings that you loved with all your heart.

and you'd never see them again.

all because this demon you showed kindness to had fallen and wanted to be selfish. all because he had wanted to keep you with him. but you suppose you couldn't expect anything different. i mean, he was a demon after all.

"oh... don't cry anymore, would you? my beautiful angel shouldn't waste their tears over some lost wings. in fact... i could give you new ones. you'd look much more alluring with some demon wings."

you freeze at his words, disgust running up your throat as you register his words. why would he even suggest such a thing?!

you glare at him venomously, eyes staring straight into his soul as you let out some irritated mumbles. the demon merely purses his lips, staring back at you before cooing once more.

"why are you looking at me like that? don't like the idea?"

duh. of course you didn't like it. why would you ever want demon wings?

you were an angel for god's sake! not a demon!

you continue to glare at him, tears rolling down your cheeks as the demon hums happily, as though he didn't just tear you away from everything you loved.

"ah... my pretty angel... i really adore you with all my heart, i do. it's just, you're so... naive sometimes."

he pauses, wiping away your tears as his thumb caresses your cheek. you say nothing, not wanting to engage with him at all. what was there to say to a man who locked you out of what you called your home?

"i love you, i made that quite obvious, didn't i? yet you were still so oblivious and decided to leave. you were going to leave me alone, baby."

he mutters, tone lowering as his eyes narrow at the memory of you telling him that you were going to return back to heaven.

he hated it. hated it oh so much. in fact, he'd get rid of your ex-home in the clouds if he could. he absolutely despises all the other heavenly beings that never spared a single glance at the lower realms of earth.

"how could you do that to me hm? don't you care about me? i know you love me too... somewhere in that heart of yours, you know you do."

he mutters, looking at you with the most obsessed eyes the world could ever imagine. you felt a shiver run down your spine, your raw wounds aching as you suddenly feel your body grow cold.

"come on darling... i know you're not like those other hypocrites up there. you're leagues better than them. really don't understand why you'd want to return back-"

"well at least they didn't rip away my wings!"

you suddenly interject, feeling your annoyance building up as you chew on your bottom lip. god damnit, was this guy emotionally dense or what?

"they didn't take away the one thing i loved the most, did they? they didn't brutally mutilate my body or defile me! they didn't take me away from ny home!"

you hiss, giving it your all against him as your eyes dart all over his face for a response. you wanted to see how he would react to it. hopefully nothing too bad though. maybe just a little bit of anger, a little irritation to help you feel slightly better.

but of course, it was as though you were no longer graced with heaven's blessings, for he was more than just 'a little bit angry'.

"baby, when have i ever defiled you? i only took away your wings, didn't i? it's not that bad. you'll learn to live without them."

he mutters, glaring back at you as his grip on your face tightens considerably. you let ot a wince, eyes shutting from the intensity he held you at. but he doesn't let up, why would he when you've got him all fired up?

"i just did what i thought was necessary. i just did what i had to do to keep you with me."

the demon states firmly, looking at you as his nails start to dig into your skin, drawing blood from how hard he was gripping. but that doesn't stop him. of course it wouldn't. he first needs to get it through your head that you and him were meant to be. that he was yours just as you were his. completely, utterly, his.

"darling don't you understand? we were meant to be together. you and me, us. we fit together perfectly like a puzzle. you can't ever leave me."

with how he was repeating that, it was really starting to get to you. it was like he was drilling it into your head like some military sargent.

"and your home is with me. not with them, not up there, not anywhere else. me. got that?"

he finally lets go, sighing softly before rubbing your shoulders gently, a total 180 from how he was acting just seconds ago. you watch as the demon goes back to cooing over you, gently rubbing your arms as he sings praises about you.

all you could do was stare at him, chewing on your bottom lip as you think of how you'd critically approach this problem, just like how you always would before you had your wings torn from you.

...

none.

zero solutions come to mind.

maybe you should simply pass away? because there's no way in hell you're resigning yourself to a fate with him. both angels and demons never die after all.

[bamsara]

What i love most about the trod amnesia AU is that Narinder is not mad. Like, he doesn't care that Lambert still has his crown, he doesn't care nor wonder why it happened. He just assumes something went wrong with the magics at that moment he asked the lamb to kneel so get sacrificed. He just assumes it was a mistake, maybe from the crown or whatever but he. Doesn't. Care.

He's just so happy to be free and he still thinks that Lambert is his most faithful and that they didn't had anything to do with whatever happened for the power slipt to occur.

Which means he really never saw a problem with sharing the power of the crown with Lambert. He's just hurt about the betrayal and nothing more. He's just hurt that Lamb did what they did.

But if he thinks the split happened for reasons out of his or Lamb's control, then he's completly chill and cool with it and i-

Damn the cat is just hurt because his most faithful really fighted him almost to death, hmm...

YEAH. YEAH YOU GET IT

Narinder just wanted to be free, and if he found freedom in the lamb then where the crown ends up is not a concern. He has his power still. He has his revenge sending his siblings to purgatory. He has the Lamb. Him and his disciples are released from the afterlife. The finer details don't matter because the end result is still freedom and happiness.

The finer details of the crown's authority can be solved later. He's still a God, he's still worshipped, he still takes in devotion (and outputs it). There is no downside to what's happening. The crown can fly from his head to the lamb in the same minute and back again like a bouncing ball and he wouldn't bat an eye. Who cares. This isn't what he planned, but it's pretty damn close to what he wanted anyway. He has what he wanted. He's happy.

He doesn't understand why the lamb isn't as happy as he is.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself PT. 3 | Hyungline

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Suicide

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BANGCHAN|

You ran your fingers through your hair as you walked up to your front door.

The past week had already been stressful enough. After arriving at the airport, you realized that somewhere between you getting off the plane and getting to your parents' car your phone had fallen out of your pocket. You had to attend a funeral, your flight home had been pushed back by a day, and you still had a shit ton to do before you moved. Not to mention it ate at you the entire week that you were gone all you could think about was the argument you and Chris had.

Overall you felt absolutely shitty and you just wanted to crash.

You unlocked your door and slipped your shoes off and walked into the kitchen and set your purse down. You had left your luggage in the foyer, and were contemplating how nasty it would be just to leave your things in there until you unpacked at your new place.

You made your way into your room and flicked on your light and gave out a quiet yelp when you noticed someone in your bed.

Your heart slowed slightly when you realized that it was Christopher in your bed, hugging the bear he bought you in Europe when he was on tour.

He was curled in a fetal position, and knowing his nature, you knew he must have been staying in your room the entire week you were gone.

Your heartbeat sped up as you walked over to him, knowing what confrontation awaited.

He whimpered quietly in his sleep. Sadly.

"Christopher." You whispered, shaking his shoulder slightly. He whimpered again and you could swear you heard him say your name.

He must be having a nightmare.

"Baby." You said shaking him awake, harder this time.

Chris startled awake and looked at you. He stared for a moment as if you weren't real.

"Y-Y/N?" He asked quietly.

"Hey-"

His chest collided with yours as he pulled you into an embrace, and you immediately felt his tears wet your shoulder.

"I-I'm s-sorry b-babe. I didn't m-mean any of it- I didn't pl-please d-don't l-leave me. I'll do any-anything. I'll qui-quit wo-working so I won-won't be stressed an-anymore. A-Anything I-I mean it-"

"Love, shhh. I'm not leaving you." You said as you stroked his hair. It felt gross, and he smelled a little stale, and he looked worn out overall. You could tell that he probably hadn't moved much all this week.

"Did you really stay in my bed waiting for me to come back?" You asked quietly. He let out a whine into your shoulder refusing to let you go.

"Chris, I promise I'm not leaving you."

"But the boxes..."

You chuckled and stroked his hair again. "I'm moving, yes. But not away from you. The neighborhood I live in isn't the safest, and I figured you would like it better if I moved closer to the dorms, so you didn't have to travel as far in the opposite direction of your home." Chris still held onto you, and you could feel the downturn of his lips pressed into your shoulder like a soft kiss.

"You didn't answer my calls...I thought you broke up with me..."

You sighed and pushed him away from you slightly and you could see his heart sink a little until you kissed the edge of his lips, his slight stubble exfoliating your own.

"While I will admit, what you said wasn't very kind of you...I know that isn't you." You murmured, caressing his cheek. His brown eyes were wide and sad but filled with hope. "I understand you were stressed, and I understand I can be clingy at times, but that's only because I have so much love and affection for you, I have to get it out in a physical way. Or else I might actually explode." You giggle as you pinch his cheek.

His eyes widen slightly, and he opens his mouth to speak but you press your finger to his lips.

"Let me finish. I didn't answer your calls because I lost my phone at the airport when I went home. My cousin's spouse took her life so I went to go attend the funeral. I wasn't informed until a few days before, so I went to the studio to tell you I was leaving." You let out a breath. "I also wanted to ask you while I was there is you could help me finish packing since I have to be moved out in two days."

Chris looked at you. "I'm sorry for your loss, baby. I'm also so-"

"Shhhhhh." You said placing a quick yet super soft kiss on his lips. "Thank you for your condolences. But don't apologize for snapping at me Chris. I already forgave you the minute you did it."

His bottom lip trembled, and he started to cry, little hiccups coming through as he still apologized, even though you knew he meant it when you said he didn't. He repeatedly apologized.

"You're too good for me." He said once he calmed down, his quiet sniffles and hiccups infrequent.

"And you're too handsome for me." You said as you kissed the tip of his nose.

"You're beautiful though. Way more than me." He said staring holes into you. "When we get married and have kids I want them to look exactly like you."

You laughed and shook your head. "They need your smile though, which I have yet seen you give since I arrived." Your voice held mock sternness as you tried to look serious but ended up letting out a loud chuckle.

He was finally able to give you and actual smile, and his adorable little giggle finally peeked through. You poked your pinkie in his dimple and he giggled again.

You ruffled his hair once and then made a face.

"You need to go shower, love." You said your nose wrinkling.

He pouted and wrapped his hands around you, laying his head on your stomach. "Mmmm, just a couple more minutes. Let me hold you."

You sighed, a smile on your face as you looked down at the boy you knew you would spend the rest of your life with. You scratched his head affectionately.

"Who is the clingy one now?"

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MINHO|

"Y/N!" Minho had been running around for almost an hour. His voice was hoarse and the wind was biting at him through his coat as he ran. Knowing your stubborn ass you had probably only left the hotel in a thin jacket, with one or two layers at most.

He took a second to catch his breath and looked around. "Y/N!"

He was about to start off in a different direction when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Did you find her?" Minho asked when he picked up a call from Jisung. All the members of both Stray Kids and TWICE were looking for you.

"Sort of? She asked me to go pick her up from in front of the Louvre - she said she lost track of time but she's too scared to-"

Minho started running again. "Thank you! I'll call you when I have her-" He hung up and felt his legs move faster than he thought was humanly possible.

Please God...Universe...whoever please just please let her be okay.

He arrived and he looked around for you. When he didn't see you he started to panic until he noticed your figure swamped in one of is hoodies hunched over on a bench dozing off.

"Y/N!"

You perked your head up and saw your boyfriend running towards you, his long coat nearly flying off his shoulders.

He stopped in front of you and you braced yourself for him to start yelling at you after he caught his breath.

But instead of yelling at you his pants turned into desperate weeps.

"Minho-"

He fell down on his knees and you quickly joined him on the ground.

"You-you scared me I tho-thought..." He couldn't even look at you.

"I'm sorry Minho, I didn't mean to...I..." Your voice was wobbly. You hadn't ever seen Minho cry before in the entire time you had been together. You didn't know how to comfort him, or what to say to get his cries to stop.

It made you want to cry how vulnerable he sounded. How weak and broken.

"Its not safe here. Anywhere. Thats why I was so scared." He whispered looking up at you, his eyes rimmed red. "One of the girls said they couldn't find you and I panicked. I've been running around for almost three hours."

You felt a pang of guilt strike you in your heart.

"I-I'm so-sorry..." You began to tear up as the pain of being mad at Minho seemed to hit you like a ton of bricks. You missed your boyfriend. "I'm sorry for being clingy too. I thought you wanted to be alone so I hung out with the girls...but I felt like maybe they'd think I was clingy too so I thought I would just spend today alone-"

"Y/N stop. First off the girls will never and I mean never find you clingy." He wiped his face and chuckled, a small smile forming on his face. "We were in a meeting last week and they were playing rock paper scissors over who gets to marry you. I told them that you were mine and Tzuyu said 'did you guys hear something?'"

He licked his lips and took a breath. "Secondly you don't need to apologize, Jagiya...all of this...this was my fault. I shouldn't have called you clingy. Because your clinginess...its something I love. Adore even. You know how to respect boundaries when needed as well. But it's obvious I have work to do on that, because I crossed a line I never should have crossed. So I am so, so, sorry Y/N. I'm sorry that I can't manage my frustrations in a way that won't hurt you. And I'm sorry that I'm horrible at communicating. I'm sorry that I say things that never should come out of my mouth."

You look at your boyfriend and the sincerity in the words his is saying. You swallow as he continues.

"I'm sorry that I cause more trouble than it's worth sometimes. That I make things a little more stressful than they need to be as well. I'm sorry that I can't express my love in the way you need either." He takes a shaky breath and he looks at you; your hear thumping in your chest at his apology.

"I love you. I love you. So much, Y/N. But I struggle to express that love and affection properly...which isn't fair to you." He lets go of your hand and you instinctively reach out for the warmth of it again. He lifts up one of his knees from the ground.

"So please be patient with me. Be patient with me so you understand the depth of my love for you. It is going to take a long time...if I had to guess..."

He pulled out a navy blue velvet box from his coat pocket. You watched as he opened it and a dainty but elegant ring was placed in there.

"It will the take the rest of my life to be able to show you." His voice trailed off and he trailed his eyes up to yours as he waited for you to say something...anything.

"I love you Y/N L/N."

You shook your head. Minho felt his heart start to shatter until you giggled and wiped away your tears.

"You idiot, it's Lee. Not L/N. Lee." You held your hand out and Minho slid the ring on your finger, his own trembling.

"I'm sorry I ruined your elaborate proposal."

Minho cocked his head as he helped you up, pulling you as close as humanly possible to his side so he could wrap you up in his coat as well.

"How did you know about that?"

"Jisung told me when I called him earlier..."

Minho chuckled as you guys walked along.

"Thats why we should probably wait to tell him about our engagement." You admired your ring with a bright smile.

Minho shook his head. "I'm gonna tell him when we get back. Because I want the world to know."

You looked at each other and immediately bursted out laughing because you both had the same thought.

"And that will be the quickest way for them to know."

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CHANGBIN|

Changbin had sped past three red lights to get here.

He would not lose you. He couldn't. The past couple of weeks had been grueling for him.

Your presence was something he was missing in his life. And that furthermore showed him how much he needed you.

How desperate he was to keep you.

He pulled into the lot illegally and ran into the small coffee shop. All the memories he had with you flooded his mind, since this was you and his favorite coffee shop. He had just been so busy that you guys never had time to come here anymore. It was more than half an hour away from your house and his dorm. And even further from the studio.

He scanned the small area and almost immediately pinpointed you with another person. A guy.

He was in a nice outfit as well. Very clean and put together. Lean and tall.

He watched as you both got up and hugged each other and watched as you smiled brightly at the guy and laughed at something he said.

"Alright I'll see you Wednes-"

"No! You will not see her Wednesday!" Changbin said as he pulled you from the guys embrace. "Listen, I don't know who you think you are but I'm her boyfriend! And she hasn't properly broken up with me yet so you can't have her! And if even if she did I wouldn't allow it!" He stared the guy down. Or rather up.

Damn he's even taller than he looked.

"Y/N-ie did you not tell-"

"I'm the only one who can call her that! Well...me and the guys but you're not the guys so you can't." Changbin mumbled angrily like a frustrated toddler.

"Changbin! Quit being such a fucking dumbass!" You said smacking him above the head lightly. You turn to guy and apologize profusely. "I'm sorry, Bin is a little...possessive." A nervous laugh escaped you. "Like a Chihuahua...but not the kind quiet sweet ones more like the ones who have a bark bigger than themselves." You said looking at your boyfriend with frustration in the lines of your face.

He looked down as you apologized to the guy once more.

"It's okay Y/N-ie...I think this is a memorable meeting. I'll definitely bring it up in my speech when you guys get married." He laughed. "I'm Justin Kim. Y/N's brother-in-law." He held his hand out and Changbin looked between the two of you. Justin had a smile on his face while you were looking at Changbin with annoyance.

"Ah! I'm so sorry...uh..."

"I think I'm older than you but I didn't grow up using honorifics so you can just call me Justin."

Changbin bowed and apologized, but held his hand out to shake.

"My wife and I are moving here settling down here soon. She's back home but will be here next week with the last of our things. She was stationed here for a little bit when she was in the military and loved it and since her only sister found love here and doesn't have much time to come see her since she's dating an idol, she thought it would be nice to move here. I agreed since it is beautiful, and this where our family is." He motioned his head towards you.

"Although she might be a little upset that I met you before she did. Especially since she'll be entrusting you too take care of her little sister...although I feel like its more so because she's quite a big fan of you guys. Ever since Y/N-ie said she was dating an idol she's been keeping up with culture and your band, so she can better understand."

Justin smiled and looked over at you. "I'll uh...let you guys talk though. Y/N-ie I'll have your sister call you when I get home. She might be a little flippy floppy though because she went through the stock of pregnancy cravings I bought her." He hugged you one last time and pulled Changbin into a hug as well before walking off.

"Changbin are you really that idiotic?" You looked at your boyfriend and he tried to sputter out a response, but you interrupted him befroe he could form coherent words. "I think you are, I fear." You let out a defeated sigh as you slunk back into your chair. You looked tired.

"Jiwon, can you grab me my usual. And do you remember Binnie's?" Changbin turned to see a barista nod at you and start to prepare your order. He sat down across from you and quickly realized that he was mistaken about a lot of things.

"Binnie I would never break up with you. I may break your head open because sometimes my God I want to slap you upside it so hard, but I would never break your heart." The sigh you let out was deafening. "If you were so jealous about me talking and hanging out with Minho so much why didn't you tell me? You really think flirting with a barista to make me jealous is a good idea, babe? Really?" Jiwon placed two drinks in front of you guys. "Chan told me. I think he spotted it pretty quickly, and noticed how you were turning down her advances when I wasn't around. Also, rather rudely too apparently - because Seo Changbin what do mean to tell me when Chris said you made a gagging noise at the poor girl!"

Changbin's eyes widened, and his lip popped out in a small pout. "I'm sorry Y/N."

"It's okay Binnie. But there isn't a need to be jealous baby. I'm not leaving you for Minho, he's just an extremely close friend. I'm not leaving you for anyone else period. And I'm sure as hell not going on any dates. I had to dress nicely because we were doing a photoshoot." You gestured to the cafe you guys were currently sitting in. "Justin and I are going to be co-owners. I thought it would be nice to have a location closer to where we live so we can go more often, and that one little restaurant closed down so I thought it would be a good opportunity." A soft smile painted your face. "And it's partially selfish reasons...I can't help but think of us when I think of this place."

Changbin's heart swelled with affection. So much affection that it hurt him.

"So while I have been upset with you for the past three weeks I'm over it Binnie. I miss you so much." Changbin got up and moved next to you.

"You mean it?"

You chuckled and placed a kiss on his lips. "100%." You said connecting them again, a little bit more passionately, but pulling back when you felt a mass amount of messages come through your phone, and then it immediately started ringing. Changbin pouted as he stared at your lips as they turned into a nervous grin.

"Although...you might have a shit show in store when it comes to my older sister."

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HYUNJIN|

You sat with Hyunjin the couch as you two watched your favorite series together. Today was your yearlong anniversary. You had been in bright spirits for the occasion as you guys went out and did things together.

Hyunjin slowly ran his long fingers through your hair, and he felt you slowly dozing off.

"Baby..." Hyunjin whsipered, "Are you sleepy?"

"Hmm, just a little..."

"Can we talk?" Hyunjin paused the show, not giving you a choice.

You sat up and you felt your heart thump in your chest.

"Yeah we need to."

Hyunjin nodded. "You go first."

"No you"

You both spoke at the same time.

"Marry me-"

"We should break up-"

You looked at Hyunjin dumbfounded and he looked at you with utter digust.

"First off... that is utterly disgusting that you would even consider breaking up with me? What are you some sadist? Deriving pleasure from my pain and humiliation?" He said putting a hand to his chest dramtically.

You looked at him with wide eyes. "W-Well are you some sort of crazy person?! What the hell do you mean marry me?!"

Hyunjin pouted. "Well you can call me crazy all you want I'm being serious." He ran a hand through his brown bangs. "We've been together a year. And I know I want to be with you for the rest of my life. And I know for a fact you do because how the heck could you not want to marry me? I mean we'll quite literally be the most beautiful couple God has ever put on this earth." He said rolling his eyes in a joking manner.

You didn't see amused, rather your lip was shaking slightly and your eyes watering.

Hyunjin bit his cheek and pulled out a little ring from his pocket.

"It's a little cliche, I know. And some will probably say too soon. But I know what I want." He said quietly.

He took a breath and spoke slowly, switching to his native language.

"Cling to me Y/N. For the rest of your life. Ask me how you look. Let my eyes cling to you when I admire you. Let my words cling to you when I say just how beautiful you are. Cling yourself to me every night before we fall asleep, and let me cling to you every morning when we wake up. Let yourself cling onto me when you feel like you aren't enough, and let me cling onto you so I can show the world that you are enough-that you are more than enough; and you will always be more than enough. Let me cling to you in the times where I feel you need reassurance, and I'll let you cling to me the times where you feel like I'm not sufficient enough. We may not be perfect but Y/N no couple is. I don't care what people think about us. We can be perfectly imperfect together. I'll let you cling to me so those hateful words have no room to stick. I'll let you cling to me so everyone around us knows that I am not me without you. That you're the one who completes me. Cling to me so tightly that if God forbid you ever leave you would take everything of me with so no o that no one else could ever cling to me. Because I won't let anyone else do that. No matter how much they claim to know what is best for me, they don't. Because if they did, they would know that it's you. And it will always be you. Thats why I'm so sure of this."

He slid the ring on your finger, as you watched him admire it on your hands. He didn't look up as he murmured quietly.

"Cling to me Y/N...I'm begging you."

You looked at Hyunjin and felt a few tears fall onto your hand as he held it with both of his own.

"You...you knew?"

Hyunjin shook his head. "Not when I said what I said. But Y/N I swear I didn't mean it in a mean way." He looked up at you helplessly. "In retrospect now I realize they meant it in a vicious way but...I genuinely thought that clinginess was a good thing. Isn't that how it's supposed to be when you love someone? Aren't you supposed to want to be with them?"

His brown eyes searched your face. "Because that's how it is for me. How it will always be. I don't want it to be any other way."

You felt your eyes prick up with tears.

"Did you really mean it when you said you want to break up?" He whimpered.

You shook your head aggressively. "No, Hyunjin no- I was just feeling insecure. I see how everyone reacts at us and sometimes I feel like I'll never be accepted as being your girlfriend."

"Fiancée." He corrected. "If they won't accept you as my girlfriend then I'll make them accept you as my fiancée. And if they want to be asses after that than tough luck because if anyone dares to not accept you as my wife than I'll find a way to deal with them." He said in complete seriousness.

You couldn't help but laugh as you moved your hands to cup Hyunjin's cheeks.

"Hyunjin I haven't said yes." You said quietly.

He gives you a determined look. "But you will say yes..."

He waited patiently for you to say yes.

"Jagiya. Three letters. Y-E-S. You just have to move your mouth to say it." He said stubbornly.

You shook your head.

"I'm not going to say yes Hyunjin."

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest but instead you kissed him lightly, resting your forehead against his own.

"You won't say yes?" He whined.

"Nope."

"Why not...do you not want to say yes? Can you give me a straight answer Jagiya? Because I won't accept it until you say no. Until then I'll assume you are just being stubborn."

You smiled as your eyes met. Hyunjin looked at you waiting for you're answer. Which was so much more than a yes.

"I'll cling to you Hyunjin. Always. As long as you promise to do the same."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@hardladytale @yaorzu-blog @viola-celine @jiminssluttyminx @pearl-monkeys @wave2ivy @keshet2k @dreammix88 @mysticalhumano @hannahlolo @periodpoops @m1rroh @seungmyynie @beebee18 @theodorenottgf @qrstarz @xocandyy @stay-tiny-things @vixensss @bo-fairykim @conwunder @parisanmorovati @lovesunshinefelix @hyunjins-dimples @ka0ila @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @chuuyaobsessed @dollschan @katexstay @lisunny2 @abovenyx @adrisiwiris @dontwannaexist @minsungsthirdwheel @ray0magdalene @maaayytyroshka @ddiidi

(if I missed you I'm so so sorry <3)

[maopll]

Helloooo!!!! really interesting event you have going on here :D . a couple pennies for my request?

Can I get a "Hot things they do" prompt with

HSR: Jing Yuan, Sunday, and Boothill Genshin: Neuvillete and Pantalone

Gn!Reader please and thank you <3

HOT THINGS THEY DO

⋆·˚ you swoon over and practically drool whenever he does something which you love to the moon and back. even the simplest of things has you feeling something burning and fluttering inside ...

note : anon you've got tastes. I don't know if there is anything particular I like that they do everything will have me folding over.

sfw // fluff a lil goofy, slight suggestive gn!reader

— ୨ JING YUAN ୧

His breathy laughter is the best of both worlds. Nothing compares to it. Although you are a big fan of his chuckle whenever he is in a tight spot or has it figured out, his laughter is still incomparable.

But he kind of disagrees with you on this since he would have approved it if it was his thighs. He knows how thick they are and how the strap around his upper thigh makes it look even more enticing. "Who says I don't like it?" you retort.

— ୨ SUNDAY ୧

Whenever he is in deep thought, he would leave his pen, cross his arms and would run his fingers through his hair. Most of the time his hair is prim and proper. But when he puffs his chest up in frustration , eyes squinting , and hair a little bit messy, you can confirm that you become like a victorian man seeing ankles.

"Is this the way you like it?" Sunday says a bit unsure as he is practically wearing something that looks diametrically opposite from what he wears. Shirt, jeans, jacket, cap and all the items that screams 'rock metal genre'.

"Stay still pretty boy I need a good picture for my wallpaper"

— ୨ BOOTHILL ୧

"Babe I find you really hot when you threaten people to kill them whenever they try being real mushy mushy with me"

"You muddle fudger I can't even curse them with the real scary words and you liked that?" Boothill stares at you bewildered. "Your synesthesia beacon working overtime and your hands pointing the gun at him as you threaten to do the wildest shit to him if he ever touches me is very very hot you wouldn't understand". He would usually comply with whatever you say but this time he truly thinks that you've got a few screws loose there. But maybe that's your charm and your 'hot thing'.

"Well if you find THAT hot then ..." he swifts you off your feet and places his hat onto your head "don't you like it when I do this hmm sweetie ?"

— ୨ NEUVILLETTE ୧

While the things or his actions are mostly adorable or gentlemanly, even he has his sides which would leave your heart beating fast and hard. But oh lord have mercy on you because when he would tie his hair messily to focus on his paperwork, you fold.

Neuvillette was about to sit down after he tied his hair in a ponytail, but you noticed his tied hair and without thinking you blurted out,

"Do it again"

"Do what again ?"

"Tie your hair again.. I wanna see..."

He obliged to your request like he usually does even though he was a little confused, but when he turned around to face you, you were blushing HARD and one of your hands was on your chin as if scrutinising his every movement and every flex of his muscles. Neuvillette just chuckled at your antics. "Like what you see dear?" "Very much..." you strided towards him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. No matter how many times you ask such silly requests of him, he will always fulfil them.

— ୨ PANTALONE ୧

You didn't know what captivated you to like pantalone and you wanted to find what was something he did that made you find it hot. Lo and behold you found it when he was threatening one of the fatui members.

Two new recruits were standing at esse in front of Pantalone, who was eyeing them from top to bottom. "So... cryogunner... what was the order?" The cryogunner, after swallowing down the lump in his throat with hesitation, replied, "s— sir ... we had to take down the owner of the illegal organisation–"

"And what was the result I received?" his voice cold and eyes piercing. His anger were visible in his eyes even though it did not reflect on his face. "Out of my sights right now the punishment that you two will receive for not abiding to the order will be not so savoury"

The two fatui scurried away after shouting a 'yes sir'. After they left, he removed his glasses and scrunched his face rubbing his temple. Looks like more work got added to his already pending list of tasks. His eyes were full of wrath and anger muttering archons know what

you chuckle "you know your face is doing things to me babe"

"dear I'm not in the mood—" but looking at your face has him rethinking his decision. You biting your lips and eyes dazed... hmm looks like you've found the way to relieve his stress then?

"It's going to be a rough day hm? dear"

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm III

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You spoil your wife

You married the love of your life at eighteen years old.

It got you kicked out of the house but you didn't regret it.

You moved into Eli's house at eighteen to live in bliss with Alexia. You were studying. She was playing football.

Neither of you earnt that much but you had big dreams both separate and together.

Alexia used to hold you at night, curled up together in her childhood as she whispered about all the trips she wanted to take together, about all the things she wanted to buy and the big house she wanted to build for you.

It was a pipe dream though, at least it was at the time.

You didn't have the funds of big holidays or fancy watches or a piece of land big enough for a family.

You moved away for money. Good money. You moved back for money as well. Even better money.

Alexia made good money now too.

Suddenly you both had the funds you wanted when you were eighteen years old.

You had access to money eighteen year old you couldn't even dream of and it was just rotting away in your bank.

You'd been such a good girl with your funds for years now that you thought you were entitled to going on a little spending frenzy for a bit.

So, the first thing you did was buy Alexia that crazy expensive watch she had wanted when she was younger.

You didn't even think about it.

You just bought it, hopping onto the kitchen counters as she attempted to cook. You held the box out of her.

She frowned. "But we already traded engagement rings?"

You laughed, unable to stop yourself from leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her lips. "It's not a ring, Ale. Open it and see."

She nearly dropped it in the pan in shock.

"Is this-?"

"It is."

"But how? We don't have-"

"Alexia," You said," I don't know if you've noticed but we're stupidly rich now."

"But-"

"Put it on, Ale. I wanted to see my beautiful wife wear a beautiful watch."

Her cheeks flushed bright red as she hastened to do what you said, fumbling slightly at the buckle until you helped her.

"How do I look?"

"Beautiful, Ale. So beautiful!"

"Thank you, amor!" She launched herself towards you, picking you up and spinning you around.

You laughed joyously, wrapping your legs around her waist as she spun you. Kisses were littered all over your face as she held you.

The amount in your bank account was extortionate as you looked at your banking app, brow furrowed. You hadn't realised you had saved so much over the years.

There were so many digits that you couldn't even understand where they had all come from.

Enough money for you to take at least a few years off from working (not that you would). Enough money to pay for that luxury trip to the Maldives that eighteen year old Alexia had planned in her head once upon a time.

"Where are we going?"

Alexia was like an excited kid on the way to the airport and even more excited as she pushed the luggage cart through check in. You rolled your eyes fondly at her, knowing if she were a puppy then her tail would be wagging.

"Be patient, Alexia," You replied," We're nearly there. We'll send off the bags, go through security and then we'll go and find our gate."

"But I want to know now! Please, amor! Please, please, please!"

"Learn some patience Alexia," You laughed.

"If I guess correctly, will you tell me? Please?"

"You won't guess but alright."

Alexia was so distracted with guessing that she hadn't even noticed the big board displaying your gate as the one going to the Maldives.

Your wife is a bit of a fool sometimes but you still loved her, even if she wasn't the most perceptive person in the world.

"The Maldives?" She repeated with a little frown," But you said we couldn't afford it."

"I said that when we were eighteen, Alexia," You laughed," Besides, didn't you say it was the perfect honeymoon destination?"

"But it can't be our honeymoon. We've been married for years."

"Ale," You said, cradling her face," We never had a honeymoon. So what if this one is a little late?"

One time, when you and Alexia were crammed in her tiny bed, she spoke to you about building a house. Somewhere on the outskirts of the city but still close enough to drive to training.

Somewhere big enough to to have dogs and raise children. Somewhere to host garden parties and to celebrate your children's birthdays. Somewhere large enough that you and Alexia could each have your own offices.

It was too expensive back then to think about renting your own place, let alone buying some land to build one but now you had money.

You'd spoken to architects and contractors. You had found a piece of land big enough. You had already asked permission from the council to build on it.

The only thing left now was to show Alexia.

"Are we going on a date?" She was practically skipping at your side as you lead her from the car. "Because we've driven out of town. Is there some fancy restaurant nearby?"

It was in the perfect place. Out of the city enough to have peace and quiet but close enough to the stadium and training centre. Close enough to good schools for children to attend.

"Amor," She said when you came to a stop in front of a big patch of land," I don't understand. What am I looking at?"

You unfurled your roll of paper, holding it up high so Alexia could see the design for the outside of the house.

You pointed at one of the windows.

"Our room," You said," Big enough to have the queen's size bed you've always wanted with an en-suite and closet space. That would be our first kid's room. We can decorate it how we want. Two bathrooms, one upstairs and one downstairs."

"Amor?"

"Another set of bedrooms and an attic. Two offices, one for each of us. A spare room for visitors."

"I-"

"Open plan lounge and kitchen and then a second living room, probably for the dogs. A patio out into the garden for your practices."

"Amor...I don't understand."

"I'm going to build you the house you wanted when we were kids, Alexia," You said," Here. On this patch of land."

Tears welled in Alexia's eyes as she looked out at the open space.

"Really?"

You nodded. "Really."

"But-But why?"

"Why?" You couldn't help but laugh, cradling Alexia's cheeks in your hands. "Because you deserve everything, my love."

Something in Alexia's expression changed when you said that and she pulled you closer. "Everything?"

You nodded. "Everything and anything."

She whispered in your ear and you bit at your lip.

"Even that?"

You looked into her eyes, cheeks turning red. "Especially that."

[dark-moonlust]

Weretiger’s Mate

Pairing: Weretiger monster x human reader

Summary: getting lost in the jungle puts you face to face with your waretiger mate, a monster born of human experiments.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, oral (fem receiving), barbed 🍆, knotting with barb, lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

It was a lovely evening, perfect for an exploration. The sounds of the jungle surrounded you—chirping insects, calls of birds, and the rustle of leaves as you parted the foliage and walked forward. You’d been separated from your traveling group and as you tried to find your way back to the camp, you happened to find a part of the jungle that was incredibly beautiful.

An untouched paradise. You wanted to explore. Just for a few minutes.

So you indulged your curiosity and delved deeper into the greenery.

You froze when you heard a low growl.

Moving as little as possible, you let your eyes scan your surroundings. Out of nowhere, a massive figure emerged from the undergrowth—a beast, looking only a little like a tiger and more like huge and menacing monster. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. The monster stood tall on its powerful, clawed legs, towering nearly two meters high, and walking like a human.

But he wasn’t a human.

Sharp fangs peeked out of his snarling mouth. His body spoke of raw power, with broad shoulders and rippling muscles covered in a coat of striped fur. The stripes were black, running across his orange-tinged fur. He could snap you without even trying. His face was a terrifying blend of human and feline, with glowing red eyes that seemed to pierce through you.

Suddenly it struck you. He was a weretiger, one of the few ones in the world. Weretigers were failed superhuman experiments, a terrifying merge of monster and human. Only a few existed in the world. And it was just your luck to meet one.

“I’m dead meat,” you whispered to yourself, fear paralyzing you.

The massive beast began to prowl towards you, slowly, his paws touching the ground with grace despite his size— the movements of a predator. More tears leaked down your face when he stood before you and bent down to your height to stare into your eyes. He was mere inches away from your face and he dwarfed your small form. You stayed frozen, apart from your sobs of course.

“Do not weep,” he ordered, his voice husky and vibrating.

Widening your eyes, you gazed at his wild red ones and you felt an inexplicable pull, something tugging at your heart. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell his musky scent. What stupid feelings were these? He was about to eat you—

“Stop crying,” he ordered again, baring his fangs. “I will not eat you, little human.”

“Promise?” you asked as if getting a promise form a beast would make the fear ease.

“I promise,” he said, softer this time.

The fear did ease at the sound of his soft tone.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said and before you could react leaned in and sniffed you, taking in your scent. You tensed but didn’t move. His breath was hot against your skin, his snout trailing your neck before burying in your hair. He growled deep from within his chest and that sound sent shivers down your spine and went straight to your pussy. He growled again, gave you that delicious sound that made your body vibrate and your pussy wet.

His eyes flared with possessiveness. “You’re aroused. I can smell your sweet scent.”

He moved closer, his fur brushing against your skin. You shivered but you no longer felt fear to his proximity. It was strange. Very strange.

“Do not resist the bond,” he said. “Touch me.”

“I… I don’t understand,” you murmured, shaking your head. “Why do I feel this way?”

“Because you’re fated to be mine, little one.”

“No… no it’s not—”

“You’re mine,” he rumbled darkly. “Touch me.”

When you didn’t move, the weretiger took your small hands in his big clawed ones and brought you to touch his fur. Shyly, your fingers trailed through the fur on his chest. He watched you intently, growling in a low primitive sound that, not only did it not terrify you, but aroused you instead. What was happening? You removed your hand with a gasp.

Somewhere deep inside, you understood. The bond you felt was undeniable, you found yourself drawn to him but this… this couldn’t go on—

Your thoughts died out when he scooped you up, effortlessly throwing you over his broad shoulder. You cried out, your hands instinctively gripping his fur for balance.

“Hey! Put me down!” you protested as he walked defiantly forward.

The beast didn’t respond and kept walking, his grip on you gentle but secure.

“I don’t like this!” You struggled against him, but couldn’t do anything. “I mean it! Set me down! This very moment.”

Ignoring your protests, he continued on, until he arrived at a hidden cave. His home. His cave was dimly lit but pleasantly cool. He set you down carefully on a huge stone bed, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze was intense and curious, as if he was trying to decide what to do with you.

You realized with shock that you were still clutching him, fingers sinking into the fur around his neck which was slightly longer.

Damn, but he was big and strong. There was something majestic, some kind of magnetism that pulled you to him even if he represented primal danger.

Terrified to accept your thoughts for him, you ripped your hands from him and backed away, but the stone wall behind you offered no retreat.

Your pulse quickened.

And then the beast in him acted.

His sharp nails were at your clothes, slicing through your clothing, the fabric tearing easily. He didn’t touch your skin, he was extremely precise but even so, you gasped and squirmed, instinctively trying to cover yourself. But his movements were quick and efficient. He tugged at more clothing, ripped your bra and underwear and even removed your shoes and socks. Within moments, you were completely bare before him, your clothes in tatters.

You glared up at him, legs squeezed together, arms crossed over your arms. “You horny beast—"

Your world’s ended in a moan when he bent over you, a long tongue dragging over your neck. A moan escaped you even if your arms pushed against his chiseled chest. But you miscalculated. Your breasts were no longer covered by your hands and he descended upon them with a feral growl, cupping both tits in his large, clawed paws. With surprising gentleness, he reshaped the underside of your pert tits, watching as they molded under his touch.

“Such softness,” he rumbled, his voice deep. “So delectable.”

“Hnn… don’t,” you mumbled even if a shiver of arousal ran through you.

The hint of a smile formed on his monster face then he leaned down, his tongue flicking out to lick your nipples. He toyed with one bud, circling the pink areola before turning to the other. You squirmed, fighting to suppress your moans as his tongue suckled and wetted your breasts, his mouth warm and delightfully wet. His touches overwhelmed your body, more liquid heat gathering between your squirming legs.

“Hmmm, pretty nipples,” he growled, eyes locking onto yours as he circled one tight bud with his tongue. “Pink and delicious.”

Another moan bubbled out from you, no longer restrained but loud. You gripped the fur at his shoulders watching as his tongue travelled down your belly, tracing every inch of your stomach, heading clearly for your mound. Big clawed hands gripped your knees and pulled them wide apart, exposing your glistening pussy.

And then he was down there, burying his snout between your legs, his breath hot against your pussy. You gasped and whined lewdly, your resistance waning as that primal part of you responded to his touch. You heard as he stroked you, his tongue licking your plump folds, slick sounds echoing in the cave. The wet appendage tasted your aching sex, then thrusted inside, his snout nuzzling your needy clit.

“This,” he growled softly, tongue spearing your pussy. “This is the best part of you, little one. Tight little pussy, leaking sweet nectar for me.”

“Ahnnn…hn… there…oh, there,” your hips jerked, hands gripping his fur, pulling him closer. He devoured you like the beast he was and gods you loved it.

“Does it feel good, mate?”

“Feels—ngh… so good...I need..need—”

Your words were a slur, ending in heavy and delirious moans as your orgasm hit you, the sensations electric. Head falling back against the bed, you arched your body and opened your legs obscenely, offering your pussy to him. Pleasure surged from your head to toes and despite your violent thrashing, his tongue still worked you as he drank in every drop of your release.

When you finally came down from your high, you laid beneath him, breathless and compliant. You looked at him, your eyes hazy with lust. With a few more licks at your inner thighs, he settled back on his haunches, huge hands caressing your breasts. He lifted his head, his eyes glowing with satisfaction.

“You are mine,” he rumbled. “My mate.”

There was slight pause before you nodded softly, unable to deny the bond between you.

A soft hitch of breath left you when you noticed the hard cock protruding from his legs. Fuck, he was big and monstrous. The massive cockhead was a little pointy, slick with his arousal, and the rest of his length was thick and long, surrounded by protruding veins. Heavy, hairy balls hung from between his legs but what surprised and aroused you more was the barb at the base of his shaft, ridged and as thick as your fist.

He positioned himself between your legs, draping them over his large hairy thighs and dragged your pussy closer to his monstrous cock.

“I’m going to fuck you now, little mate. Do you understand?”

“Hgh… I want it, too, want your cock,” you said, reaching out to touch him, your fingers were unable to wrap around his girth. “It’s so big. Will it fit?”

“Your pretty little pussy will take me because you’re my mate. My fated one.”

He licked your tits with his rough tongue and at the same time pushed his hips forward, the tip of his cock parting your moist pussy lips and easing the way inside. You gasped as he surged inside you, spreading your walls, inch by inch his fullness invading you. He bottomed out inside you with a growl, cock filling you completely, so deep inside that it took your breath away.

Arching your back, loud whimpers left your mouth as he fucked you. Holding your tiny waist in his big hands, he pumped powerfully inside you, watching as his dick came out covered with your juices before thrusting back inside your depths. You gripped his arms for dear life, nails digging into his fur-covered skin.

Each thrust drove you higher and higher, your climax building rapidly and erupting in an explosion of senses. You cried out as the second climax crashed over you, your walls clenching and unclenching around the thick cock stretching you. He followed right after with a feral roar, the barb at the base of his shaft probing your entrance. A growl and he thrust inside with the barb, locking himself inside you.

Whining in pleasure, you came again, stars floating in your vision. All you could feel was the impossible fullness and the hot cum spurting inside you, filling you up over and over until it dripped out of you. Your weretiger’s powerful body shuddered above you, his arms cradling you protectively.

It was minutes later when he slowly pulled out and with a lewd squelch, his barb came out. You winced at the separation of your bodies. Your mate seemed entranced by the sight of your pussy, leaking with his load. He brought you to his lap, not caring about the mess and nuzzled your neck, a low purr vibrating through his chest.

“My precious mate,” he drawled proudly.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a strange mixture of love and submission. “Hmm, I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

Follow for more!! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[norrisleclercf1]

But You? You Are Mine

Pairing: Assistant!Reader x Mafia!Jenson Button

Rating: R for violence and language

Words: 4.8K

Warnings: Blood, death, kidnapping, Bernie Ecclestone (yeah man gets his own warning) etc.

Synopsis: Jenson finally learns the truth, in the worse way possible

Mafia Jenson: pt.1 Unattainable / pt.2 Slipping Through My Fingers / pt.3 He's Not Yours

A/N: Whoops, sorry for lying @percervall

Before he was born, Jenson thought he found the meaning of love. Love meant seeing you in the morning, smiling when he brought you your coffee, or when he would crack a joke, how you'd glow when he gave you a gift. To him, seeing you so happy was love for him; he wanted to have that every day. He wanted you every day. And for each day, for 10 years, he had you, but now, you had someone else.

Jenson learned true love when he held that gorgeous little blonde boy for the first time. Seeing how his pure ocean eyes stare up at him, the boy gets the little gummy smile when he sees Jenson each time. Jenson fell harder and harder. If this is what a parent's love is like, he never wants it to end.

Here he was, 3 am, with barely any sleep, and he couldn't be happier as little Theo didn't want anyone but Jenson at that moment. You were lying in Jenson's bed, as Jenson bounced softly in front of it, whispering how Theo should be sleeping right now. The brilliant boy giggles, Jenson shushing him, looking back, seeing you curled up to his pillows, fast asleep.

"You being clingy doesn't help Mommy get any sleep," Jenson whispers. Theo gurgles, his little pudgy hands reaching up for Jenson. Leaning down, the little boy cups his father's face, giggling, and Jenson closes his eyes, basking in the sound before kissing him on his rosy cheek. "Oh Theo, you love so purely. If only you knew that I'm not a good man," Jenson whispers, holding the boy closer, scared that he'd wake at any moment and none of this would be true.

You wouldn't be in Jenson's bed, Theo wouldn't exist, and Jenson would wake up in the cold bed with you still distant, yet so close to him. Jenson never wants this dream to end. "Jenson," Turning, he sees you squinting but then gets a laziness but loved-filled smile at seeing Theo half asleep in your boss's arms. "Come back to bed," You plead, holding out your hand, eyes so filled with sleep that Jenson almost groans, seeing how you want him next to you.

"Theo is almost asleep, love, I promise," Jenson whispers, but you shake your head. Theo is almost 1 now, and since that day in the hospital, you and Jenson....grew closer; it drove the others crazy, as they wanted nothing more than for you two to admit you're a couple. Still, neither of you would say the words. "Just bring him to bed with you," Lying back down, you pull Jenson's side of the covers back, and Jenson melts; nodding his head, he moves and lies down, Theo between you two.

Theo settles instantly, sucking on his pacy, ocean eyes drooping, which has always made you two giggle at how hard he tries to fight off sleep. "Jenson," Your voice is soft, hand ghosting his cheek, which has him looking up from Theo. "You are a good man. Do you understand me? You are a very good man, too good." Emotions well up in you. Between you two, Jenson was a saint, no matter if he was running the largest British Mafia, while you're lying to Jenson with each breath you take.

"No," He breathed, cuddling closer, careful not to crush Theo, who was now passed out, sleeping, winning the battle this time. "No, you're the better one; you gave me love; that's all I could ask for," Jenson whispers, and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath to stop the tears from falling. "You're the best person for him, don't ever change that, just....always be there for him, please," You whisper, unsure what you would do if Jenson ever left.

"I'll always be there for him. Just get some sleep, love; I'll be here when you wake," Nodding, you let your hand rest on top of Jenson's that's resting on Theo's tiny stomach. "I'll always be here," Jenson whispers,

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

Theo giggles as Lewis lifts him up above his head, Lewis chuckling as you try to finish up some paperwork. "He's been acting weird, Lewis," You whisper, staring at the door where a meeting is occurring. You weren't allowed in for the first time ever. "Don't stress over it. You don't have to be at every meeting, ya know," Lewis smiles, but his words are tight as he blows raspberries on Theo's chubby cheeks, not caring about the drool as Theo chews on his fist.

"Lewis, he's drooling everywhere," You chuckle and lean back, grabbing a bib and wiping your son's mouth, who smiles so wide, you feel your heart stop. He's got Jenson's smile. "How's mini Button?" Lewis and you freeze, relaxing when you see it's Mark who quickly takes Theo from Lewis. "He looks more like Sebastian," Lewis quickly counters, but Mark just shrugs and stares at Theo for a second. "Sure, he's got his eyes," You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, trying to remain calm.

The older Theo got, the more he inherited his actual birth father's features, and it was starting to scare you. "How is Sebastian?" You whisper, having not spoken to him since you told him you were pregnant and needed him to pretend to be a deadbeat father, who really needed to stay away due to Mark, Mark, who just got back from a delegation meeting with them.

"Fine, didn't even ask about Theo, which pissed me off. Knocks you up, bolts, and doesn't have the balls to even ask about his baby boy," Mark spits, Theo squeals and slaps the stubble on Mark's cheeks, who smiles and tickles his stomach. "Yes, yes, your daddy is a bad man," Mark says in a baby voice, which has you and Lewis snickering. It was so odd to see Mark interacting with the baby cause for the first 6 months, he refused to hold Theo until Jenson shoved him into his arms, and now, Mark will just take him out of your arms without warning and refuse to give him back when asked by either you or Jenson.

"Doesn't Jenson have a huge meeting today? Why aren't you with him?" Mark asks, and you stick your hand out to him, staring at Lewis as if saying, 'See, I told you so.' Lewis rolls his eyes, but even he must admit that it's rare for you to be included in the meeting. "Alright, I'll admit that it's odd, okay? Who's he even meeting with?" Spinning in your chair, you pull up Jenson's schedule and see who he is meeting with.

"Um, it... what?" you whisper and start clicking around, looking for who he could meet with. "It doesn't say; it's not even on a personal calendar; he scheduled this himself." You whisper, and a horrible feeling settles in your stomach. "He did this without me knowing," Mark and Lewis share a look but don't say anything as the meeting room door bangs open, startling Theo, who starts to cry.

A man walks out, furious and short, with snow-white hair, a matching beard, and beady little eyes. You quickly move and grab Theo, wanting to hide him from this man's gaze. Mark and Lewis promptly stand in front of you as you try to calm Theo, who cries loudly. You know that he probably wants Jenson, shushing him. You bounce softly as the man stops looking at the four of you, getting the nastiest look ever on his face. "Well, if it isn't Button's whore and his little followers," The man growls; Mark steps right in front of you, his face turning murderous as he glares him down.

Lewis moves to your side, trying to help Theo calm down. "Ecclestone! Get the fuck away from them," Theo whimpers hearing his Papa's familiar voice and babbles, reaching out for Jenson, who equally looks furious. "Or what Button? Do you think you're so powerful now? Well, nothing will stop me from getting what I want," You step back, Jenson's face changing as he sees Theo is with you instead of the nanny; immediately, he feels this overpowering urge to protect you and his child.

"Ecclestone, either get the fuck out, or I'll give Fernando and Felipe a call and tell them you're here," Jenson seethes, stepping closer to you two. The old man clocks the movement but does nothing as he knows Felipe Massa would kill him without a second thought, "This won't end here," The man turns and stalks out, Jenson quickly moving to you two and pulling you into his arms, looking over you in a hurry. "Did he touch you?" Jenson's voice is tight as he tries to control his anger.

"Dada," Theo babbles, a new word he's been using a lot, twisting his body to reach out for Jenson, who happily takes Theo and holds the back of his head, taking a deep breath, knowing he's safe in his arms. "How could you two let that man near them," Jenson seethes, and Mark scuffs. "Watch it mate; how were we supposed to know you were meeting with Bernie fucking Ecclestone," Mark snaps, and Theo whimpers, not liking the loud noises.

"Stop, please. You're scaring Theo," Jenson freezes, hearing those words, and immediately starts whispering soft words of love, telling his boy how much he loves him. "Jenson, you met with him and didn't even tell me who that man is?" You try to shove down the betrayed feeling, but you have no right to feel betrayed, not when holding the biggest secret. "He is no one, an old bastard from the past that should've died years ago; why Massa lets him keep living is beyond me, ever since Singapore," Jenson shakes his head, and Lewis's shoulders tighten. "Can we not talk about it," Jenson and Mark scuff, "Why? You came out squeaky clean and the biggest winner ever," Lewis scowls, looking down at his hands.

"Doesn't matter, leave the devils in the past," "Kinda hard to do when we are the devils," Mark comments, and you are suddenly aware that they all have a past, secrets, dark secrets that they will never tell you, no matter how close you all become, you'll never truly become one of them. "Y/n, please, baby, look at me," Looking up, you stare into the eyes of the man you love, the one you can never breathe those 3 words to. Those words would get him, or you killed, "If you ever, and I mean ever, see that man again, you take Theo and you run; I mean it, please, Y/n, please," Jenson begs, and you nod your head; Theo reaching out for you.

"Mama," You smile and gently take Theo, bouncing him softly, which makes him giggle. His blotchy cheeks have your heartache, but Jenson leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of Theo's head, then kisses you softly. "Lewis, Mark, take them home for me?" "No, I have work today, and we have other meetings," "No," Jenson snaps; your eyes widen, as Jenson never raised his voice at you. "No, you're going home with the baby; I need to know you two are safe; don't leave their side," He tells the two, who nod and gather your and Theo's things.

"I'll be home soon, promise," Jenson leans in, stealing one last kiss before walking down the hall to his office. Sighing, you follow out, stopping when you see Bernie Ecclestone staring at you. But more importantly, his eyes stay trained on the stroller with Theo. Mark clocks it and immediately steps in the way, Bernie scuffing and climbing into a thick army-built SUV.

"Let's get you home, okay," Mark whispers and helps you load everything up.

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

It's been three weeks since you met Ecclestone. You noticed the increase in security almost immediately. Jenson kept waving you off, saying that Theo needed the extra security as he got older. More people started to learn that Jenson Button was seen with a baby. Still, you had a feeling that wasn't really the case. Today was enough; after having Theo, you didn't feel like yourself; you didn't feel like your confident, badass self, but now, you were tired of Jenson walking over you.

Staring at your closet, you smirk and pick out a black pencil skirt that has a slit in the back, going up your mid-calf and stopping, pairing it with was deep red wine button-up and styling your hair your favorite way, and doing your favorite makeup. You look in the mirror and smirk, loving the old confident badass was back, and you were about to get your answers.

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

"Don't tell Y/n, please," Jenson pleads, not wanting you to learn about the real reason for the security increase. He didn't want you to worry, letting him deal with this stress more than anything. "Jense, you need to tell her," Lewis grumbles, sometimes hating being best friends with both of you. Hearing the elevator, Lewis freezes as he hears the familiar click of So Kate's on the marble floors, Jenson grumbling and not paying attention as you slam down your purse.

"You have a meeting, Mr. Button, at 10. Is there a reason you're sitting around my desk?" Jenson looks up, his eyes widening as he takes in the person before him. Fuck, he's screwed. You're wearing his favorite office outfit you wore before the pregnancy. God he loved you before, during, and after the pregnancy. Still, he won't lie, saying he missed your tight-ass pencil skirts and wonderful button-ups that stopped right at the curve of your breasts. Still, ever since the pregnancy, they've gotten thicker, making his suit pants tighter.

"You're back?" Lewis asks, suddenly loving this turn of events. "Yes, I realized that after having Theo, I turned soft on your asses, and that's going to change; now, why are you still here? Meeting in 10," You point to the boardroom, and Jenson groans, leaning in to kiss you, but you grab his chin hard, and he freezes.

"You don't deserve to kiss me. You've been lying to me about my son," "Our son," Lewis and you both freeze, and panic sets in fuck did he find out, but you two have been so careful to not let him know. "Our son, Y/n, I'm helping raise him; he's my son too, not by blood, but by love; he's mine." Jenson's eyes are hard as he pulls back and clears his throat. "Also, I haven't been hiding anything. I would tell you if I was. I love you too much to lie to you," He fixes his tie and stalks off, leaving you with a cotton taste in your mouth.

"Don't, just don't, Lewis," Lewis says nothing but leans closer and kisses your cheek. "Secrets are like poison; we swallow it each day to get stronger, but it does nothing but rip us apart slowly and painfully," You look down, staring at a picture of Jenson and Theo. It was taken at home; Jenson was shirtless again, displaying his tattoos. Theo was peacefully asleep, and Jenson was sleeping in the rocker; it was your favorite picture. How similar they look when they sleep makes you hate yourself for lying to Jenson about everything.

"Well shit, look who is looking gorgeous," Turning around, you smile brightly, seeing Fernando; moving quickly, you jump into your friend's arms, who holds you close and kisses your cheek. "Eh, Jenson pissed you off, so you decided to pull out the old pencil skirt?" You snort and hit his chest, which makes him giggle. "No, I realized I let this place go and need to straighten it out again; anyway, can I ask you a question?" You didn't know how to bring this up, but you needed to.

"Always," Fernando says, leading you both to the seating area across from your desk. "Is Bernie Ecclestone dangerous?" Fernando's face turns dark, making your skin crawl and the hairs on the back of your neck tingle with his look. "How do you know that name?" He growls, his hands tightening on yours so hard you wince, causing him to let them go. "He was here, talked to Jenson about 3 weeks ago, and Jenson increased security significantly after the interaction.

"Y/n, please stay away from that man, Ecclestone; he's," Fernando takes a deep breath, sighing as he tries to explain who Ecclestone is. "He used to be our old boss before we all went our separate ways and built our own mafias; he used to own us; we were basically his mutts. Did all his dirty work, and he didn't care who he fucked over to get it done. One night, there was a deal in Singapore; Felipe Massa, one of our close friends, was close to getting something he'd wanted for a long time. He was so close to getting it, but I came to find out that one of us was asked to crash the operation and give me an upper hand without my knowledge. Anyways, Felipe was furious, he was screwed over, and Lewis, well, if that didn't happen the way it did, Lewis wouldn't be who he is." Fernando takes a breath as you lean forward.

"After that night, we were all furious. Someone betrayed us and played us against one another. Come to find, Ecclestone betrayed us, and we all vowed revenge; Lewis, Felipe, and Jenson headhunted the whole thing. Jenson took most of the money and destroyed Ecclestone's reputation; now he's back for revenge. That's why Jenson is this way. I wouldn't be surprised if that old bastard made threats against you and Theo." Fernando leans back in his chair, and you mull over everything he says.

"He should've just told me the truth," Fernando scuffs, shaking his head. "You two aren't really the best at telling the truth. Don't be throwing rocks at glass houses, darling." Your blood runs cold as you stare at Fernando, who seems bored. "Come now, I know Sebastian, and I know how much he's panting after my man's cock, he's a fucker, but he wouldn't leave his child. Besides, Theo looks far too much like Jenson did as a baby," You blink slowly, opening and closing your mouth.

"Don't make excuses, you and Lewis, I'm sure you did what you did for a reason, but you didn't take into account that those Button genes are strong," Fernando chuckles, pushing his hair out of his face. "You must hate me for keeping this from him," Fernando shrugs, "Eh, not really. You're protecting your child, doing what's best for him, but you're lucky that a great man loves you and is willing to raise another man's child, even though that child is his." Fernando picks imaginary lint off his clothes and sizes you up.

"But, if I was Jenson," Fernando leans in, smirking, "No matter how good of friends you and I are, I would've killed you for this stunt you're pulling," Fernando smiles, patting your cheek as he stands and stretches. "See you around, darling," you stare wide-eyed as you watch Fernando walk off, leaving you stunned.

Fernando is right; you're lucky that Jenson is a good man.

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

After learning the truth, you couldn't help but feel like someone was watching you, and you refused to leave Theo alone for more than a few seconds. You were even nervous to leave him alone with Jenson, and Jenson would die before letting anything hurt Theo.

You are standing in the grocery store, Theo teething with some silicone toys you bought to help his aching teeth. Moving around, you notice that your guards stay back, giving you the semi-normalcy you requested; Theo gurgles loudly, and you giggle, making silly faces at him as you cash out, smiling at the sweet cashier who compliments Theo. You smile, or at least try to be unable to shake this feeling in your gut.

Moving through the parking lot, your guards are behind you, but they keep a distance to not draw attention to you; getting to your car, you giggle as Theo lets out a belly laugh when you drop your keys; bending down, you stand back up and freeze, seeing the man in all black, sitting in the back of your car holding a gun, pointed to Theo. "Scream or alert your guards, and I will kill the little bastard," Theo giggles, clueless, as you hand the keys to Theo.

"Don't hurt him, take me, okay? Whatever you want, just take me," You whisper, seeing your guards climb into their cars, waiting for you. "Do what you normally do and climb into the car. When you get in, we'll switch, understand me," You nod and smile, not wanting to scare Theo. You load the groceries, moving quickly, and load Theo into the car, and your blood runs cold. Then, you finally notice the second man in the car.

You try your best to stay calm, thinking over every possible scenario. "Get in," the first man says, and you nod; as he moves to the middle seat, Theo giggles and is curious about who the men are in the car with you two. "It's going to be okay, Theo, we're going to see Daddy," Theo squeals and claps his hands, repeating, Dada, "Cute kid," The second guy comments, and you give a wobbly smile as you get into the driver's side. "Move to the passenger seat,"

Listening to the command, you climb into the passenger seat, the mysterious men firing up your SUV. They pull out of the parking lot, and you watch as your bodyguards' cars follow. "Listen, just tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. Jenson will give you anything, just please," You plead. The men share a look as they start to drive through the woods back to Jenson's house. "Lady, we don't give a fuck what you have to offer, we're just doing a job," the second man rumbles,

"Ecclestone," you whisper, the fear gripping your chest so hard you can't breathe. Listen, we don't really like hurting kids, but the money was too good to pass up. Besides, we need you to give Jenson the message." The car's door unlocks, and your eyes grow wide. Tell him Ecclestone wants back what he and he'll return his son." "No!" you scream as you reach for the wheel, the car swerving.

The driver's arm snaps out, bursts blood in your mouth as he slams his fist into your face, "Get the bitch out!" He screams; as your door is thrown open, you receive another hit as the car swerves and sends you flying out, hitting something hard. You roll, cars screeching, the sound of metal crunching, and a scream as you watch through blurred vision, your car driving off with your son in the car.

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

Slamming the doors open, Jenson runs through the pale white hallways; the last time he was here, you were in a coma; now you were in a wreck, and Theo was taken. "Y/n Button, where is she?" Jenson slams his hand on the counter, the nurses jumping and pointing to the room, where cops swarmed it. Gritting his jaw, he storms into the room and stops dead in his tracks, seeing you.

An arm wrapped in white gauze, cheek bruised black, and mouth split open. Looking up, you notice him, and tears burn your throat and eyes. "Jenson," Ignoring the cops, he slams his way through the bodies and wraps his arms softly around you, no matter how much he wants to squeeze you tight. "They took Theo, I'm sorry, it's all my fault, they...they placed a gun to his head," You sob, Jenson having to control his anger and taking a deep breath.

"Out, I want everyone out," The cops stop talking and file out as Lewis, Mark, and Fernando slide into the room. "Where's Theo?" Lewis whispers, and you shake your head. The three men instantly join you as Lewis takes your empty side, and you curl into his side, hiding your face.

They stay silent for a while, listening to your tears as Jenson sighs and lets you go. "I need to call Sebastian," Jenson whispers, pulling away from you as he knows Sebastian will want to know his son has been taken. "Why?" You ask, wiping your eyes as Lewis wipes some blood from your lip gently. "Why? Y/n, Theo is his son,"

"Ecclestone," "What?" The room erupts into noise as you flinch, the men yelling over one another. "Stop!" Fernando roars, suddenly in front of you, grabbing your shoulders. "What the fuck does Ecclestone have to do with this?" Jenson steps forward, but Mark moves to stand in the way. "Stop, Jenson, we need these answers," "Y/n, darling, what do you mean Ecclestone," You take a deep breath, trying to gain feeling again, but you can't. Your heart was taken from you.

"Ecclestone, he," You take another deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. "Ecclestone hired two men to take Theo; they said they don't hurt children, but," A broken sound leaves your mouth, leaving the men to flinch. "But, the money was too good," You blubber, wiping your eyes as you try your hardest not to picture Theo crying for you or Jenson.

"They said that if Jenson returned what's Ecclestone, they'd give Theo back," you whimper. Jenson stares at you and shakes his head. "But, why take Theo? I know I'm raising him, but Ecclestone must know that Theo's father is Sebastian, not me," You feel your anger bubble as you stand up on wobbling legs, "He's not! He's not Sebastians! "He's yours. He's always been yours," You scream, the tears falling, skin burning as you scream the truth finally out at Jenson.

Laughing, Jenson shakes his head and steps back. "No, he's Sebastian, you said it, Sebastian said it, fuck, I mean, he even looks like Seb with the blonde hair and eyes," You stare at the man you've slowly fallen in love with, shake his head, and deny the truth. "Jenson, it's true," Lewis whispers; Jenson looks up. Betrayal, hurt, anger, disbelief, and genuine terror rip across Jenson's face before settling on pure fury.

"He's my son, he's my blood, and you hid that from me," Jenson storms forward, but Mark and Fernando quickly grab him and push him back. "Stop, she did what she thought was right." "How!! How is hiding the fact that I was raising my son, but I thought he was someone else's? HE'S MINE AND YOU LIED!" Jenson roars, causing you to flinch.

"I'm sorry, we weren't together, and with your life, I knew that it would be better for Theo and safer for you than if no one knew the truth." "But Lewis does," You snap your mouth shut, Lewis shifting his weight to stand in front of you slightly. "And judging by Mark and Fernando's reactions, they knew, so me, the true father, was left in the dark, forever heartbroken that the woman I LOVE HAD A BABY WITH SOMEONE ELSE!" Jenson turns and slams his fist into the wall.

Turning around, he shakes his head, takes deep breaths, and steps close to you. Everyone is on edge as Jenson grabs your face and pulls you close, kissing your forehead. "I'll be back, and we'll talk about this like adults, but right now, I have to go get our son," placing one last kiss on your forehead, you nod and watch as Jenson leaves the room silently.

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

"Please, please, I'm sorry," Jenson stands before Ecclestone, covered in the blood of the two men who had taken his baby. "You're a pathetic fool, should let Massa end you, but you touched my wife, my son, and I'm tired of you," Jenson cocks the gun as the pleas to live get louder. Still, Jenson scuffs and shoots Ecclestone through his head, watching as he crumbles into a lifeless puppet.

"Sir, we've got him." Jenson smiles and coos as Theo blinks at him with bleary eyes and whines. "Oh, did someone take a nap? Had a tiring day, didn't you, my gorgeous boy?" Jenson whispers and takes Theo into his arms, bouncing as he kisses the top of his head. "Dada," Theo whines and snuggles into his hold, Jeson sighing as Theo's weight back in his arms just feels right.

"Yeah, baby, Dada," Jenson repeats and closes his eyes, letting the silent tears fall. "Yeah, it's Dada," Jenson mummers again as he makes the walk back to the car and gently places him in his car seat. "Alright, time to go home,"

[mascdestr0yer]

I don't ask for much... just to be married to kate martin 😔

What about kate Martin dealing with a moody pregnant wife? She is mad at the world, then BAM! She is crying and then BAM! "I'm a terrible wife and a bad mother!"

Just hurt/comfort

Take your time and take care 🫶

Didn’t mean to

Kate Martin x pregnant!reader

Warnings: Fluff and a bit, just a little smudge of angst

Synopsis: Kate dealing with your pregnancy hormones and attitude

You woke up a little under the weather, but you still had a few errands to run with kate busy at practice. she had a game tomorrow and you hoped you feel better by then.

It’s hot out, and you have to make a costco run for the house. You get a call from your wife. you answer it as you push the cart through the warehouse of a grocery store.

“i saw your location, can you pick my package at the fedEx by the costco, please.” Her voice more on the pleading side, you huffed lightly. Still not finished with your own errands.

“okay, i’ll talk to you later,” Your voice laced with irritation, Kate too oblivious to notice.

“love you,” She mumbled, you hung up. If it’s not one thing it’s the next. you didn’t want to pick her package, you wanted to be at home resting. It’s hot and you’re uncomfortable, you just looked irritated and stressed. an older woman caressed your shoulder telling you it will be okay and she wishes the best with your pregnancy.

When you were done shopping you went to the fedEx and picked up the package for Kate, not even wanting to do your other errands. you ended up driving back home, you took a shower washing away the sheer layer of sweat that covered your body.

When you woke up from your nap you were met with Kate caressing your bump.

“your temperature went up, why didn’t you tell me?” She furrowed her brows, she looked hurt from the fact you didn’t tell her your fever wasn’t going down.

“i didn’t want you to worry and if i told you, you would’ve put me on bed rest.” You explained to her, sitting up against the headboard. She rubbed her face, now she looked irritated.

“You didn’t want me to worry? damn right i would’ve put you on bed rest, I don’t think you understand that what you do to your body matter.” she scolded, her chest rising higher than before.

“what about me.. I have things to do, that i can’t just stop and if i don’t do it who will, you’re always busy..” You were upset more ways than one, the light tears in your eyes.

She huffed, pulling you closer.

“what’s going on with you..” She wiped your tears, she leaned in, fixing your hair.

“i’m tired, sick, heavy… they’re so many responsibilities and things i have to do,” you were clearly overwhelmed, your stress levels were on ten.

“baby breathe, it’s okay to take a break, you know that right?” she kissed your forehead then cupping your face.

“i don’t want to be a lazy mom who does nothing…” You mumble, she chuckles and you frown deepens.

“you’re the opposite of lazy, you’re going to be an amazing mom,”

“you think so?”

“I know so, now quit your crying it’s not good to be stressing the baby out,”

[uraniantarot]

Astro Observations

relationship edition

📍For compatibility, it's important to factor in both composite and synastry chart. I've seen couples who have the spiciest synastry but they seem to have no chemistry/tension while in each other's presence due to the composite being bland. Not even kidding, a composite lacking fire & water placements can even make venus conjunct mars look like siblings.

📍 Celebrity couples who seem to have a PR relationship could have Capricorn/Aquarius stellium in composite chart (Cap/10H = public image , Aqua/11H = social media/the internet).

📍Gemini-Aquarius Venus compatibility is overhyped. Gemini being a mutable sign needs a lot of conversation on a regular basis. Aquarius being a fixed sign needs regular periods of solitude. Something that may really irk Aqua Venus is Gemini Venus' habit of sweeping issues under the rug. They'll spend all day talking about a rock band they recently discovered but at the mere mention of actual relationship issues, they either become avoidant or take it as a personal attack (when underdeveloped, of course).

📍People often forget that Venus when taken out of context can be quite a superficial planet. It doesn't fully explain the person's love style. For example, Pisces Venuses can get over relationships and move on to their next conquests quite quickly. One thing I often see with this placement is that they don't understand the concept of emotional fidelity. They could openly flirt with their ex; when confronted they'd play victim and by the end of the day you'll find yourself comforting them as they cry over their past relationships (when underdeveloped, of course). I don't think they're malicious though. Neptune's influence brings a bit of delusion so they ARE being truthful, it's just that THEIR truth is a bit deluded.

📍Water Venuses can be serial daters. When paired with a Fire or Plutonian Moon, they may cope by getting external validation from a lover. What they need the most is to spend some time in solitude analyzing past relationships. Get to know themselves better and they'll be able to spot the red flags much earlier in relationships💙.

📍Mars can be as important in relationships as Venus especially when they're aspected within the Natal Chart. For instance, a Water Venus with an Air Mars could make someone a bit of a player, or a stereotypically detached sign (like Aquarius) in Venus paired with a Libra Mars could make someone very commitment-oriented and not interested in flings at all.

📍Cardinal signs in Venus/Mars are commitment-minded. Mutable signs either have a fear of commitment or they like to really play the field before settling down. Fixed signs will either have only serious relationships or have only brief flings. There's no in between. The point is they stick to their beliefs and, are stubborn about them.

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[spamgyu]

i know a lot of people say mingyu is so boyfriend coded, but i like pain and i want to challenge that idea by saying; mingyu is so ex-boyfriend coded.

he was the boyfriend you dated when you two were far too young to understand how relationships should be - maybe even first loves.

it was a relationship that ended because love isn't enough – because when you date someone that young, you two were still figuring out who you were and what part you played in the world.

mingyu was the ex boyfriend that you broke up with under the terms of 'mutual understanding', but god does it fucking hurt every now and then. especially the very first time you heard of him moving on.

she's amazing, by the way. the girl that he showed hints of on his instagram posts. and from what you've heard, she's everything he has ever asked for in a partner... maybe even more.

but that's besides the point. it's not like you want him back.

mingyu's the ex boyfriend you would occasionally check up on social media and see how much his features has matured – his cheekbones and jaw are much more prominent. he also gained that muscle mass he had always talked about when you two dated.

it was strange seeing him now, because although he looked familiar – pieces of the boy you once loved still very much evident whenever he posted images or videos of him smiling and laughing, he was nothing but a stranger.

his taste of music has changed, so has his style... the way he posted was no longer carefree.

you would occasionally watch the vlogs he posted, just to hear his voice again. not in a way where you missed him as a boyfriend... but as a friend.

his laugh still sounded the same, the way he got excited for meals was still very much how you remembered – but there was something different and you can't quite put a finger on what it was.

in the moments stillness, when you couldn't help but think back at how life was before you had reached your goals – your mind would wander back to mingyu. in moments when you are unable to get a full grasp of reality, you allow yourself back to the sense of familiarity – the one that once had him present.

seeing your past in the eyes of someone who you only knew behind your screen is a weird sensation but when the days felt long, and the world felt cold, he somehow made that uneasiness you felt at the pit of your stomach feel like home.

you don't dare to reach out, you two have grown past that.

the occasional updates from mutual friends in passing was more than enough.

mingyu was all just a part of your past after all.

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@thegirlwhoimagined @calicoups @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy

@yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult

@alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu

@bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx

@daegutowns @niktwazny303 @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed

@joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys @yaaaridk @christinewithluv

@yoonzinoooo @livelikejinki @watercolureyes @whoa-jo @primoisellerose

@wonwoobestboyy @rakshithanotrao @mingcouper @aksweet7 @nikkell

@raginghellfire @m1ng1swife @doubleshoticedshakenespresso @porridgesblog @hotteokisms

@squashcolouredskies @viewvuu @black-swan-blog27 @got7svt6 @singulapity

[cy-cyborg]

I'm begging dragonage fans to do a tiny bit of research about arm amputees before loudly shouting their opinions on the inquisitor returning in the next game Please lol.

Apparently, it was confirmed that the inquisitor, your chatacter from the last game (who looses their arm in the final cutscene of the DLC), will return in Veilguard as a customisable character, similar to Hawke, and they will play an active roll in the story. This has caused a lot of people to start speculating on how they'll handle the inquisitor's missing hand, with most people agreeing they'll have to have a prosthetic to be an active part of the story. Which, while I do think this is the rought bioware will take, isn't true, and a part of me really hopes they leave the inquisitor without a prosthetic arm like in the end of Tresspasser

Partially because we already have a companion with a prosthetic (neve) and it would be nice to see some diversity in how amputation is depicted in such a mainstream game, but also because you dont need a prosthetic to fight as any of the main 3 classes from inquisition.

Mage:

mages just need a staff, the game shows them as 2 handed weapons but it's totally beleiveable that it would be usable 1-handed (Neve also uses a dagger-like weapon in the trailer, you can make a "staff" in inquisition that functions more like an energy sword, and the Mage in the chargers uses a staff resembling a bow, so I think it's more that they just need a focus, the shape doesn't matter as much). A knight enchanter may struggle more 1 handed, but I wouldn't write it off as an option with some modifications made to their main staff.

Warrior:

the easiest to justify, because there are several cases of arm amputees fighting with a sword and sheild in history, and while many did have prosthetics, most weren't functional (meaning they were mainly for aesthetic purposes and didn't actually aid the fighter in any way. There were exceptions, like Götz of the iron hand, who's prosthetic was functional, but most were not). The inquisitor looses their arm just above the wrist, so they still have most of their forearm. Most sheilds strap to the forearm, so it wouldn't take much adjustment to make that work, and you can use the other hand for the weapon. Obviously, two-handed weapons will probably be off the table, though, lol.

Rogue

this is the one people tend to be the loudest about and the one I understand the most. Obviously duel-weilding daggers won't work (unless you give them something like the hidden blades in assassin's creed on their stump side, I guess) but using a single dagger still would, and is a perfectly reasonable approach, given that's how most irl people used daggers. Archery, though, absolutely can work without a prosthetic, despite what people think. Dragonage has crossbows, not something like Bianca (rip) but a small, single-handed crossbow is an option. Even ignoring that though, amputee archery is a thing irl, and not every arm amputee uses prosthetics for it. The bows are modified to be held in one hand and drawn with the mouth using a kind of pully-system built into the bow that I could very easily see being modified into some dwarven-style contraption in game (some double arm amputees use their feet to draw regular bows, but I don't think that would be pheasable in combat).

Like I said, I think bioware will probably go with a prosthetic, but i hope that they don't. Or at the very least, show them with it sometimes and without it other times (the same goes for Neve, no one wears their prosthetic 24/7, I'd love to see them both take them off around the home base, even just occasionally). A lot of arm amputees in particular prefer to go without one, and arm prosthetics in media are some of the worst offenders of the "perfect prosthetic"/"miracle cure prosthetic" tropes. It doesn't count as "diversity" or disability representation if it doesn't actually change anything other than the look of the chatacter, and im really, really desperate for some actually decent amputee representation in games.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

What is Broken IV (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader) FINALE

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: traumatic childbirth, blood, semi-suicidal thoughts, Aemond is fantasizing about murder again, all the angst

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: I don't understand why, but thanks so much for all the support I've gotten from this horribly angsty fic! This is my first go at angst so I really appreciate it. I'm gonna work on two happy-ish fic chapters before I get started on When It Breaks, but it's coming...

And a huge, enourmous thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @ripdragonbeans for being my betas for this! I was so anxious about getting this absolutely right and they were so kind and encouraging. Love yall forever 💜💜💜

Taglist is done via reblogs

What is Broken

She was so light, his ābrazȳrītsos.

Even while carrying their children – their sons – Aemond swore she was lighter than when he left. He held her close to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder and her legs draped over his forearm. With every step, he could feel more of the liquid that had spilled from her womb - now mixed with small, hateful tendrils of blood -  dampening his sleeve.

Gods, how much blood had he seen in the past year? How much had he spilled himself? There had even been times when he reveled in its metallic tang. But the sight of her blood was nothing less than abhorrent.

He ran faster, until he could not make out the faces of those he passed, shouting for a Maester to be sent to their chambers immediately. One of them must be a servant. With luck, the Maester would already be there when they arrived.

She cried out as he began to ascend the stairs, wincing with each step, her weak grip on him tightening. “It hurts, Aemond.”

“I know, my love.” He slowed down, though his pounding heart urged him to do just the opposite. “I’m so sorry. The maester will be here soon, and he’ll help you feel better, hmm?”

“He has to stop it. It’s too early,” her voice cracked, and Aemond’s heart with it. “They’re not ready!”

But it couldn’t be stopped, not by man or gods. Their children would be born today. The only question was whether they would survive. If their mother would survive. Her poor body was so weak, and her heart… he had broken that, too.

If any of them died today, that blood would be on his hands, and he would gladly accept his damnation to the worst of the seven hells.

“Come now,” he chided gently as they reached the corridor to their chambers. “Our sons are dragons – they will be strong. And so will you, ābrazȳrītsos.”

“Sons?” She lifted her head, her entire body trembling with the effort it took. Her eyes – those beautiful eyes now gilded by the setting sun outside the windows – locked with his. “How… you sound so sure.”

Just one more lie. One more, and then he would never lie to her again.

Besides, this lie was small, nearly inconsequential. Many fathers insisted that their children would be sons until the child itself proved them wrong. It would be so easy for her to believe. The truth would hurt her – perhaps weaken her further. Aemond did not want her to hear Alys’ name. She should never have to even think of that witch ever again.

But he could not bring himself to do it. He could not sully the birth of his sons with yet another lie. He pushed their door open with a shoulder, never breaking her gaze. “Alys told me after you left. Before… she had a vision of us holding our sons. I’m so sorry, love.”

She slumped again, her face dropping into the curve of his neck. Once, she kissed him there, slept with her head tucked there. Now, it was simply where her head lolled. “I’m glad it’s sons. You’ll have two heirs…”

Her words were cut short by a gasp of pain, but Aemond heard it clearly. It echoed in his very bones. So if I live, you’ll have no more need of me. The gods had just crumbled the ground beneath him, his heart and soul with it. He was falling, falling, falling…

“I am glad, too.” He set her down gently in the bed, brushing away several tangles of hair stuck to her sweaty brow before arranging the pillows around her, hoping he was adequately managing to hide his devastation. For he could not bear to be without her, could not bear to love her only from a distance. He would go mad. Yet he would happily accept that horrible fate if it meant he would not lose her to the Stranger. “Mother will be, as well.”

“Mother!” She tried to rise, but he held her softly to the bed. “I can’t do this without Mother, Aemond. We must return home immediately!”

“I am afraid that is not an option, Princess.” Maester Artos stood just within the doorway, maids and Septas streaming in behind him. He was a mountain of a man, better suited to the battlefield than the birthing bed. But he was good at what he did – very good. Aemond had seen him work miracles on men who should have never survived their injuries.

The moment the women began attending to his wife, he approached the Maester, speaking quietly so as not to frighten her. “Something is wrong, Artos, she is bleeding. And she’s very weak.”

Artos hardly acknowledged him, looking only at the princess lying in the bed. “The blood is not the problem. She is distressed and too thin.” He stated, as cold and clinical as all other Maesters.

“Yes, I know that already.” Aemond took a shaky, calming breath. He did not like the way Artos observed her, as if she was a thing to be studied rather than a woman – a princess. Perhaps when it was all over, he’d kill the man for it. “I fear she is not strong enough to survive this.”

She cried out behind them. Two maids were pressing damp cloths to her forehead. Another was hastily braiding her hair back. A Septa had begun cutting away her dress, leaving her only in her chemise as two more maids removed her slippers and stockings. Two other Septas knelt by the windows, praying, while one woman who seemed to be neither maid nor Septa laid metal and wood instruments atop a tall, thin table.

It took every ounce of Aemond’s self-control not to go to her. To shove away each woman because it should be him – and him alone – to touch his wife while she was so vulnerable. He should be the one to protect her, but he couldn’t. He could only hurt her, it seemed.

“Artos!” Aemond hissed.

“Is her spirit weak as well?” There was suspicion in his dark eyes. The same he’d shown when he confirmed Alys was carrying a child. If he hadn’t been so proficient a healer, Aemond might have killed him then.

But for now, Aemond was glad Artos was alive. He swallowed, avoiding looking back at the bed as his wife continued to whimper and moan. “Yes.” The maester just hummed before approaching the bed. Aemond followed, kneeling at the bedside, the maids immediately clearing away.

“This is Maester Artos, ābrazȳrītsos.” She stared wide-eyed at the hulking mass of the man who now knelt between her legs. Aemond tugged on her hand, her gaze snapping back to him. “I know him well. He’s going to take very good care of you, I promise.”

She shuddered, her eyes closed tight as she squeezed Aemond’s hand so hard he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. He delighted in it. She was not as weak as he thought, thank the gods. If she needed to break every bone in his hand – in his body – to live through this, he would let her do so without complaint.

“Are you going to stay with me?” she asked, her voice already ravaged by screaming.

Aemond blinked. When they first learned they were to have a child, he swore he would. But now, it seemed impossible for her to want him there. Not after what he’d done. “Do you… want me to stay?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out but another moan of pain. Her eyes darted all over his face. The longer she stayed silent, the further Aemond’s stomach dropped, and his heart ached.

“I believe it wise to have the prince wait outside,” Artos said decisively.

Aemond felt her hand slide out of his, the sensation the same as if he were falling from Vhagar’s back—her answer.

He nodded, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he leaned over her and kissed her forehead, trailing a hand down her cheek. “I love you.”

As he walked to the door, he still held a little shred of hope in his heart, waiting to hear her say it back.

It never came.

The moment the door shut behind Aemond, she regretted sending him away. She wanted to call him back so she wouldn’t be alone with so many strangers. But panic began to set in as the maids pulled her gently down the bed, and her voice failed her.

“It won’t be long now, princess,” the maester said, but she found no comfort in it. She couldn’t even remember his name. Alton? Alyn? Amos? Aemond had said he trusted him, but…

But that meant he had been here when Aemond was with Alys. And that glint of pity in his eyes, not just for her conditions, but for what he knew. He knew. Seven Hells, he’d probably been the one to care for Alys and her pregnancy.

Alys. Alys, Alys, fucking Alys!

She did not know what to think of the woman who had stolen so much from her. Had she stolen it, or had Aemond given it? She could hardly make sense of what she’d learned in that dreary little room.

Alys was not the evil, scheming witch she had first imagined. But neither was she innocent in the affair, not wholly. She was not remorseful for her actions, but she apologized for hurting her. She had been kind.

Blinding pain shot through her, and she screamed. Wordless and desperate, her only outlet for release. She needed to scream, needed to roar, needed to breathe fire. Anything to distract from this. Gods, she even wished for a moment for Alys to be there, holding her hand. At least then, she could return some of that pain.

“Princess,” the maester said, though he sounded far away. Though it was more likely that her shouting was drowning him out. “Very soon, I will ask that you push. Do you know how, your highness?”

Push. That’s what the septas had instructed Helaena to do at the birth of her twins and for Maelor. She even had vague memories of the word from when she peeked through the open door to her mother’s chambers when Daeron was born. But what it meant and how to do it?

Her confusion must have been apparent, for the maester continued. His voice was frustratingly calm and steady. “It is fine if you do not, princess. You must simply follow your instincts. When you feel the urge, push the child outward with all your might.”

“I have no might.” She heard herself laughing through tears and only then realized she was crying. Someone took her hand – she didn’t know who. But the feeling of another’s skin on hers was heavenly.

“You have carried these babes for months,” the maester – Artos! that was his name – said gently, “while your husband and the realm were at war. In my estimation, you are the mightiest woman in Westeros.”

She felt nearly every muscle she had tense, turning her answering grateful smile into a grimace. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have weathered her pregnancy as well as a paper boat in a storm. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not still love her husband after he betrayed her. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have let her emotions weaken her or put her children’s lives in danger.

She was far from the mightiest woman in Westeros, and she could not do this. She wasn’t strong enough. She was only a weak and broken little girl.

A maid approached, a fresh cool, damp cloth in her hands. The princess had not looked at any of their faces, too absorbed in her pain and panic. But now, she caught the eyes of this girl—deep, rich brown, so similar to her own – to her mother’s.

“I want my mother,” she whispered to the maid, even knowing it was impossible. “I can’t do this without her.”

The maid gaped at her as if she could not fathom a princess ever speaking to her. She looked to her companions for guidance, but the princess only looked into the maid’s eyes and thought of her mother—the scent of the rosemary oil she used in her hair, the warmth of her embrace, and the soothing tones of her voice.

“Please, I want my mother,” she begged. A new surge of pain gripped her, radiating into her legs. They were coming faster now; she barely had time to breathe between each wave. “Please.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness.” The maid’s voice was high and breathy, nothing like her mother’s. “The queen is not here.”

She cried, turning away from those false eyes. She was alone – entirely and utterly alone.

“Princess, I need you to be strong now.” Artos’ sweaty brow was furrowed with half a dozen creases, his eyes wide and mouth a firm line. He looked more like a commander on a battlefield than a maester. The Grand Maester would have smiled at her, but he was not here, either. “Your labors are progressing quickly. It is nearly time to push.”

“I don’t know how,” she cried. She refused to open her eyes. If she kept them closed, she could almost imagine she was home.

Artos wrapped his hands around her ankles, pushing them upwards and further apart. “You do, princess. The Mother wove the knowledge into your body. Listen to it, and all will be well.”

“I – ”

Her next scream rattled the room, the keep, the entirety of the Riverlands.

Fire, ice, steel, and claw seemed to rake down her spine to her thighs. But Artos was right; her body reacted to the pain, her muscles moving near-unconsciously to force the babe out of her womb. She followed the instinct, pushing it harder, harder, harder.

“Very good, princess!” Was that Artos or Orwyle? She couldn’t tell anymore.

It was never-ending.

Pain, pushing, and a brief moment of reprieve.

Again.

Again.

Again.

It lasted hours, days, perhaps even years.

Was a child – a son – even worth this pain? How could she love someone who had tortured her so? Would she ever be able to look at him without remembering how she suffered?

Pain.

Pain.

PAIN.

Then –

“Stop, princess!”

She went limp, vaguely beginning to feel other sensations creep in: the coolness of the water on her forehead, the slight scratching of the sheets beneath her, and the hushed whispers of the maids and midwives.

The pain was still there, but softer. Less insistent.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice nearly unrecognizable, even to her.

Artos emerged from between her legs, relief painted over his harsh face. “Nothing is wrong, princess. It is simply time to be gentle and allow your body to do its work.” He smiled, chuckling under his breath. “I can see your babe’s white hair – quite a bit of it.”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat. Deep, joyous laughter. Another slight wave of pain passed through her, but she didn’t care at all. She was thinking about her niece and nephew, how Jaehaerys was born with nearly a full mane of silver frizz while Jaehaera had not a single hair on her head until she was over a year old. “He has hair?”

“Yes, although I do not know yet whether it is a boy, princess.”

“It is. He is.”

There was one more brief surge of pain, and then she heard her son cry.

It was torture to wait outside while his ābrazȳrītsos screamed with pain. At first, Aemond stood leaning against the wall, as Aegon did when Helaena began her labors, but his knees failed him when he heard a scream that rattled the world.

He’d been on the floor since, resisting the urge to cover his ears. But he had caused her this pain, so he must listen.

He would be in that room with her if he hadn’t been a weak, damnable fool. He would have held her hand, letting her release her pain onto him. She had only squeezed his hand once, yet he still felt the ghost of her touch on his skin. He would savor that pain for the rest of his life.

It seemed to be never-ending, the torture his son was inflicting upon her. How could he ever forgive the child for doing this to his own mother?

Then, it stopped.

Aemond leaped to his feet, panic infecting his blood like a disease. Why had she gone quiet? What was wrong? Was she dead? He couldn’t face –

A babe cried—his first cry, with his first breath.

Their son.

He tried to push the door open, but it was locked.

“Let me in!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the door. “Artos, let me in!”

There was no answer, but he could hear soft voices inside. None sounded like hers. Oh gods, had she brought their son into the world at the cost of her own life?

Aemond slammed himself against the door again and again, not caring for the damage he was doing to his own body. “Open the door now, Artos!”

He threw himself against the wood again and again. At some point, it had to yield. Either it would, or his body would.

It opened just before he launched himself at it again—not all the way, but it was open. Then, Artos stared at him through the gap with his hateful, disapproving gaze.

“Let me in,” he growled. Trying to force the door open was useless, as the maester was practically a giant and, apparently, throwing all his strength into holding it closed. “If you don’t let me see my wife, I swear I’ll – ”

“Your wife has not finished her labors yet, my prince.” Damn him, the mountainous bastard. “But I am pleased to inform you that she has borne you a son.”

Though he knew it was to be a son, the words still shot through him. A son. His son. Their son.

“Is he healthy? Is she?” There was no more fight in his voice. The warrior prince had vanished, replaced only by the husband and father. By all the gods, he was a father.

Artos nodded. “The boy is small but healthy. Your maester may have miscalculated the date of conception. He is remarkably healthy for being born so early.”

“And my wife?”

“She is tired, but well. The second babe is not quite ready to emerge, so she is resting.”

The weight of all the world was lifted from his shoulders. He felt like the little boy he had once been on Driftmark, wanting nothing more than to see his zaldrīzītsos and take comfort in her embrace. “May I see her? Please.”

“I’m afraid not, my prince.” Artos at least had the decency to sound genuinely apologetic. “She needs this rest. With the first birth, she was wonderfully strong, more than I could have ever imagined. But I fear she has depleted her strength. She fell asleep the moment it was done.”

“Is… is it bad that she fell asleep?”

Artos sighed, his eyes turning to the floor. “Ordinarily, no, but with how thin she is, how weak… it worries me.”

No. No, no, no. “Is there anything you can do? To help strengthen her?”

“I am afraid not, my prince.”

“Well, do something. Do whatever you can.”

A soft moan came from behind the door. Ābrazȳrītsos. Aemond pushed against the door, opening it as far as he could to try and catch the barest glimpse of her.

Her eyes were nearly closed, her reddened cheeks making them appear as dark as night. Her chemise was soaked through with sweat and whatever other fluids came out with their child. But no blood beyond what he already knew to be there.

“Ābrazȳrītsos! I’m here!” He shouted. It took a moment for her to look his way. He could have sworn she smiled. “I’m with you! You must be strong, my love. I know you can be. I love you! I love you so much, ñuha zaldrīzītsos!”

Artos pushed against the door, forcing Aemond back. “That is enough, my prince. Upsetting her will only drain her strength.”

Aemond knew it was true, that his presence would likely upset her rather than comfort her. So, he stopped resisting and allowed the maester to close the door. Just before it closed, he whispered one final command, “Take care of her, Artos. She is my world.”

The pain returned, worse than before. The lightning crept down her spine again, but it was now accompanied by a great force set on tearing her body apart at the seams. Pushing brought no relief, nor did it seem to move her son any closer to the world.

Artos came to her bedside, resting the back of his hand against her brow.

 “It’s worse this time,” she confided in the maester when it finally ebbed. “It’s so much worse. Why?”

He sighed and sat on the bedside, his massive hand nearly eclipsing her head as he stroked her hair. It made her feel remarkably like a kitten. “I cannot say, princess. There are many possibilities. This child could be larger, in a slightly different position, or…” He hesitated. “As I said, there are too many possibilities for me to be sure.”

His pause unsettled her, but it soon faded away when another wave went through her. “Is he nearly ready? I can’t do this much longer.” At least she knew what to do this time, so surely it would be better.

“Ah, another son, is it?” Artos stood from the bed to examine her spread legs. Several maids gently moved her to replace the sheets beneath her. “Not yet, but soon. Your motherly instincts will tell you when.”

Motherly instincts. Gods, she was a mother now. There was a child on the other side of the room that she had given birth to, that she had grown within her. A son who would depend on her for his entire life. Her, and his father.

Aemond would be a good father, she knew, even if he were decidedly lacking as a husband. But as a father, he would be attentive, kind, and loving. He would give their sons all the love he was denied by their own father.

They would not repeat the mistakes of the past. They would love their sons. They would not ignore them, speaking to them only to scold them. They would teach them the language of their ancestors themselves instead of relying on tutors. As soon as they were old enough, they would teach them how to be compassionate and fair rulers. They would not force them to marry for political advantage or the continuation of the bloodline but let them fall in love, as they had.

She could see them now. Both with white hair and unruly curls. Bright lilac eyes. The elder would take after her, but with Aemond’s determination. The younger would take after their father but with her gentle temperament.

As if the vision was summoning her second son, she felt her body constricting, muscles tightening. Without fear, she began to push.

“Princess, stop!”

Artos screamed as if someone was holding a sword to his throat, desperate and panicked. His eyes were wide and bulging as he looked from her face to where her second son should be emerging. “You mustn’t push now, princess. Not once. I…”

He stood, pulling one of the Septas aside. Others followed, and their frantic, poorly hushed whispers grew louder. She knew the sight should frighten her, but she forced herself to remain calm. Aemond said he trusted this man and had seen him work miracles. Whatever was wrong, Artos would fix it.

She was sure.

Artos burst out of the door without warning. Aemond pushed away from the wall. “Is it over?”

The maester sighed.

Shit. Seven Hells and all the Gods.

“Your wife is strong, my prince,” he began. Holy gods, he sounded as if he would cry. “Enough so that I would have little doubt that she could deliver your second child, but…”

“What’s wrong?” Aemond felt his heart race, his blood surge, his finger twitching for his sword. He was going into battle, but this was not a battle he could fight with steel or fire. This was not a battle he could fight at all. “Artos?”

“The babe is not in the right position.” He moved his hands as if it would somehow make Aemond understand what he was saying.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the babe cannot be born, your highness.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything she had suffered and survived.

“If she were to continue her labors, neither she nor the child would live.” Artos put a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at comfort. “I can save only one. Who survives… that is your decision, my prince.”

The gods were cruel to force this upon him – the very choice that had damned their family decades ago when Viserys chose to sacrifice his wife and queen for the chance at a son. That was where the seeds of destruction had been sown.

Aemond could not repeat the mistakes of the past. He would not be like his father. He had his son and heir. A second would be preferred, but not at the cost of his ābrazȳrītsos.

His ābrazȳrītsos, whose heart would break to lose her son. Who would never forgive him if he decided to –

He couldn’t choose. He couldn’t let her die, and he couldn’t let their son die.

He couldn't live without her, and he couldn’t take away her will to live.

He tore himself out of Artos’ grasp and stormed into the room.

Aemond threw open the door, his eyes wide and wet, and suddenly, she was not so sure that Maester Artos would fix whatever was wrong.

He ran to the bed, not sparing a glance at their new son. She burst into sobs the moment he took her in his arms. “Oh, ābrazȳrītsos,” he whispered into her hair as he kissed her temples. She entwined her fingers with his, desperately squeezing. “I’m here now. Everything is going to be fine.”

Liar. Sweet Liar. Beloved Liar.

“I want Mother. I want Helaena.” Her voice crackled with tears and exhaustion. Everything hurt. Someone – most likely her – was crying, though it sounded distant. And if Aemond was here, not waiting outside…

If Aemond was here, holding her hand and stroking her hair, it meant something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“Mother is not here right now,” he said, squeezing her hand tighter. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t meet her gaze. “And Helaena… she can’t be here. I’m so sorry.”

“She told me she would hold my hand like I did for her. She promised!”

“I know. I know, my love, but it is not possible.”

Because Helaena was dead. So were Daeron, and Jaehaerys, and Jaehaera, and Maelor, and Otto, and Ser Criston, and nearly every other person she loved. Aegon would be dead soon, too, then she would only have her mother and her husband.

Her mother, who had begged her to forgive the husband who betrayed her and broken her heart.

“I can’t do this alone, Aemond. I can’t.”

“You can, I know it. You are so strong, dearest.” Yet there was no confidence in his voice.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear his hair out just to make him hurt, too. “I can’t! I’ll die if you make me, Aemond, I know it. I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.”

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. “My love, I…” his voice faded, leaving them in total silence, save for that distant crying.

Then, he kissed her—not the soft kisses on the temple or head of the past fortnight, but the way he had kissed her when he said goodbye all those months ago. His lips slotted against hers perfectly, and she opened for him on instinct. She knew she should stop, push him away, and scold him, but she couldn’t.

Everything felt wrong—her entire body felt wrong. But this, kissing Aemond, felt right. Her desperation for comfort far overpowered her anger and resentment. Her trembling hand rested on his shoulder, her fingers bunching in his shirt. She pulled him closer, wanting more—more rightness, more connection, more feeling.

More Aemond.

But he pulled away, resting his brow against hers as she chased his lips again. He placed a hand on either side of her face, holding her still. “I’m going to fix this,” he rasped, his voice shredded by fear and desperation. “I will fix this, I swear.”

Then, he let go.

He stood from the bed and turned away from his wife.

He was leaving. He was fucking leaving her.

She screamed his name, cursed him, begged him to come back, hurled insults, and cried for him. He couldn’t do this to her, not after everything he’d already done.

This was not love. The heat that burned in her chest was not love.

It was hate.

For the first time in her life, she truly hated Aemond.

“Alys!” Aemond bellowed as he descended the stairs to the servant’s quarters, taking the steps two, three at a time. No one dared approach him. Not even Artos had tried to stop him as he ran away from his ābrazȳrītsos.

She may hate him forever for this, for leaving her when she was so weak and scared.

Fine. It would be worth it.

“ALYS!” The door snapped from its upper hinge as he tore it open. The witch was precisely where she’d been when Aemond left, her hand on her chin as she looked into the fire. What vile hell did she see in her visions now? “Alys!”

“I heard you, Aemond.” She did not look at him, only staring at the flames, those green eyes flitting around as if she were reading a book. “The entire continent heard you.” There was no humor in her voice, no hint of a smile on her face.

He swallowed, panting. He was crying – weeping like a little boy. That didn’t matter now. Very little mattered now.

Aemond fell to his knees before the witch with whom he had destroyed his life. He would do whatever she asked, destroy what little was left of his pride if necessary. “I need your help, Alys. Please.”

“She’s dying?”

“Yes. The maester said I had to… that I had to choose who to save.”

“And you can’t choose between her and the child.”

 “No, I – ” he swallowed as his voice shattered. He was going to vomit. “I can’t, Alys. I can’t. Please.”

“What is it, exactly, that you want me to do?” She was colder than the Wall, than the entirety of the lands beyond it.

“Save them, both of them.”

Alys’ eyes narrowed. Her face was painted with an expression he had never seen. He had no clue what it meant. “What would you sacrifice,” she asked flatly, “to ensure your wife and her children – your true heirs – live?”

“Anything,” Aemond croaked, “Everything.”

One corner of her sinful mouth lifted in a way that did not bring him comfort. She sighed as if taking the time to thoroughly consider his plea. The wicked bitch was gleefully stalling when the lives of his wife and child could end at any moment.

“Please, Alys,” he begged again, desperation crawling through his veins like spreading ice. “I cannot live without her, and she will never recover from her grief if she loses the babe.”

Something passed over her face, and she smiled fully. “You have always been a man of loyalty and nobility, Aemond.” Her grin sharpened as she laid one delicate hand upon her belly. “Almost always, at least.”

“Alys,” he growled in warning.

“Oh, don’t be a beast about it,” she scoffed. “I will do it – save them. If only in memory of our time together.”

Aemond sagged as relief swept through him, but it did not last long. She was still dying. The babe was still dying. Whatever Alys would do, she needed to do it now. He opened his mouth to command her to start, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“I promise it will be done.” She flung her hand to the door in dismissal. “You should be there for her. She is still so very frightened.”

He needed nothing more to run back to his wife.

She was alone. Even with Maester Artos and the dozen women hovering around her, even with her son cooing softly from the cradle by the window, she had never felt so alone.

Aemond was gone.

He’d left her. Without even a goodbye, he’d left her. He had not even stopped to meet his son.

Artos murmured something to one of the Septas, who quickly gathered the other women on the far side of the room. He approached the bed, again seating himself upon the edge, and pressed the back of his fingers to her brow briefly before petting her hair. “How are you feeling, princess?”

“Am I going to die?”

He hesitated in answering. “I cannot say for certain…”

“I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.” Her heart constricted as his fingers brushed against a spot where Aemond had kissed her. “You told him, now tell me.”

“Very well,” he sighed. His harsh face fell, and she swore she could see his eyes glistening. “The babe is breech. It should emerge head-first, but it is not. It’s… the way it is attempting to come out is nearly impossible. Should I not intervene, one or both of you will die.”

No. No, no, no, it wasn’t fair. To suffer for this long, to endure what she endured, only for her child to enter the world wrong? In a way that would kill them? She had always been good and devout. She prayed and studied holy texts, listened to her Septas and the Maesters, and avoided sin at all costs. Then why was she being punished?

Unless… the gods had not sent this to punish her.

Aemond had abandoned her and their marriage – their holy union – when he slept with Alys. It would be fitting, and very like the gods, for him to lose that which he had forsaken. She and her second son were merely instruments of punishment. But it wasn’t fair.

“There is nothing you can do?” She felt hollow as Artos continued to look at her in pity.

The warrior-maester looked as if he were about to cry, as well. “In these situations, it is usually asked of the father whom he would rather save.”

So that was why Artos left the room – to ask Aemond whether to save her or the child.

“Who did he choose?” Either answer would devastate her. He would either prove the fragility of his love for her, or he would willingly break her heart by killing their son. Whatever he chose, he would become a kinslayer thrice over.

“He… he did not, your highness.”

“What?”

“I explained the situation, and he stormed in here – to you. When he left, he said nothing. He just ran. I presumed he had…” But he hadn’t. Had not said a word about the peril she and their son were now in.

A coward. Too frightened to maintain his vows of marriage. Too weak to admit his wrongdoing. Too cowardly to even make this most crucial of decisions. The gods damn him.

If they hadn’t already.

“So… what will you do?” If she had to be the one to make the decision, so be it.

“There are three options.” None of them were very good, she knew, simply by looking at his forlorn face. She had thought him a grave man when she first saw him. Now, he looked mournful – a reluctant harbinger of death. “I can forcibly remove the child, more than likely killing it in the process. I can attempt to save it and, in so doing, certainly kill you. Or we can proceed with the birth, risking killing both of you and pray that the gods may be merciful.”

Such a choice – a decision of life and death – should be difficult. It should tear away at the soul to condemn another. It should be far beyond the limits of the heart or mind.

But it was easy.

“Save him,” she whispered. “Let me die.”

Artos frowned deeply, shook his head, and said something in return, but she did not listen – she could not and would not hear his words. She only vaguely saw him move to the end bed, ripping away the sleeve of his robes as he barked orders at the maid and midwives. Perhaps the gods were merciful to dull her senses now so she could pass peacefully.

What did it matter if she died now?

She will have fulfilled her duty and given her husband his heirs. Finding a new wife would be easy – what woman would not want to marry him? Even if news of Alys spread beyond the walls of Harrenhal, surely it was nothing in exchange for a crown. Aemond would have everything he needed to be king.

If she lived, what sort of life would it be? To raise one son while constantly mourning the other. To be the wife of a man she could no longer trust. To remain empty, a shell of her former self. She would be alive, but she would still be a ghost.

“Save him,” she said again, her voice fading.

It was easier this way. Hadn’t she already learned that it was easier not to fight? Letting Aemond take care of her was easier than fighting him. Perhaps it would be easier to let him care for the children, too. He would love them enough that they would not feel her absence.

Distantly, she felt pressure between her legs, then heard her firstborn son cry out to echo her own screams.

Her son.

Oh, he had no name.

She couldn’t leave him motherless and without a name.

Months ago, she had decided on names, but they were hard to remember now. What was it? She could grant him this one last gift. She just needed to remember…

“Daeron.”

Yes. It had been her brother’s name. Her kind, brave, daring brother. He died some months ago. There had been a battle. Why was her little brother fighting? He was too young for that.

Tendrils of pale mist crept into the edges of her vision, playfully willing her to sleep.

Once she was gone, Daeron—her Daeron—would have a little brother, too. He would need a name as well—a strong name, a courageous name. When she was dead, he would need courage.

“Aenar.”

A strong name. With courage enough to forge a new beginning.

There. Names for her sons, the little princes.

With that last parting gift, she could close her eyes at last.

Goodbye, she tried to say.

I love you, my children.

Be kind to each other.

Love each other always.

Goodbye.

The mist filled her vision, illuminated by a distant light. It was cool, like a late spring morning. She did not hurt anymore. Did not feel anything but an overwhelming sense of peace.

The distant light faded.

The mist darkened.

Through it, she swore she could see grass-green eyes and hear the faraway cry of a babe.

She was still screaming. Good.

Screaming meant she was still alive. Screaming meant Alys was fulfilling her promise. Screaming meant that Aemond was racing back to his wife – his living, breathing, beloved wife – and not her corpse.

The door was still locked when he arrived—one final obstacle between him and his family.

No, not final. Far from it. The door was the only tangible thing keeping him from his wife and children, yes, but there was far more beyond it. The pain he caused her, the hatred his ābrazȳrītsos now surely felt for him, and the third child that would soon be born still kept them as far apart as the earth and stars.

They would get past it. They had to. They were siblings, husband and wife, now destined to become King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They were meant for each other. The gods or fate or whatever else had made her for him and him for her.

They were two parts of the same whole, cleaved.

“Prince Aemond.”

Cregan Stark, the man who humiliated him and his wife mere hours ago, stood behind him. Aemond snarled. “Leave. Now.”

Stark stood strong and still. “You have been my enemy. You may be still, I have not decided. I have no admiration nor respect for you, my prince. In short, I do not like you.”

“Do you want me to kill you?” Aemond asked. He did not wish to greet his sons with blood-soaked hands, but if Stark didn’t close his fucking mouth –

“To lose the woman you love so dearly in this way… it is a pain I know all too well and one I would not wish on anyone. I have instructed all my men to pray for the Princess and the child, and I will join them soon. Negotiations will be postponed indefinitely.”

“I…” Perhaps Aemond had underestimated the brute, if he was a brute at all. And though he knew the prayers were unnecessary, gratitude still dulled his rage. “Thank you, Lord Stark.”

He simply inclined his head and walked away, leaving Aemond leaning against that godsdamned door, listening to nothing but the sound of his own panting breath.

Oh gods.

He froze.

The screaming was gone.

It was silent.

Was she dead?

Had Alys betrayed him?

He would kill her. He would tear her apart with his own hands and –

A child cried.

Then…

Oh, thank each and every god a thousand times over.

For then, Aemond heard his wife laughing.

“Princess?”

She always expected that the voice of the Father would be deep and smooth, but shouldn’t it be the Mother to greet her, given how she died? And shouldn’t the gods greet her by name, not her title?

“Princess, it is time to wake up,” the voice said again. “Open your eyes for me.”

Oh, her eyes were closed. She should open them.

The Heavens were not as bright as she imagined, nor as golden. They were dark and sparsely decorated and looked very much like –

“I am not dead?”

Maester Artos looked down at her and smiled. It reminded her of the few times she had seen her father smile at her, sparking a warmth in her chest she had not felt for years. She had not known she still remembered those smiles. “I am very happy to say you are not, your highness.”

“But, my son – ”

“He lives, too.”

It couldn’t be. After all the suffering of the past year, she could not believe it could be true. Loss had become a certainty, as sure as the sun rising each morning.

A babe cried, and she turned toward the sound. A young maid was wrapping an infant boy with a shock of white curls in a cobalt blue blanket. Daeron.

A different, softer cry came from the other end of the room. There, another boy with only a smattering of silver wisps atop his head was being gently cleaned by a Septa. Aenar.

Her sons – alive and well and here.

She threw her head back against the pillows and laughed.

She laughed with joy and relief, with eight months of eager waiting and sickness. She laughed with a body nearly dead, saved only by some miracle she did not understand. And she laughed with a heart that was both shattered and overflowing.

This was the moment she had dreamed of since she learned she was pregnant, since the moment she married Aemond. She had dreamed of this all her life. It was her destiny, even if it was vastly different from how she had dreamed it. For she was not at home in the Red Keep but within the cursed stones of Harrenhal. Her mother was not by her side but miles away. The family that was supposed to crowd around her and coo over the children were nearly all dead. And her husband…

“Let me in!” he shouted through the door, the wood pounding against stone as he threw himself against it. He had been doing that before, but she did not notice until now. It was so like him, the impatience and need to act, that she laughed again. “Ābrazȳrītsos! Is that you? Tell me you are safe!”

Taking her laughter as permission, Artos opened the door. It was mere heartbeats later that Aemond was upon the bed, his eye flitting over every inch of her, his hands roaming to try and locate something wrong, to stem blood that did not flow or relieve pain that did not exist.

“I’m fine,” she said, breathless. “I did it, lēkia, and I’m fine.”

“You did it?” He looked down at her in utter disbelief and joy before his eye drifted to the Maester. Tears slipped from his eye and caught the light of the setting sun. “She did it…”

Her gaze went to the maid that held her firstborn – the girl with eyes like her mother’s. Fitting, for her to be the one to hold him. But it was her turn. “Bring Daeron to me,” she ordered,” some strength at last returning to her voice. “I want to hold him.”

Aemond stared at her. “Daeron?”

Was he angry that she named their sons without him? She couldn’t quite tell. Her mind was still fuzzy, like the mist she had seen still lay over her, casting everything in a sweet, happy light. She shrugged. “There are already too many Aegons, so…”

He laughed. She had missed that sound – she loved it so dearly. He settled into the bed next to her, their bodies fitting together perfectly, like two halves of a broken plate. So many familiar feelings – the warmth of his arm around her, the rhythm of his heart, his lips kissing her temple in the gentle way that always sent shivers down her spine. Hadn’t her spine hurt not long ago? “Daeron is perfect.”

Indeed, he was absolutely perfect. So tiny and precious as he was put in her arms, looking up at his parents with wide lilac eyes. Neither she nor Aemond said anything as they beheld him, taking in each tiny, perfect detail. The wild curls of his silver hair. Each and every eyelash framing his bright eyes. The pink of his lips. Fingers and toes so wonderfully soft and small. A toothless smile that lit the world.

“He’s going to be king someday,” she realized aloud. How could someone so tiny rule an entire kingdom? He had a lot of growing to do before the Conqueror’s Crown would fit.

“A great king, I think,” Aemond mused. He held out a finger, and Daeron instinctively wrapped his hand around it. “Wise and strong. Daring, like his namesake.”

“He must be kind, too.”

“He will be,” Aemond assured, brushing out her damp, tangled hair with his fingers. The feeling was so familiar, but each touch had her flinching slightly. “We will raise him to be kind. His brother, too.”

“Aenar.”

Aemond stiffened. Had he forgotten they had another son, or did he not like the name she gave him? He pulled his finger back from his son’s fist to touch the babe’s hair. “The Exile?”

“I just thought…” Perhaps it had been a foolish name. But it had felt right when it came to her, when she was on the brink of death. “Our family needs a new beginning.”

“Yes… I suppose it does.” He kissed her again with slightly too much pressure. “Another fine name.”

She looked at the Septa that had been cleaning him. Maester Artos stood with her now, along with several other women, crowding so much she could not see the babe. “I want to hold him, too. Bring him to me.”

None of them moved. The room fell silent.

“Allow me just a moment longer, princess,” Artos said. His voice shook, and he would not look at her or Aemond. “I am still finishing my assessment of the boy.”

He’s dead, her mind insisted. They saved your life at the cost of his. He died because of you.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

Daeron began fussing in her arms, disturbed by how she began to tremble. She failed one son by killing him, and now she was already failing as a mother to the one who survived. Aemond tightened his arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer as his free arm gently lifted their son into his own grasp.

He hushed her, ducking his head to press his cheek to hers. “Lykirī, ābrazȳrītsos. Izūgō daor īlo bēvili gō.” Calm, little wife. Do not panic before we have reason to.

“Kostan daor,” she whimpered. If Aenar was dead…

“Is he alive?” Aemond’s hand moved to shelter Daeron’s head as if to shield him from whatever danger or heartbreak lurked. She turned to press herself into him – into the safety of his arms.

Brother. Husband. Protector.

Why did the feel and scent of him no longer make her feel safe?

“Yes, my prince,” Artos answered.

“Will he remain that way?”

“Yes…”

“You could tell me he’s green-skinned and winged for all I care.” His arm curled protectively around her, but it did not comfort her. Rather, she bristled against it, the possessiveness of it. He did not notice. “He’s alive, and that’s enough. Bring him.”

Artos hesitated but obeyed, hastily wrapping the babe in a dark blanket.

He looked whole – unbroken. Aenar’s eyes were closed as the Maester placed him in her arms, but she could feel his warmth, his little heart beating, and the faint rise and fall of his chest. He only woke when a tear fell from her cheek onto his.

Even then, he did not cry. He only looked at his mother with bright eyes – the same shade of violet as his father's and brother’s. “Ñuha trēso,” she whispered, and he smiled. My son.

“Taobosa sylvȳse,” Aemond added. “He already recognizes the language of his ancestors. He will serve his brother well. Dārys sepār Ondoso zȳhon.” Wise boy. The King and his Hand.

They had two perfect sons. So why did Artos still look like that?

The Maester’s frown deepened. “I am afraid…” he cleared his throat. “It appears that the younger prince was injured during the birth.”

She examined him again but could find nothing wrong. He was perfect. Surely, Artos was mistaken.

“May I?” His large hand hovered over the edge of the blanket.

Her instinct was to pull away, to not let this man touch her son. Yes, he had saved both their lives, but he must be wrong now. Why should she let him make a problem where there was none?

She suppressed that instinct and allowed him to uncover Aenar’s right arm. Artos’ demeanor had made it seem as though something was horribly wrong – that the arm would be missing or deformed. But it was just an arm, small and plump and pale, with a splotch of reddish-purple covering the shoulder like a pauldron.

“It… is it a birthmark?” She brushed a thumb over it, the skin smooth but slightly raised. A birthmark wasn’t an injury, nor was it exceedingly unusual. There were several families where such a mark appeared on nearly every child born.

“Explain yourself, Artos,” Aemond hissed. He looked ready to tear the man to pieces. If he did, he would likely do so without even setting Daeron down.

With a sigh, Artos ran a finger down the length of Aenar’s arm. “Note how he gives no reaction.”

“So he is calm,” Aemond spat. “I fail to see the injury.”

“Do the same to the elder.” He repeated the touch. “Gently, my prince.”

Aemond obeyed with a scowl. The moment he touched the babe, Daeron squirmed and flailed his arm.

“But he looks fine.” She looked down at her second son, her wise boy, and held out a finger, as Aemond had with Daeron. Aenar’s left arm squirmed within its wrappings, but the right was still. She touched the arm, silently pleading with the gods for it to move, for that tiny hand to reach for her.

It remained still. A desperate noise escaped her. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aemond and Artos said in unison. Her husband attempted to pull her into his chest, but she pushed him away. An embrace could not fix this. Nothing could. He did not pursue her again.

“It is not uncommon among children born breech.” the Maester explained. “I have seen many such injuries and many even worse.”

Artos offered no sympathy or apologies, and she was thankful for it. There was nothing he could say to ease the pain of knowing that her son would never be whole, just like his father. But unlike Aemond, he was never even given the chance, wounded from his first breath. What would the people call him? ‘Prince Aenar One-Arm, son of King Aemond One-Eye?’

“What do we do?” She asked her husband, the Maester, the gods. Anyone who may have an answer.

Aemond’s face was drawn with grief – for his son and for himself. “He will adapt, as I did. I will ensure it. He will be stronger for this. I promise.”

I cannot trust your promises.

The thought was a sudden gale of icy wind scattering the lovely mist coating her mind into oblivion, leaving her with only stark, wicked reality and the faint memory of green eyes.

“How did I survive?”

Too quickly, Aemond turned to her, taking hold of her chin and pulling her close to him. “It does not matter, ābrazȳrītsos. All that does is that you are still with me. You and Aenar.”

If he wasn’t holding her firstborn, she would have shoved him from the bed.Liar. Liar. Liar.

I will fix this. he’d said before he left her. The pure, unrelenting anger she felt as she watched him leave had prevented her from considering what those words meant. Now, she could think of nothing else. What could he do? He was no midwife nor Maester. He had no knowledge of childbirth, beyond the few questions he’d asked of Orwyle months ago. What could he have done for her and Aenar except beg the help of another?

Of Alys.

Alys, who had eyes the color of fresh grass and possessed a dark magic that allowed her visions of the future. Was she also able to influence that future?

How?

At what cost?

What had Aemond promised her in exchange for their lives?

“No Maester wants to admit to ignorance,” Artos smiled sadly as Aenar continued to try to wriggle his left arm free of his blanket, “but I cannot explain it. All I can think is that the gods are kind to you, princess, and for that, I am glad.”

She could not look at him or any of the others in the room who watched her as if they could see the Mother’s hand upon her shoulder.

The gods weren’t kind. They were cruel to allow her to now owe her very life, and that of her son’s, to the two people who had destroyed her. Would she ever be able to look upon Aenar and not remember? To not feel her soul torn between unyielding hatred and infinite gratitude?

Yet, she had her life – and her sons. Surely anything was worth that.

Wasn’t it?

“I’m tired,” she said. The day had seemed to last a year, and the sun had not even set. “I want to rest now.”

After what she endured, no one argued.

His ābrazȳrītsos fell asleep mere moments after Daeron and Aenar were settled into their cradles. She did not even wake when Aemond lifted her so the servants could replace the soiled bedding. Just as she had so many times before, she tucked her face into his neck as they sat in the window, sighing contentedly. Now, he lay beside her in the bed, trying to memorize how it felt to have her in his arms.

When she woke, he knew she would never allow him to hold her like this again.

She knew. Somehow, his wife knew what he had done to ensure she and Aenar survived, and she would never forgive him for it for as long as she lived.

But she would live.

Aenar would live. Though he would bear the wounds of his father’s sins forever.

After his wife had fallen asleep, Maester Artos had told him that it would likely be necessary to amputate Aenar’s arm. The purple mark on his shoulder had grown, apparently indicating further bleeding within the limb. If it grew much more before morning, the arm would be removed before midday.

It was his fault, Aemond knew.

Alys had told him that in her visions, both boys had been healthy. But that was before his ābrazȳrītsos knew that he betrayed her. Before he brought her to this cursed place. Before he failed to stop her from meeting Alys and learning the full extent of his sins.

He only hoped Aenar would not grow to hate him for it.

For now, the boy slept in his crib, limp arm hidden beneath the dark blanket he was swaddled in. Aemond rose from the bed, moving closer to his son.

How peaceful he looked now, with the redness of his skin finally faded. He did not have as much hair as his older brother, but his was wilder - more reminiscent of his mother’s curls than his father’s straight locks. At least he had that part of her, if not the warm brown eyes Aemond had hoped for.

In the other cradle, Daeron fussed slightly, though he did not wake. It seemed he resented being confined within the tight swaddle of his blanket. The thought made Aemond smile, remembering how his younger brother once did the same. It faded quickly.

He had to go to Alys. To thank her for giving him his family - a kindness he did not deserve. To say goodbye to the child he would never meet. Another cost he would force himself to pay.

He had to go now, while his ābrazȳrītsos slept.

“Before our wedding,” he whispered, careful not to wake her as he approached, “I promised to hold you every night I could, that I would do anything to return to you when I was away. I have failed to uphold that promise, and for that, I am so sorry.”

When he stroked her cheek, she turned into his touch, a small smile upon her lips. Seeing that some unconscious part of her still reacted to him with love warmed his heart, even as the knowledge that her conscious mind would never allow her to do so felt like a dagger buried in his gut.

Aemond knelt at her side, basking in her beauty, memorizing her peaceful face. “Now, I swear my devotion again. I know you no longer wish for me to hold you, and I promise I will not try to persuade you otherwise. But I swear I will always be with you, to love and protect you, even if I must do it from a distance. I will never fail you again.”

It did not matter that she could not hear his vow. Even if she did, she would not believe him. But he made it anyway, for his own sake, and so the gods, wherever they may be, would hear him. It was to them he spoke next.

“Should I ever harm you again, I pray that the gods will strike me down where I stand. And if they do not, I shall do so myself.” He kissed her brow - the sealing of a promise and a farewell - and left.

A maid shrunk away as she passed Aemond in a corridor deep beneath Harrenhal, cradling the bundle of cloth she carried closer to her chest. It was one of the same maids who had tended to his wife—the young girl with deep brown eyes. She did not wear the clothing of a midwife, but the colors of her linen dress were similar. Perhaps a midwife in training.

Strange, then, for her to be here. Stranger still for her to be seemingly performing the duties of a laundress.

He glanced down at the bundle of cloth she carried and froze.

There was blood. Too much blood.

A young midwife, carrying bedlinens soaked with blood.

What would you sacrifice? Alys had asked.

Aemond ran.

He knew what he would find. There was no other explanation. Yet he still hoped and prayed he was wrong. Loss had followed him like a loyal dog for so long, but today it was banished. It must be.

Alys stood in front of her fire. One hand rested on a stomach that was not as distended as it had been only hours ago.

His wife’s stomach now looked very much the same.

“What did you do?” His voice shook with fear and guilt and shame. Gods, he felt so weak.

Her eyes, cold and distant, slid to his. “What you asked.”

“I didn’t ask you to…” This blood was on his hands - the blood of his child.

The word that had haunted him for more than a year - the word that had nearly led to the death of every person he ever loved - echoed in his mind.

Kinslayer.

Killer of his nephew. His uncle. His child.

Aemond looked back into the corridor, hoping to see the young midwife again. Had he not looked closely enough? Had she been carrying the body of his child within those bloody linens?

“I only wanted you to save my wife and son.” His words were a justification, a plea. It fell on the deaf ears of the gods and the dead child’s mother.

“And you thought there would be no cost?” Alys laughed, cruel and cackling. “No god in the world is so generous as to save a life and ask for nothing in exchange, boy.”

“I didn’t think – ”

“You never do.”

Grief morphed into anger. Reckless, aimless, dangerous rage. “You should have told me!”

“What would you have done?” She faced him fully now, her hand falling to her side. There was no trace of the woman who had once comforted and reassured him - who had kept him sane amidst the insanity of war. There was only annoyance and derision. It reminded Aemond of his dead half-sister and her bastard sons. “If I had told you?”

“I –”

“Would you have left your wife to die? Let her son die?” Alys’ lip curled in a hateful sneer. “You could not choose between wife and son, yet you believe you could have chosen between two sons?”

The world stopped. Only Alys’ flickering fire and burning eyes remained.

“I… it was a boy?” Aemond leaned against the wall, sliding down to his knees, savoring the scrape of the rough stone against his back. He deserved every bit of pain. More.

Alys let a single hint of sorrow slip through her cold façade. “It was. Three sons within a year. What your father would have given to have had the same.”

The last thing Aemond wanted to do was to think about his father. The king who had nearly destroyed his throne by choosing one child over another.

Gods, was he any better?

Did his ignorance of his son’s sacrifice absolve him of blame? The guilt?

It certainly didn’t feel like it.

Alys sighed. “Better for his death to mean something than for his life to be spent destitute and fatherless.”

“I would not have allowed that to happen,” Aemond said. It was a reflex, a reassurance he’d grown used to giving since he learned he seeded a bastard.

“Wouldn’t you? Perhaps if my visions had not changed. But now…” She shook her head, more exasperated than sorrowful. Did she mourn the child at all? “No. You’d have wanted us as far away as possible and done anything you could to not think of us.”

“I would have ensured your comfort.” The words felt as hollow as his chest.

“Your wife would, yes.” Alys smiled fondly, just as she had when his ābrazȳrītsos sat across from her earlier that very day. She had never smiled that way for Aemond. Never truly cared for him. He should have known. “She is kind-hearted. But not you. Your resentment of me, of us, would have festered until you found some way to be rid of us.”

He wanted to deny it. To say that there was nothing that could drive him to do what she insinuated. Once, it would have been true. But now, with the man he’d become in the war and how close he’d come to losing his heart itself, it would be a lie.

If he had killed Alys along with the rest of her cursed family, would he have become this man? Would he have learned to cherish the metallic tang of blood and its warmth as it coated his hands? Would he have become so proficient a liar that false words rolled off his tongue like a Valyrian lullaby? Would he have grown so accustomed to violence that it now came as naturally to him as loving his wife?

Would he have broken his ābrazȳrītsos’s heart?

He’d trusted her visions. It had been a mistake.

One mistake that led to thousands more, and it was all her fault.

Alys was the one who lied, who deceived him. Who had pulled his strings as if he were no more than a puppet, knowing that he was married and his wife was lonely and infirm.

His failure as a husband. His wife’s pain. The death of his third son.

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

Aemond’s heart slowed, his breathing becoming deep and steady. No longer the heart of a broken boy or a desperate husband. Now, it was the blackened heart that had carried him through countless battles and raging rivers of blood.

“I will be rid of you now,” he hissed as he stood. “And I will be rid of you forever.”

The bitch had enough sense to look scared.

“In memory of the son you killed, I will allow you to live. But no more than that.” She didn’t even deserve that, this woman who did not mourn her own child. Perhaps it was good that the babe was gone, for surely he would have suffered with a witch as his mother.

He approached Alys, sneering down at her and the false bravery on her wicked face. “As Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I banish you from these lands forever. You have ten days to leave Westeros. After that, if you are ever seen here again…” He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, holding just tight enough to steal a bit of her breath - just enough to make her fight for it.

“I will kill you myself,” he promised. “Without hesitation or remorse, I will kill you. Slowly. And I will savor every moment, for it will bring me far greater pleasure than that withered cunt of yours ever did.”

She fell to her knees when he released her, clutching at her throat as she coughed and gulped for air. He didn’t care. He only turned on his heel and left, not sparing a single glance at the woman who had only hours ago been carrying his bastard child.

Only one woman mattered now, had ever truly mattered to him.

His ābrazȳrītsos was still asleep when he returned to their chamber, as were their sons. They had no idea where he had gone - that he had even left at all. No inkling of the fact that a moment ago, he had again become the man who wiped an entire bloodline from the earth, slaughtered tens of thousands, and delighted in the suffering he had wrought.

Now, as he leaned down to gently kiss his sons’ brows and muss their soft hair, he was a mere man of twenty, his heart bursting with love and affection for his family. How could a heart overflow with such love at the same moment it was fracturing with grief and regret?

It was a question far beyond him at that moment. Perhaps forever beyond his reach.

He was so tired. Too tired to consider the heartbreak that would come when he woke in the morning and his wife pulled out of his grasp. He could face that pain when it came. But now, he needed to feel whole, if only for a few hours.

So, Aemond climbed into bed with his wife, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her into his chest. He remained awake only long enough to kiss the top of her head and whisper, “Jāla tetan, ābrazȳrītsos. Īlon lentot selagon kosti.” It is over, ābrazȳrītsos. We can go home.

She woke to the sound of Daeron fussing. Strange how quickly she was able to tell them apart, even just by their little noises of discontentment. Although, considering she had been with them every moment of the last seven - near eight - months, it may not be strange at all. Perhaps that was why she felt so sure that it had been Daeron who occupied the top of her belly, constantly pestering her with his tiny fists pounding against her at the most inopportune times.

“Hush, little prince,” a soft voice said. “You’ll wake up your mother, and after what you and your brother put her through, I dare say she needs her rest.” A maid was speaking to him, a slight, old woman leaning over his crib. She had not seen the maid before, and somehow, it comforted her.

Daeron continued to grumble. She moved to stand but found Aemond’s arms wrapped around her waist. Thankfully, he was still asleep. Quite deeply asleep, apparently, for when she untangled herself from him, he did not wake.

The maid curtsied when she saw the princess approaching and stepped away from Daeron’s cradle. His fussing had now roused Aenar, but the younger prince made no sound, only glaring at his brother in what seemed to be intense displeasure at his sleep being interrupted.

“Is something wrong with him?” she asked the old maid. Daeron quieted slightly upon seeing his mother but still fussed.

“Nothing to concern yourself with, princess.” The old maid had a kind, soothing voice - that of a wise grandmother. She looked at the babes with fondness and a hint of apology. “They are simply hungry.”

“Where is the wetnurse?” She immediately regretted asking. In her sleepy haze, she had forgotten that Alys was the wetnurse at Harrenhal. Why wasn’t she here? Did she even want Alys here? No, of course she didn’t. Had Aemond requested another be found so she would not have to see Alys again?

The old maid looked away, sighing. “I’m afraid she’s left us. No wonder why, poor thing lost her babe again. Such a shame. We all thought she’d had a miracle with this one. But not to worry, Maester Artos sent some men to find another girl from the closest village.” She shook her head and again leaned over Daeron’s crib. “You’ll be fed soon, darling prince, don’t you worry.”

Alys’ child - Aemond’s child - was dead?

It was a good thing, wasn’t it? There would be no bastard son of the new king, no living reminder of what he’d done. This was good news. She should be happy, shouldn’t she?

But she wanted to cry.

“Mother, forgive me,” the old maid looked horrified as she clutched her pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star. “I should not have said that, princess. Not when you’ve only just finished your own labors. Please, forgive me.”

She glanced at Aenar, now peacefully asleep once more. How close she had come to losing him. It had devastated her. Made her willing to forfeit her own life if only he could live. If she had lost him and had to live with that loss… it would have driven her mad.

“How…” she licked her lips. “How many children has she lost?”

The old maid dropped her pendant. “I do not know, exactly. Enough that we all stopped counting.”

Oh gods. She blinked to clear her eyes, wiping away an errant tear with her thumb. “You said she’s gone?”

“Yes, princess. She left in the night. Didn’t say where she was going, to my knowledge.”

It made no sense. If Aemond had struck a bargain with Alys to save her and Aenar’s lives, why would she leave? Had whatever he offered her not been enough to keep her in the place where she’d lost so many children?

Daeron cried again, his face reddened and wrinkled. He was so hungry, she could nearly feel it herself. She… she could feel it. When she looked down at herself, she saw two dark stains on her chemise right above her breasts. Her milk had finally come in, which meant -

“I can feed them.”

The old maid looked aghast. “Princess, there is no need - ”

“I want to do it.” She was their mother, why shouldn’t she be the one to feed them? It was her body that made them, that brought them into the world. It made sense that it would continue to care for them even now. “Can you show me how?”

It took a moment for the maid to close her mouth before she smiled gently. “I’ve raised nine children myself, princess. I think I know a few tricks.”

The maid had gone by the time Aemond woke.

Daeron was still suckling at her left breast while Aenar had fallen asleep using the right as his pillow. She had not realized how heavy and uncomfortable they had felt until the boys had drunk from her, easing the pressure that she’d become accustomed to.

“You should not be doing that yourself,” Aemond muttered as he raised himself on an elbow. His eye darted from son to son, only ever glancing over her exposed breasts. Once, he loved to worship them, quite similarly to how his sons fed from her now. “Where is the wetnurse?”

Did he not know that Alys had left? Had no one told him of the death of his child?

No. Those were the faint remnants of tear tracks lining his cheeks, and there was a deep sadness in his eye that was not there when he held his sons for the first time. He knew. He knew, and he was grieving, though he was fighting to hide it. She still saw it.

Perhaps that was the real reason he never returned to King’s Landing during the war - he knew she would be able to see the guilt on his face.

“There is no other wetnurse,” she explained gently. “Alys left. They’re looking for another woman now.”

Aemond froze, his gaze growing distant. She could not decipher his expression. Rage? Guilt? Sorrow? Grief?

“I’m sorry, Aemond.” He frowned and shook his head, but she continued. “Truly, I am.”

“It’s better this way,” he whispered. He didn’t believe it. Neither did she.

He reached out to her. No, not to her, but to Aenar, gently stroking his hair. She allowed him to take the babe and hold him against his own chest.

Aenar opened his eyes and looked up at his father. Then, he smiled.

Aemond took in a deep breath. “That boy should never have existed,” he said, letting Aenar take hold of his thumb and mouth at it. “I already had what I needed. And wanted.”

So it was a boy. Another son. A brother for her own. Would he have had his father’s nose, as Daeron did? Or his stern brow, like Aenar? Gods, why did she care?

“You are allowed to mourn him. He was innocent. I bear him no ill will.” Bastard or no, a babe was a babe, blameless of his parents’ sins. Deep in her heart, she mourned him, as well.

Again, Aemond shook his head. “I cannot mourn what never should have been.” He turned his head to face her, face open and pleading. “And I am mourning too much already.”

“I am alive. Aenar is alive. There is nothing to mourn.”

“You know that is not what I mean, ābrazȳrītsos.”

She did. He mourned not for the loss of a life, but for the loss of their life. The life they should have shared, and would have, had Aemond not strayed. In truth, she mourned for it, too.

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Daeron finally finished feeding, stretching his little arms to push her breast away. She pulled her robe closed again to combat the chill.

Aemond raised a hand to help her. She flinched away. He winced in response.

“Ābrazȳrītsos, please.” His voice was already breaking, his eye watering. The sight should have tugged at her heart. His begging should have fanned the flames of her anger. But looking at him, she felt very little of anything, save a small seed of pity. “Alys is gone. My… the bastard is gone. Can we not return to the way we were? Pretend none of this ever happened? Can’t you forgive me at last?”

The answer came without hesitation.

“No, Aemond.”

Within her, there was no longer a grassland, barren with loneliness and despair. The never-ending field of raging fire had also vanished. In its place was a small, lush garden, safely contained within tall stone walls draped with flowers and a polished iron gate – locked firmly, but perhaps not sealed forever.

“I shall always be your sister, your blood, and the mother of your children.” Daeron cooed, as if he knew she was talking about him, and she could not help but smile down at him. “I will remain your wife in the eyes of gods and men. And when Aegon dies, I will be your faithful queen.”

Aemond shook as his breath quickened, failing to keep the heartbreak. “You will be a wonderful queen, ābrazȳrītsos. I know it.”

She pulled away, taking Aenar from him and into her empty arm. “But I will never again be your ābrazȳrītsos.” She forced herself to ignore the whimpering, broken cry that escaped him, the breath that carried it echoing like a death rattle. “I will not share your bed. And I will no longer allow you to hold my heart.”

Between desperate sobs, Aemond raised his head to face her. Utter devastation lay in his eye, but so too did acceptance. Anguished surrender. “My heart is and always shall be yours.”

I don’t want it, her mind told her, even as her heart cried, I will cherish it forever.

But her decision was made. In all but name, their marriage – their once legendary romance – was finished. A few fragments of love remained but would never be repaired. Could never be.

Slowly, she rose from the bed, her sons still in her arms. Aemond began to reach for her, but when she did not even acknowledge him, he covered his face with his hands and wept. Though it tugged at her heart, it was the same she would feel for any man weeping so, no longer the instinctive pull of a wife. She did not comfort him.

The soft, pitiful sounds of Aemond’s grief faded as she walked toward the eastern window, settling herself in the cushioned seat just beneath it.

Daeron smiled, watching the trembling branches of an oak tree dotted with the first tight green buds of the season. Aenar angled his head just so, until the sun warmed every bit of his fat, pink face, then promptly fell asleep. She sighed, taking in the sweet scent of spring on the wind, and realized she had not breathed so easily in months.

It was a lovely morning in Harrenhal.

[weird-is-life]

hey lovie! what about a remus x reader where he sees her asleep in the back of the library one evening on his prefect rounds and he wakes her up. he is more concerned on how long she’s been studying/asleep since it’s so late…on their walk she just walks with him during his rounds because they are just chatty

they both fancy each other but neither of them think the other thinks the same. he walks her back to gryf tower snd he finally says what he’s wanted to say for years

(i hope that makes sense and if ya hate the idea, no problemo lol)

xoxo

Hii lovely🥰 ty for the request. I tried my best, hope this is okay. Warnings: fluff, use of y/n, like one swear word, (0.9k)

Remus has seen you many times before. Either in the common room, halls, dining room, and the most in the library.

Remus always sees you in the library. Sitting quietly more at the back of the room. Either reading some book or doing the assignments for the classes.

So it's no surprise to see you here even now. But it definitely catches him off guard seeing you here so so late. Remus was on the last one of his prefect rounds before heading to bed himself, and he wasn't expecting to see you in the library.

Remus, from a shorter distance, notices that you are asleep. Softly exhaling one breath after another. Something stirs in Remus's heart at the sight of you, but he ignores it.

Remus approaches you, and tries to wake you up as nicely as he can. He doesn't want to scare you. He gently shakes you by your shoulder, and whispers your name a few times.

You rouse from sleep, blinking,  completely baffled by Remus's handsome face.

Remus thinks you are even more cute when you are half asleep. It's not doing any favors to his feelings for you. But he wills those thoughts away, and says, "sorry, y/n. You fell asleep in the library, and it's getting pretty late."

The sleep haze quickly dissappears when you realise where you are. You are up on your feet in a matter of seconds, packing your things away.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I was reading, and-and I must have fallen asleep," you explain in a mild panic. You would be in a lot of trouble if it was anybody else other than Remus that had found you here. Students aren't allowed out of their dorms this late at night.

"It's alright," Remus reassures you with a warm smile," I've done that so many times. I can't even count how many times James or Sirius had to walk down here to retrieve me."

"Really?" you giggle quietly, still very much sleepy and a little stressed.

"Yeah, really," Remus chuckles, too. "Now c'mon, let's get you to your dorm. I'll walk you there. Well, that is if you don't mind."

You shake your head. Indicating that you don't mind at all. Your cheeks go pretty pink as Remus and you start to walk towards the dorms.

You've always thought that Remus was so handsome, and so so smart. You'd never done anything about your crush, of course. Too scared to say anything. But that doesn't mean you haven't been admiring him. You have just-........from afar.

"Why were you in the library so late?" Remus asks to fill in the awkward quiet between you. And also he's a bit worried about you staying there until so late.

"Just studying, I couldn't figure out one assignment," you sigh. You still haven't figured it out, even if you stayed in the library for so many hours.

"The one for the potions?"

"Yeah," you admit in defeat," I've read everything I possibly could, but still i didn't find the answer."

Remus gives you a hesitant smile. You two are just a few steps from the dorms. You were walking too long in the awkward silence, and now the flowing conversation is about to end.

"I can give you the answer. I'll give it to you right away if you give me a second to look for it in my room," Remus instantly offers.

He's spent good few hours trying to find the answer too, so he understands how frustrating it can get. So he's very willing to give you the answer just so you don't go to bed with that on your mind. And also because he likes you, like a lot, and he would give you literally anything if you'd asked for it. He's down that bad for you.

"Really? I would really appreciate it, Remus," you say, happy about his help. You can't even think of how you could possibly thank him for it.

"Just give me a second," he turns towards his dorm, but he suddenly freezes halfway to the door.

Remus abruptly gets a better idea or well it depends on how well it goes. He just can't help his feelings for you any longer, and he needs to know what you feel, too. Even if he may get rejected, and end up with a broken heart.

Remus slowly turns around to face you again, a shy smile on his face.

"Or-r," he starts," we could go to Hogsmeade during the weekend, and I could explain it to you there. With something nice to eat and drink." Remus blurts it out in one breath.

Your eyes go very wide. Is Remus Lupin asking you out on a date or are you still very much asleep in the library, dreaming of this moment?

"L-like a date?" you sheepishly ask, blushing, and looking everywhere but him after your question.

"Yes. Exactly like a date." Remus states, looking nervous and hopeful at the same time.

You look up at him with a smile, you can't really believe that this is happening, " I think, I'd love that."

"Really?" Remus questions happily.

"Yes, really," you nod your head, sending a reassuring smile his way.

"Great. I can't wait," he tells you with a visible excitement.

"Me too," you admit bashfully.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow. We can sort out the time then. Goodnight, y/n," Remus says, giving you one more soft smile of his.

"Yes, tomorrow then. Goodnight to you too, Remus," you wave him goodbye, and quickly dissappear into your dorm before you can collapse on the spot from the way your legs have turned to jello.

You think you can hear pretty loud cheers of the Marauders as you head to change into your pyjamas. A shy giggle escapes your mouth when you think about Remus telling his best mates about your date, and them being so happy about it.

[beesspacedotorg]

Honeysuckle, Honey Boy, Honey Sweet

Summary: You take care of your Beta during his rut, and he's sweet as can be.

Warning: OMEGAVERSE !!!1!!1! sex. gender neutral reader. nothing too crazy for this one. hyune is sweet and subby because this is my house I make the rules. you don't have to read Dibs or Third Leg to understand what's going on, but it would make me happy. special thanks to ems for reading this and letting me know if it was bars. and for letting me steal the honey boy nickname

notes: hello adoring public. this is the third part of the dibsverse. this is what happens when you're insane. I had intended to post this in March and then forgot. Oopsie. I hope you enjoy it and have fun reading it the way I had fun imagining Hwang Hyunjin sweaty and naked.

You love your Hyunjin, your honey boy. That’s how you refer to him in your head, as yours. In all reality, you share him with the pack, but he holds a special place in your heart. He found you first, he kissed you first, he was your first in this pack for many things. You two are laying together, curled up on his bed watching some Business Proposal for what feels like the hundredth time.

“He looks a little like Seungmin,” is what you say and he rolls his eyes.

“You say that every time.”

“It’s not my fault. He does. Also, the glasses thing is hot.” Hyunjin huffs at you.

“I wear glasses.” He sounds like he’s pouting. You turn your head to the side and see that he is.

“Are you … Hwang Hyunjin, are you jealous? Of Cha Sunghoon?” You pause the show. Hyunjin presses his palms into his eyes and sighs.

“No. Well. Maybe.” You frown at him, it’s not like him to be jealous. He’s so full of love for everyone and everything, and you know that the pack would bend over backwards to make sure he feels cared for so this has to be something specific.

“Hyunnie. What’s wrong?”

“I think my cycle is going to start soon.” You hum at him.

“What’s it feel like?” Hyunjin is a Beta, so while his cycles may be mild, he’s subjected to either heats or ruts depending on who he’s around. Your pack has a considerable amount of Omegas, and you know that Changbin’s cycle throws him all over the place depending on who he spends more time around during that period, but you aren’t sure how Hyunjin’s works. The two of you have been together for a while, but his cycle is slower than most, so he hasn’t yet had anything.

“A rut, I think.” You hum again.

“Is that why you’re needlessly jealous over me thinking a fictional character is hot?”

“I’m not jealous-”

“You most certainly are.”

“Fine, I’m not jealous of Cha Sunghoon.”

“Better. Who are you jealous of then, baby?” He hides his face in a pillow and says something that you don’t hear.

“What?” You raise your voice a little, poking his side until he answers you.

“I’m jealous of Seungmin.” That makes you still.

“Seungminnie? What- why?” Hyunjin crosses his arms.

“You keep talking about how hot he is!”

“Well, what do you want me to do, be blind?”

“No, I just-” Hyunjin flops himself over in bed so he’s not facing you anymore, and you can tell from the way his sweet honeysuckle turns into rot that he’s not happy. You lay down beside him and wrap your arms around his back.

“Honey boy. What is it you want me to do?”

“Will you spend it with me?”

“Yeah, I will. Don’t worry.” You kiss the back of his neck, his long hair tickling your nose. “Anything for you, baby.”

-

Felix drapes himself along your back while you’re in the kitchen.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Yongbokkie. What’s up?”

“Hyunjinnie smells like he’s close.”

“Does he?” Your tone is tinged with sarcasm. Hyunjin hasn’t let you out of his sight for very long since you agreed, getting more and more possessive as it gets closer to the start of his cycle. You don’t mind, but you’re also more aware than anyone else how close he is, all things considered. Felix bites you in retaliation for your snark.

“Mean.”

“Captain obvious.”

“What are you doing in here? All by your lonesome.” Felix’s hands start wandering and you laugh a little at him.

“I was going to see if we had enough food, but it seems our Luna took care of that already. So, I’m making a snack instead.” Felix starts to slide his hands under your shirt, mouthing at your neck.

“That’s crazy. I could be your snack instead.” You burst into laughter, shaking him off a little.

“That’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, and Changbin took me on a date last week.” You hear a half-hearted yell from the living room that makes you snort.

“So… is that a no?” Felix’s hands are resting on your hips, and you feed him a bit of your snack when he hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“That is a no.” Felix huffs, letting go of you to throw a fake fit behind you.

Felix pretends to throw things around the kitchen, ranting about spoiled Omegas and how they don’t know how to please their Alphas anymore. Something you find extremely ironic, because Felix is an Omega. You’re in the middle of laughing at him when Hyunjin comes in, hair wet from his shower. He gives you a backhug, water droplets falling on you.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi, Hyunnie. How was your shower?”

“Would’ve been better if you were in it.” You hear Felix gag. Hyunjin flips him off.

“That’s what she said.” You can’t help yourself, giggling at your own joke. Hyunjin takes Felix’s place in your neck.

“Lee Felix Yongbok.” You hear Felix snicker.

“Yeah?” He’s wormed his way between you and the counter to stare Hyunjin in the eye. He’s also in the way of your snack.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what? I’m not doing anything.” Felix smiles, sweet and deceiving, before he wraps his arms around your waist and gets nose-to-nose with Hyunjin.

“I’m telling Channie hyung.” Felix shrugs. Hyunjin’s scent changes so something a little tangier and you can picture him squinting his eyes. “I’m telling Minho.” Felix pulls away almost immediately.

“Hyunjinnie, you’re so mean to me.”

“You’re riling me up on purpose!” Lavender hits your nose before Hyunjin is done speaking.

“Speak of the devil,” you mumble. Felix is still in the way of your snack.

“Yongbokkie,” you know that coo. Felix is fucked.

“Hi, hyung.”

“Are you teasing our Hyunjinnie?”

“I would never.”

“Liar,” Felix has finally moved away from your food. You shove some of it in your mouth when you snitch on him.

“Hey!” He says that, but he’s following where Minho is dragging him with little to no resistance.

“Send me pictures, please.”

“Perv.”

“Sky is blue, grass is green.” Hyunjin grumbles some more as the resident cats of the house leave the kitchen. You feed him.

“Do you want to go to my room, dove?” His voice is quiet, sleepy.

“Yeah. Let’s lay down, hmm?”

-

You like Hyunjin’s room. The walls are painted a calming shade of periwinkle and they’re decorated with pictures of the pack and paintings he made. His desk is covered in half finished sketchbooks and paints. If you look at his easel, there’s a half drawn portrait of you with a picture you don’t remember him taking attached to it.

He’s also in there, which is nice.

He’s woken you up from a nap, hips rutting against your ass and sweat dripping onto your skin.

“Hyune?” Your voice is crackly and groggy with sleep, you think you might have sweat through your shirt, and there’s a pillow crease on your cheek.

“Baby,” he lets out a whine and something in you cracks a little.

“Hey, hmm? What’s wrong?” You turn around to cup his cheeks, and he leans his head into them. You know what’s wrong, so the question is a little redundant, but you ask anyway. Not that it matters, because instead of answering he hikes your leg over his hip and grinds against you in a way that’s dirty and draws noises out of you that you know you’re going to get shit for later.

“Hyunjin, sweetheart, let’s get these off, yeah?” You move to pull away and his grip tightens on you in a way that’s almost painful, an arm coming up under your body to wrap around your waist. He lets out a short growl, and then his eyes widen at himself.

“Okay, yeah. That’s fine. We can stay like this.” His hips pick back up, and you know without a doubt that these sleep shorts and underwear are going straight in the trash when you’re done. Well, maybe not straight. Han Jisung and Lee Felix are freaks.

You let him rut against you messily, kissing his face and his mouth when you can. He’s stronger than he looks, and you aren’t doing anything to fight back, so his motions are rocking you up the bed.

He lets out another whine when he comes, face red and sweaty and the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He’s finally still, and you can feel every place where your body fluids are cooling down and it’s largely unpleasant. Hyunjin seems to agree because he starts shoving at the clothes he’s wearing angrily. You grab his hands.

“Hey, hey, Hyunjinnie. Let me help, yeah? Let me help and then you can finally fuck me. Isn’t that what you want?” You get to watch his pupils dilate in real time, plush lips falling open as his jaw drops. He’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You want to eat him alive. You take off his clothes and yours, dropping the soiled clothes somewhere on the floor because Hyunjin doesn’t seem to care what happens to them right now.

You and him have fucked, to be sure. After everything with Minho, there isn’t a moment where you aren’t being propositioned by someone in the pack. You’ve never seen him like this though, flushed and sweaty, out of it with rut. For a second, you’re worried he might have rut fever, but he can still understand you when you talk to him, and he still kisses back when you press your lips to him, so he’s fine.

“Dove,” his voice is scratchy with disuse and something else.

“Hmm?”

“Want in, please, let me. Lemme,” his hands are pawing at your hips desperately. You lace your fingers through his hair and pull his head back, kissing his neck.

“Calm down. I’ve gotta get ready first. You don’t wanna hurt me, do you?” He shakes his head as best he can through the grip you have on his hair. “That’s what I thought. My honey boy doesn’t wanna hurt his precious Omega, right?” You shift so you’re straddling him, seating yourself right above his cock. You know he can feel where you’re leaking and wet for him. You know what you’re doing is mean, but he already came once, you can have some fun.

“Hyunjinnie,” you let go of his hair to rest your hands on his chest, sliding yourself along his cock. “You feel so nice like this, maybe I won’t even let you inside.” He pouts, eyes furrowing in that cute way of his, bottom lip jutting out and you kiss it.

“I’m kidding.”

“Better be.”

You get yourself off like that, sliding along his cock, letting the tip graze your hole for just a second, just to tease. Hyunjin comes too, a second time, adding to the slick mess on his stomach. He’s whining now, hands grabbing everywhere he can reach, your chest, your ass, your neck, but he hasn’t made any move to force you despite his rut. He’s dirty, your boy.

You know that you wouldn’t be getting away with this if it wasn’t Hyunjin. You know that if you were with any of the Alpha’s during their ruts or Changbinnie or the Omega’s you would’ve been pinned to the bed and stuffed full by now. The knowledge gives you a bit of a head rush. That Hyunjinnie wants you to make him beg a little for what he wants, that he trusts you to take care of him when he’s too out of it to take care of himself. You lean forward and kiss him, all tongue and teeth and filthy.

“Dove, please.” He says this against your mouth, one hand coming up to the back of your head, the other gripping your wrist where it still sits on his chest. You can feel how his grip tightens and loosens periodically, and you appreciate the effort he’s making to not hurt you.

You lean back and this time, this time, you let him sink into you, sliding down down down until you’re at the hilt, sitting prettily on his hips. The noise he lets out is music to your ears, but it’s loud. You hum, rocking against him while he squirms under you.

“Hyunjinnie, baby.”

“Mm?” He peeks his eyes open, god, he’s a vision. Pretty brown eyes blown wide, mouth kiss bruised and open just enough that his pretty tongue is peeking out just a little. His hair is sweat slick just like the rest of him and it’s plastered to his face in some areas.

“Open your mouth for me, honey.” He does, a little confused, but sweet like always. You shove two of your fingers in his mouth and watch as his eyes roll back in his head and his hips buck up into you.

He’s groaning as he sucks on your fingers, treating them the way he would a cock, and you throb at the visual. He’s wrapped his own long fingers around your wrist, moving your hand in and out of his mouth himself. You use a little force to make him gag on them, just because, and the moan he grants you with has you feeling dizzy.

“Honey boy,” You keep your fingers in his mouth as you return your focus to riding him. “Such a pretty boy. Pretty cock too, yeah?” You hook your fingers behind his teeth and yank his jaw open. He has such a pretty mouth. Maybe after his ruts over you’ll play with it. Run the pads of your fingers over his teeth and along his tongue. Push your fingers back until he gags on them, hold them there for good measure. Watch as his drool runs down his face and off your wrist before teasing him for making such a mess.

“Should I get one of the Alpha’s in here? Hmm? Let you choke on their cocks while I ride you silly? Or maybe I should bring in Changbinnie? He stretches your jaw out so nice, doesn’t he?” You feel Hyunjin’s dick kick inside you, but he shakes his head anyway.

“No, you don’t want that?” He grabs your wrist to pull your fingers free and you oblige.

“No, want,” he sucks in a shaky breath when you wipe his spit on his cheek, “just want you.”

If he wasn’t high off brain chemicals, you’d accuse him of flirting with you. You know that he’s not running game, just being honest and sweet, but something in your chest flutters and seizes, causing you to stop your movements.

“Hyunjin,” you didn’t think you’d cry this time. Absolutely certain that you could avoid it if you were taking the lead. He lets out a whine like he’s been hurt and reaches up to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“Dove?” He sounds panicked, and you kiss him to shut him up. You know he’s been thrown for a loop by your tears, worried he’s hurt you or underperforming in some way, not with it enough to know that you’re crying because you’re in love with him.

“You’re a charmer, aren’t you, Jinnie?” You sniff slightly and pat his shoulder. “I’m getting tired, why don’t you finish the job, hmm?” He goes to turn you over and you pinch his arm. “Like this. I like the way you look under me.” You smile salaciously at him and he ducks his head a little, suddenly shy. You stay where you are, nose-to-nose with him so you can kiss him when you please and lift your knees a little so he has room to play, and he takes it.

He’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but that doesn’t stop him from shifting around until he’s found an angle that has you moaning almost as loud as he is. It makes him smirk, all self satisfied and cocky, before you yank his hair a little and he loses it.

“‘S good.” He’s cute like this, moaning and whining about how hot and wet you are around him.

“Yeah? Just a little more and you’ll make me come too.” He groans. “You want that? Want me to come on your cock?” He nods fervently and his thrusts get faster. You lean down so your lips are pressed against his ear and you can feel his sweat slicked chest gliding against yours.

“Or, maybe you want me to come on your knot. C’mon, honey boy. Let me have it. Your Omega wants it so bad.”

He growls this time, yanking you down by the hips while he fucks up into you, forcing his knot inside your heat. He’s a Beta, so admittedly his knot isn’t as big as an Alpha’s is, but you moan and come on it just like you said you would.

“More.” He reaches his hand between the two of you and places it where you’re sensitive and swollen.

“Hyunnie, what?”

“One more. One more, c’mon.” His spare hand comes up to rest inbetween to shoulder blades, forcing your chest down against him. Between that and his knot you’re stuck

“You motherfucker-”

“Please,” his voice is deep and low and right in your ear. He lets out a groan when the way he’s touching you has him clenching on his knot.

“Hwang Hyunjin-” Your threat is too breathy to have any bite.

“You said you’d do it, you have to.” It doesn’t seem to dawn on him that you came when he did, or if it did he doesn’t care because he keeps up the stimulation until you fall apart on top of him again, walls fluttering along his cock, teeth biting just shy of his scent gland.

When you come back to yourself, he’s pressing kisses on your shoulder.

“You’re a shithead.” You tell him this softly, while running your fingers along the side of his face. He grumbles in response.

“You bit me.”

“Deserved.”

You stop scolding him to kiss him again. It’s not your fault his mouth is so kissable.

“You feel better, honey boy?”

“I feel tired.”

“Good.” He rolls the two of you over until you’re on your side, eyes closing. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Open your mouth.” He squints at you.

“Why?”

“I wanna see it.”

“You’re a freak.” He drops his jaw anyway.

-

(Halfway through your in depth exploration of his molars your phone buzzes. It’s Minho, with pictures of Felix fucked out and crying.

“Who?” Your fingers are still in Hyunjin’s mouth so it comes out muffled. You show him your phone as you take them out.

“Lixie got his just desserts.”

“You can be my dessert.”

“Corny.” You let him roll you onto your back anyway.)

[samsm2mstories]

German bodies

What a lot of people don't realise that on this planet, there's a hybrid version of humans amongst the population. I'm one of the lucky ones who has a normal human life with extended life. Unfortunately, my current body is coming to the end of its life. I needed to transfer myself into a new body and quickly!

The sad news is that I won't be able to get back to America and find a jock body, but instead, I'm having to decide on a German guy instead. This will be a different experience. I was looking through the social media pages on local gym guys and I came across this young guy called 'Thomas' he was something else for me as he had everything in the pipeline, looks, body style, clothes taste.

I left my body and only had 30 mins to survive in my secret form, I managed to cling onto Thomas car and got inside his gym bag and assimilated into his to understand more about him. I knew in a few minutes he was about to check his phone. As he grabbed me (his phone), I shot straight into his body. Thomas fought well as we were fighting for his brain. Luckily enough, I focused on his weaknesses and took over.

I couldn't help but check myself out. It felt incredibly great being young and sexy once again. Thomas felt perfect in every way, but I got to get used to my new deep German accent plus the new bulge below. It's been so many years since having such a young horny body. I had to do some poses and facial expressions to assimilate into my new life. It didn't take long as I absorbed my new personality, and it made me complete.

Two years later.

Just look at my incredible abs now! My experience has paid off massively as Thomas and I am everything I live for. I am an incredibly strong German stud now, reckonised by the local community, sponsorships, and a successful social media influencer.

The sex is unreal, I can't believe how much I can pump out, and guys just want me daily. I feel like Germans guys are the way forward now, so much easier to assimilate as they have strong desires to become gods. A few of my mates got taken over also as we now own and run the gym. We all love it when a fresh guy turns up, not knowing he will be taken over by our community.