spacelatinoluvr

[spacelatinoluvr]

Forever is the Sweetest Con

‘You were raw. And real. Something Joel hadn’t known for such a long time.’

Chapter 3

Summary: Finding meaning in a world full of disappointment was something you've always thought was pointless. And even now, after seemingly starting over, you're struggling to find purpose in the quaint town of Jackson. But that was all until saw yourself so clearly in the brother of your best friend, causing you to rethink your life.

Word Count: 8.6k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Tags: Soft Joel, Grumpy Joel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Reader is friends with Tommy, Reader was a Firefly, Joel’s kind of an asshole, Leg Injury, Post-outbreak Jackson, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Yearning Joel, Joel Falls First, Canon-Typical Violence

Warnings: Implication of self-harm and depression, implication of pregnancy loss, pregnancy issues, self-inflicted injury

“Flex your leg for me.” You straightened your leg, wincing slightly. You tried to hide the face you made, but you knew Henrietta could see it. Henrietta touched the spot where you were bruised, gliding her fingers over the purple skin. You jerked away, sharply huffing through your nose.

“How long was the walk, again?” 

“Eight miles,” Henrietta gave you a pointed look. “Joel made me ride Buttercup on the way back.”

“Oh, did he? That’s a first.” Henrietta gave you a sly smirk, removing her hands from your leg. You pulled your pant leg down, sitting up straight. You were sitting in Henrietta’s home, on top of her kitchen counter, almost like a child at the doctors office. 

It had been two weeks since the last time you’d seen Joel. Sure you’d physically seen him; passed each other without a word. But you hadn’t spoken to him. Not that you wanted to anyway.

“And you’re going again tomorrow?” You nodded. 

“Okay well like I’ve told you before: no walking unless you have to, definitely try not to run and if it starts to hurt sit down.”

“But-“

“Do you want to walk normally again?” You sighed.

“Yes.”

“A hot bath every night, massage it and stretch it out. That could help ease the pain. And no walking long distances. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“If it gets worse, I'll have to give you the brace again.”

“Yes ma'am." Henrietta tilted her head, giving you a stern look. 

“I’m serious,” Henrietta crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you imagine if you fell? If you walked more than you did?” 

“I know.” But really you didn't know. Really all you wanted was to be able to walk normally again and not feel like you caused problems. Not feel like you couldn’t be yourself again. 

“Okay, I'm gonna say something but just listen, alright?” You nodded and Henrietta helped you hop off of the counter. “I know you don't get along with him. But, Seth, he-”

“Seth?” Your eyes widened, a huff that sounded like a laugh escaping from your mouth. You and Seth actually used to get along but now it was like a death trap every time you spoke to him. 

“Yes. Seth. I'm all out of mint salve, but he can make you some. You just have to trade.”

“I don't have anything to trade with him.”

“Listen, I don't trade with Seth anymore. But, if you want to help your leg. Ask him for the salve. It'll help ease the pain.” Henrietta walked towards a cabinet above her stove, pulling a jar of honey- or maybe it was syrup. Some form of sticky substance that looked like it had crusted over. 

“Y’know he bakes? Or used to anyway. Sugar’s hard to find so sometimes he’d use my tree sap and make syrup.”

Seth baking was something that really really surprised you. 

“So… I give him this,” you pointed at the jar “and he’ll give me salve?”

And that’s how you ended up inside The Tipsy Bison, watching Seth as he cleaned glasses. It was daytime, and the patrons were sparse. He hadn't noticed you yet, as you hid near the door. The sap was sitting in your hand, warming slightly by the heat. 

You hovered near the door, swallowing thickly. Seth was still distracted wiping down the counter now. You approached the bar slowly, letting your feet not make any noise. He looked up as you sat down, setting the jar in front of him. 

“This for me?” He picked it up twirling it in his hand before setting it down again, with a forceful thud. “I don’t do trades with Henrietta anymore-“

“It’s from me.” Seth hummed, glancing down at the sap again. 

“And you wanted to what? Trade with me?” 

“Yes,” Seth picked it up again. “I need salve. For my leg, Henrietta said-”

“I don't make it no more.” He set the jar down, harder this time. 

“You don't?"

“No, no I don't make it but I know someone that does. I can trade with them.” You nodded, unresponsive. Seth then looked around, clearing his throat. 

“Im…sorry about what I said. Sometimes it's hard to…”

“To not be an asshole?”

“Yeah, well I'm different than I used to be but that doesn't make it okay.”

You nodded your head to keep from saying anything you'd regret. Though you wished you cussed him out the first time he made sexist remarks towards you, Tommy had calmed you down enough to not start a quarrel. 

It was nighttime and the snow had just started to melt even though it was still freezing. The wind bit at your face, and you tucked your head even lower into your jacket. It was Maria’s birthday, and Tommy had decided to throw her a surprise birthday party. 

You entered the town hall, pausing to look around. You spotted Henrietta drinking a beer towards the back talking to a man you didn’t know. Most people you didn’t know. Most people you didn’t care to get to know.

Henrietta saw you, waving her hand to usher you towards her. Reluctantly you began to walk towards her, tucking your hands into your coat pockets. 

“Hey, Eugene was wonderin’ when you’d finally show up.”

“Where’s he at?”

“The bar with Jenna.” Jenna was one of Maria’s friends. She was older, maybe in her later sixties but you never really talked to her. 

Henrietta took a sip from her beer and nodded toward the far side of the room. “They’re waiting for the cue. Tommy’s supposed to bring her in through the back in about ten minutes.”

You gave a stiff nod, glancing around again. The decorations were modest- streamers in bright greens and pink, a sagging painted banner that read Happy Birthday, and a table weighed down with side dishes, desserts, and one lopsided cake. 

There was a large group of people, mostly adults and no children around. Maria was someone the town loved, and the amount of people there didn’t surprise you.

You approached Eugene, watching as he stopped mid sentence to turn towards you, a bright smile on his face. 

“Well, I’ll be damned- you actually came!” He patted you on the shoulder, pulling you into a side hug. 

“Eugene.” You groaned into his shoulder.

“Jenna here was just telling me you’re gonna help her round up some horses.”

That was right. You remembered her briefly now. Maria had told you that they’d lost a few horses on a bad patrol, hoping you’d help round some wild ones. Jenna was one of the coordinators for patrol, she also happened to be on the council. Just like every friend of Tommy and Maria.

“Oh, right. Yeah. I said that, didn't I?” Jenna shot you a smirk, a small laugh escaping from her. She took a sip from her wine, watching you from over the rim. 

When Tommy and Maria finally arrived, after a loud surprise, you let out a sigh. You were done socializing, and you made your way over to Tommy a beer in your hand. 

You nudged him with your hip as you stood next to him, handing him the beer. 

“Where’s Maria gone now?”

“No idea. Thought she was with Jenna- oh there she is!” Maria had stumbled on top of the stage near the corner, a microphone in her hand. 

“What the hell-“ you muttered before turning to Tommy, your eyebrows furrowed. “I thought the speakers didn’t work?” Tommy hid a smile beneath his beer. 

“Got one of the mechanics to fix one of ‘em. Not too loud, but just loud enough.” Tommy took a swig of his beer. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“That’ll be fun.” The sarcastic comment slipped out before you could stop it, and Tommy let out a quiet hum. 

“Why don’t you go sing somethin’?” He nudged his head towards Maria who was trying to get the microphone to work: and failing. You shook your head, almost choking on your spit.

“I do not sing anymore. You know this, Tommy.” 

“It’d be nice to hear it. I miss your singin’.“

“Tommy.” You said lowly, your eyes warning him.

“Okay, okay.” Tommy let out a laugh at the face you were making, setting his beer down on the bar. Hastily, you turned to grab a drink from the bartender before muttering a thanks. 

“Maybe you should go sing.” You bumped your hip with his again, this time eliciting a crisp laugh from him. 

“Nah, that's your thing. Besides, I sound like nails on a chalkboard.” You stood there for a moment, watching as Maria butchered a song you could barely hear from where you both stood. Tommy was right of course; the speaker was shit. You couldn't even tell what song she was singing, or trying to sing. 

And then you saw Henrietta in the corner, her hand waving towards you. She was by herself, nibbling on a slice of vanilla cake. 

“I'm needed.” You winked at Tommy, glass of red wine in your hand, as you walked away towards Henrietta. Before you reached her, your body collided heavily with a much larger one, your drink spilling all over the figure. The glass fell to the ground, smashing into pieces.

It was Seth. 

“Shit-“

“Goddamn fuckin’ bitch,” He muttered quietly, trying to wipe the new stain forming on his white shirt. And to think you were about to apologize.

“What did you call me?” Seth looked up, eyebrows scrunched together, his hands falling at his side. You swayed a little, the alcohol you had consumed that night getting to your head.

“You heard me.”

“No, I don't think I did.”

“I called you a fucking bitch-“

You didn’t think twice before your fist met his face, blood splattering across the floor. Tommy was pulling you away from him within seconds, but you wished he could get a punch in. 

Maybe he’d feel better about himself.

Seth set down a glass of bourbon in front of you, the clattering of it making you jump from your thoughts. You picked it up from where it sat, taking a large gulp, feeling as the warmth of the whiskey sank down your throat and into your stomach. 

“I’m not sorry for punching you by the way. You’re still a piece of shit,” You muttered through another sip of bourbon. Seth paused his movements, turning to wipe down more glasses. “And I bet you another glass that Maria told you to apologize to me a long time ago.” 

Seth was quiet for a moment, before he set down another glass in front of you silently. 

Figures. 

You knew he’d never apologize on his own. Or go out of his way to see you. 

The door creaked open, and you turned your head to find Joel. You sighed, gulping down the rest of your bourbon, before moving on to the next glass. 

Joel hadn’t noticed you yet as he walked past you over to Seth. You watched them talk, unable to hear their conversation from across the bar. And then you heard it.

“-need it by tomorrow.” Your head turned, finding a bag of what looked like legos on the bar in front of him. They said a few more words, and then Joel stood, leaving the bar. 

You took a long sip from your drink, standing to walk over in front of Seth. You set the empty glass down in front of him, wordlessly leaving the bar as your eyes trailed over the bag of legos. 

+

“You and Joel seem to be fitting in just nicely.” You muttered, taking Shimmer from her enclosure. 

You had seen the way Joel moved so methodically: like he belonged. It was different from how he was a month ago. And you were the first to notice it seemed like.

“I like it here but…” Ellie trailed off, feeding a carrot to Shimmer absentmindedly. “Everything feels so slow, y'know?" Ellie turned to you, petting Shimmer. 

“I know what you mean,” you put your hand on Shimmer’s mane. ”It took me a year to finally feel somewhat normal here. And I’m still struggling.” 

And Joel seemed to be doing just fine. 

“Maria put me on kitchen duty last week and I have to do it again.” Ellie groaned. 

“It’s not so bad. If you’d like, I can do it with you.”

“It’s tomorrow. If you’re back in time.” 

“I have kitchen duty on Monday but I’m sure Henrietta won’t mind having me to help.” Ellie nodded thoughtfully.

“Is she the pretty lady?” 

“Yes, she’s the pretty lady.” You laughed. “Alright hop on, cowgirl. Remember what I taught you last week?” 

“I know how to get on a horse I’m not five,” Ellie paused before she turned to you, eyes screwed in confusion. “Outside foot in the…” 

“Stirrup. And then?”

“Swing my leg over and pray I don’t eat shit.” You rolled your eyes. Ellie got her foot into the stirrup and, with a grunt, hoisted herself up onto Shimmer’s back. She wobbled for a second before steadying herself with a look of mild triumph, hands gripping Shimmer.

“I’m like a real fucking cowboy!” 

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, John Wayne.”

“Who?” You ignored her, a light airy laugh coming from your lips. 

“And no one ever taught you how to properly ride a horse?” Ellie got quiet, unresponsive to your question.

“It’s not like we have horses in the QZ’s… I learned how just not with your fancy shmancy terms.” You laughed again, patting Shimmer. 

“Okay, so you do know how to ride a horse?”

“Everyone knows how to ride a horse.”

“My mom used to be a professional so I kinda just grew up with horses my whole life.”

“A professional horse rider? That was a thing?!” Ellie’s eyes widened, a smile stretching on her face.

“Anything and everything was professional.”

“Everything?” Ellie titled her head.

“Everything.” You removed Shimmer from the barn, turning to walk outside. Ellie perked up once you were both outside, watching as the sun set. 

“Was swimming professional?”

“Oh, yeah. It was a sport. Never watched it though. I grew up in a baseball family.”

“I mean I can’t swim. I just jump and hope for the best. And people did it professionally-“ 

“Ellie!” You slapped her on the arm.

“What?” She rubbed jokingly at the spot where you’d hit her.

“So now I have to teach you to swim too?”

“Joel promised he’d teach me, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

+

Joel was quiet. 

Deathly quiet. Not quiet in a way that seemed like he meant to be. Not in a way that he wanted to be. But in a soft, peaceful way. 

You rode Buttercup in complete silence. Not uttering a single word. You liked it that way. It was calming. Your leg didn’t throb as much, and your mind was at ease. 

And Joel seemed different. 

You’d noticed it when he’d come to pick you up. He was just so quiet: keeping to himself. No scoffs, no words under his breath, no angry looks, no impatience, just quiet responses or the nod of his head. 

Maybe it was the town that was softening him. Maybe it was being with Tommy. Maybe it was that sense of belonging; one that you never felt. Maybe it was Ellie. Or just maybe it was a combination of everything.

You had both arrived at the shooting range quickly, and Joel had seemed almost rushed like he was wishing to leave as fast as possible. You watched as he reloaded the gun, aiming then firing. It was constant after that. And then he handed you the gun without so much of a word.

“I saw you at the bar,” You muttered. “Yesterday.”

Joel didn’t respond, looking up at you from where he sat on the log. He was breathing heavily, almost like he was holding his breath. You aimed the gun about to shoot when he spoke.

“Needed a cake.”

“Cake? For what?” You let the gun fall, turning to face him. 

“Ellie’s birthday.” What was he doing here with you then? 

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m sure Tommy would’ve-“ 

“I told her I’d be back before sundown. She’s gotta do kitchen duty anyway. Some stupid shit Maria’s got her doin’.” You nodded, aiming the gun, then firing. You turned back towards Joel. 

“I told her I’d help her. I can make sure she gets done early.” All he did was bob his head, almost like a silent thanks. You aimed the gun again, shooting for another target. 

“You said you learned how to shoot from your brother?” You were surprised he remembered that.

“I grew up in an army family. My dad was a sergeant up until I was born. He taught my older brother how to shoot but always said he could never touch a gun again. Like it was poison or somethin’.” You let your fingers gently touch the base of the gun, like you were soothing it to sleep.

“Can I ask you something?” You said, peering up at him. Joel didn’t say anything, he just stared at you, waiting.

“Did you really think I was snooping? I mean I wasn’t tryin’ to snoop. I was just… curious.“ 

“Yeah, curious where you shouldn’t be.”

“Joel.” Joel sighed, standing from where he was sitting.

“Can we just get this shit over with?”

“See? Everytime I try to talk to you it’s like you hate me.” You scoffed, turning towards the targets again.

“I don’t hate you.” But he did. He hated you. And you could see it. So clearly. You turned back towards him.

“Look, can we just start over?” your hand rose to rub your face. “Tommy wants me to be more… social. Whatever the fuck that means.” Joel shifted on his feet, quiet for a few seconds letting you both breathe. 

He sighed, looking at the ground before speaking. “Fine. If it makes you feel better.” You ignored his harsh tone.

“Hopefully we only have a few more of these to do and then you’ll be on your way on patrol with Tommy after the baby is born,” you picked the gun up, aiming at the targets. “I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. So it’s best to just… get along.” Joel was quiet, almost like he was silently agreeing with you. 

And then you shot, the bullet landing far to the center of the target.

“Shit…” you muttered, eyes squinting to look at your missed shot. You turned towards him again, setting the gun against the tree before sitting on the log across from Joel with a sigh. 

“So,” you reached for your bag, grabbing the canister of water. “What were you makin’?” you opened the canister, taking a large gulp. A satisfied hum escaped from you as you wiped the water that had trickled down your chin. 

And then Joel stiffened, that hard look returning. It was like he put a guard up instantly. 

“None of your damn business." 

“Well if we’re gonna be friends I’ll tell you something about myself,” you passed him the canister, and it hung in the air for a moment before he reluctantly took it from your hands. “And then you tell me something about you. One thing every time we’re up here. It’ll make it easier. Deal?” 

“We’re not friends.”

“Okay,” you thought for a moment, tapping jokingly at your chin and humming. “What about shooting partners?” Joel swallowed down his sip of water.

“Definitely not partners.” He passed the canister back to you.

“Come on. For Tommy.” Joel was quiet.

“I was making a picture frame.”

“What for?”

“You said one thing.” You let out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. 

“Touché, Texas.” For some reason you let the name slip out, a small smile on your face. And then Joel tensed up again, a look you couldn’t quite place on his face. 

“Tommy tell you everything about us?” Joel’s voice was colder this time, coming out forced. Your head was bent down, staring at the ground.

“Well I know that Tommy was a fuckin’ player,” you snorted, shifting on the log to better let your bad leg rest. “Not shockin’ by the way.”

You looked up at him. “He never told me much about you though. Mentioned a few times. I know about…” you paused, like you were treading on thin ice. “What happened on outbreak day… and that it was your fucking birthday,“ 

Joel remained still, not uttering a word. 

“I know about… Sarah,”

Tommy had told you about his niece; his lovely and beautiful niece Sarah. Even through all the stories Tommy had told you of her, you felt like a piece of you knew her. Like a piece of you understood why Joel was the way he was.

“And I know you're an old asshole.” You tried to lighten the mood, throwing in a small airy laugh. But Joel didn't move. He didn't laugh; throw you a small smile or even try to respond. He just stared almost like he was looking right through you.

But in that silence it was like something had passed between you both- almost like the way the breeze drifted through both of you, making you shiver. It was mutual; something that you both felt, and you turned your head away first to stare at Buttercup. 

You spoke too much, something you thought you'd lost. A flaw you thought you'd gotten rid of through the years. But you had tugged at the rope too hard, and with it came an unspoken feeling. 

“I shouldn't've-"

“No,” Joel stood, his bag following with his movements, his eyes back in that dark stare that they always were. “You shouldn't have. Pokin’ where you shouldn't be.”

“Well, Tommy thought you were dead Joel so yeah he fucking told me his life story.” 

Joel paused, shifting his weight from where he stood above you. 

“We should head back.” He moved towards the rifle, grabbing it from where it sat on the tree. And then you were alone with your thoughts, watching as Joel undid Buttercup’s reins. 

Somehow in that moment, it brought you back. Back to when your mother had first taught you to ride a horse. You were twelve, the age where you’d finally lost all your baby teeth. 

“Now, remember what I taught you?”

You remembered. You always remembered. 

+

Ellie was late. 

Not five minutes late, not even fifteen. But an hour late. A full sixty minutes. For some reason it didn’t surprise you. Not in the slightest. Ellie’s only job was to help with dishes. And they had already stacked up, almost as tall as you. 

“She’ll be here.” You watched as Henrietta spoke to Maria about the girl's whereabouts. Maria was consistently telling Henrietta that Ellie would be here soon. But she still hadn’t turned up.

It was the dinner time rush, and you and the few people on kitchen duty were rushing about trying to get food out as fast as possible. 

“I told you that friend she hangs out with is bad news.” 

“They mean well. She’ll be here. Promise.” And then Maria walked towards the other side of the kitchen, her belly bigger than you last remembered it. 

“That kid…” Henrietta muttered, beginning to knead some dough on the counter. 

“Shes a good kid. Maybe she forgot-“

“She was late last week and skips school every other day.”

“Just give her a minute-“

And then the door to the kitchen burst open, Ellie appearing in the doorway. 

“You’re late, Ellie.” Maria turned to her now, scolding her. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” 

Ellie’s cheeks were flushed, her breath uneven like she’d run the last few minutes to get there. Her eyes darted around the kitchen, pausing on the mountain of dishes, then flitting to Maria’s tired expression, Henrietta’s glare, and finally landing on you.

“I just got caught up-“

Maria’s hand lifted, and Ellie paused. 

“You were supposed to be here at five,” Maria said, her voice low, not angry so much as worn thin. “I’ve been vouching for you. We'll talk about this later tonight with Joel.”

Ellie’s face fell, hardening slightly at the mention of him. Maria patted Ellie on the shoulder, before leaving the kitchen. You turned to Ellie with a smirk on your face and a soapy rag in your hand. 

“Happy birthday,” you put the rag in her hand. “Start washing dishes before Henrietta cuts your head off.” 

It had been about an hour of washing dishes when Ellie had finally caught up. Now it was later in the evening, the people had slowed down coming in in small groups rather than larger ones. 

Now the town hall was sparse, only a few people eating dinner. 

“We stop serving in about twenty minutes, so we like to start prepping for tomorrow. Will you two help with boiling potatoes?” Henrietta had interrupted you both, looking solely at Ellie and you. 

Ellie had no way to tell Henrietta no even if she wanted to, so she wordlessly followed Henrietta near the food prep area. Most of the workers were gone, only you, Henrietta, Ellie and a few others were there.

You followed also, watching as the simmering pits of water became hotter and hotter. 

“You know how to boil water right?” You asked as Henrietta walked away towards the front of the kitchen. Ellie let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. 

“We had stoves in the QZ…” Ellie was staring at the large pot of boiling water.

The door to the kitchen swung open again this time Tommy had entered, seeming to be looking for someone. And then his eyes landed on Ellie, who was still staring at the pot. 

“Almost done, kiddo?” Tommy was standing right beside you now, staring at Ellie. 

“If the boss says I’m almost done then I’m almost done.” Tommy let out a quiet hum, turning to look at Henrietta who was focused on cutting carrots. 

“She good to go?” Tommy gestured with his head towards Ellie. Henrietta looked up with only her eyes, pausing her cutting movements. 

“Yeah, she’s good. Just dump out that pot over there for me, alright?” Ellie nodded and then Henrietta smiled gently at her. “And happy birthday, Ellie.”

Ellie smiled at Henrietta, and you narrowed your eyes at Tommy, your lips lifting into a smile.

“You here to pick her up?”

Tommy had leaned down to speak to you in a whisper. “Yeah, Joel’s grabbing something for Ellie.” you nodded, watching Tommy as he looked behind you.

“Ah, birthday surprise?” Tommy smiled, glancing down at you again.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“How was Joel today?” Tommy leaned his hip against the counter.

“He was… Joel. I did what you told me. I tried to be social with him but he… he didn’t budge.”

“It’ll take a minute but he’ll warm up,” Tommy sighed. “Listen-“

“Ellie!” Henrietta had dropped the knife on the cutting board, rushing over to Ellie. You turned around abruptly finding Ellie, the scorching hot pot on her arm. 

It looked as if she was burning herself, a guilty look on her face. Henrietta had gotten to her before you did, and pulled the pot away from her arm. You rushed forward, eyes wide. 

“Ellie-“

Tommy pushed his way in front of you before you could reach Ellie, pulling her burning arm to his face. 

“Shit! Ellie what the hell-“

“Fuck, I didn’t think it’d hurt this bad-“

“You did this on purpose?”

“I-“

“I gotta take you to the infirmary. Let’s go.” Tommy took a towel from the counter, wrapping Ellie’s arm in it before he began to walk out of the kitchen, Ellie following. You began to follow them, but Tommy had turned around at the doorway blocking your path. 

“I’m just gonna take her alone.” 

Right. 

“Shit, what the fuck?” Henrietta sighed, putting the burning pot in the sink. “It’s my fault-“

“It’s not your fault.” You watched as Tommy and Ellie hurriedly left the kitchen, leaving you and Henrietta behind. 

“I should’ve known better. Stupid fuckin’ kid.” Henrietta muttered, shaking her head tilted towards the ceiling. 

“It was an accident-“

“She did it purposefully. I watched her. Stuck her arm right on that pot. Didn’t even flinch or make a sound.” Henrietta started to drain the rest of the potatoes into the sink. “Her arm though… it…” Henrietta shook her head, resting against the sink. 

“I’ll check on her later,” you sighed, starting to walk towards her. “You’re gonna have to tell Maria about this.” You sat on top of the counter, legs dangling in the air. 

“I mean who does that? Burns their arm.”

You saw the look on Ellie’s face though. It was heavy with guilt. Her eyes almost pleading, scattered with distant tears. But she didn’t utter a sound. Just let it happen. And you wondered why. 

Maybe it was an impulse. Maybe it was actually an accident. Somehow you knew it wasn’t. 

You watched Henrietta as she moved about the kitchen grabbing what looked to be some sort of ointment in a glass jar. 

“Here,” She handed it to you. “I made this a while ago. Had it stored here in case someone got a nasty burn. Take this to Ellie and tell her to apply it twice a day or as much as she pleases.”

The walk to Joel and Ellie’s house was calming; almost like the town of Jackson was still just for a moment. You noticed when you arrived that their home was more decorated since the last time you’d seen it. At least from the outside. There were chairs now on the wraparound porch, some plants and a mat. 

Plants. 

You never thought you’d see Joel Miller with plants. He seemed like someone to instantly kill them, forgetting to water them. But they were bright and green. Perfectly green. 

You hid a small smile as you walked up the stairs to their door, and you noticed something. The walk up those steps was easier. It didn’t hurt like it had weeks ago.

Sure, it still ached. But you did it without having to groan in pain. You did it in complete silence. 

It was later in the evening now, and the sun was beginning to set behind their house. Your hand rose to knock at the door, but you froze. And then you heard it through the open windows. 

The sound of a guitar.

It was low, almost like the person playing was trying to be quiet. But you still heard it. The deliberate yet raw strums. It was a song you didn’t entirely recognize; maybe something you’d heard once or twice on the radio when you were a kid. It wasn’t a song you’d ever heard, but it was familiar. 

You stayed still for a moment, your hand still hovering above the door. You felt like an intruder, like you’d overstayed your welcome yet you hadn’t even entered their home. 

You’d made Joel mad enough.

And then you heard something else you never thought you’d hear. 

The muffled sound of Joel’s voice- Joel singing rang from the windows. You couldn’t recognize the words or even any other sounds but you could tell it was him. And it was something that made you want to hear more of it. 

Then the guitar stopped. Ellie’s laughter rang through the walls and the closed doors. And then muffled voices. And then quiet. A lonesome type of quiet. One that made you feel separated from everyone else in the world; one that made you feel so alone. 

Instead of knocking on the door. Instead of disrupting the peace. Instead of hearing the tune of that guitar. Instead of hearing the sweet melodies. Instead of doing what you wished. Instead of entering the home of Joel fucking Miller. 

You set the ointment softly on the ground, not looking behind you as you left behind the sweet melodies. 

+

The next day you awoke to a banging on your front door. You groaned, head falling back into the pillow as the knocks became more insistent. 

It was Henrietta, and she looked deathly pale, as she frantically knocked at your door. 

“Hey, open up!” 

You opened the door, hair a little wild and out of place, rubbing at your eyes. 

“What the fuck-“ you spat, hip jutted out. Henrietta huffed, her face distant and eyes a little wide.

“It’s Maria. Some- something’s wrong with the baby.”

Your stomach sank and your knees wobbled. You held yourself in the doorframe, keeping your body upright so you wouldn't fall.

“The baby?”

Tommy was pacing; something he did when he was upset. It was just the two of you in the infirmary, sitting outside the room where Maria was. 

“Tommy come sit down, please.” Tommy continued to pace, ignoring you. You let your hands drop, hanging them below your knees. You played with your fingers, picking at the raw skin till it almost bled. 

“I’ll rest when I know Maria’s okay.”

“She’ll be okay-“

“You don’t know that. Don’t tell me something you don’t fuckin’ know.” Tommy had stopped pacing, turning to face you with his finger pointed right in your face. He’d seemed to notice the way he’d spoken, sighing loudly before lowering himself in the seat next to you. The chair creaked as he sat down, a huff escaping from him.

“I’m sorry, I-“ 

“It’ll be okay,” you gave him your best smile, as strained as it was. “Promise.”

“They won’t let me in there. I mean for fucks sake I’m her husband-“

The door to the room opened quietly, Henrietta’s head popping through. Tommy stood quickly, wiping his hands in his pants. 

“Is- is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine. Perfect actually.” Tommy heaved a sigh through his nose. “The baby is healthy. Everything’s okay. We think it could be stress so we’re suggesting that Maria be on bed rest for a while.”

Henrietta had explained on your walk to the infirmary that Maria had suddenly collapsed early that morning, almost seizure-like. Tommy was frantic, immediately running to the infirmary with Maria in his arms.

And then he asked for you. Maybe for support or some form of assistance- but you knew how to calm Tommy down in his darkest days. You wondered why he hadn’t asked for Joel or any of his council buddies. 

“Can I see her?” Tommy asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Henrietta gave a small nod and Tommy didn’t wait. He was through the door before she’d begun to speak. You stood too, but didn’t follow. You stayed behind with Henrietta, watching as the tension in her shoulders finally gave way.

”You can go inside if you'd like-”

“No,” The protest came out harsher than you'd meant. “No, it's fine. I'll give them their privacy.” And then Tommy’s head popped out from the door and he called your name. 

“Maria wants to see ya.”

You stepped into the room slowly, eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the blinds. Maria lay on the narrow bed, a blanket tucked up to her chin, her dark braids splayed across the pillow. Her skin was paler than usual, but her eyes were clear and bright as they met yours.

“Hey, how you feelin’?” You reached the end of the bed, watching as a laugh fell from her lips. 

“Can’t you tell? I'm great.” Maria turned to Tommy. “Can I talk to her alone?” Tommy nodded before leaving a long-lasting kiss on Maria’s temple, his hand rubbing at the smooth skin on her cheek. Tommy gave you a small smile before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. 

“So,” Maria shifted from where she was sitting up in the bed. 

“So,” you repeated back, hands lightly playing with your fingers. 

“Tommy has really been stressed about you and Joel. And when Tommy’s stressed…” Maria looked away, almost waiting for you to finish her sentence. 

“You’re stressed…” you sighed, feeling so stupid. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Maria. I didn’t think-“

“It’s okay. Just-“ she huffed, a tight lipped smile on her face. “Just promise me you’ll try to get along. You guys are two of the most important people in Tommy’s life. All he wants is for you to get along. You don’t have to be friends. Just try.”

“I do, try!” your voice jumped a little, higher than you’d meant it. “Sorry. I will try. I really really fucking try. But he’s so-“

“Let me guess. Cold? Distant? Gruff?”

“Not even just that. It’s like…” you looked out the window, eyes furrowed in thought. “It’s like he’s… scared.” 

The look on Joel’s face every time he even glanced your way was one filled with what seemed to be anger. But you could see beneath it. You could see the way he always distanced himself from you yet seemed to stay close by. As if he was afraid something would happen. 

“Will you at least talk to him?”

“I did,” you looked back towards Maria. “Today, I mean. I tried to get him to open up and talk to me. One on one. But he…”

“It’ll take a minute but-“ you groaned.

“Yeah, I know he’ll warm up, right? Tommy says the same shit.”

“Joel was the same way with me,” Maria sighed. “And… thank you.” Maria smiled, her eyes glazed over. 

“What for?”

“You always seem to put Tommy in a better mood. Most wives would be jealous… but I’m thankful. You can do things I can't, so… thank you.”

You exited Maria’s room quietly, finding Tommy speaking with the head doctor, Peter. Peter worked alongside Henrietta, while Peter ran the infirmary, Henrietta worked mainly as a head nurse. 

You’d walked towards the end of the hall, sitting down towards the exit. Then the infirmary door opened, Joel barging inside. Just when you thought you wouldn’t have to see him. The word must have gotten around of Maria's injury, and Joel looks furious as he entered. 

Just as you thought Joel would yell, throw profanities at his brother- instead he just pulled him gently by the shoulder before pulling him into a soft hug. You watched them closely, the way that Tommy almost sunk to the ground. The way Joel held him, brotherly and secure. 

And then they broke apart, Joel giving Tommy a supportive pat on the back. 

“She’s alright. They’re alright.” Tommy muttered, distantly looking at the door from where she laid. 

“How far along is she again?” Joel muttered, shifting from where he stood.

“Almost seven months,” he took a long look across the room, almost like he was searching for something. “It’s a boy. Found out today.” 

A boy. A baby boy. 

Bile threatened to spill past you as you stared at Tommy. You heard the way his voice cracked when he said it. You saw the way he was looking past you through Joel’s figure, like he was embarrassed. 

You stood, slowly limping towards the exit of the clinic. The hot air hit you, not suffocating like it usually was. It was better than inside: but you still felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You leaned on the wall, stabilizing yourself with your hand. Breathing in and out in shallow breaths. You could feel your heart in your stomach, the blood pumping hard to keep yourself stable. 

You heard the door open, just as you bent down to the ground. You grabbed at your chest, a sob wracking through you now. It was loud, almost like a cry for help. And then you were on your knees, breathing lightly again. 

But you didn’t cry. You couldn’t let yourself. Your leg throbbed as you sat on it, but you didn’t care. 

You didn’t care in the slightest.

+

You found yourself in The Tipsy Bison again. Seth wasn’t there, but instead it was a woman you didn’t know the name of that was bartending for the evening. It was busy, busier than you expected it to be for a week night, and you hid yourself in the corner as you sipped on a glass of bourbon. 

The stool next to you swiveled, and you turned to find James sitting next to you. 

“Evening.” He said politely, a smile dusting his face. You leaned your head slightly to glance at him, a drunken sad smile plastered on your face. 

“Evenin’.” You watched as he sipped his beer, swallowing down a grimace. “You drinking away your sorrows too?”

“Hm? Oh, no I’m actually here with someone.”

Here with someone.

“Oh.” You sat up straighter.

“My sister, right over there.” He pointed to a young girl across the bar, who couldn’t have been older than eighteen. You sighed, letting your body fall into the chair again. 

“Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yeah,” James rubbed the back of his neck. “Shes at home a lot with our mom. Both of ’em stay in.”

“Do you live with them?” You asked, glancing back over at his sister who was laughing with another girl. 

“Yeah, I feel like I kinda have to live with them.” You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. 

“How come?”

“I feel like I gotta take care of ‘em.” James swallowed, and you saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did. He changed the subject, after taking a swig of his beer. “What are ya doin’ all by yourself?” Your finger glided over the glass, tracing the top of it.

“Like I said, drinking away my sorrows.” You downed the rest of the glass, slamming it on the counter. James nodded again, taking a sip from his beer. 

“How’s, uh, the thing with Joel going?” 

You stiffened, turning your head to look outside now. 

“It’s fine. He’s still an asshole.”

“You think so?” James took a swig from his beer again, eyebrows stuck together in curiosity. 

“I know so.”

“I’ve heard he’s just a little… rude but nothing too bad. He’s starting to get himself known in this town. He seems to be fitting right in.”

Fitting right in. 

You don’t know why but that made you so angry. He’d been here only a month, yet he knew more people than you did. He’d only been here a fucking month yet…

“My sisters hollering for me. Talk to you later?” James had started to stand, and you turned towards him giving him an absent smile. 

“Yeah, I’ll… talk to you later.” You watched him leave, your fingers playing with your drink again.

“I was lookin’ for ya,” Tommy sat down where James had just left, crossing out your view of him. “Thought you’d be home…”

“Needed a drink.” You lifted the glass up, showing it to him. Tommy nodded, getting the attention of the bartender. 

“Well, looks like I need one too.” 

A beer was then placed in front of him seconds later, and he took a long swig from it. 

“So, how is training going? With Joel?” 

“Good.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. It’s going very well.” You threw a sarcastic smile his way, watching the way he narrowed his eyes at you. He looked down at your leg that was hanging in the air.

“And your leg?” His head jutted out towards your leg.

“Better. Henrietta said it might be a few more months until I feel normal again. But she also said patrol in the near future wouldn’t be bad. As long as I’m on a horse for most of it.” 

“Well, I spoke with Maria and she thinks after a few more of these… sessions with Joel you both can be on patrol.” 

“Thank god. I can’t wait to be back on patrol with Eugene.” You shifted in your seat.

“Eugene?” Tommy’s hand curled around his beer. You nodded, turning your whole body to face him now.

“Actually about that…” Your face fell. “I’ve been talking to Maria and she wants me to be off of patrol for a little bit longer…” 

“How long?” Tommy paused. “How long, Tommy?”

“Until winter. Maybe the fall… I don’t know but Maria needs me here. Especially after this morning.” you looked away from him, downing the rest of your drink before slamming it back on the bar.

“Then who’s gonna patrol with Joel?” But a part of you already knew the answer by the way Tommy was looking at you. Like you’d already answered your own question.

“No. No way. I’m not-“

“I need you to do this for me. It… makes the most sense. Joel doesn’t know anyone else but you-“

“He seems to be fittin’ in just fine to me.”

“Listen,” Tommy moved around in his seat, moving in to sit closer to you. “I know y'all don’t really get along. But I need y'all to. I don’t want my son growing up around a bunch of bitchy-“

“Hey!” You sat up slapping his arm. Tommy let out a huff, trying to hide a laugh. “We don’t bitch.” Tommy gave you a look that said really?

“We just argue sometimes. Besides, we get along just fine now. It seems like he’s…”

And then you noticed it. No you realized. In a way that was debilitating. In a way that made your heart tingle, a tight and sinking feeling coming from inside your chest.

You realized right away the way people started to know Joel by name. The way that he knew people by name. More than you ever did. The way his shoulders weren’t as tense as they were two weeks ago; like they had slowly, but surely, sunken into a calmer state. The way he fit in. He fit in so well, somehow it made you realize something. 

Even if Joel didn’t notice it himself, you did. That not only was Joel trying. Not only was he doing more in the two months he’d been here than the amount of time you’d been here. But he was something you wished you were.

You wished you fit into this town. You wished you knew people by name. But you couldn’t. 

You wondered what he did in his free time. You’d seen him exit various shops, you’d even seen him talking to men you didn’t know the name of. But shouldn’t you know their names?

No. No, you shouldn’t. They’re just people. Breathing living creatures that will eventually die, one way or another. Names were not important to you. 

But, Tommy…

Tommy was different, you told yourself. Tommy was Tommy. Tommy tried to get you to make more friends. To actually act like you enjoyed living. But he never succeeded. There were few you knew by name, but many knew you. 

And you didn’t know why, but seeing Joel so…normal. So not like the man you thought you knew. So different from the Joel you first met. It was almost like it was an entirely different person. 

And then you thought back to the day in his home. Were you snooping? 

No, you couldn’t have been. But you were only looking. Eyes wandering, watching him.

You were curious. You were only looking. Watching through the crack. And now it felt like a broken promise. Something you shouldn’t have done. Something to be ashamed of. 

And then you remembered the way he played the guitar. You saw a part of Joel you never had seen before. A Joel only Tommy or Ellie had come to know. A Joel you never thought you’d know; a Joel that you wanted to know-

No, fuck. You didn’t want to know Joel.

But somewhere deep inside you did. You felt like he understood you in a way that Tommy didn’t. In a way that no one did. Because you both lost people. In the most gruesome of ways.

And even as much as you hated to admit it. Joel was just like you; cold-hearted manners and all.

Tommy said your name, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“-is that right?” Your eyes widened like a doe’s. 

“Sorry, repeat that?” Tommy’s face softened, his head titling to the side. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah just tired. What were you sayin’?”

“What’s wrong?” You shook your head.

“Nothings wrong-“

“You're playing with your fingers.” You looked down at your hands which were red and scuffed, blood already seeping from your thumbs. You let your hands stop at your side. 

Tommy wanted you to try. And maybe, you’d finally let yourself try. It could have been the alcohol talking, or maybe it was somewhere deep down inside of you finally coming to the surface. 

“Remember what you said to me? When I came back after leavin’?” Tommy thought for a moment.

“I said a lotta things-“

“You said you wanted me to make more friends. To… try.” You swallowed, the liquor pouring out your deepest thoughts. “I want to try. But I feel as though… as though it won’t matter. That I’m just… stuck. Frozen in time. I’m still-“ 

Your breath hitched in your throat, reclusive memories pulling you back. Things you thought you had hidden from yourself, all came spilling back at once. And then you remembered why you didn’t drink alcohol.

“You moved on. You have a fucking baby” your eyes watered “and what do I have? A limp and a fucking attitude.” You smiled, sniffling to hide the sob that was willing to escape at any second. 

“I have a baby. But I have you to thank for that. I have you to thank for even bein’ here.” You'd saved Tommy’s life a multitude of times. But, it wasn't just for him. It was for yourself. Because god, you were selfish. You'd do anything to save him. 

Anything. 

“Remember when we first met?” You asked, eyebrows raising. You remember Tommy telling the tale well, but he left out some key details. 

He left out how you both were fucking like animals day and night. How Tommy told you he loved you after only knowing you for a month. How Tommy promised to never leave you. 

And he didn’t. He never left you. You both had just changed from acting like rabid animals to realizing it would never work out between you both. 

It was also a release, wound up with each other because it was convenient. You'd both fallen apart in a world that was shrinking, able to put your pieces back together. You never admitted it, but Tommy saved you. Whether he knew it or not, you knew there was a part of you that saved him too. 

“Always. You pointed that shotgun right in my face, screamin’ at me to leave. Thought you were gonna blow my fuckin’ head off.” Tommy laughed, taking another sip from his bourbon. 

“I considered it. But your face was too damn pretty.” Tommy laughed again.

“Mhm, well glad someone thought so.” A lump formed in your throat. 

“I still think about it,” It crawled out of you, unwanted. Escaping from your mouth like some sort of unspoken phrase. “Everyday.” Tommy’s eyes glistened.

“I know.”

“Sometimes I imagine what…” you stopped yourself. “I’m sorry about the way I acted. I didn’t mean to seem unhappy. I’m happy. I’m so fucking happy for you Tommy.” A tear rolled down your cheek, as much as you fought it. “It just reminded me-” 

“It’s okay. C’mere.” Tommy pulled you into a tight hug, his hand rubbing your back. Soft strokes back and forth, rubbing the tense muscles there. And you sank, letting your body rest in his grip. 

And for the first time in years, you let yourself go. 

You let yourself cry.

<- Previous Chapter

A/N: hi my loves! so sorry this chapter is out way later than I’d wanted it to be but I kept editing it and didn’t like where it was going. I also really need a beta so if anyone would like to be my beta for this fic that would be so so appreciated!:) i especially want someone to think about my characterization of Joel which is a big thing for me. Getting his character right is something that I try so hard to do and I feel I’ve done a pretty okay job. This is show Joel but it could also be read as game Joel (I personally separate them). But anyway, this chapter is heavy on the fmc and probably my least favorite. It also includes her background plus some other stuff! Not too much Joel but the next chapter will be JOEL HEAVY! thanks for reading! :)

Masterlist

[spacelatinoluvr]

Forever is the Sweetest Con

‘You were raw. And real. Something Joel hadn’t known for such a long time.’

Chapter 2

Summary: Finding meaning in a world full of disappointment was something you've always thought was pointless. And even now, after seemingly starting over, you're struggling to find purpose in the quaint town of Jackson. But that was all until saw yourself so clearly in the brother of your best friend, causing you to rethink your life.

Word Count: 8.3k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Tags: Soft Joel, Grumpy Joel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Reader is friends with Tommy, Reader was a Firefly, Joel’s kind of an asshole, Leg Injury, Post-outbreak Jackson, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Yearning Joel, Joel Falls First, Canon-Typical Violence

Warnings: Angst and mention of injury

You had finally ditched the overalls. 

You decided to wear a pair of jeans with an old t-shirt today, putting your hair in an updo and out of your face. You hated it like that but you told yourself it'd be easier. 

You had even worn a pair of black leather boots, different from your usual cowboy boots. Tommy always made fun of you for wearing overalls and cowboy boots, but it was something that brought you back home. 

Something that reminded you of the days when you’d feed the chickens early in the morning at the crack of dawn, of the days when you and your brothers would sneak out when you were teenagers to drink your father’s miller lite when he was passed out in his recliner, of the days when you sewed and hemmed your growing brothers clothing because your father couldn’t afford new pants for them.

Joel had told you he’d meet you at your house. You were confused at first, raising an eyebrow defensively at him, but he just shot you a knowing look and you agreed. You were watching outside your window, a cup of tea in your hand, sipping away as you waited.

A week had passed since the dinner, and Tommy had apparently wanted another one to happen. You were uncertain, but you agreed reluctantly to another one telling him that you would make some type of side dish or dessert this time. 

Joel didn’t give you a definite time; he said he’d be there in the early morning. And right now it was eight thirty-eight, and you looked back at the clock on your wall confirming the time. 

To say you weren’t looking forward to this was an understatement. Somehow you knew it would be miserable. That you’d end up asking Tommy to just put you on patrol. But doing that would just be like admitting defeat. And that was something you didn’t do.

You almost choked on your tea, watching as Joel had started to walk up your porch. You ran to the kitchen, setting the mug in the sink as a hard knock on the front door reverberated through your home. A few curses sputtered out of your mouth as another impatient knock sounded just a few moments later. 

You almost ran to the door, pausing to calm your breathing before opening the door to an annoyed Joel. 

“Got everythin’?” Joel was staring at your empty hand, and you slammed the door in his face before he could even look back up at you. You almost ran to your room, as fast as you could go, grabbing your pistol and stuffing it in your jeans before grabbing your backpack and lounging it over one shoulder.

Your room used to be upstairs, but the stairs have been a hard thing for you to overcome. Tommy suggested that instead of stubbornly going up the stairs everyday and risking hurting yourself even more, he said to move your room downstairs. 

Simple things like walking long distances, running, and even getting on top of a horse showed you how badly you truly hurt your leg. You never showed it, but these things hurt like hell, the throbbing feeling never really leaving.

You opened the door and Joel’s face was downturned in pure irritation now. You could see it in the way his jaw had tightened when the door had started to crack and show his face to you. 

“Let’s go.” you breathed out, giving him a nod of your head. You brushed past Joel, your shoulder almost hitting his as you slammed the door forcefully behind you. You were about halfway down the stairs when you turned around, feet shifting to stand comfortably on the stairwell. Joel was standing there, planted before your front door before he turned around and bounded down the few steps.

He walked past you, and you started to walk again before breathing out a comment. “Do you even know where you're going?” Joel stopped walking, letting you walk past him now. You noticed that he was wearing a flannel, something that looked like Tommy’s. Smelled a little like him too. You wondered if he was hot since it was sunny outside.

You continued to walk, slower than Joel due to your leg, but he didn’t pass you up like you thought he would. You’d thought he’d grow impatient by your slow walking but he didn’t. He let you walk in front of him, no matter the speed you were going. 

You’d looked behind you a few times to find him staring straight ahead, obviously walking slower than he usually did to keep pace with you. He hadn’t glanced at you once, keeping his head in one direction. 

You turned your head a bit to look at him, slowing your pace to walk beside him. “I told Ellie I’d let her ride one of the horses after dinner tonight. If that’s alright with you?” 

You’d let Ellie ride Buttercup a few days before. She absolutely loved it; and you loved seeing her smile so wide. She wouldn’t shut up about you playing guitar though, which made you scowl and reprimand her. 

Joel’s head tilted towards you, eyes glazing over the way you had slung your backpack only over one shoulder. He noticed you had slung it over the side of your good leg. Joel nodded, finally giving you recognition and some form of communication even if it was just the shaking of his head.

You’d both finally arrived at the front gate, and you told Joel you’d also give him a small tour of the gun station. Joel informed you Tommy had given him a thorough tour of the gate, but you still needed to be certain. 

“This is the gun station. It’s where we keep most of our important equipment. Usually someone is posted here but-“ you were walking through the large room, surveying the guns before a familiar face entered from the other side. James had appeared with cleaning supplies and headphones on. 

He jumped slightly at the sight of you, his cheeks turning a bright pink. He quickly pulled both of his headphones out, setting the supplies on a table nearby. He said your name in a greeting and you gave him a tight lipped smile before turning to Joel. 

“Oh uh, this is Tommy’s brother. Joel.” James walked towards you both, putting his hand out for Joel. Joel stayed stuck there, nodding his head at James. You cleared your throat glancing sideways at Joel, and he huffed quietly before giving James a tight shake of his hand.

“I heard that you guys are going outside of town. To the shooting range?” James mentioned as he pulled away from Joel, looking towards you. You nodded, looking at the guns again. “Yeah, I was thinking we could take a rifle with us.” You walked towards the side of the room where all the rifles were laid out, scanning them. 

“Isn’t that far?” James questioned, his eyes following you.

“About a four mile walk. We’re takin’ Buttercup with us.” You kept out the part where Tommy had specifically told you to ride Buttercup and not walk. But you were set on not using her at all. You were set on walking the entire four miles with no break.

“Yeah but…for someone who-“ James eyebrows were furrowed, his nose scrunching up just a bit.

“For someone who what?” You sharply turned towards him, prodding him to continue his train of thought. But he just paused, lips tightening as he straightened up a bit. 

“Nevermind. Be safe.” James snatched the cleaning supplies from where he set it down, before inserting both headphones back into his ears and swiftly exiting the room. 

You bit down a scoff as you watched him storm out the door, turning back towards the rifles. You grabbed one, bounding towards Joel. 

Anger was already starting to boil inside you, and you had to bite your tongue as you approached him. You handed Joel the rifle, almost shoving it into his chest and telling him to grab the right ammo.

You walked outside towards the stable, feet pounding and your limp more prominent when trying to walk faster. Joel had trailed behind you slowly seconds later when you entered the stable, heading straight towards Buttercup to take her from her enclosure. 

You pulled on her rein, guiding her towards the open doors of the stable. Joel followed shortly, his boots crunching against the packed dirt floor of the stable, the rifle resting loosely in his grip watching as you guided the horse silently through the doors. 

You didn’t look back at him, not even when Buttercup gave a soft huff and tossed her head, sensing your agitation. She was a gentle horse, the opposite of you and your directness. 

She was used to your moods and seemed to know when you were angry, when you were sad. You stopped just outside the stable, the sun already warming your skin and face early in the morning. Joel stopped beside you, shifting the rifle behind his shoulder. 

He didn’t speak, just glanced at Buttercup then at you. His brow furrowed, but you noticed it wasn’t irritation anymore. It was like he wanted to say something but decided against it; like he was fighting his thoughts. You noticed he did that a lot. But most of the time I seemed like he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“All the other horses are out on patrol right now. It’s only a four mile walk so we’ll use Buttercup if needed.” You turned to Joel, pausing your walking.

“If needed?” Joel questioned you now, turning his full body to face you.

“If needed.” You repeated back.

“Tommy told me-“

“I don’t give a fuck what Tommy told you.” You narrowed your eyes at him, adjusting Buttercup’s reins in your palm. You felt her shift a bit, probably feeling the way your voice had deepened.

“So, you can magically walk four miles?” Joel’s eyes instantly dropped down to your legs, before reaching your eyes which had narrowed even more. Your fingers tightened around the leather of the rein as it bit into your hand, and you swallowed roughly before speaking.

“You act like you know me or somethin’,” Joel stayed quiet as he watched you, eyes never leaving your frame. “You don't know me, Joel.”

“Mornin’ y'all.” Tommy had come up behind Joel, approaching both of you with a wide smile on his face. Joel turned towards Tommy before grumbling a greeting towards him. Tommy then turned towards you, and your face was still scrunched together in annoyance as you glanced at him. 

“You think this rifle is good?” You gestured towards the one on Joel’s back. Tommy looked at it before letting out a quiet laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah. Reminds me of when we’d go up there.”

“Yeah, well it’s been a while hasn’t it?” Your voice was colder than you meant it to be but you just adjusted your grip on Buttercup's reins uncomfortably. Tommy’s face shrunk a little, eyes glazing over. 

“Do you want me to test him or somethin’? Tie an infected to a tree, let it lose and see how fast he can shoot?” You asked sarcastically, gesturing towards Joel with your head. Joel's eyes zeroed in on you.

“No- no,” Tommy sighed, his body almost slumping. “This is just- look the council doesn’t want Joel on patrol so quickly so this was the common ground.”

“Fuck the council.” Tommy huffed, rubbing his face before putting his hands on his hips.

“Look, I know you don’t like it but we have rules here. Joel has to follow em’ just like you do.”

“I don’t follow them.” Joel snorted- he actually let out a quiet laugh before looking at the ground to hide his minuscule smile. Tommy said your name slowly, like he always did. And every time it made you feel like a child.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Joel muttered, and Tommy looked like he wanted to smack Joel on the back of the head, but instead put his hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“Look, Joel is my brother. But, that doesn’t give him a green card. Jackson doesn’t know him,” Joel’s head rose, his smile wiped clean as his eyes met yours. Tommy looked at both of you, taking in your silence before nodding his head. 

“Good. Now go see Henrietta before you leave.”

+

You walked into the town hall, your boots scattering across the floor. It wasn’t as busy this morning, most folks were probably sleeping and the only people in there were getting ready for patrol. 

Henrietta was stationed in the kitchen, her apron on as she was speaking to two patrolmen as she handed them their sandwiches. Joel told you he’d stay outside and wait for you, and you tried not to look out the large window to glance at him as you waited. 

They moved away, and Henrietta smiled so wide, ushering you towards her. As you reached her, she grabbed you from over the counter to wrap you in a tight hug. You didn’t reciprocate the hug, letting out a laugh as she let go to hold you at arm's length. 

“You back on patrol?” 

“No,” you sighed, looking behind you at Joel who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “Apparently the council voted on it, whatever the fuck that means. Didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Figured as much.” You looked back at Henrietta, and she had that solemn look in her eyes. The look in her eyes that you knew meant she was sympathizing. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Henrietta shrugged.

“Like, what?”

“Like, that.” You shook your head, taking a step back from her. “I’m fine. Listen, going up to the shooting range is better than nothing-“ 

“The shooting range? God, he’s such a prick.”

“Yeah, well if you think Tommy’s a prick, wait until you meet his brother.” Henrietta let out a laugh.

“Oh, I did. Tommy came in with him and that girl. He’s got that rugged don’t-fuck-with-me look going for him.” Henrietta glanced behind you outside, leaning her hip against the counter. 

“As much as I give you doctor’s orders,” Henrietta put air quotes around ‘doctor’s orders’ “You never seem to listen. Tommy doesn’t know how stubborn you are.”

”He knows. Too well I’d say.”

“Hm. How’s your leg been feeling? Last time I saw you it improved a lot.”

”Better…” you avoided eye contact with her.

”Be honest.” Henrietta’s face became serious.

“I am! It’s a lot better.” You didn’t tell her how every time you got home to take a shower and when you undressed your leg would be a dark purple, sometimes red and brown. Your scar was still extra prominent, protruding through the bruises.

”If I find out you’re lying to me, I am going to make you do visits again.” There it was again. People treat you like a child. But, Henrietta had always been extra nurturing. 

She was a beautiful woman; one of the most beautiful in town you’d say. And she could cook, claiming a spot in the kitchen as a frequent volunteer. 

She went to nursing school before the outbreak, and had become the town's doctor. You always admired her for her beauty as well as her hardworking nature. How she was able to be so easy-going.

You remember the day she had wanted to shave all of her hair off, claiming it was easier for her that way. You remember the way she cried at first but you told her she looked beautiful anyway. Her hair was starting to grow back now, in a large array of curls atop her head.

You sighed wanting a change in the subject, your head turning to look at Joel.

“He’s such an asshole.” You leaned your elbows against the counter. “Like a major asshole.” 

“Bigger asshole than you?”

“Funny.” You shot her a sarcastic smile, and she turned away from you and you took the time to glance outside again. Joel was still standing outside, arms folded, eyes half-lidded like he was growing impatient.

Henrietta turned back towards you, sliding over two sandwiches wrapped delicately in paper, along with a canister of water. 

“I’m serious though. If you ever need-“

”I know. I know.” Henrietta nodded, a smile playing on her lips as she glanced behind you at the patrolmen leaving the hall.

“Patrols just left so if you want to pretend…” Henrietta gestured with her head outside and you let out an offended sound before flipping her off as you walked away, back towards Joel. 

When you exited the town hall, Joel was propped up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. You handed him one of the sandwiches, before stuffing your own in your backpack. He took it, spinning it in his hands.

“It’s venison. You picky?” You raised an eyebrow as he scanned it and he deadpanned before wordlessly stuffing it in his own backpack.

“You done chit-chattin’?” Joel stepped off of the wall, adjusting the rifle and backpack.

“Are you done being a dick?”

“I wanna get this over and done with.” You scoffed, adjusting the strap on your shoulder.

“You and me both.”

+

You only had been walking for half a mile before the aching in your leg began. It was throbbing, like a burning sensation that ran down your leg all the way to your feet. 

Your limp had gotten worse, and every time you took a step you swallowed down a groan. Joel matched your pace, and the rifle slung over his back was the only sound between you besides the noises Buttercup would make. 

You shifted your weight slightly, favoring your good leg as you walked beside Buttercup. The morning air was thick with the scent of dew and grass, but it was fresh in a way that reminded you why you missed home and why you loved being outside- even if it meant hurting for it. 

The scales of the trees reminded you of when you would play in the woods by your house, your father yelling for you and your brothers to come inside the house before dark. You remember playing in the creek, the water so crisp and cold you could see your own feet. You busied your mind with nostalgia, hoping it would take some pain away.

The rifle across his back swayed slightly with the way he was walking; he walked softly, but not soft enough to where you couldn’t hear his feet hit the ground. It looked like he was occupied with his mind. You knew he was listening, though- watching too. 

Not in an obvious way, but in a quiet, steady way. In a way that you noticed it. And you wondered why he hadn’t ridden Buttercup; why he was walking beside you. But you fought against the question, pushing it down.

“Me and Tommy used to always come up to this shooting range,” You said, hoping that speaking would ease the slow and sinking feeling in your leg. “We’d bring beer and just shoot until it was near dinner time. Maria used to get real pissed because he’d come back a little drunk sometimes. Said we were fuckin‘ stupid.”

Joel didn't respond.

“Tommy always…” You loosened your grip on the reins, your voice lowering to a quiet whisper, so soft only you could hear it. 

Stop talking. 

Your mouth closed tightly, realizing the man next to you didn’t care; the man next you was Joel, not Tommy. Even though something about the older brother kept pulling you back. You realized then you were speaking to a solid brick wall; a wall of hardship, a wall put up because of years of torment. You tensed up, straightening your posture, looking straight ahead.

Joel made a sound in the back of his throat, like he was clearing his throat. “So, where is this shootin’ range?” You looked around you, seeing nothing but trees and more trees. You still had a while to go, your feet relentlessly pounding in your boots.

“The creek is the halfway mark.” You muttered, rubbing Buttercup’s neck with your free hand. 

Joel was silent for the next mile and a half, matching your speed; matching your pace like he had earlier. You expected him to ride Buttercup, not giving you a second thought. 

But he stayed quiet and it was almost… peaceful. Almost like you were alone, like you wanted to be. And sometimes you swore you saw him glancing at you- or your leg every so often. 

You started to recognize the way the trees had started to shrink in, shielding you from the sun with its tall and almost bone-like structures: skeletal and enriched with leaves. The breeze started to get cooler and the distant sound of the creek reached your ears, slight relief washing over you. 

“The creek is right up that way,” you pointed towards it as it came into view and Joel followed your finger with his eyes. “We need to cross it.”

You had started to walk towards the shimmering water, towards the shallow parts of it, when you noticed Joel had stopped moving entirely. His eyes were up towards the trees, like he was taking it in. 

“What are you doing?” You let go of Buttercup, turning to face him. Joel looked down at you, moving towards a large rock stationed by the water.

“What does it look like I'm doin’?” Joel sat down on a nearby rock, setting the rifle and his backpack by his feet. He then rummaged through his backpack, grabbing the sandwich you had given him and unwrapping it.

“Don’t tell me you need a fucking break-”

“I'm old, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. 

You let out a sarcastic laugh, looking up at the sky.

“Jesus Christ-" your fingers found your temple, squeezing gently. 

“I can see the way you're wobbling,” Joel bit into his sandwich, speaking through his chewing before looking towards the rock next to him. “Promise I don't bite.”

“If I sit down I won’t want to get up, so please I'm begging you can we continue,” Joel stared at you quietly, his chewing slowing down. You scoffed, throwing your arms up in the air. “I can't believe Tommy put me with a child. Jesus fucking Christ.” 

Joel continued to chew one half of his sandwich, ignoring you so easily. Buttercup wandered away from you towards the creek, drinking from the water. 

Maybe she needed a break, too. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and letting a sigh leave from inside your chest.

“For Buttercup.” You limped over towards the rock next to Joel, wincing as you slowly sat down on it. Somehow sitting down made you feel worse, the pain more obvious now. 

“Here.” You looked towards Joel just as he threw you a bottle. You caught it, your eyebrows scrunching as you spun it in your hand. Painkillers.

“I don’t understand…” you mumbled, taking not two- but three pills from the bottle, and sending them down your throat. “One minute you’re an asshole and then…” 

You paused, handing Joel back the bottle, your fingers grazing his lightly. 

“Not hungry?” Joel took another bite of his sandwich, looking at the backpack that was still on your back. You had eventually secured it over both shoulders, as it was easier to carry though it put more pressure on your leg. 

“No.” You responded gruffly, taking the backpack off, setting it next to you, leaning your head back to look up at the trees. Joel didn’t answer right away, his eyes were still on the trees just like yours- heads tilted slightly, brows furrowed, lips tight. Eyes casting over the light that broke through the canopy above both of your heads. 

And then you remembered again. 

Your older brother, Andy, was leaving for the army. Leaving you to take care of your younger brothers. You remember him dressed in green, you remember the tears that flowed over your face, and you even remember the way your father shed a tear. 

Andy lifted you, pulling you into a tight embrace. One that you wish lasted forever; one you wish you could receive now. A hug that breathed within your memories. The way he engulfed you entirely, as big as your father now and looked just like him. 

“Promise me you'll come back.” You remember saying this to him, believing it to come true. 

But, Andy never did come back.  

You had run into the woods to cry after he left. The trees provided you with warmth and solidarity. The soil beneath your bare feet soaked up your tears. 

You remember running to the willow tree, sitting under it with your feet curled under your legs. You remember the willow tree wiping your tears away, but maybe that was just a figment of your imagination. 

Your head fell, watching Buttercup as she lapped at the water now. Joel had started to stand, the rifle and backpack on his back once again. The sound of it startled you briefly, but you began to rise from your spot on the rock. 

You stood, slowly, pushing with your hands against it. Your hands splayed against the rock, using your fingers to grab at it with the amount of strength you still had. 

And eventually you stood, a quiet groan leaving your mouth as your leg hit the ground. Standing for a few moments to let the stinging in your leg pass, you limped over to Buttercup, taking hold of her reins. Joel was standing near the shallower ends of the creek, surveying the water. 

“Come on.” You said, clicking your teeth at Buttercup, before walking through the crystal water of the creek. 

The trees had stretched on in front of you, winding between tall grass and the occasional blinding light of the sun. Every so often, Joel would glance over, adjusting his pace so you didn’t have to hurry or lag behind. 

He never said anything about it, never made you feel like you were slowing him down but a part of you knew. A part of you knew he hated it. A part of you wanted to push harder, outpace him even if it meant your leg might not recover. 

But the other part you didn’t listen to was just tired. Tired of pretending that pain didn’t exist. Tired of pretending you didn’t need someone walking beside you. Someone to be there for you. 

A protector. 

You sighed, shifting the straps of your backpack again.

“We’re almost there,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

You walked in silence for another mile and the shooting range came into view, the clearing wide and overgrown but still the same. Targets stood in crooked rows, some weathered from use, others untouched. You let out a breath and reached up to stroke Buttercup’s neck.

Joel stepped forward, scanning the area, eyes looking at every tree and every opening. 

You gave him a wry look. “Were you expectin’ an ambush?”

He turned his head towards you, giving you a look of annoyance. 

You tied Buttercup loosely to a nearby post and moved toward a log under the shade, finally sitting with a groan. Joel set the rifle down gently against a tree, pulling an ammo box from his backpack before opening it. He turned towards you as he inserted the ammo into the gun.

“You wanna start?” You looked at the rifle briefly before standing with an agitated huff. 

“Thought you were hot shit?” You grabbed the gun from him, walking towards the targets. And then you steadied your breath, and aimed. 

The first shot cracked through the clearing, echoing through the trees.

Bullseye.

You didn’t even need to look at Joel to know he was staring right at you.

“Starin’ is rude,” you said, reloading the next round.

Joel leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed. You fired again. And for the first time in a long time, the pain in your leg didn’t matter. Only the sound of the bullet whistling through the trees, the sound of gunfire and the echo when it hit the target with a loud bang.

You spent the next five minutes in a rhythm, aim, fire, reload. The crack of gunfire reverberated through the trees, and Joel hardly said a word, just watched you with an unreadable look. Not judgmental. Not impressed. Just… there.

After your third target fell clean, you lowered the rifle and let out a long breath. Sweat had started to gather at your brow, your leg pulsing in that deep, dull throb again, but the satisfaction of hitting your mark dulled it.

Joel was behind you now, looking at the way you had hit every target perfectly. Joel took the rifle gently from your hands, reloading it with ammo. 

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” He said after a moment.

“My older brother.” You moved to sit down on the log, rubbing your shoulder where the kickback had started to wear on you. 

Joel nodded once, then stepped up to where the targets lay. You leaned back on the log, watching as he lifted the rifle, his movements slow. 

He didn’t hesitate before squeezing the trigger, crack, the shot hit just to the left of the center. He cursed quietly, adjusting his stance slightly and fired again.

The next shot landed center.

“Adjust your stance again,” You chastised, “You’re tense. Relax.”

Joel lowered the rifle and let his shoulders visibly sink a bit. He looked back at you, eyes scanning over the way you were dryly staring at him. He looked like he wanted to say something but fought it off, resuming to his previous stance, gun ready and aimed. 

“You shoot to kill. Not to survive.” You said when he had begun to raise the gun again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joel lowered the gun, turning to face you.

“You shoot like you’re trying to kill someone. You shoot with… anger.” You leaned on your knees with your arms.

He stepped away from the target line, setting the rifle on the tree between you. His hand lingered on the wood for a second before he looked over at you. And his face was hard, hand gripping at the wood of the tree. Eyebrows scrunched together, his mouth and jaw twitching.

“We’re leaving,” Joel gave you a hard stare. “Now.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” You laughed, standing from where you were sitting on the log.

“I can. And I will. Get on the horse, you’re not wasting anymore time with your walkin’.” Joel pointed to your leg, eyes slanted so hard you started to see the crows feet growing by his eyes. You saw the way his face was a little bit more red, almost like smoke was escaping from him.

“No.”

“Get on the fucking horse.” Joel commanded you this time, taking a step towards you. But you held your ground. No one had ever really talked to you like that. You didn’t know why but it made you legs feel like Jello.

“No.” You hissed, taking a step towards him now.

“And you called me the child?” Joel let out a hum from the back of his throat, hauling his backpack on his back and grabbing the rifle from where it laid on the tree roughly. “I’m tellin’ Tommy I’m not doing whatever this is. You can figure something else out.” 

“You can’t just-“

“Your leg is shakin’,” You hadn’t noticed but your leg was in fact shaking, making your whole body twitch with it. “Get on the horse.” You swallowed deeply, looking away from him. 

And then you felt it; that feeling of helplessness. That feeling that everything you did was wrong. Every single fucking thing you did felt like it didn’t matter. That you didn't matter. That you were a burden.

And it made your throat tighten, and your stomach curl. 

Wordlessly, you walked towards Buttercup, nestling your leg in the stirrup. You used your leg to hoist yourself over, but you couldn’t. You used your arm strength again and again but you wouldn’t get over it, an exasperated groan leaving your mouth.  

You lifted yourself up one last time before feeling arms wrap around your hips, guiding you to sit on the saddle. Large hands grasped at the skin, easily guiding your body to sit upright. 

The hands lingered only for a second before the warmth they provided slipped away. Gone as if it wasn’t even there. You were stationed on top of Buttercup straddling her, when you looked down, finding Joel undoing the reins that were tied to a post. 

His hand worked fast to undo the knot you tied, angrily holding the leather, and you watched as his hands flexed and un-flexed over and over. It was like he was trying to shake something off of his hand, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“Thought you said she didn’t like men?”

You thought for a long moment before Joel started to walk, Buttercup following his movements. 

“She doesn’t.”

+

The sun was climbing behind the trees and you looked over at Joel as he guided Buttercup, catching the silhouette of him beside you in the warm light. You had been riding for about three miles, silent and quiet. You noticed he had started to drag his legs, a little more slumped than he was previously.

“You know you can ride her too,” you commented and Joel visibly stiffened at that, turning his head slightly to meet your eyes. And you watched as his hands played with the leather reins: flexing and un-flexing. He ignored you, turning his head forwards. 

Jackson had started to come into view now, stretching among the horizon before you. And then Joel stopped walking, Buttercup coming to a halt and you jolted forwards. He turned around to face you, gazing up at you with a look you hadn’t ever seen.

A look that made his eyes look so large and-

“I won’t tell Tommy,” he swallowed, looking behind him at the walls of Jackson. “I don't like people makin’ assumptions about me.” 

You nodded, shielding the sun with your hand.

“Noted.” You kept a sly comment to yourself, biting your lip slightly to keep it from slipping out. 

Joel continued to walk again, and you watched him as he adjusted his backpack and the rifle. 

“Promise I don't bite.” You spoke quietly and Joel stopped again, shifting on his feet. It looked like he was thinking, and only for a second before he continued to walk again, approaching the gates of Jackson.

+

“You can’t ride Buttercup tonight but don’t worry Shimmer has been waitin’ for you.” You approached Shimmer, taking her out of her stall. 

Ellie’s face instantly lit up, her hand sticking out to pet the horse. 

“She likes you.” Ellie nodded, gleefully petting the horse.

“Did you ride horses before?” You weren’t expecting her to ask that, and your face had tensed slightly before you responded. 

“A little. I grew up on a farm.” You remember your first horse. He was small, especially picked for you. You were quiet for a second before Ellie smiled.

“Joel wanted a farm,” That didn’t surprise you but you let your eyebrows raise a bit. “Joel doesn’t really talk about before the outbreak.” Ellie’s face had fallen slightly, and her hand left Shimmer. 

“Seems like Joel doesn’t talk about anything.” 

“He doesn't like it. Talking about before.”

“I guess we have that in common.” You gave Ellie a small smile, before telling her to hop on Shimmer.

The sun was starting to set now, the sky turning hues of orange and pink. One thing you liked about Jackson was the sunsets- more than the sunrises maybe. 

You told Ellie you’d walk her back to Joel's house. You approached their home, and you noticed how the mailbox already had his last name painted upon it. Already feeling at home. Already fitting into this town. And you don't know why but you felt something in the pit of your stomach tighten. 

Ellie was standing by the front door, her hand about to open it when you called out a farewell to her.

“Goodnight, Ellie.” Ellie turned her whole body to face you.

“Actually, there was something I wanted to show you.” She said, opening the door and inviting you inside. You were hesitant at first, but then you agreed. Struggling up the stairs a bit, your hand roughly gripping the hand railing, you made it to Ellie.

She had that look on her face, the same one everyone always gives you. But you just brushed past her inside the house. You noticed it had already started to be decorated, not by much but some paintings here and there. 

“My room is upstairs,” Ellie had started to walk up the stairs before she stopped halfway, turning to you. “Oh right- uh wait here-”

“It's fine. If you want me to go upstairs I will.” Ellie looked at you for a long moment before she bounded up the stairs again. She then must have gotten to the top because you heard some shuffling above, then heavy footsteps moving across creaky floorboards.

You stayed rooted at the bottom of the stairs, letting your fingers trail along the edge of a painting hung a little crooked on the wall. It was some landscape painting- mountains and trees and a river too blue to be real. Maybe Joel picked it out. Maybe Ellie did. It was different from your own home, with zero decorations; you never felt the need for it.

“Joel!” Ellie called from upstairs. “I’m back!”

You climbed the stairs carefully, each step making your leg throb in protest. One step then the next; deliberate and slow. You reached the top and turned not finding Ellie anywhere.

You stepped forward, your feet making the floors moan loudly. A door was open down the hall, and you approached it peeking into it through the small crack. You opened the door with your hand, not finding Ellie but Joel.

His back faced you with his head down, hands working on something. You watched him silently, as he moved back and forth, his back straining and working. His shoulders flexed when he moved a certain way and you noticed the way he looked so different from when he was so tense.

In this moment he looked relaxed, he looked not like the Joel you had come to know. Your eyes watched his hands now, realizing he was fixing a picture frame. Or maybe he was making one- you couldn’t really tell. His head turned just a bit and you could see him squinting-

“I had to clean my room a bit- we’re still figuring stuff out and how to decorate it.” Ellie had exited from across the hall and you jumped turning around to face her. 

“Wanna come see?” Ellie pointed inside her room with her thumb, looking proud. Before you entered her room you turned your head to find Joel watching you, eyes scanning your legs. 

Ellie’s room was small and already had a few decorations. A poster on the wall of a movie you didn’t know, her bed had plain sheets on it and she had a few other tiny trinkets already. But, besides that it was bare. 

“This is what I wanted to show you.” Ellie went under her bed, pulling out a sketchbook. She opened it, flipping to the first page. 

“Where’d you get one of these?” You approached her.

“One of my friends from school gave me an extra sketchbook after she caught me doodling on the desk.” 

“You’re going to school?” Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, Maria’s making me.”

She showed you the page, and it was a portrait of…you. Ellie had sketched you perfectly, capturing your sunken eyes and brisk smile. She had drawn you from the day you had seen her when she first arrived. She sketched a pair of boots beside your face, pointing at them with her finger. You touched it softly with your fingers.

“Your cowboy boots are fucking awesome.” You laughed, looking around her room again. 

“Tommy found them a while ago. Gave ‘em to me as a birthday present.” Ellie nodded, closing the sketchbook. She tucked it back under her bed, and you wondered why she was hiding it there. Maybe she was embarrassed. 

“You’re good at drawing.” Ellie bashfully smiled, and then looked behind you. Joel was standing at the door frame, leaning up against it.

“Ellie’s gotta get up early tomorrow. Lemme walk you out.” Joel muttered quietly, averting his eyes from you. You nodded, giving Ellie a quick smile before telling her you’d see her tomorrow. 

And then you were outside with Joel on the porch. You were about to walk down the steps to leave when he spoke your name, making you pause.

“You gonna snoop in my house again?” You froze at the bottom of the steps, slowly turning to face him.

“What?” You almost laughed.

“I don’t appreciate you comin’ into my home and goin’ where you shouldn’t be.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I don’t like repeating myself.”

“Look I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me but-“

“I don’t have a problem,” Joel crossed his arms over his chest before adding on. “Just don’t come into my house again.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Joel nodded. “You know what, fuck you.” You pointed a finger at him, jabbing. 

“Say that again.” Joel’s arms fell to his side, and he stepped forward a bit, his demeanor changing. Joel said it in a way that was different than before. He said it like a command.

“Yeah, fuck you, Joel. Have a good fucking night.” You were about to storm away, when an excruciating pain shot up your leg and you stumbled, catching yourself before your legs could hit the ground. You let out a heavy breath, pushing down a groan in protest. 

You felt Joel behind you, felt the way the air shifted and the way he had reached down to grab you but you were quick. You turned towards him, pushing him hard by the chest away from you. He stumbled back as he watched you rise to your feet. 

“Don’t,” And then you walked away, not before pausing to tell Joel one last thing. “I’m telling Tommy I’m not doing this.”

+

Tommy didn’t take it well.

“How about this? Until y'all can get along, until you can walk without wincin’, then I’ll put you on patrol.” Tommy was talking to you like you were a child being put in a timeout. “Henrietta said the baby is due soon. So please, not just for me but for Maria and the baby. Try to get along.”

The two of you were huddled together in the town hall, after a meeting. It hadn’t gone well, and Tommy’s patience had already spiked because of it.  

You noticed how Tommy looked more tired than usual: he looked like how he did when you first met him. Eyebags a dark purple and his cheeks sunken in. You had been so selfish recently. Thinking only about yourself, not Tommy: not Maria and…

“Okay.” You nodded, and Tommy’s eyebrows rose. 

“Okay,” Tommy said your name again, his eyes softer. “Joel told me that you walked the whole time. I already told you-“ Your eyes widened. 

“He said you wouldn’t say anything.” You managed to get out a scoff. 

“Joel was just tryin’ to help.” Tommy was begging at this point. “I want you to visit Henrietta again. Once a week.”

“Tommy you know how I feel about-“

“I know. Trust me I know. If y'all really want to, you can still go up to the shooting range once every two weeks. I want you to gradually get to the point where you can walk. It’s a slow process, remember?”

Remember? Of course you remembered. This wasn’t the first time you’d hurt yourself. But you were hoping it’d be the last. You gnawed at your cheek, before nodding your head again. You hated when he was right. You hated it even more when you knew you were wrong.

Then Tommy pulled you into a soft hug, and it took everything in you not to collapse in his arms. You couldn’t remember the last time he hugged you or the last time the both of you hadn’t argued. Maria’s pregnancy not only stressed him out, but you as well.

“I love you, okay? Just don’t be stupid and listen to me.” Tommy pulled away from you, giving you his best smile. Even though his cheeks rose, you could see the mask he was putting up. 

“Okay, I promise I won’t argue with Joel,” You glanced around the hall before continuing to speak. “And I promise to visit Henrietta,” Tommy nodded, before adding. 

“And?”

“And I promise to work on my walking and not push myself. Jesus, you act like my dad or something.” You muttered, pushing Tommy lightly on the shoulder. “Worse than Eugene.”

“I’m not worse than that old fucker.” Tommy let out a tiny laugh before looking around the hall. “Oh and uh, James wanted to talk to you. He’s over there.”

“What? Why?” You straightened up, looking around the hall, finding James huddled in the corner talking to some girl.

“I don’t fuckin know. You threaten ’em again?” Tommy squinted jokingly at you.

“Yeah, he wishes.” 

“I think he has a crush on you.” Tommy bit his lip to contain a laugh, but it ended up coming out from the face you made. 

“Not this again. Remember last time?”

Last time Tommy had tried to set you up with a guy it didn’t end well. The guy was a little older than you and he worked on construction. But the man was… a little eager. The first time you’d met him he asked what your sexual preferences were: he then went on to rant about his ex-girlfriend and their sex life. 

He obviously wasn’t over her because by the end of the night, he was crying after three glasses of wine. You told Tommy about it and all he could do was burst out laughing. He made fun of you for days even though he was the one that set you up. 

“That was Maria, not me.” Tommy then started to laugh, making you laugh as well. You couldn’t remember the last time both of you had laughed together let alone joked. 

“But you set me up.”

“Because Maria told me to. You think I’d ever set you up on a date with someone like that?”

“I don’t know, Tommy. You do a lot of shit I don’t question.” 

“Alright,” Tommy then looked behind you. “Here he comes.”

“Evening, Tommy.” James said your name politely and you smiled briefly at him. 

“Hey, James. How’s working on the gate been goin’?”

“Uh, good. Good.” James then turned to you.“Can I talk to you for a minute?” James looked to you then briefly at Tommy, and Tommy said his goodbyes before walking away from both of you. 

“I uh,” James rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking mildly embarrassed. “I wanted to apologize. For the way I acted yesterday. It wasn’t like me. I didn’t mean to intrude on your business.”

And then you smiled at him, and you watched as his shoulders visibly sank. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to make one more friend. Maybe if you tried, Tommy would be more likely to put you on patrol. Maybe if you put yourself out there, the council would like you more. 

“No need to apologize. I just get defensive about my leg.” James nodded thoughtfully, glancing down at your leg. 

“You know,” James added, eyes back on your leg, “When you get better, like really better, I bet you’ll be stronger than before. Muscle builds over scar tissue. At least that’s what I read once.”

“Are you saying I'm not strong now?” You raised an eyebrow. 

James blinked. “What? No! I happen to think you are a very strong and independent woman-” He trailed off, blushing.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Relax. I’m messing with you.”

James exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Right. Cool. Just, uh… just wanted you to know that I see you.” 

You raised an eyebrow again. “What are you my stalker?”

James looked momentarily horrified. “No! Shit- God, no. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You snorted, the sound sharp and unexpected, and James looked at you again: uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or run.

“I’m joking, James.” You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “Seriously, you’re way too easy to mess with.”

“Yeah, well…” he muttered, recovering slightly, “You’re just… really hard to read.”

It was quiet between the two of you before your face fell a little. Realizing what you had done. Were you flirting? You couldn't tell. You don't need to be flirting. You shouldn't be flirting. But why did it make you feel that way? 

Knowing that the man in front of you blushed at everything you said. That every word that came out of your mouth made him stutter. That every time you looked at him, he'd look away just as quick. James was giving you attention; something you hadn't earned in god knows how long. It should make you feel gross, dirty even. But it didn't. Not even a little.

It made you feel good. 

Next Chapter ->

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A/N: Thank you for reading! I always like to have faces in mind so if you want to put a face to James like I did the actor I had in mind was Lewis Pullman :) I know NOTHING little to literally NOTHING about guns pls don’t kill me! I also assume that they keep all their really important equipment somewhere safe so… yeah. Also someone literally put me on their fic rec list on Twitter so whoever you are just know you made my whole fucking month- actually my whole year and I love you!!!!

Masterlist

[spacelatinoluvr]

Forever is the Sweetest Con

‘You were raw. And real. Something Joel hadn’t known for such a long time.’

Masterlist

Summary: Finding meaning in a world full of disappointment was something you've always thought was pointless. And even now, after seemingly starting over, you're struggling to find purpose in the quaint town of Jackson. But that was all until saw yourself so clearly in the brother of your best friend, causing you to rethink your life.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Tags: Soft Joel, Grumpy Joel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Reader is friends with Tommy, Reader was a Firefly

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4, in progress

-> Spotify Playlist

-> Pinterest Board

[spacelatinoluvr]

Forever is the Sweetest Con

‘You were raw. And real. Something Joel hadn’t known for such a long time.’

Chapter 1

Summary: Finding meaning in a world full of disappointment was something you've always thought was pointless. And even now, after seemingly starting over, you're struggling to find purpose in the quaint town of Jackson. But that was all until saw yourself so clearly in the brother of your best friend, causing you to rethink your life.

Word Count: 7.0k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Tags: Soft Joel, Grumpy Joel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Reader is friends with Tommy, Reader was a Firefly, Joel’s kind of an asshole, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Angst

The first time you held a gun, your father proclaimed you were a natural. Born to hold it within your grip- fingers clasped so securely around it. You remember the way your older brother had told you if you shot all five bottles he’d laid out for you, he’d buy you the new record you'd wanted.

Now you can't remember the record- or even your favorite band from then but you do remember the way your brother laughed, shoving his hand in your hair to ruffle it when you hit four of the five bottles.

You were fourteen, feeling as if you were on top of the world. You were always the type of kid to go above and beyond; the type of kid that didn't take mistakes lightly. That dwelled upon mishaps, no matter how small.

“Sissy! Remind me not to mess with you again, girl!” Your older brother let out a hoot, laughing.

“But I only hit four!” You slumped your shoulders, your head falling down as your chin met your chest. Your brother dropped down crouching to meet you, his eyes catching yours that were staring at the grass, embarrassed as they looked at the grass next to his boots. He was eighteen, and you were half his size.

Your brother had set up five empty bottles of beer, each at different lengths. The furthest one away was the one you were unable to hit, missing it entirely. You hadn't even grazed it.

“Fours better than none,” he smiled lightly, his cowboy hat tipped down slightly, hiding his eyes. “How about I get you that album you wanted? Hm?” His head rose, eyes glowing in that mischievous way they always did when he was up to something no good.

That's right. You and your brothers weren't allowed the luxury of CD’s let alone cassette tapes; your father was against them, honing a single record player in the house purely for country music.

Living in the deep south of Louisiana, living on a ranch, a farm at that, was not ideal for a teenage girl. But you had learned to love it. Especially after your mother died, you felt as though you should have appreciated it more. Living with three brothers, you became one of them, girlhood- womanhood no longer prominent in your household.

You had a farm cat named… you couldn't remember now.

You stubbornly fought a smile as your brother rose from where he was kneeling to ruffle your hair again. You remember playing that record for months after your brother left for the army as it was the last thing he ever gave you.

You remember the tune; the guitar and piano melodies but the song title and artist had slipped from your mind. You remember singing the lyrics so vividly. You remember dancing with your father in the kitchen as he gave you your first glass of wine. It wasn't very much, three sips worth, but you remember feeling so mature. So old. You remember everything.

Almost everything.

You now stood outside, in your boots and overalls, watching as Tommy hurriedly exited the empty townhouse you were in. The grass was starting to bloom again, and the mud showed itself as you sank into the ground. Tommy was further away now, and you watched with your arms crossed over your chest as the gates to Jackson opened.

Two familiar faces had entered, faces you thought you'd never see again. But even from your distance, you saw the way Tommy eagerly hugged his brother. Arms wrapped so tightly around each other, as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

+

“You talk to Tommy?” You took a sip of your herbal tea, setting it on the railing of the porch as you gazed out at the landscape and houses all around you. Eugene was sitting in his rocking chair, rocking back and forth as he played with the strums of his guitar, picking each one.

“Yeah but he's… Tommy.” Eugene stopped thrumming his guitar, setting it down next to him.

“And what'd he say?” You shrugged, setting the mug down.

“Same thing as usual. You can't run, why would I put you on patrol? I trust you, you're a good shot but I don't trust you enough to go on patrol again. I mean fuck I am so sick of making grits.” Eugene let out a small chuckle and you turned around, your back against the fence.

Eugene’s home was a walk from yours but you always preferred his as it had a wrap around porch out front. Eugene reminded you of your father; the way he'd wear his glasses on his nose and play guitar for you as you both drank a bottle of wine. Something you'd wished you got to do with your own father.

“Will you talk to him? He always listens to you.” Tommy had never really listened to you. Maybe it was because you were a woman or maybe it was because you two were so different; so stark in contrast that it was hard for him to see your point of view.

“He doesn't listen to anybody. Sure as hell not me.” You sighed, turning your back to him again as you rested your elbows on the railing, taking a large gulp from your tea.

“Please? Maybe if he puts me on patrol with you he'll actually let me. I heard the guy they replaced me with is a bad shot with a bad attitude.” You peeked your head to look at him as he gave you a closed lipped smile accompanied with the shake of his head.

You laughed lightly, turning to look at the other houses near Eugene’s now. Most were vacant and empty, waiting for people to fill them up. You think that's why Euegene had chosen this house. Because he was away from everyone else.

“Fine, but don't come crying to me when you don't get your way.”

Your vision had shifted to your right and Tommy came into view now, walking down the path but he wasn't alone. Two people, a young girl and an older man, the man walked right next to Tommy while the girl trailed behind, almost in her own little bubble. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, swinging as she walked.

“Fuck, what does he want now.” You muttered, praying he wouldn't see you perched up on Eugene’s porch. Eugene grabbed his guitar again, strumming a few chords, catching the attention of Tommy.

“Hey!” Tommy lifted his hand in you and Eugene’s direction, muttering something to the man before beginning to walk towards you. The girl had stopped walking, the man speaking to her quietly from where they had paused on the trail.

“What are y'all doin’? Startin’ a band?”

“Ha! She can't carry a tune for shit.” Eugene pointed at you with the end of his guitar and you narrowed your eyes at him. Tommy shook his head, heading up the stairs of the porch now to stand in front of you.

“You ever heard her sing? Damn she can-“

“Tommy.” Your eyes narrowed into slits, and he hid a smile, shaking his head. He stood next to you now, putting both of his hands on his hips.

“I wanted to introduce or reintroduce y'all- officially, to some folks…” Tommy’s face fell on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning your hip against the fence of the porch. As both figures grew closer, you realized you had met them months before.

You remembered the first time you met Joel Miller.

You remember Tommy introducing you. You remember the look in his eyes- the way he remained a blank canvas with no emotion. No smile; no greeting, just a glance over at you. The way you had eagerly introduced yourself, which you never did. The way your smile turned into a frown, and then a scoff, and then a confused glance at Tommy.

You remember asking Tommy what his issue was- the way Tommy defended him saying he was tired, the way you fought a remark. The way you wanted to tell him that we’re all tired. The next few days of his presence consisted of you giving him sour glances. And then he was gone just as quick as he was there.

If he was anything like he was then- he wouldn’t be much of a pleasure to meet now. All you remembered was that he was a prick. Nothing like his younger brother. The way he carried himself, that smug asshole look on his face, the way he had not spoken to you when you first met. It never really left your mind. You’d hoped to never see him again but the universe had something else in mind for you.

The girl was standing in front of you in the grass of Eugene’s front yard, her hands bashfully placed in her pockets.

“That here is Ellie.” Tommy pointed at her, and you smiled at her, nodding your head in greeting. She looked nervous; rocking back and forth as she gazed between you and Eugene, as if scanning you. You put both your hands around the mug, leaning your elbows on the fence. The first time you met Ellie it was brief; you both had said your hellos before moving along. You remember cracking a joke, eliciting a small smile from her.

“That’s uh… Joel. My brother.”

Joel was standing slightly behind Ellie, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were sunken in; but not in a way you had seen before. Almost like he was bored, or maybe annoyed. His tongue played with his cheek, rolling in a way that told you he was definitely not overjoyed.

But, you couldn’t tell, unable to read him.

You said nothing, eyes reaching his legs, one of which slightly popped out. Your eyes rose slowly meeting his eyes now, in which he took the opportunity to survey you. His eyes falling over your hair out of place, your overalls and boots. Everything about Joel screamed that he had not changed since the day you met him.

At your silence, Tommy cleared his throat, grabbing your arm softly to get your attention. You turned your head in his direction, as he bent down to whisper something to you.

Tommy gestured with his head at Joel, and you glanced at the older brother again. Watching as his eyes slightly darkened, lips pursing in even more annoyance now.

“I was wonderin’ if you’d be able to give ’em a tour of-“

“Nuh uh,” You shook your head, standing up straight to look at him more. “I’m not- no.” You closed your eyes, shaking your head again.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” He whispered, hands outstretched a little, as his eyes widened. “I was wonderin’ if you’d give them a tour of the horses. Let them get a feel for each one- you know ’em best.” You scoffed a little, hands moving at your side: clenching and unclenching.

“So, now you want my help? When you were-“ you looked over at Ellie and Joel, pausing before noticing they were watching both you and Tommy. “I’m not talking about this right now.” You turned your head back to look at Tommy who had backed up a little. He nodded wordlessly before turning and heading down the steps to walk away from the house.

Ellie quickly trailed after Tommy, but Joel stayed stuck for a moment, almost studying you as you flared your nostrils at Tommy’s receding frame. As you looked at him, eyes blazing, he turned around just as quickly following after his brother.

+

The town hall was fairly busy that night, packed with people from all over the town of Jackson. Some were eating and others just chatting; it was loud and you had found yourself at a seat in the corner of the hall, wanting to be alone.

Usually you'd eat with Eugene, but he hasn't made an appearance yet tonight and you'd assumed he was busy. You scanned the area, playing with the food in front of you. They served chilli tonight, one of your least favorite meals.

A tray plopped down in front of you, and you paused putting the spoon full of chilli in your mouth midway. It was Eugene, and he looked like he had run, almost out of breath as he huffed slightly.

“Hey, I thought you weren't showin’ up-”

“You left by yourself?” Eugene was still standing, staring at you and the way you had started to push your tray of food away out of annoyance. Your appetite was gone

“I really don’t wanna talk about this right now.”

“Well, I do.” Eugene sat down with a loud thud, putting both elbows upon the table. He folded his hands, like he was in prayer.

“I already heard it from Tommy. I really don’t need to hear it from you.”

“Really? It sounds like you do.” He proclaimed, his tone daring you to try him. Eugene was always someone to be sarcastic, even in heated moments like this.

“Eugene-“ You started, but Eugene cut you off with a hand in your face.

“When you fell off that wild horse, we thought you were fucking paralyzed,” You remember that day so clearly. And sometimes you think you’d blocked it out, now a distant dream. “Can you imagine? If you got hurt like that again, out by yourself. You’d be dead within the hour. No one goes by themself. Not even Tommy.“ It wasn't right or fair of Eugene to bring that up again, but he was right. Even if you didn't admit it to him, you knew deep down he was right.

“But he’s fucking allowed to, Eugene. I’m not.”

“I talked to him about it. He wants you to work on walking first, train yourself.” You sunk back in your seat again, shaking your head. You wanted to say yes, tell him you agree; that you needed time. But that voice in the back of your head was screaming at you that you were worthless if you didn’t get back on patrol.

“I’m not a fucking baby! I can walk just fine.” You spat, eyes zeroed in on Eugene as you sat up, watching the way he took a deep breath through his nose, adjusting himself in his seat.

“You can’t run. That’s just the goddamn truth. Can you even walk long distances anymore? Maybe if you work towards it-“

“I can work on it during patrol. And Tommy won’t even let me try walking long distances.” Eugene sighed, rubbing a hand on his face. He let out a short chuckle before stuffing his face with his own bowl of chilli. He spoke with his mouth full, pointing the spoon at you accusatory.

“You’re so goddamn stubborn.”

You sat back in your seat again, crossing your arms over your chest. You pulled your tray of food in front of you again, playing with the chilli. You dropped the spoon in the bowl.

“I’m not stubborn,” You said quietly, still gazing at the food on your tray. You lifted your eyes to meet Eugene’s. “I’m determined.” Eugene barked out a laugh, pointing his spoon at you.

“Same thing.”

Another tray plopped on the table beside you, softer than Eugene. You turned your head to your right, eyes finding Tommy as he sank into the seat next to yours with a sigh. Another tray plopped down to your left, the person sitting a distance away. You turned your head finding James, the poor man you had threatened earlier that morning. You tensed up slightly, avoiding his nervous gaze.

James was around your age, maybe younger. He always looked clean and put together; even in an apocalyptic world he had managed to look that way. He definitely wasn’t your type; he always looked nervous and skittish, like a dog with its tail tucked beneath its legs.

When you had approached him slowly with your gun raised, you’d thought he’d pissed himself. He immediately gave in to your orders, opening the gate for you and Buttercup.

Tommy said your name, and you turned to look at him whipping your head. He gestured towards the man with his eyes, and you looked back at James who was paying more attention to the steamed carrots on his plate, swishing them around with his fork.

“I’m uh… sorry. For threatening you with a gun. I didn’t mean it.” You said blankly, and Tommy gave you a displeased look before gesturing back to James. The apology wasn't your best, but you gave one and that was all Tommy really needed.

“James here actually had a great idea,” Tommy rang, and James tensed up all too fast, stopping his movements. “Tell ‘er, James.”

“Uh, well-“ It felt like James was shaking the table, and you looked down at his legs to see them both bouncing up and down.

“Go on.” Tommy guided the man, encouraging him to speak.

“I was thinking since you want to be outside the barrier, why not help us replenish the gate? Maybe shoot some animals. Some critters got into the wood-“

“No.” You interrupted him, and he stopped mid sentence, his mouth slightly agape. He looked embarrassed, glancing at Tommy to confirm that you had turned him down so quickly. Tommy said your name slowly, and you laughed in disbelief, head whipping to look at Tommy now. You were unable to believe him. Especially when he had been so bent on not letting you on nightwatch.

“If you think that I’m-“

“You said you’re sick of makin’ grits, right? Well, this is my compromise.”

“Your compromise?!” Your voice rose this time, and your eyes scrunched up like raisins. “You don’t get to fucking decide what I do or don’t do.” You struck the table with both palms, standing up hard from the table. You got up a little too fast, stumbling a bit away from the table. Tommy rose quickly, putting his arm out to catch you but you slapped his hand away. Tommy retracted his hand, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You turned away from him, limping as you stormed out of the hall. As soon as you opened the double doors, the cool night air slapped you in the face and you wished you'd brought your shawl. But the coolness had given you something else to dwell on besides the anger bubbling within you.

You were a few feet away from the hall, walking towards your home when the double doors opened again. You cursed under your breath as you heard those familiar boots sound, growing closer. You didn't have to look to know who it was.

The sound of the boots had paused but you kept a steady pace, feet slightly dragging through the mud. Before long, you stopped walking, sighing as your shoulders became limp.

“Look, I know you only want to help but just- don't. I already feel useless. Just-” You turned around expecting to find Tommy, but finding Joel Miller instead. He stood there, looking almost as confused as you. You watched through hooded eyes and a slightly open mouth as Joel shifted his weight, rocking through the mud as he turned to face you. Almost like he was afraid or scared; but you knew that wasn't true.

“What?” You spat, throwing your hands up before they slapped back down at your side. The slap was loud, almost like a snap of a whip and it made Joel’s nostrils flare and his jaw ticked but only for a split second before he spoke quietly.

“Didn't say nothin’,” he was muttering and you almost didn't hear him but it was quiet enough for you to be able to pick up what he had said to you. It was chillier and you fought putting your arms around yourself. The crescent moon was laid above Joel’s head almost like a halo. Or a pair of horns. That seemed much more fitting.

For a second you wondered what the hell he was doing- what the hell he was doing outside with you. You wondered if he had followed you or if it was pure coincidence. If he had happened to fall upon you just as you were leaving. But, a small little part of you, liked to think he had followed you.

“My brother can be a prick.” You weren't expecting that to come out of Joel’s mouth. Let alone the hint of a teasing smile that had started to rise on his face. He didn't smile though, his face remained that same stoic and hard statue, but you could see the way he fought a smirk. Maybe it was the darkness, and your mind was playing tricks on you. Your lip quivered only a fraction and you let out a scoff to hide it, but it sounded more like a laugh as you glanced back inside the town hall.

“Sometimes I think he enjoys pissing me off,” You muttered, biting your lip softly to cover another smile. “Must run in the family.” Joel’s lip twitched, before he frowned and gave you a slow consistent nod. The silence was the only thing between you for a bit before you briefly looked him up and down before turning on your heel. You took your first steps before pausing, head turned on your shoulder as your hair covered your face. You had started to walk, only to stop again, like you were forgetting something.

“Meet me in the stables tomorrow morning,” Not turning around, your back still facing Joel, you spoke loud enough so he'd hear. “Ten. And bring the girl.”

+

You opened the stable doors that morning, early enough to see the sun as it rose through the clouds and peaked through the mountains. You found solace within the animals; their souls somehow attached to nature. To the earth. You walked along the stable, greeting each horse before you fell upon your own.

Buttercup was gnawing on some hay before she heard the sound of your boots clacking, turning her head as she chewed. Your lips turned upwards as she trotted slowly over towards your outstretched hand, falling into your touch.

“Mornin’,” You jumped, as Tommy threw a stack of hay into a neighboring cell of Buttercup. You swallowed roughly, your hand dropping from Buttercup and she let out a noise of indifference.

“Mornin’.” You watched as he continued to throw hay into cell after cell, completely forgetting to acknowledge you. He huffed before throwing the last of it in the cell at the end of the stable before walking back over towards you, out of breath.

“Didn't think you’d do it. Thought i'd have to fight with Buttercup again.” Tommy jutted his head towards the grey horse. You let out a laugh, petting Buttercup softly on the face.

“Hm, she just doesn't like men.” You pulled away from Buttercup, finding Tommy smiling at you, his hands resting on his hips. He sighed, looking at the ground, eyes scanning the stable floor before he spoke.

“Look I- I hate fightin’ with you,” His eyes met your uncertain ones as they scanned his frame, and the way he had started to pick at his lip with his teeth. A habit he did when he was anxious about something. “I just want you safe so, please just come to dinner with me and Maria tonight. She's makin’ your favorite.” You disregarded what he had said about your safety, biting down a comment before giving him a warm and welcoming close-lipped smile, accepting his invitation.

+

It was nine forty-eight when Joel and Ellie had arrived at the stable. You were in the middle of grooming one of the horses, Juniper, when Ellie ran into the stable; her eyes were wide as she gazed in pure astonishment at all the pretty horses. You looked at her as she passed each and every horse, not forgetting to glance at a single one. She paused before looking at a particular horse, walking up towards its cell. You set your brush down, standing from where you sat on the stool.

“That one's Shimmer.” You exited the cell and she turned around almost startled, her head whipping. She nodded, mouth a little wide before breaking into a grin.

“Shimmer.” She repeated, nodding and putting her hand out to touch the horse's mane. Joel entered, walking into the stables open door, almost looking frantic before his eyes fell upon Ellie petting Shimmer. He stopped, sighing deeply and averting his attention to you now. Joel stayed back, but you could feel his stare on you from the corner of your eye as you moved down the aisle to stand next to Ellie.

“Shimmer is fast but stubborn. Kind of like most folks around here.” Ellie let out a snort before silently agreeing with you, still gently caressing. You moved over, gesturing to the next horse.

“This is Juniper,” You then gestured to the horse next to her. “And this is Missy.”

“Who named them?” Ellie questioned, beginning to walk with you down the aisle.

“Some have been here for a while. Maybe Maria and her family. But, I named this one,” You stopped in front of the next horse. “This is Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?” Ellie frowned a little, her tone slightly judgemental.

“Like the princess.” The Princess Bride was your favorite movie growing up; you always wished to be saved by a prince. But years later you realized saving yourself was much easier. Princes were hard to find.

“Princess?” Ellie tilted her head to the side, eyebrows raised. Sometimes you forgot the world ended. Sometimes you forget you weren't still eighteen in 2003. The little things were what reminded you of what you lost, not the clickers, not the dead bodies that piled up over the years but conversations.

“Nevermind. Buttercup is sweet but she’s strong so don't let her fool you,” You bent down to her level ait bit before whispering the next part to her. “She hates men. Bit Tommy once.” Ellie grinned brightly before she laughed, glancing over at Joel, her eyes glowing a bit.

“Joel! C’mere!” You heard Joel grumble, before he slowly waltzed over to where you and Ellie stood.

“What?” Joel said flatly, his southern twang popping out a little more when he said it. He was staring at Ellie, who had a large smile plastered on her face, both cheeks up to her ears. You moved forward to pet the horse, and she snorted as she fell into your delicate touch.

“This one is Buttercup.” Ellie rang enthusiastically and Joel hummed again, watching as you pet the horse.

“Buttercup?” Joel questioned after a minute, and you could feel his eyes on you.

“Yeah like The Princess Bride? I know you're old enough to know that.” There was a hint of a smile, almost teasing, on your face as you glanced sideways at Joel from where you stood petting the horse on the face. Joel nodded, humming a response as he shifted his hands that were resting on his hips. A stance that mirrored one of Tommy’s that made you smile to yourself.

“That one over there is Shimmer. Those two are Juniper and Missy.” Ellie pointed to each horse and Joel turned around to face the other horse you hadn't shown them yet.

“And these?” Joel pointed at them with his head. You pulled away from Buttercup, walking towards one of the unnamed horses.

“This is Randall. He's a big old teddy bear. We use him to pull heavy things since he's the biggest but can't run very fast.”

“Like unpaid labor?” Ellie questioned, walking towards the horse to pet him.

“Don't worry, we give 'em lots of rest and carrots afterwards.” You smiled at Randall as he trotted closer to Ellie as she pet his face and nose.

“The one next to him is Kirk. He’s super fast and sneaky. Likes to play games when he shouldn't be.” You grinned at Ellie as she moved on to pet Kirk now, who refused to go up to her. Ellie pouted a bit before you moved on to show them the rest of the horses in the stable. Some eager for Ellie’s touch and others not so much. You finished with the last horse in the stable before telling Ellie to come back the next morning to get her riding one of her choosing.

She lit up at that, and you swore she gave you the biggest smile. Joel had remained quiet as he watched you and Ellie, but you didn't mind. He seemed calm, almost like he was happy to be there but you could tell something was bothering him. Tommy always had the same look in his eyes, darting everywhere.

You stopped him just before he left the stables after Ellie, a hand on his arm to keep him from walking. “You good?” You asked and he turned to you, glancing at your hand that was on his arm first before ripping it away, making you stumble back slightly.

“Fine.” He didn't even look at you as he stalked away after Ellie without another word.

+

You arrived at Maria and Tommy’s before dinner was even ready. Maria was making a lamb stew, one of your favorites you grew up eating with your mother before she passed. You entered the home taking your shoes off as you ventured towards the smell of the food. Maria was in the kitchen humming a tune, her belly large like she was about to explode.

“Smells great.” You said entering the kitchen to stand next to her as you leaned your hip against the counter. You weren't wearing your overalls, instead you wore a pair of jeans and a nice shirt. Your hair was up this time, in a bun, with pieces of hair framing your face. You worked on your hair for hours, not sure how to style it but you fell upon a bun. You never liked to wear your hair up, but you thought that the occasion made it more likable.

Maria glanced at you before she nodded, a small pleasant smile on her face. The aroma had filled the house, and you noticed how Maria had done her makeup, her cheeks a slight pink and her eyelashes slightly darker.

Maybe it was the pregnancy, but you always noticed how beautiful she looked when she was content. You never questioned why Tommy had fallen for her; she was everything you werent. A graceful badass is what you liked to call her.

“Where's your husband?” You asked, sighing, watching as she continued to stir the stew.

“He should be back by now.” She glanced at the front door before she turned back to the stew. You bobbed your head, looking at the front door now.

“Tommy fixed up your guitar. Should be by the couch.” You looked at the couch that was positioned by the living room window, seeing the guitar that Tommy had found on patrol a few months back. He said he'd fix it up for you and give it to you for your birthday. But he was too eager to wait until the hot summer of July.

You headed towards the couch, seeing the guitar in your view as it was perched against the cushions. You touched it lightly, fingers gliding across the wood of the instrument. The chords sprang to life, and you picked it up sitting on the couch as it rested against your thigh.

It was lighter than the one you owned before the outbreak, but it was beautifully fixed by Tommy. It looked nothing like it had before Tommy fixed it. Your fingers traced all of it, playing with the chords for a second, a smile breaking out on your face.

You remember playing in the backyard when you were little, your father teaching you various songs. Since you could remember, you knew how to play guitar. You weren't amazing at it but it helped time go by faster. It helped ease your mind. Tommy knew this, you knew he knew this.

You strummed the guitar softly, like you were afraid to break it, the familiar sound vibrating through the wood and into your chest. It had been a long time since you held something like this- something that wasn’t just for survival. Your fingers stumbled over a few notes, rusty but eager, and Maria turned her head slightly at the sound, her smile deepening.

“Tommy spent months on it. Couldn't find the right parts. He wouldn't shut up about giving it to you. Said that he missed your singing.” Maria wiped her hands on a towel and came to sit across from you for a moment, one hand resting absently on her swollen belly. She watched you with a look you couldn’t quite place and her face was glowing from the sun and you couldn't help but admire her skin.

You strummed the guitar again, a few notes of a familiar song coming to mind. Maria hummed in content, admiring your fingers as they played chords and she immediately recognized the old country tune. “We have that on record. Sounds better coming from your guitar though.”

The front door opened, and you jumped slightly, turning to see Tommy stumble into the home and running to Maria to give her a kiss on the cheek, his hand laid out on her stomach. You felt your stomach tighten at the sight, a smile playing on your lips. Footsteps sounded from the front door and you turned to find Ellie perched at the door, sniffing in the scent of Maria’s cooking.

"Man," she said, sniffing the air again, "If heaven smells like this, sign me up."Ellie sighed contently before looking at you sitting on the couch, a guitar in your hand. Her eyes widened a little, a look of admiration taking over her features. “You play guitar?”

You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious under her wide-eyed gaze. "A little. Used to, anyway."

Ellie grinned, making her way closer, her boots thudding softly against the worn wooden floor. She plopped down cross-legged in front of you, like a kid.

"Play something," She paused, “Please.” But then another pair of footsteps sounded from the front door and you looked up to find the last person you wanted to see at this dinner. Joel had entered the home, his sleeves rolled up to his arms as Tommy walked over to greet him. Maria had disappeared into the kitchen and you slowly set the guitar on the ground, leaning it against the couch.

“Maybe some other time.”

Maria had set the table, setting the hot pot of stew in the middle, ready for everyone to grab. You were seated across from Tommy and Maria, next to Ellie and she was next to Joel. Ellie reached for the stew but Joel caught her arm before pointing his head towards Maria. Ellie huffed dramatically but caught the hint, muttering a quick appreciation towards Maria, before eagerly scooping some stew into her bowl.

The clinking of spoons against ceramic filled the room as everyone dug in. The stew was rich and savory, the lamb tender and falling apart with every bite. The bread Tommy had popped in the oven was still warm from the oven, its crust flaking apart perfectly in your hands.

Conversation flowed easily between Maria and Tommy, light and teasing like it always was between them. They talked about upcoming schedules and events for the town, a due date for the baby, about who was finally going to fix the broken gate near the south side, but they never brought up patrol. Ellie chimed in every now and then with her usual jokes, making Tommy bark out a laugh that seemed to shake the walls.

A laugh you hadn't heard in weeks. You stayed mostly quiet, picking at your stew, stealing glances at Joel when he was immersed in conversation with Ellie. Joel ate in a slow, deliberate way: head down, shoulders relaxed but alert. Every now and then, you'd catch him glancing at you, too in quick, fleeting looks.

“The first time I met her she had a gun to my head.” Tommy was telling the table after everyone’s bowls were empty and stomachs full of how the two of you met. You laughed at the memory, mentioning how when you both had first met you made sure he was afraid.

Tommy had accidentally found himself in your apartment late one night. He was drunk and the lock on your door didn't work. But you slept with a shotgun under your bed every night.

“Hm, well do you blame me? A twenty something year old all by herself? You're lucky I didn't break your legs.”

“Well, that's just the Miller charm.” Tommy winked at you and you rolled your eyes, ignoring him. Tommy and Maria looked at each other briefly before Tommy cleared his throat, looking directly at Ellie.

“Uh, Ellie Maria’s gonna show you the clothes she picked up for you.” Ellie glanced sideways at Joel, who gave her a nod. Maria took Ellie upstairs, leaving you, Tommy and Joel. Tommy looked at Joel first, who was silent the entire dinner unless he was directly spoken to.

“I actually have something to ask yall. And don't say anything, just let me finish.” You glanced over at Joel, eyebrows furrowed. He was staring at Tommy though, as if he knew what he was going to ask.

“So, you know how Eugene is already partnered with Finn.” Tommy glanced at you now, eyes casting over how you were sitting up straight.

“Yeah, I heard he's an asshole and doesn't know how to use a gun.” You almost laughed at him for bringing him up.

“Finn is apart of patrol rotation now-”

“Yeah, only because you took me off.”

“Just hang on,” Tommy put his hand out, to calm you down. “Joel wants to be a part of patrol rotation.” You glanced at Joel, whose jaw hardened, arms crossed over his chest tightly, his arms pulsating. Tommy glanced at Joel, and then to you. “You want to be a part of patrol rotation.” You shook your head, getting what he was suggesting now.

“Look, Eugene is old. He can't carry you if you hurt your leg. He can't save you if you get hurt. Joel can.”

“Why can't I be on patrol with you-”

“Maria wants me to be taken off rotation for a while. Help prepare for the baby.”

Joel spoke now, his words harsh and forced out in a cold manner. “I'm not shootin’ with someone who can't walk.” Your head whipped towards Joel.

“I can fucking walk. You don't know shit.”

“I don't have to know to see the way you limp.” You scoffed at him, about to say another word but Tommy interrupted you. You and Joel both snapped your heads towards him.

“Neither of you are being put on patrol. Yet. You need to work on your walking, and you still need to learn how things work here in Jackson.” You opened your mouth about to speak but Tommy shushed you, lifting a finger in your direction. “If yall want to be on patrol, I'm givin’ you the option.” You and Joel were stunned for a moment before Joel spoke.

“So,” He sighed deeply, and you watched as he fought the urge to run a hand through his hair. “You want me to babysit ‘er, and then I can be on patrol?” You turned your anger towards Joel.

“Babysit-” Tommy interrupts you for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

“Joel, you're not babysitting her. You're protecting her. I'm putting my trust in you.” Joel grew quiet at that, and you started to play with your fingers. You stared at your hands as you spoke.

“Look, I know I’m a liability-”

“You're not-” Tommy had tried to interrupt you again, but you shut him up.

“Just shut the fuck up Tommy. Let me say this,” You closed your eyes out of frustration, and Tommy sat back, lips pressed in a thin line. “I know that now, it feels like I'm learning to walk again. I’m… sorry for taking it out on you. I know…I know you just want what's best for me. But, I know what's best for me too. I know what I need. I can't be cooped up in this town anymore. So…I'll do it.”

Even though that part of you was screaming at you to not agree, you knew you had no other choice. Tommy nodded, smiling gratefully at you. He turned towards Joel who was watching you with that same look he had given you the first time you met him; a blank stare.

“Joel?”

Joel stood up slowly, the chair groaning beneath him. He looked down at you- not smug, not angry, just Joel. Weathered, torn and worn. You noticed him in the last rays of sunlight that peaked through the windows. The way his jaw was tense as he stared at you and the way you felt so small; so meek under his puncturing gaze.

The way he had rolled up his sleeves sometime during the day, his hands flexing at his side. The way his eyes glowed a little in the sun, even just the tiniest bit. The way his hair was greying slightly, specs of brown and grey hairs in his unkempt beard. The way it looked like he had put on a pine scented deodorant and maybe showered before he came. His hair looked damp still and it was pushed back slightly as a curl had escaped down his forehead.

You stopped your thoughts, glancing at Tommy again. Joel was still staring at you, but you noticed something. His lips were not in that downward shape they always were. There wasn't a teasing smile playing at them. They were tight, in a thin line before he opened his mouth to speak directly to you.

“You got a good rifle?”

Next Chapter ->

<- Previous Chapter

A/N: wowowow im MOURNING right now and this is my coping method. joel i love you come home the kids miss you. the coffee beans. the jacket. the watch. iykyk. anyway, i miss soft joel so im definitely going to have to put him in soon. it was honestly hard to write this right after episode two came out even though ive played the second game multiple times with no issue. but please please comment! i appreciate them so much :) lowkey wrote the end in a rush but the next one will also be pretty hefty in length! i am also my own proofreader so dont be afraid to comment on any mistakes or issues

Masterlist

[spacelatinoluvr]

Forever is the Sweetest Con

‘You were raw. And real. Something Joel hadn’t known for such a long time.’

Prologue

Summary: Finding meaning in a world full of disappointment was something you've always thought was pointless. And even now, after seemingly starting over, you're struggling to find purpose in the quaint town of Jackson. But that was all until saw yourself so clearly in the brother of your best friend, causing you to rethink your life.

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Tags: Soft Joel, Grumpy Joel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Reader is friends with Tommy, Reader was a Firefly

Warnings: Angst

You fucked up.

You can’t remember the last time you had really messed something up that bad. Maybe it was the third grade, when you had accidentally cut your hair into an ugly bob because you got bubble gum stuck in your hair. Your mother chided you, taking away your bike for a month. You were so upset with her that you cut your hair even shorter, making you look like a prepubescent boy.

Or maybe it was in high school when a senior boy grabbed your ass at the prom. You punched him in the face for that, in which you got suspended. Your father took away your car keys for a week before he eventually gave them back, returning them with a mischievous smile on his face as he congratulated you on giving the kid a clean right hook- his eye was adorned a bright purple for a good week.

Or the worst could have been when you-

Tommy rang again, speaking your name, each syllable hard and slow. That’s how you knew he was angry. Tommy never yelled because he didn't have to- his lip would fight to curl upwards, eyes ablaze in a fiery haze, hands wishing to thrash out at something. You decided to look him in the face, a decision out of pure curiosity. But, he didn’t look angry.

He wouldn’t look at you, and you raised your gaze to scan his face, his eyes that were everywhere but at you. His eyes sank a little, tired and pleading for an answer from you. His lips were planted in a downwards stream and his hands rubbed against each other, maybe to calm his nerves. He spoke again, this time softer and quieter with his eyes closed.

“You can’t just leave,” He sharply inhaled through his nose. “Especially without sayin’ anything to anyone. Jesus- we- I thought you'd left for good. What the hell were you thinkin’?”

You swallowed, throat becoming dry and achy; saliva had built its way up into your mouth, and your anxiety threatened to spill past you. Tommy was supposed to be pissed- yelling and screaming at you. But, Tommy has never yelled at you; no matter how mad he got. And somehow, even when he did yell or thrash out, his disappointment made you feel worse.

“Please, just tell me why- let me in to understand,” He opened his eyes to glance at you now, leaning his elbows upon his thighs slowly. He looked up at you, eyes darting between your face and your body. “At least tell me why you thought it was a good idea to leave by yourself? Without a word? We were lookin’ for you-”

“I didn’t leave,” You spoke quietly, eyes unwilling to meet him now. You sounded so pathetic. “I was only gone for a little while-“

“A little while?” Tommy let out a breathless laugh. You had wandered to the front gates in your fury, demanding that James open it and let you leave. The poor man was slightly scared as you aimed your gun at him, breathing heavily with an angry stare. But you had to leave.

It was early in the morning before the sun had risen, cooler than what the April weather had to offer later in the day. You were gone for the morning, needing some time alone after you and Tommy had an argument. You wanted to be put on patrols yet he refused. You returned earlier that morning after watching the sun rise slowly through the mountains, glistening in the birds' songs and rays of sunlight.

“I needed to be alone. You of all people know how it is. I’m capable of taking care of myself. I should be able to leave without feeling like…” A prisoner, you wanted to say, but you looked at the door instead, sighing as Tommy shook his head, sitting back further into his seat. He was practically lounging in his seat now, arms crossed over his chest as his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands over his face before dropping them in his lap. “You can be alone here.” He pointed at the floor. "Or outside. Hell, anywhere. You wanna hole yourself up in your house for a week? Fine. Do that. But don’t-" He stopped, exhaling sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Don’t fuckin’ disappear. Last time you left-" Tommy shook his head suppressing the distant memories.

You scoffed, eyes darkening. “I needed space. Everywhere I turn there’s someone there. I needed to actually be alone.” Tommy glanced at your legs, and you knew what he was thinking. Tommy’s gaze flickered to your legs. A flash of hesitation. Of something softer, something unspoken. And you knew exactly what he was thinking: You can’t be alone. You can’t handle being alone. You can’t even fucking run.

The silence stretched between you, thick with words left unsaid. You had argued with Tommy before. A lot. But this fight was different. This wasn’t about some stupid disagreement. This was about you and your capabilities. How you felt so useless- so careless to only be doing the simplest of tasks when your heart called out for something better.

“I consider you as my family. Do you know that?” Of course you knew that. You’d be stupid to not know that. “You, Maria… you’re all I’ve got left. Don’t be fuckin’ stupid and run off with Buttercup again. I mean- for Christ's sake you didn’t even have a gun!”

“You worry too much about me. I told you I can take care of myself.”

“And when a horde of ‘em comes after you, what will you do? Run?” His finger jabbed towards your leg, referring to your limp. “When a group of raiders find you, shooting Buttercup, what will you do then?”

A lump formed in your throat, hot and suffocating. Your arms curled tighter around yourself. You knew what you were- what you’d become. Just another burden. Another mouth to feed. Another liability Tommy had to protect, whether he wanted to or not. You knew you were an inconvenience to everyone around you; only able to do simple tasks around Jackson like maintenance of the horses, cleaning up in the kitchen, pitching in on dinner a couple times a week, working in the greenhouse.

You remained neutral, swallowing the lump in your throat. You wanted to matter again. You felt so empty without a gun in your hand. When you and Tommy first arrived at Jackson, you were fine with doing the simple things. But the repetition scared you; you needed something different.

“I’m damn good with a gun and you know that Tommy-”

“I know. Hell, you just might be better than me but that's not the point. We're a community here. Were not fireflies anymore-”

“I know that.”

“You keep to yourself, and I get it. I do. But…” Tommy sighed, shaking his head. “Me and Maria are the only people you talk to-”

“I talk to Eugene and Henrietta.” Tommy deadpanned as you adjusted the straps on your overalls.

“They don't count, you have to talk to them. I think it's time for you to finally branch out, get to know some people and make some meaningful friends.”

As if it was that easy. You tried making friends but no one really… stuck around. It was quiet again, and you wanted so badly for Tommy to just forget it. But you knew he wouldn't.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he said finally, his voice gruff but steady. “You don’t have to act like you are.”

You wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong; that you had always been alone, that people left, that people died. That being alone was safer, that it was easier, that it meant you didn’t have to sit here and have conversations like this where someone actually cared enough to call you out.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let out a slow breath, pressing your lips together.

You shifted in your seat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“And you think disappearin’ is the way to do it?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as the ponytail you had put it in became looser.

“I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, Tommy! I mean jesus! You treat me like I’m a fucking child! I can’t do patrols- I can’t watch the gate- what I can-“ You rolled your eyes, scoffing again. “Oh that’s right I can help Henrietta with dinner- oh and I can help in the greenhouse. I’ve been doing this shit for what? Three months? I’m done. Put me back on patrol.” Your eyes slanted, now heated up.

It was quiet again, only this time Tommy was staring at you and the way you fidgeted nervously in your seat that was adjacent to his. The way you played with your thumbs, a habit of picking at the skin when you were upset about something. The way your eyes darted around, not daring to look him in the face. The way you were sat up straight, not like your normal slouch.

And the way that even your body language told him what your words could not. That you were scared. So deathly afraid. Tommy knew you too well; he knew exactly what you were thinking even if you weren't aware of those thoughts yourself.

“I care about you too damn much to-“

The door creaked open when Tommy had started to speak, interrupting him. Both you and Tommy turned towards the sound of it. It was Mike, one of the men on the council who had entered the room hurriedly, speaking out in vigor. He spoke almost excitedly, slightly out of breath as he collected himself. He paused for a moment before speaking.

“It's your brother,” Tommy’s face hardened quickly.

“He’s back.”

Next Chapter ->

A/N: Hello! This is only a small preview into my upcoming Joel fanfic! Chapter 1 will be posted!

Masterlist

[spacelatinoluvr]

Made an arcane fan animation hehe

[spacelatinoluvr]

the way their relationship wasn’t just represented as platonic or romantic but just pure love is so beautiful to me. they’re not just soulmates but their souls were somehow made for each other. they’re are destined together in every timeline. EVERY TIMELINE. it was tragically beautiful and bittersweet. souls intertwined on a singular celestial level; an eternity together. not as lovers or friends or partners but as soulmates. everything was for them. and that truly was such a beautiful thing.

[spacelatinoluvr]

apartment 315 (part 2) 18+

summary: after living in your apartment for a few months, you and logan start to feel more and more like distant strangers across the hall. that’s until you take another guy home, and logan doesn’t know how to act.   word count: 4.0k pairing: modern!Logan Howlett x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut, jealousy, not so nice name calling tags: fighting, jealous!Logan, modern au, top!Logan, fighting, jealous!Logan, public sex, fingering, dirty talk, dom!Logan, teasing, edging, enemies-ish to lovers, soft logan and laura, happy ending part 1

Logan always chose the cheapest and shittiest beer. The beer that would not have an effect on him. A beer that was barely worth anything. You noticed that Logan would appear in your bar more frequently during your shifts. As if he was watching over you. Like a guardian angel of some sort. It was comforting knowing he was there. 

But one particular Friday night, you were not there. 

Instead, you had been put on a blind date set-up by your friend Darcy. One of her co-workers was apparently your type. As if you had a type. You had just gotten divorced almost a year ago. You didn't want to agree, you were hesitant at first, but Darcy insisted it was just to get you out of your humble abode. And Logan didn't know why you weren't there. And her certainly would not have guessed you were on a date with someone else.

“Please?” Darcy was practically begging over the phone. It was now the beginning of December, and the snow still had not appeared. You were walking up the stairs to your apartment, slightly out of breath. The elevator had still not been fixed, and you had to walk up three flights of stairs everyday. The phone was on your shoulder, tucked under your ear and you reached the third floor beginning to search for your keys in your purse. You stopped looking to answer Darcy. 

“Fine…” Darcy squeaked over the phone and you could imagine her doing a dance at that moment. Your brain flashed back to Logan briefly, remembering what you said to him in the alley. You tried to forget it but every time you saw him at the bar, your heart beat a little faster. 

You had not uttered a word about what had happened between the two of you. To Lee or to Darcy. Not a single soul knew. Truly what you had said to him. You were embarrassed. And you really needed an excuse for an expensive glass of wine. You thought maybe you had gotten to Logan. Maybe he'd finally make a move. Maybe the tension would disappear. But he still remained that same distant neighbor. You still felt like strangers. 

“I'll call you later tonight, Darcy. Lee wanted to binge watch some show-”

You both said your goodbyes before you hung up the phone with a large sigh, leaning your forehead against the door. You really did not want to go on a double date. A blind date at that. But you really needed to leave your home. You needed a break. You had just gotten off an awful shift at the bar, hoping something would- 

“You okay?” You turned around sharply to find Logan edging his way up the stairs, staring at you with concern, his eyebrows slightly bunched together. You nodded, putting your fingers between your forehead and closing your eyes. 

“I just really need a drink,” You said, opening your eyes to find Logan still staring at you. You bit your lip, thinking for a moment. Only for a second before the words came tumbling out of your mouth. “Do you wanna come inside?” An open invitation. And Logan accepted. 

You hurriedly rushed to clean off your kitchen counter of dirty dishes and magazines, muttering under your breath. Logan had his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around your apartment. He took note of how there was an unopened box in the back of the living room. It was fairly clean but a little messy in some parts. You moved around the kitchen before you pulled out two bottles of beer from your fridge. 

“Uh, go ahead and sit on the couch.” You pointed with your head at the couch at the end of the apartment and Logan silently moved towards it. His eye caught on that unopened box again as he sat down. You handed him the beer, hoping he wouldn't bring it up. But to your dismay, he did. 

“What’s in the box?” You smirked, taking a long swig from the beer, the slick feeling of its coolness running down your throat. 

“Body parts,” You answered, and Logan smiled, his eyes narrowing at you. “You're a boxer, right?” Logan paused.

“Was. I was a boxer.”

“Who says you aren't anymore?”

“I do.”

“Well I say you still are one. Look at your hands. What makes you think you aren't one?”

“What's really in the box?”

“Touche.” You stood after a moment, letting out a huff. You turned around grabbing the small box, setting it on the table in front of the couch. The box’s writing was now on display reading “Shit asshole didn't want!”. You slowly opened the box, peering inside to find only three things: a wedding ring, a photo album and an oversized t-shirt. You took the three things out of the box, setting them down next to it. It was quiet again, and Logan took a long sip from his beer before speaking up. 

“There’s a boxing ring downtown…I used to make money off of it. Think of it as gambling. I was the boxer. The Wolverine. It felt illegal even though it wasn’t. And then one night…I lost, breaking my shoulder blade. I’ve been trying to get back into it but with Laura around- it’s difficult.” He took another long swig and moved towards the fireplace on the other end of the room, turning it on before moving to sit back next to Logan, closer than before. 

“I was going to be a professional dancer. A ballerina. It was my first love really. And then I met…” You paused, staring at the fire, anger rising within you for a moment. You calmed yourself, breathing in a deep breath, turning towards Logan. “His name was Ben. He didn’t want me to be a dancer so… I quit. I became some lousy bartender down the street from our cheap apartment-“ 

“You’re not lousy.” You smiled, a crinkle in your eye. 

“Thanks but…I didn’t follow my dream. I followed a man. That’s what made me lousy. Anyway!” You stood abruptly, picking up the things from outside the box and standing next to the fire. 

“This was my favorite oversized t-shirt…” You stood over the flames, throwing it in the fire, watching the remnants of the cotton turn to soot and ash. You grabbed the photo album next flipping through the empty pages, landing on a photo of you and Ben. 

“He didn't want this photo because it was the only one that had just the two of us…” You ripped it out of the album before tearing it to pieces and throwing it in the fire along with the shirt. You watched them burn for a moment, before grabbing the wedding ring, the one you had given him. 

“And this was his wedding ring…it wasn't cheap but…” And you threw the ring in the fire, watching all of your lost memories with your ex-husband fade along with those three reminders. You turned around, clearing your throat and Logan was staring at you just like he was at the halloween party. Just like he was behind the alley.

“Whatever he did…he was a stupid fuck.” Logan had a different sound in his voice when he said that, it was deeper than when he normally spoke. You hummed, sitting back down next to him.

“He was a really stupid fuck.” You laughed, leaning to pick up your beer. You took a long swig, feeling Logan watching you from the corner of your eye. You turned towards him, fully facing him as you crossed your legs on the couch. 

“Where’s Laura tonight?” You asked, taking another sip from your beer, it now begins to slowly empty itself. Logan grimaced slightly, shaking his head. 

“She's with Mrs. Baker…she wanted to knit with Laura.” He sounded upset when he said it and all you could do was let out a laugh, covering your mouth quickly when it escaped you. 

“Laura knitting? Wow, I can imagine her having so much fun right now.” You said sarcastically, laughing after your sentence. Logan smiled. He actually smiled. His eyes crinkled slightly, the lines across his forehead smashing together. For what felt like the first time you’d seen him grin at you. And it made you ecstatic. You felt accomplished. Someone else besides Laura had finally gotten the grump across the hall to smile. And it was genuine. Not the snarky ones he had given you before. But it was a truly happy smile. 

”Yeah she’s…different,” He said, still smiling whilst bringing the bottle to his lips. “You guys are similar.”

You leaned towards him. “How so?”

“You’re both just…different from everyone else.” Now it was your turn to smile.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Logan scoffed, taking another sip from the beer. 

“Doubt it.”

“I bet you can’t give me another good compliment.” He hid another smile behind his bottle. And then his smile was gone, another look appearing in his eyes as he set the now empty beer bottle on the table. And damn you wished you could make him smile again. Maybe get a chuckle or a small laugh. But no. The look you got now was not a smile or a cocky grin, it was serious and hard. Like he was staring into your mind and soul. Staring right into you. 

“Well for one you are…attractive.” He paused before saying the last word, averting his eyes from yours. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and if the fire didn't glow so bright you might not have caught it. 

“And what does that mean?” You leaned closer to him, tilting your head to the side. He glanced down, looking at your lips. And then he moved even closer to you. It was as if a flip switched inside of him. 

“I like your hair…” He reached his hand to touch your hair, moving away a piece that had fallen in front of your eyes. You watched him as his warm hand paused right before touching your face. His fingertips slowly panned down your face. “Your eyes…” His hand traced your face delicately, stopping right before your chin. “Your lips…” He reached your chin, holding it in his hand, grazing your lips softly with his thumb. His thumb pulled open your lips, your mouth parted slightly. You held your breath, waiting for his next move.

His hand left your face, encasing your neck, grazing the exposed skin. 

“Your neck,” He wanted to kiss the skin, leaving marks in the place of his lips. His hand trailed again, now on your shoulder. “Your shoulders.” His hand was laying on your shoulder, and you scooted towards him but he abruptly pulled away, flexing his hand when it reached his side. Your eyebrows creased, and you reached towards him, your hand about to land on his cheek but he pulled away fast. So fast that you almost fell on top of him, but he couldn't look at you. 

“What-”

“I should go.” Logan stood abruptly, almost flushed, as he made his way to the door. You sat there stunned for a moment, staring ahead of you as the door opened. Logan was standing there, waiting for you to say something. Anything. But you didn't. You sat there, silent. The door slammed shut moments later, the only sound that was heard was the crackling of fire. 

That Friday night, you arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes before the time Darcy had instructed you. You wore a short black dress, one you haven't worn in years since before you were married. One you wanted Logan to rip off- No. You were here on a date with another man. Not to have thoughts of your neighbor. 

You were the first one there, so you sat at the table, anxiously tapping your foot on the ground whilst sipping on a glass of water. It was now five minutes before the time and you were starting to think you got the wrong time. Maybe you-

Someone called your name from behind you. 

“Hi Uh, I’m Charles.” He stuck his hand forward, and you stared at it for a moment before smiling and gripping his sweaty palm. You introduced yourself, inviting him to sit down in front of you. Your phone went off, and you picked it up staring at the text Darcy had sent you: sorry we can’t make it! have fun! ;)

You angrily shut off your phone, taking a large gulp of water. Of course it was a set up. 

“Is something wrong?” Charles asked and you choked on your water slightly, still mid sip. You eventually swallowed the water, nodding your head. 

“Yeah everythings perfect. Darcy just texted me that she couldn't make it.” Charles smiled lightly, looking into his lap. 

“Yes, well that is not a surprise.” He laughed, and it was awkwardly silent before you asked him a question. 

“So um, you work with Darcy?” He nodded, the waiter arriving with two glasses of red wine, setting them in front of you both. 

“Yes.” He responded, and you waited for him to say something else but he sat there quietly sipping on his wine. This guy is a talker…

The rest of the night went on like that. You ask him a question and he'd give you a short one word answer. It was exhausting. But, damn, he was attractive. But he wasn't Logan. He wasn't the man across the hall. The man that had voluntarily touched your face. The man that you had wanted to want you back. But, he wouldn't do it. And that made you angry. So angry that you had brought this mysterious man back to your apartment after your date. You pulled him up the stairwell, your hand in his. Your black dress rode up your thighs as you went up but you didn't care. You didn't give a damn. You didn't give a single fuck. Because this man wanted you. And that's all the permission you needed. For someone to finally want you back. 

His hand trailed down to your ass, squeezing gently and you couldn't help but think of Logan. Wishing it was him instead. You reached your door, fumbling with the keys in your hand. You were nervous. The keys fell to the ground, and Charles bent to pick them up, rising in front of your face. He twirled them in his hand, before his mouth landed on yours quickly. You gasped as his lips met yours, not reciprocating the kiss at first. And then it dawned on you. Why did you care? In a second, your hands were running through his hair, tugging it harshly and he groaned when you did it. He pushed you against the door, his lips trailing down your neck. Your eyes were closed, your mouth agape. When your eyes opened, they met the gaze of someone across the hall.

They met the gaze of Logan. Logan was stationed on the stairwell, his hand gripping the handrail so hard you could see the blood from his knuckles already seeping through the loose bandages that covered his hands. He stared into your eyes, not even daring to look away from you. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with every moment Charles lips trailed lower and lower.

He watched as his hands trailed down your thighs and under your dress. He watched it, not uttering a single word. And then he looked hurt; disappointed. He shook his head, slowly dragging his feet as he walked towards his apartment. The door opened quietly, and Logan stopped for a moment before he entered slamming the door loudly on his way in. 

The sound of the door slamming startled Charles and he jumped away from you, breathing heavily. 

“Sorry I-” He began to say, but you cut him off. You didn't want this. You didn't want him. 

“You're a sloppy kisser,” You deadpanned, turning to open your door with your keys. You opened the door, pausing to say one more thing. 

“And you're boring.” The door slammed shut. 

That same night, you lay in bed in only an oversized tee tossing and turning. You couldn't sleep. You rose from your bed, still only in your underwear. You sagged yourself outside your door, leading to Lee’s apartment. Just before you knocked on her door, you stopped yourself. What were you doing? It was two in the morning. Lee most likely was not asleep but you didn't want to wake her. You didn't want to bother her with your troubles. 

You sighed, running your hands through your hair before turning around. Logan was in the middle of closing his door, and he stopped only staring at you. Only staring at you, solely in your underwear. Staring at your exposed legs. And then he looked away, almost as if he was remembering something. Remembering past events. A dark look overtook his eyes when he glanced back at you and you fought the urge to clench your legs together. 

Logan had not been able to sleep either. He sat on his couch waiting…waiting for your door to open. Because Logan knew exactly what sound your door made every time you opened it. 

“Have fun?” Logan grumbled, setting a trash bag outside of his door. You scoffed, pulling your shirt down to your knees. You tried to at least cover your thighs, but the shirt just bunched up reaching the ends of your inner thigh. 

“You know what Logan,” You looked at the ground. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” Your eyes raised to meet his. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re a fucking hypocrite!” You stepped towards him, away from Lee’s door. He shook his head, his lip curling upwards.

“And you’re a slut. What's worse?” He turned towards his door, opening it but you shot forwards, your bare feet padding across the ground. You slammed Logan’s door shut with your back before he could enter, and he backed away, a long sigh escaping through his nose. 

“Fuck you. You don't get to call me that. That is not fair.” Your finger pointed at his face, almost touching his mouth. His lips parted, as if thinking about his next words carefully. 

“Well you did fuck a guy you just met.” Logan inched towards you, his face now hovering over yours. 

“I didn't sleep with him! Jesus- what is your-” Logan bounded forward, bringing your head towards his, his lips meeting yours in a furious kiss. At first you crinkled up below him, not prepared for that. But then you melted into his hands, as he kept kissing you, his hands placed firmly between your two cheeks. You kissed him back just as hard, if not harder than he expected. He enjoyed tasting you for the first time. He wanted to relish in it. He wanted to feel you for the rest of his life. 

Your back hit the door of his apartment, Logan’s hands traveling lower to grip at your shirt, lightly lifting it above your stomach. His hand encased across your stomach, tracing it lightly with his rough fingers. You pulled away from him, hitting the back of your head on the door again. 

“I'm sorry I-” You were breathing through your mouth, trying to calm your heartbeat. 

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.” Logan growled deeply, and you felt your heart quicken as he put his hands between your head, diving in for another kiss. And you accepted. His hand trailed down your stomach again, this time not stopping. He paused right before the top of your underwear, almost uncertain. He played with the panty lines, almost tugging them off of you. But you ripped your lips away from his. 

“What are you-” Logan’s fingers went under your underwear, and you let out a gasp as his fingered glazed over your core, and you jutted your hips forward, a gasp leaving your lips. 

“I’m taking what is mine. Isn't that what you wanted?” His fingers, his calloused and large fingers slowly inserted themselves into you. You were wet. You were surprised at how aroused you had gotten by the previous argument. How much making him angry turned you on. Logan’s fingers curled inside you, and it took everything in you to not buckle beneath him. 

“Fuck-” You moaned and Logan pumped in again before you gripped his shoulders with both of your hands, squeezing tightly, your head falling on the door again.  

“Quiet…” He whispered, starting to pump in and out of you at a faster pace. His other hand trailed down your stomach, reaching your thighs. Your beautiful thighs. He squeezed one, running his thumb across the space of your exposed skin, his fingers pausing inside you. 

“I wanted to kill him,” Your mouth opened in a silent plea as he stopped pumping inside you, a groan leaving his lips. “For touching you, touching what's mine.” A quiet moan left your lips, so soft like music to Logan’s ears. “And that dress…I wish I had gotten the chance to rip it off of you.” He wanted to watch it drop to the floor, he wanted to not just rip, but tear, that dress off of you. Because you were his, and only his. He began pumping inside of you again, more vigorously now and all you could do was try not to crumble against the door. 

“Please,” Your mouth opened again, a loud moan releasing itself from you and Logan’s hand that had been on your thigh reached up and cupped itself over your mouth. You breathed out heavily, that familiar feeling building up inside of you. “Please, Logan.”

“You have to be quiet.” He reprimanded, and your legs were starting to feel like jello now. You were so close, Logan’s eyes were only on you as he kept pumping his fingers in and out. His pace fastened, and your breathing was getting heavier and your hands now gripped the one covering your mouth. A muffled moan escaped from you, and your eyes closed slightly as you chased your high, about to-. 

And then Logan stopped, his fingers leaving from inside of you and your eyes opened to see him smirking at you. 

“What the fuck?” You asked, your mouth open in shock. Only a few seconds longer and you would have released all over his hand. In front of his apartment. In the hallway of your building. Your cheeks got red, and you touch them with your hands. There had to be cameras, right? 

“Oh my god we're gonna get arrested for-” Logan laughed, shaking his head. 

“Were not going to get arrested,” And then he looked you up and down, almost instantly noticing your uncomfortable stance. “Here.”

He took his coat off, putting it around your shoulders, reaching behind you. And then he pulled you into a long hug, after the coat had been sat on your shoulders. You looked so small and frail, but your eyes still had a euphoric gloss in them. It took everything in Logan not to take you right then and there. Because truly he didnt care where it was that he fucked you. He just needed you. 

But instead he kissed the top of your head and you sighed, wrapping your arms around him as well. It was comfortable standing like that. It wasn't awkward. Just comfortable. He then picked you up bridal style and you gasped laughing as he did, opening the door of his apartment. You looked over at the apartment in front of you, right before you entered, reading the numbers three-fifteen. You wondered what would have happened if you picked a different apartment complex. If you didn't go on that atrocious date. 

So before you went to bed that night, Logan asleep next to you, you silently thanked apartment 315. 

a/n: wow I was NOT expecting people to actually read the first part omg. I really appreciate everyone’s comments! I wrote this during my work breaks lmfao. I wanted to get it out asap. Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time ever writing smut so I’m not too sure how good I did but we’ll see… until next time you horny fucks! Also they did NOT freak… i couldn't stop thinking about Laura being next door to that so… lol

taglist: @needz1nk, @likeficsinthewnd

cross-posted on ao3:

[spacelatinoluvr]

your writing does not have to be outstanding or exceptional. seriously, I read books all the time with just average writing, maybe some of the minor characters are one dimensional and cliched, maybe the dialogue is a little cheesy, maybe the plot is a little shaky, but the characters and their dire situation have hooked me. your story doesn’t have to be 5 stars to be worth writing and sharing and it will find the people who will love it.

[spacelatinoluvr]

MY MASTERLIST

hi! welcome to my masterlist! thank you so much for reading what I write. requests are open! mdni! I write for a bunch of different fandoms so I am truly open to anything. I’m currently in college so my schedule is kind of wacky right now but I try my best to get things out asap. but besides that, comments are what really keep my going so I very much appreciate feedback! - space

fandoms

a song of ice and fire

ongoing

aemond targaryen x stark!oc -> blood runs thicker than water (under construction/being rewritten)

summary: after surviving her own assassination attempt, alarra stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. for years after alarra was now known as "alarra the fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. after then, she spent years training with her older brother, cregan stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. but, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to joffrey velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the iron throne: rhaenyra targaryen. accompanying the family to kingslanding, alarra realized maybe marrying the young velaryon boy wasn't so awful. but that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince.

marvel

finished

modern!logan x fem!reader -> neighbor across the hall (part 1) & apartment 315 (part 2)

summary: newly divorced, you move into an apartment complex, living alone for the first time in years. while you're still adapting and making friends you find that the single father and his daughter across the hall find you very fascinating.

the last of us

ongoing

joel miller x fem!reader -> forever is the sweetest con

summary: Finding meaning in a world full of disappointment was something you've always thought was pointless. And even now, after seemingly starting over, you're struggling to find purpose in the quaint town of Jackson. But that was all until saw yourself so clearly in the brother of your best friend, causing you to rethink your life.

[spacelatinoluvr]

neighbor across the hall (part 1) 18+

summary: newly divorced, you move into an apartment complex, living alone for the first time in years. while you're still adapting and making friends you find that the single father and his daughter across the hall find you very fascinating. word count: 6.8k pairing: modern!Logan Howlett x fem!reader tags: modern au, smut if you squint really hard, rough Logan, dad Logan, boxer Logan, neighbors to lovers, Logan is a softie, !mdni! part 2

“I know Mom-“

You sang, your feet leading you up the creaky staircase to your third floor apartment. You were fiddling with your purse, trying to find your keys as the phone was tucked into your shoulder and pressed against your ear. Your mom’s muffled voice rang again, more upset than before.

“I told you I don’t want you to be by yourself. What about your friend, uh what was her name… Margie?”

You sighed, still digging through the messy purse.

“Darcy, her name was Darcy, Mom.”

“Well why don’t you two become roommates? She was a sweet girl-“

You paused trying to find the missing keys when you reached your apartment door.

“She’s living with her girlfriend… Besides, I'll be fine. I need to be on my own for a while. This neighborhood isn’t too bad, a few drug dealers here and there.”

Your mom gasped lightly and you could almost see her hitting your shoulder through the phone. She said your name loudly, almost in a warning to not joke about that.

You giggled lightly, letting out a quick “Aha!” when your fingers found the keys.

“Kidding. Ok, well I gotta let you go Mom. I have to do dishes, clean, y’know what single people do.”

“Ok sweetie, just be safe.”

“I always am.”

You both said your goodbyes before you hung up the phone and opened the door of your freshly furnished apartment. You entered and it was still slightly messy from unpacking and it had the smell of old mildewy carpet. You set your phone and keys on the counter, sighing as you glanced around the small apartment. The room was quiet and still, and the only thing that you could hear was the feet pounding in the room above you and the honking of cars outside your open window.

The rest of your day was boring to say the least. You cooked yourself dinner, a frozen pizza and a glass of red wine. You then proceed to waltz around your living room, with said glass of wine in hand, trying to decide what to unpack first with your eyes flying to a box of old wedding gifts labeled “Shit asshole didn't want!”. You thought about it then and there that maybe you should've thrown away the ‘shit’ from your cheating ex-husband but you couldn't. You paused, the sound of bass rumbling through the walls, vibrating your kitchen. You stopped in your kitchen, pressing your ear against the wall. The melody of some old rock song you didn't know flowing through your walls. And then it stopped.

You walked towards your door, hearing the yelling of an old lady who lived a few doors down. You had briefly met earlier that week, her name slipping from your mind. You opened your door to find your neighbor next to you and the older woman arguing. You leaned against the doorframe, the wine glass was still in your hand, and you swirled it before taking another sip as you watched the conversation play out.

“-turn the music down!”

“It wasn't even loud, Sheryl, it was like…quiet.” Sheryl. That was her name. A name to suit a cranky old lady that was for sure. You couldn't see the neighbor, due to a head of gray curly hair blocking your sight.

“Quiet?!”

“For me, yes.”

“Just turn it down before I tell the landlord, again.”

“No wait- ok fine i'll turn it down.” They both said something, but it was too quiet and they were too far away for you to hear. And then the old lady turned around her eyes meeting yours before she scolded you, and walked down the stairs. The elevator was broken, and had been for a few months from what your landlord told you. You were glad you didn’t live on the fifth floor. You watched her until she was gone and met the eyes of your neighbor. She was wearing a large baggy t-shirt with the band Metallica plastered over it and her hair was black and short, ears length. She was wearing plaid pajama pants and bunny slippers, which made you slightly surprised.

“Just to let you know, it doesn't bother me.” You said as she stared at you, her eyes squinting at you.

“Noted.” She said before she turned around, about to shut the door but you were fast and you stopped her door with your hand, and she gazed at you through a small gap.

“What are you doing?”

“Introducing myself.” You said, and you gave her your name. She stared at you, and you waited for her to introduce herself too but she just stood there staring at you for a few seconds. But, then she looked down at the glass of wine in your hand and opened the door a little wider.

“I’m Lee.” She introduced, sticking her hand out to you. You shook it lightly, and she was about to close the door again when you spoke up.

“Uh, I live next door. Three-sixteen”

“I know.” She said before she slammed the door in your face and you were stuck staring at the numbers 314 before music blared again, slightly quieter than before but still loud. You turned around sighing, walking back to your door but stopped when you saw a girl, no older than twelve, sitting at the stairs staring at you. You smiled at her and waved, but she didn't even budge. She made no move to wave back or even manage a smile.

She just stared at you, eyes not moving. It was slightly intimidating. She kept staring at you until you made it back to your door, and entered your apartment. You blew air out of your mouth, and stared at the boxes again, your hands on your hips as you set the empty glass of win in the sink. They were haunting you waiting to be put away. And that's what you ended up doing for the rest of the night and only one box sat, untouched by you.

The next morning you planned to go job-hunting. You had tried every place in the area hiring for servers, but none seemed the least bit interested in actually hiring people. Before your divorce, you had planned on becoming a professional ballet dancer, and you were quite good, amazing even, but your ex-husband had demanded you do something to at least make a little more money. And you did. You quit going to dance school to become a full-time bartender at some lousy bar. You always thought your ex-husband was jealous of you, and now you truly believed he had crushed your dreams because he was envious of your talent. The last place on your list was a bar a block from your apartment complex, walking distance. It was small, but loud as you entered the bar.

You sat down at the bar, all the way at the end, waiting for someone to speak to you, but a few minutes went by before you heard yelling from the kitchen.

“Fine! I don’t give a fuck, fire me! Good luck finding someone to get you money!” A girl, with curly black hair and gold hoops on her ears, exited the kitchen as a chubby bald man trailed behind her. Both of them looked heated, in some kind of argument and you sat up, listening.

“Maria, you can't solicit guests here, that's prostitution!” He yelled, his hands flying in the air.

“Why do you care?”

“Because you're my niece and I really don't want your mother-”

“Ok well I quit!” The man put his fingers to his forehead, and they both started yelling in a foreign language you couldn’t understand before Maria stormed out of the bar with a scream, the door slamming behind her. The man, possibly the owner, looked around the bar before his eyes landed on you. You looked away quickly, to hide yourself but he started to approach you.

“Hi, uh sorry about that,” He cleared his throat. “Can I get you anything?” He asked and you looked at him before replying.

“Are you hiring?”

“As of three seconds ago, yes.”

“Need a new server?”

Within three minutes of speaking with the owner, whose name you learned was Pascal, he had hired you on the spot and asked you to come in the next Friday, prepared for training. You assured him you had loads of experience and didn't need to train but he insisted. He told you the bar was always slow, mostly consisting of older men and told you to be ready for anything these men tried. After training that Friday, you got home late that night, around twelve in the morning, exhausted. You entered your apartment, showering and changing into shorts and a tank top (It was summer-time and the AC didn't work on your floor).

As you got into bed, ready to fall asleep for the night, a loud guitar bass sounded through your apartment. You groaned, grabbing a pillow and shoving it to your face and you could still hear the music coming from your neighbor. After about ten minutes of this, you sat up walking to your door to speak to your neighbor and their music. It usually didn't bother you but tonight you were not in the mood to not get sleep over AC/DC. You knocked on Lee’s door not once but five times, the final time banging both of your fists loudly against the door before the music stopped and Lee opened the door, a guitar pick in her mouth.

“What?” She questioned, as if she were clueless.

“Please turn it down, I really need some sleep.”

“No can do, I have a showcase tomorrow.”

“Just turn it down, my room is right next door.” Lee nodded before she slammed the door in your face, the music blaring again seeming more loud than before. You groaned loudly, kicking her door annoyingly with your foot.

“If you ask her to turn it down, she just makes it louder.” You turned to find a man you hadn't met before, keys in his hand as he was watching you, a smug look on his face. As if this was amusing to him. He was wearing jeans and boots, and a large jacket, as if it wasn't eighty degrees outside. He had brown hair, and gray hairs were poking through. He looked permanently angry, the lines across his face showing that. He was across the hall from you, the only thing separating you were the stairs. You crossed your arms over your chest, scoffing.

“You can't hear it from my apartment.” He said, and you stood up straighter, your hands dropping at your side, his invitation surprising you. Was he actually inviting you into his apartment? You laughed, slightly offended.

“If you think-” He turned his back to you, opening the door with his keys before he slammed the door shut, the sound echoing down the hallway. You stood there in disbelief before you entered your apartment, the sound of guitars and drums the only thing you heard for the next two hours.

“Darcy, you have to visit me. This place is wack, there's an annoying emo girl next to me, some old lady downstairs that's always complaining about something, this Firestarter lookalike and some creepy guy across the hall.” You complained on the phone the next night, talking to your best friend, Darcy. You met Darcy at college, she was a music major and actually graduated pursuing her dreams of becoming an Opera singer. She was fantastic and you always loved watching her.

“Sounds fun. All of our neighbors are old couples.” You groaned, plopping down on your couch.

“I wish.”

“How are you holding up? And don't lie to me.” You glanced at the untouched box of things from your ex-husband.

“I'm fine, really.” She said your name over the phone, almost like a warning. “I'm fine!” You said, laying down on the couch.

“Ok well it’s only been a couple months. How’s your new job going?”

“It’s good. Enough to keep me going for now, my boss is…weird but not creepy. The place is-” You stopped talking when a knock sounded throughout your apartment coming from your door.

“Hey, I'll talk to you later Darcy.” You got up from the couch, hanging up the phone. You opened your door to find no one there except the mysterious girl on the staircase. You exited your apartment, closing the door and you leaned against it. You two stared at each other for a while before you spoke up.

“Do you like staring at strangers?” She didn't move but continued to stare at you. For the past week she had been always sitting at the staircase when you left or entered staring at you.

“Ok, which apartment do you live in-?” The door across the hall opened, and the man from the night before exited. He got caught off guard seeing you and looked a little surprised. He ignored you, and walked towards the staircase picking up the girl's hand and dragging her towards Lee’s apartment. He banged on the door, and a few seconds later a very upbeat Lee opened the door.

“Oh, Wolvy, got a hot date tonight?” Lee’s eyebrows went up, wiggling suggestively.

“Just watch her please.” He said gruffly, before pushing her lightly towards Lee. Lee sighed, turning back to look into her apartment and turning back to an annoyed ‘Wolvy’. He rolled his eyes, muttering to Lee about not calling him ‘Wolvy’. He turned around to leave and as he was going down the stairs his eyes met yours and then he was gone.

Before they both entered Lee’s apartment, the girl pulled Lee’s ear towards her mouth, whispering something in her ear. Lee burst out laughing before telling her a straightforward ‘No. Absolutely not.’. The girl just stared at her before Lee sighed, turning towards you.

“She wants to know-“ The girl growled, glaring at Lee. “I want to know if you’d like to join us for the evening.” You blinked, smiling.

“Of course, I would be delighted. You know-“ Lee shushed you.

“Just come on.”

Lee's apartment was exactly how you imagine it would be. Multiple posters of rock bands you didn’t know were decorated across every wall. There were multiple guitars and a set of drums in the corner of her living room. Her apartment was a mess but it seemed to suit her anxious state as she’d frantically ran around trying to clean up old Chinese takeout sitting on the counter and clean laundry on her couch.

“Just uh- sit on the floor.” Lee said as she ran to her room quickly. You and the little girl sat far away from each other, as you waited for Lee to come back. You looked at her, awkwardly smiling. She just stared at you, no emotions.

“So uh- how’s school?”

“She’s homeschooled!” Lee yelled from where she was and you clicked your tongue feeling embarrassed.

“How’s um homeschool?” She just kept staring, before she began to open her mouth to speak. Then Lee bounded into the room loudly, cutting her off.

“Ok what should my Halloween costume be, kid?” She was holding up two costumes, shaking them in front of the kid’s face.

“It’s August?” You questioned, and the girl smiled before she pointed at the one with Jean shorts and a black tank top.

“Exactly what I was thinking!” She yelled before running off to her room again. “Oh and her name is Laura!” She yelled from her room again and you nodded.

“Well, hello Laura.” You said before you told her your name, introducing yourself.

“Hi.” She said quietly, almost shyly. Lee then ran into the room again.

“Did she just talk to you?” She said, smiling at you. “That’s awesome! Logan is going to be psyched when he hears-“

Logan.

“Logan?”

“Her legal guardian. Y'know the big gruff dude that’s all ‘I’m big and angry because I’m lonely’” She said the last part in a deep voice and you laughed nodding your head.

“If he has Laura, why is he lonely?” You asked, but you knew what she meant.

“In all the years I’ve been here he’s never once brought a girl home. Ever. And I mean never.”

“Where does he go then?”

“To box.”

“Box?” Lee nodded, sitting on the ground next to Laura.

“He used to be this really big professional boxer. The Wolverine,” That tracked. “He got hurt real bad and just never went back. He’s just recently been training again. I guess that’s his release besides sex. Because the guy never gets puss-” She said before she laughed again and you looked at Laura embarrassed.

“Don’t worry she’s heard me say way worse things. Right, kid?” She said, ruffing her hair with her knuckles. Laura groaned, pushing her hand away.

“I’m not a kid.” She grumbled, glaring at Lee.

The rest of the night consisted of Lee and Laura arguing occasionally. Lee would make fun of Laura and then Laura would return that with a glare. You sat quietly in the corner, laughing at them. At the end of the night, the doorbell rang at around midnight and Laura and Lee were fast asleep while you were wide awake watching some cartoons with them.

You stood walking to the door, and opened it to find Logan looking less angry than before. He looked surprised to see you at the door, he must have been expecting Lee. He just stared at you, not saying a word, and you cleared your throat standing with the door open. You pointed your thumb at them.

“They’re sleeping.” You said before stepping outside, closing the door quietly. “Here for Laura?” You asked leaning against the door with your back. He stared at you for a second before he shook his head, like he was in a trance.

“Um, yeah.” He said, tucking his hands in his coat pockets. It wasn’t even cold outside. Yet he still wore that damn jacket. You stuck your hand out, telling him your name and his eyes widened before he reluctantly cupped your hand. His hands were large and rough, and they were bruised with red and purple slightly bleeding. You stopped shaking his hand, to grip it and bring it to your eyes.

“What happened to your hand?” He pulled his hand away fast, hiding it in his coat again. He got flustered, shaking his head.

“Work.” He replied shortly, and you hummed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Laura’s a great kid.” You said, motioning with your head inside the apartment to where Laura was fast asleep. He nodded, trying to hide a smile.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I can wake her if you want-“

“No, no she needs the sleep. I’ll just grab her.” You led Logan inside, and he carried Laura bridal style until you guys were outside Lee’s apartment again.

“I can open your door if you want.” You said, smiling invitingly at him. He stood there for a second before he nodded telling you that his keys were in his coat pocket. You moved closer to him, grabbing his keys, close enough to smell him. He smelled like leather and cedar wood, and you fought the urge to get closer. His head was turned the other way, away from you and you took the keys from his pocket following him to his apartment. You opened his door before letting Logan enter first, to go lay Laura down.

You stood outside for a moment, looking at the dark apartment through the open door, before you muttered fuck it walking inside. You set the keys on the kitchen counter, observing the layout. There were no lights on, and it was extremely cold. There wasn’t any decor from what you could see through the darkness, on furniture and utensils. It was also very clean, the opposite of Lee’s apartment. It looked like Logan didn’t have much to clean. Logan’s boots sounded and he found you standing at the kitchen counter, a shocked look on his face.

“Oh uh- sorry I just-“ You started to say, before Logan stopped you putting his hands up.

“No, it’s alright.” It was silent for a few seconds before Logan moved to turn the light on in the kitchen. It looks like you were taking up his offer after all.

“You can uh sit down if you want.” He pointed towards his brown leather couch in the center of the apartment and you closed his apartment door, before sitting down with a loud plop. He slowly sat down next to you, on the opposite end of the couch. It was awkwardly quiet again before you spoke.

“Is she your daughter?” You asked, turning your body towards him. He was silent for a moment and you were scared that you overstepped.

“No.” Was all he said and it was quiet once again. You nodded, getting that it was a sensitive topic.

“If you’re wondering, Laura asked me to come with them, for some reason.” You said, laughing quietly.

“Yeah, I noticed she’s been stalking you.” He said, turning to look at you for the first time. He looked away from you quickly, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry about what I said to you. The first night I met you- that was-“ You furrowed your eyebrows shaking your head.

“No, it didn’t bother me. I’m here now anyway.” You awkwardly laughed not realizing the meaning behind your words. Fuck. That’s not what you meant to say. You got slightly embarrassed, your cheeks feeling hot. He just kind of stared at you, swallowing roughly.

“It’s late um-“ You stood and he stood with you.

“Yeah.”

“Good night,” You paused to look at him. “Logan.”

The next morning was even more awkward. You left your apartment, to run to errands to find Logan leaving his apartment at the exact same time. You both stared at each other, before you said a quiet hello before trodding down the stairs.

The next two months consisted of both of you bumping into each other, awkwardly saying hello, before trying to avoid each other. It was kind of hard, you both arrived and left at the same time. You had day shifts and he always seemed to be leaving when you would arrive.

You were currently in Lee’s apartment, and she was eating a bowl of cheese puffs with chopsticks. You were sitting on her couch, chowing down on potato chips, watching her skeptically.

“And tell me why you’re eating with chopsticks?”

“My grandmother gave these to me!”

“And you’re using them for… Cheetos?”

“Yes.” She replied, before stuffing another cheese puff into her mouth.

“So what are you wearing to my Halloween party?” Lee asked, wiggling her eyebrows. You fought the urge to laugh at her, watching her mouth slowly become covered in orange dust.

“I’m not going.” You said, hugging your knees to your chest and setting the bag of chips down. Lee looked at you with a mouth open full of Cheetos.

“What?!” She yelled at you, throwing the chopsticks on the table near the couch.

“I don’t know. I’m not a partier-“

“There isn’t going to be that many people. Just like my band, the people in this complex, others-“

“That sounds like a lot. Besides, I haven't gone out since the divorce.”

“Exactly. That gives you all the reasons to go.” She was right of course. You hadn’t dressed up in months. You hadn’t felt confident since your ex-husband gave you those papers to file for a divorce. You groaned, flopping your belly on the couch.

“Fine. I’ll go. But, I’m not saying for long.” You said and her smile soon fell.

“Sure…what if I told you I could convince Logan to come?” She said, a mischievous look in her eyes.

“What about him?” You were acting like you didn’t know what she was talking about. You had been avoiding Logan for about two months after your awkward encounter. You told Lee about it and she told you he was always giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes. You laughed it off, but you kind of hoped he was.

“If I tell him you’re going he’ll definitely go.” You shook your head.

“I doubt it. He’s very…introverted and quiet.” You noticed how much he liked to be by himself. You wondered if it was by choice or not. He did have Laura, and that might’ve been all he needed.

“He’s lonely. A lonely old man who needs a release.” She said, sighing and sitting next to you again. Whenever she got excited about something she opted to stand when talking to you.

“So, you know my sister right? Complete opposite of me?” Lee had told you about her twin sister, Kim, and how she was a fashion designer. “Well, I sort of kind of told her to make you a costume.”

“A costume? I’m not twelve.” You said, slightly grumbling.

“But, that’s the fun!”

“Well, what costume is it?” Lee looked like she was holding her breath before she told you.

“A sexy devil.”

“Lee…”

“Come on! It'll be fun! I’m going to be Marilyn Manson-”

“Marilyn Manson? Really?”

“I already told Kim you'd wear it.”

“Lee!” You pushed her lightly, and she laughed as she fell on the couch.

The next thing you knew, it was the night of Lee’s infamous Halloween party. You were uncomfortably adjusting the latex suit Lee had given you. You had no idea just how slutty this costume was. It was incredibly tight in all the right places and was low-cut leaving no one any room for imagination. You accompanied it with black heels and two red devil horns on your head. God, what were you thinking?

Lee gasped, a loud squeal leaving her lips as she opened the door to find you standing there, playing with the top part of your outfit. She was wearing white face paint and black eyeliner to look like Marilyn Manson but she ended up looking like a Kiss member with her layered straight black hair and alternative outfit.

“Is this too much?” You asked, still adjusting. Lee pulled your hands away, her jaw at the floor.

“Damn mama! I see you! It's Halloween! Nothing is too much.” She said, pulling you into the apartment that was blasting music already. There were a few people present, not many faces you recognized except some people from downstairs. Lee quickly pulled you into the kitchen, and handed you a red solo cup with some sort of neon green liquid. You both leaned against the counter-top.

“Okay, so I did some convincing and I’m most certain Logan will be here tonight. Probably to steal a beer and leave but, that's better than nothing. Mrs. Baker downstairs is taking the kid trick-or-treating.” You still didn't understand why Lee always told you about Logan’s whereabouts. It’s not like you cared. You somewhat cared. You always found yourself looking back at his apartment every time you left or entered your own apartment. He was only across the hall. One door away. You nodded, trying to seem nonchalant about it, as you took a sip out of the drink in your hand and quickly started to cough.

“What the fuck is in here?” You asked, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Tequila, tequila and more tequila. And a drop of green food coloring.” You laughed lightly, before setting the cup back on the counter.

“Yeah, I'll pass.”

Soon enough, the apartment was filled with about 30 or so people. Not a lot, but there were a ton of people in Lee’s small apartment. You had been sitting on her couch for the past hour watching people come and go. You were bored out of your mind. You didn't know anybody besides Lee, and she was busy mingling with her guests. You stood up from the couch, about to leave for the door, when a certain neighbor entered the party.

Logan didn’t see you at first as he scanned the partygoers. He kept his head low as he entered, probably not wanting to draw any attention to himself. You watched as he made a bee-line for the kitchen and you followed him into the empty room. You found him tucked below the fridge as you entered, probably looking for a beer. You spoke up as he was moving things around, still searching.

“The beer’s in the cooler over there.” He jumped up, hitting his head on the top of the fridge as he turned around to find you standing there. He said nothing as he stared at you, his eyes moving up and down your figure in that costume. He swallowed loudly, before he looked around to find the cooler, pulling a beer can out of it and cracking it open. He took a long sip, his eyes falling upon you again. You were still standing there staring at him. He wasn't wearing a jacket but a regular t-shirt and you realized this was the first time you had ever seen his arms. And you couldn't stop staring at them as he took swigs from his can of beer.

You quickly decided to distract yourself by grabbing a red solo cup and filling it with whatever god awful concoction Lee had made. You took a sip before you moved to stand on the same side as Logan, hopping on top of the counter to sit. It was quiet again between the two of you, even though Logan had not spoken a word yet, and the only sound was the drowned out music in the background. You both were fairly close to each other, about as thigh’s width apart. He was leaning his back against the counter while you were sitting upon it. You turned towards him, hiding your smile below your cup as you took a sip.

“So, what's your costume?” You asked, as he stiffened slightly, taking another long sip from his beer before slamming it on the counter and grabbing another one from the cooler.

“The Wolverine.” He said, cracking open the can and you swore you saw him smirk a bit before taking a sip. You snorted, taking a gulp from your own drink.

“Can you guess what I am?” You asked, tilting your head to the side, gesturing with your hands at your costume. His head turned to look at you, scanning your frame and the way it sat atop the counter.

“Yourself?” He asked, turning his head away from you and hiding his smile beneath his beer can. His hands were gripping the beer can and you couldn't help but stare at them. They were large and thick, almost encompassing the can whole beneath his grip. You shook the thoughts away.

“Funny!” You said, narrowing your eyes. You both sat in comfortable silence, sipping on your drinks when you turned to him again, your body facing his. “What made you come?” You asked innocently. He took another long gulp from his beer before answering.

“Lee begged me to come. I wasn’t going to take the kid out trick-or-treating just because well… I just never have. Mrs…” He paused as if to remember her name.

“Baker?”

“Yeah her… she asked to take her this year because her grandchildren weren’t coming.” He took another sip from his beer before setting it on the counter.

“What made you come?” He asked, turning his head to look at you.

“Lee insisted.” You said, laughing as Logan shook his head. Just then, as if you summoned her, Lee barged into the kitchen, laughing as she did. You and Logan both jumped, turning to look at her quickly. She stopped laughing as soon as she saw you both.

“I knew it!” She screamed, running back out into the party. You furrowed your eyebrows, turning back to Logan to see him grabbing a third beer from the cooler. You downed the last bit of your drink, before hopping off the counter and Logan looked up at you, his eyebrows raised.

“I’ll uh- see you around?” You said, leaning against the counter.

“You leavin’?” He asked, setting the unopened can of beer on the counter, his hand next to it as he leaned. You didn’t realize how close he was until you could feel his breath on your neck. He was staring at the uncovered spot on your neck, as he spoke to you.

“Yeah- I have work tomorrow and-“

“So?” Why was he so adamant? You tilted your head, smirking at him.

“Do you want me to stay?” Say it. You wanted him to say it so bad. You wanted him to tell you to stay, to go back to his apartment. But he didn’t. He just shook his head, moving away from you and a frown made its way on your face. You sighed, slightly annoyed.

“Tell Laura happy Halloween.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest and leaving the kitchen, leaving Logan alone with his beer. You didn’t even look at him before you left. Why was he always making insinuations but never acting on them?

The next few weeks you had been ignoring him whenever he looked to you across the hallway. He looked hurt, but you didn’t care. You were so annoyed. But you didn’t know why.

Your boss had recently put you behind the bar, assigning you to later shifts. And one particular night, the neighbor across the hall was now at a stool in front of you. You were pouring a bourbon for a regular across the bar, you looked up for a second meeting the eyes of Logan who was watching you intensely. Your mouth fell open and you jumped slightly not expecting to see him at all.

“I didn’t know you worked here.” That was a complete lie. Logan had actually known for weeks that you worked here. You ignored him, walking across the bar to hand your customer their drink. You hastily returned to Logan, a beer in your hand. You set it in front of him and his eyebrows went up, taking the bottle into his hands. He was about to say something else when another customer to your left rang out.

“Hey, sweetheart! Another one?” The man jiggled his empty beer bottle in the air and your face visibly dropped, your shoulders stiffening. Logan noticed, perking up to look at the man across the bar. You clenched your jaw, forcing a sweet polite smile on your face as you turned to the drunken man.

“Sure thing.” You muttered, keeping your voice steady but Logan’s gaze lingered on you as you moved around to grab another beer. Logan took a long swig from his drink, before setting it on the counter still staring at the oblivious man across the bar. When you gave the man his beer, he winked at you making your skin crawl. Logan’s hand tightened around the empty beer bottle when you turned around oblivious to the man very obviously staring at your ass.

“What the fuck you looking at pal?” The man snarled at Logan and Logan growled deeply.

“Mind your business, bub.” He said grimly, and the man at the bar stood abruptly. Logan was staring straight on at the man his hand clenched tightly around the neck of the bottle until-

Crack!

The bottle split open, falling into Logan’s palm and onto the counter of the bar. Glass was all over his hands and he was slightly bleeding. Your mouth fell open, and you rushed to grab a rag from underneath the bar. You appeared back in front of Logan as he looked up at you. You sighed loudly, grabbing his hand and wrapping the white cloth around his wounds.

“What the fuck?” You muttered quietly, still holding his hand. He didn’t shy away from you or move away. He just swallowed harshly as you held his bleeding palm. “How did you do that?” You let go of his hand sighing, and walking around the bar to meet Logan. You turned to face the kitchen as you stood next to Logan.

“I’m taking my break now!” You shouted, cupping your hands over your mouth and grabbing Logan by the hand out the back door towards an alleyway. Logan didn’t even have time to react before you were harshly pulling him by his uninjured hand towards the back door. You exited the door slamming it shut before shoving Logan down on a crate.

“What the fuck, Logan?” Logan was confused why you were upset, and you anxiously paced in front of him digging your fingers through your hair.

“You’re mad at me?”

“Yes! Why the fuck are you here?” Logan didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why he was there. He was there for a drink, that was it. At least that’s what he told himself. He found out weeks ago where you worked. He hadn’t worked up the courage to see you. Until now.

“I…” You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping you.

“See you never seem to have an answer do you?”

“An answer for what exactly?”

You stopped pacing, narrowing your eyes at him. The tension was thick, thicker than the cold November breeze that rang through the tight alleyway. You tried to keep your emotions in check. You tried so hard. But you couldn’t. It was hard when you were so angry. So mad. And for what? Because Logan had been avoiding you? Because you did the same? Truly what were you mad about? A second later your voice betrayed you, as if it had a mind of its own.

“Do you not get it?”

Logan froze. Logan looked down at his hands, softly raising the hand that you had put a rag on, blood softly soaking through. The hand you had touched so delicately. So softly that he wanted you to touch it again. Touch him again.

“Why did you get so angry back there?”

Logan looked up at you, flexing his hands into a tight fist, his biceps pulsing through his flannel.

“I don’t like seeing women getting disrespected-“

“No, Logan. What really made you angry?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed as you kneeled, getting on his level in front of him as he sat on the crate. You set your hands in your lap, peering up at him questionably. Awaiting an answer. A part of you knew exactly why he was so angry. You just wanted him to say it out loud. You needed him to say it out loud.

“I was…” He stopped talking as you tilted your head, shaking it tightly, disapproving of his trailed off sentence. You rose, now sitting up on your knees gazing at Logan. You moved closer to him, now right in front of his face.

“What made you so mad? Was it that another man wanted to touch me? Look at my ass? Another man wanted me? Is that it, Logan?” You purred, and Logan growled at the thought. It made him furious. You smiled, clicking your tongue. “I see…”

“No man should be touching you…”

“But…?” You trailed off, waiting for him to finish. You moved closer to his face, your breath panning over his cheek and Logan shuddered the closer you moved towards him. Logan didn’t know why he wanted to be closer to you. To feel you. You were so close. So close that he could feel your steady breathing, he could feel the heat as it radiated from your body, he could smell the perfume you wore every single day. The perfume that had haunted him for months. The perfume he chased in the halls, waiting to smell it. He wanted to smell that smell forever. He swallowed roughly, inching towards you.

“But…”

The back door slammed open, and your boss appeared calling your name.

“Your break’s over! Stop fucking the drunk-“ You stood quickly, awkwardly standing next to Logan who looked slightly embarrassed as he looked the opposite way from your boss.

“He cut his hand. I was just-“

“I don’t give a fuck. Come do your job.” Your boss slammed the door shut, and you sighed walking towards it. You started to open it, but paused to look back at Logan. You gave him a small smile, which he didn’t return.

“I’ll see you.” And you pulled the door shut behind you, entering the bar as Logan sat on that crate only thinking of his neighbor across the hall.

a/n: lmk if you guys enjoyed this and if i should write more (possibly smut). itll be a two parter, maybe three im not too sure! i love hearing feedback so please let me know! :) i love the soft side of logan and especially showing that soft side of him because of laura.

ps. the bar scene is based off of true events as a server who was behind the bar… #lovegettingharraseddailybydrunkenmenatmyjob

cross-posted on ao3:

[spacelatinoluvr]

blood runs thicker than water (6/?) - aemond targaryen

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC word count: 4.2k tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage warnings: depictions of blood rating: 18+, !MDNI!

BLOOD UPON THE SNOW

To my dear sister Alarra,

The days are longer without you here. Ser Wildrow seems more bored than ever, not having you to torment him. I hope you are well and I hope your sword has not touched the scales of any dragons yet. I have been busy with duties so I have not had the time to write. I assume you are just as busy as I have not received a raven from you just yet. I hope to hear from you soon, I am only a raven away after all.

Cregan

Alarra set the letter down, leaning back in her chair. She missed Cregan terribly. And now the guilt was beginning to eat away at her. She didn’t know exactly what to say to him. She could tell him the good things, how great things were with the little princes. She would not tell him about how awful Ser Criston Cole was, how he tormented her at every waking moment. And she doesn't know why. She assumed he was envious. But why should a knight be envious of a princess? Alarra picked up her quill, filling it with ink before she started to write to her brother.

Dear Cregan,

I am angry at you for not warning me of the waves. They made me terribly sick. My food did not rise like the others but it was still awful! I am well, my dagger has not been in use just yet. I do miss pushing you to the ground. The princes have been a pleasant replacement for you. Jacaerys reminds me of you. I want to come home

Alarra erased the last bit, putting a thick line through it. She crumpled up the piece of parchment, throwing it somewhere across her room. The door creaked open, a knock sounding after.

“Still in your nightgown, my lady?” Eyla entered the room, heading for Alarra who was sitting in her vanity, her hair a tangled mess. “‘Tis early.” Eyla countered, her hands running through Alarra’s hair before she reached for a brush on the table. Eyla noticed a pile of crumpled paper by her bed and let out a tiny snicker.

“Writing is not as easy as it seems.” Alarra grumbled as Eyla tugged through a rough knot in her hair.

“Not as easy as swinging a sword, is it?” Eyla teased, working through the knots. Alarra sighed, leaning her head back as the brush glided through her hair, the knots disappearing slowly. “Just tell him what you truly feel. That is what letters are for are they not?”

“But I do not want him to worry. He already was skeptical about this arrangement-”

“Your brother cares for you, my lady. He only wants to hear from you,” Alarra glanced at the discarded letters on the ground, the words “I want to come home” still etched freshly in her mind. Alarra was still unsure of what to say to Cregan. Maybe she should just pour her heart out to him, telling him exactly how she felt. But, Alarra would not do that. That would only make the girl seem weak. And Alarra knew one thing for certain: she was not weak.

“Jace, you need to fix your posture.” Alarra reprimanded the boy, standing behind him as he was hunched over slightly. Alarra pushed his back lightly, so that he would stand up more. And he instantly stood up, turning his head to glare lightly at Alarra. Alarra grabbed a wooden sword from off of the ground, the one Lucerys had been previously using, and set it between Jace’s shoulder blades, within his arms. He looked like a duck flapping its wings, and he groaned, turning annoyingly to Alarra.

“How am I supposed to yield a sword now?” He slashed mindlessly and unsuccessfully (the sword barely raised above his head), unable to move his arms properly.

“You have to keep your body upright. No more slouching. This will teach you.” Alarra was now in front of him and he gave her an unsatisfied look.

“Go on!” Alarra waved a hand, gesturing for Jace to swing his sword. Lucerys was lightly giggling from behind Jace, and Jace whipped around facing his younger brother. Lucerys quickly stopped laughing, and cleared his throat.

“What is funny Luke?” Alarra had instructed Luke to work on his balance by standing on one foot. He was no longer doing that, and was laughing at his brother instead. Luke straightened up, looking at Alarra with wide eyes. He quickly stood back on one leg and Alarra tried to hide her laugh.

“Alarra?”

“Yes, Luke.” Alarra sighed, her hands on her hips. She had decided to wear a tunic and pants today, for she and the princes were alone in the courtyard early that morning. No one else was to be around, so Alarra deemed it appropriate.

“How much longer do I have to stand like this?” He was wobbling slightly, starting to fall but he caught himself.

“Until I say,” Alarra responded, and Luke paled, starting to wobble more. Alarra let out a laugh, approaching the boy. “Alright, that’s enough for today.” Luke sighed, standing on both of his feet. Alarra had been training the boys for about a week. They were both skilled in swordsmanship but they had a lot of improvement ahead of them. Alarra enjoyed spending time with both of them; they reminded her of home. Alarra felt like Cregan whenever she reprimanded them. She felt closer to him every time she picked up a sword. Jace and Luke left the courtyard after thanking Alarra for her time. Alarra always told them to not thank her because she was glad to share her skill with others. She was happy to help them, it may help them later on.

Alarra was walking through the halls, ready for a bath after sweating all morning, when she passed by a room, the door slightly ajar. Coughing was coming from the room, loud and it echoed into Alarra’s ears. She jolted for the door immediately, instantaneously thinking of her father. The door creaked open loudly, and the king was hunched over his desk as another cough rang out of him.

“Your grace!” Alarra rushed over to him, her hands reaching for his shoulders. The king waved his hands before Alarra could help him, a cough coming from him again before he spoke.

“No, no I am alright!” The king was irritated, his voice coming out harsh like pebbles hitting rocks. He coughed again, breathing in a ragged breath. It was quiet while he breathed in and out and Alarra cleared her throat.

“I apologize, your grace. I was only concerned-”

“What is your name?”

“Alarra, your grace.” He hummed, sitting down harshly in his chair.

“And you are a servant? What are you doing in these parts of the Red Keep?”

“No I-”

“A harlot then? Get on your way-”

“No!” Alarra’s voice was louder than she proposed, and her face was contorted into one of pure disgust. She cleared her throat, wiping her face clean of any open expressions. “Your grace.” She muttered, stepping back a foot.

“A handmaiden, perhaps?” Alarra rolled back her shoulders, tucking her tongue beneath her throat holding in a remark.

“Yes, a…handmaiden.” He clicked his tongue. Alarra figured he wouldn't remember her anyway, a tiny lie would not hurt. He was old and deficit, his brain slower than molasses.

“I knew I’d seen you before.” He muttered quietly to himself, staring at the desk in front of him as he smiled, hundreds of papers laying untouched. Alarra hesitated, glancing at the frail, hunched form of the king as he looked over the pieces of parchment. The king was barely recognizable now, weakened and tired, his hands trembling as he rose them. Alarra slowly backed away, turning to leave the room when the king rang out once more.

“Faces are a blur, and names fade yet you remind me of...” Alarra stopped walking, turning around to look at the king again. The king shook his head, mumbling something before turning back to the scattered pages. “A woman with pants! Now that is a sight to see.” The king yelled as Alarra left the room hurriedly, closing the door tightly. She stood outside the room, looking around the halls to find no one in sight. Alarra really needed that bath.

Otto Hightower scoured the halls, the king nowhere to be found. The king couldn’t have wandered off, somewhere not too far. The hand stopped walking when he heard a cough from inside the king’s study. Otto burst open the door, scaring the king slightly. Otto bounded towards the king, looking exasperated.

“You are assigned bed rest, your grace. You cannot just-“

“I am the king! I will do what I want.” Viserys looked up from the desk at the hand, dropping the papers that were in his palm. Otto glanced at the pages among his desk.

“I told you- the council and I will take care of your affairs.”

“Only I can take care of my affairs. I don’t need you or a girl with pants and a sword at her hip to tell me what to do.” Otto ignored the last part: the king was old and sick after all.

“You can barely speak or walk. I will get a guard to carry you to your chambers.” The king was silent and Otto left the room to find a guard.

Alarra stood outside her chambers, just about to enter when she noticed her door was left cracked open. Alarra knew that she locked her door, she knew for certain that she shut it at least. Her hand hovered above the knob, gazing into the thin gap.

Someone was in there.

It was now nighttime and Alarra did not remember the time of day and how the sun had slipped past her. The room was dimly lit with candles in every space and crevice lighting up the room. She ventured into the room and realized it was unfamiliar.

This was not her room.

Alarra felt that everything was strangely distant, as if veiled in a cloud of mist. Alarra walked further into the room and pale blonde hair appeared in her view. The figure turned around and it appeared to be Helaena who was in her room. She looked deathly afraid, her lip trembling slightly.

“Helaena-” A babe’s cry erupted from Helaena’s arms.

“Protect them.” Helaena whispered, soothing the saddened babe as the crying got louder and louder. The babe had a head of black hair and Alarra gasped as the room seemed to shift, Helaena and the babe now gone from her sight. Alarra’s hand reached out but all that was in front of her was her own hands. She looked down at herself to see a thin white nightgown on her body. When had she put that on?

“Helaena!” Alarra turned, her breath getting caught in her throat. She was now in the hallway but not in the Red Keep but Castle Ward. Her home. Alarra's heart pounded as she took in her surroundings. She hadn’t set foot in Castle Ward in months, yet here she was, standing in the very corridor she knew so well: the cold stone walls, the flickering torches casting shadows along the tapestries she remembered from childhood. The familiar scent of pine and firewood lingered in the air, yet everything felt unnervingly hollow, as though a fog hung over the hall, dulling its colors and muffling its sounds. Alarra paused at an unfamiliar painting. It was larger than the rest and Alarra realized quickly that it was a painting of herself.

Alarra froze, staring up at the painting that loomed over her. In the waving torchlight, her own likeness gazed back yet it wasn’t quite her. The face was familiar, yet older, with shadows cast beneath her eyes and a hint of sorrow etched into her expression. She looked regal and hardened, her hand resting on the hilt of a sword, her posture proud yet burdened. She wore armor emblazoned with the sigil of her house, though it was marred by scratches and dents, as if she’d been through a long, grueling battle. Alarra’s fingers brushed over the frame hesitantly, feeling a chill run through her as she did. A low, distant sound, faint but clear, echoed down the corridor. It was the cry of a babe, the same haunting sound she’d heard moments ago.

A bright light shone down the end of the hall, and Alarra followed the path, the wails getting louder. Alarra peeled open the door at the end of the corridor to find the source. What lay in front of her now was her mother, laying on a bed with a babe in her arms, the crying ceased. Alarra’s eyes shimmered, able to see her mother again now. Tears pricked at Alarra’s eyes as she took in the scene before her. Her mother lay on the bed, looking as she had in Alarra’s memories: soft-eyed and gentle. Her mother held a newborn, swaddled tightly in soft cloth, the babe’s tiny fist clenched around a lock of her mother’s hair. The child’s cries softened at the gentle touch, settling into soft whimpers as her mother rocked him, humming a lullaby Alarra hadn’t heard in years.

“Mother.” Her mother did not notice her, for she was engulfed in the baby before her. Her mother spoke quietly.

“I shall name you…” And then her mother was gone, and Alarra let out a muffled cry, shaking her head. Alarra’s fingers passed through the empty mist that was once her mother and she staggered forward falling to her knees as the ground turned soft. Alarra was in a field of long thick pale needles and flowers of marigold and plum. Her fingers whispered amongst the shrubbery, lightly feeling the tall grassy hill. It was vast, and spread all around her but she could not see too far in front of her for a thick fog encapsulated the air. And then it started to snow.

She first saw a tiny spec of ice fall from the sky and land delicately in her hands. And then the ground was flooded with snow, encasing her legs as she knelt on the ground. It was not cold nor was it hot. Alarra felt at peace. Alarra closed her eyes just for a moment. For what felt like a second, letting the cool icicles settle on her skin as they softly melted away at the touch of her warm face.

The atmosphere around her was still and tranquil, almost as if Alarra was suspended in time and nothing could disturb the serene spirit of the snow. Alarra opened her eyes, the pure white snow had now been stained with a dark crimson color. The snow had been littered with blood all around her and Alarra’s breath caught in her throat again and again. She gulped in the air, turning head in a panic to find more blood scattered in the snow.

“Blood?” Alarra whispered to the emptiness and of course there was no answer for only the stillness of the snow clung to her.

“Vezhvenor.” A figure had appeared through the mist, approaching Alarra. Alarra’s head rose as she looked around her, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Helaena was with her once more and she kneeled in front of Alarra.

“Wolves bite…” She started, her eyes scanning Alarra. Alarra finished the sentence for her.

“And dragons take flight.”

Alarra jolted awake in her bed, the sweat slick on her forehead. She was breathing heavily, and she felt her heart as it beat out of her chest. Alarra swung her feet over the edge of her bed, trying to comprehend her dreams. Her visions. The book she had been reading was frozen on her nightstand, and it lay untouched since she had grabbed it from the library. She was scared to read it. To see what it had within its pages for her to read. Alarra rose from her bed to grab a lit candle by her desk, returning to the edge of her bed. She sat the candle next to the book, reaching for the spine.

She sat the book in her lap, flipping open the first page. A picture of Bran the Builder was printed, and she traced the picture. Alarra grew up hearing stories of her ancestors. She knew almost everything about her family. Except what Aemond had shown her. And she was afraid of what the rest of the prophecy entailed. She had marked the page and she played with the book before turning open to the page of the prophecy. She scanned the page, reading the prophecy as a whole.

A prophecy forgotten by the Gods…

A Wolf from the North will bleed into the South.

Blood of a Wolf can start wars, but the blood of a Dragon will end the realm.

When one dragon meets fate, a Wolf will seek refuge.

Packs are large but dragons are much larger.

A Wolf from the North. A Dragon from the South.

Wolves bite, and dragons take flight.

The dragon's flame will burn the sky,

But in its ashes, a Wolf will rise.

Beneath the door, a path will unfold,

A bond of blood to be known by both shadow and light.

The Wolf will reign where it once bled.

For blood and bone is thicker than fire and steel.

Alarra finished reading the page, looking to the next to find that the rest of the next page had been ripped out. Alarra flipped through the rest of the book and it contained nothing but her past. Her house's legacy. Alarra scoffed, slamming the book shut. She knew exactly who did this and where he would be.

“Why did you rip out a page in this book?” Alarra slammed the book down in front of Aemond and he raised his eyes to meet hers, an irritated look on his face. He glanced at her before looking back down at the book on the table. His hair was draped carelessly over his shoulders and Alarra watched as he paid no mind to Alarra’s intrusion.

“That book is centuries old-” He started but Alarra would not have him avoid her inquiry.

“Answer the question.” Alarra bent down, setting her hands on the table inching forward towards Aemond. Alarra knew that she could not intimidate the prince but she still tried.

“The book was like that when I read it.” He responded while maintaining a steady gaze with Alarra. Alarra pushed herself backwards, away from Aemond. She huffed starting to get agitated with him. Liar.

“You are deceitful. And a liar-”

“I do not lie.” Alarra’s gaze hardened.

“That was a lie. All men lie.”

“Well I do not lie.” Alarra paced the floor while looking through the slim windows at the shine of the moon. How had she found herself alone with Aemond again?

“Do you dream during the moon’s rule, my prince?” Alarra raised an eyebrow at him and Aemond froze for a moment before responding softer than before.

“Dreams are not real.”

“But they can be. Your sister-”

“Do not bring my sister into your nightmares.”

“I never said they were night terrors.”

“I can see on your face that they were not pleasant,” Alarra gripped the table with her hands, a flash of anger contorting her features. “Alarra the Fierce scared? I did not think I would rue the day to see such a frightening individual cowering at ink on paper.” Alarra turned around from staring through the window to shoot him a sharp look.

“I am not scared.” She gritted below her teeth.

“Mhm, you call me a liar but you are a liar. Something is bothering Alarra the Fierce.” He said her name like he was mocking her and Alarra’s eyes hardened even more.

“You mock me.”

“I mock no one.”

“You lie again!” Alarra yelled, starting to move gradually towards Aemond. “I knocked you on your royal arse and you would be wise to not humor me.” Aemond stood from his seat, a small smirk on his face.

“Is that a threat?” Alarra was getting hot now.

“A promise.”

“You speak with such certainty…like a dog.” He snarled, slowly making his way over to Alarra. He now stood in front of her, his body towering over hers slightly. Alarra did not know what to do at that moment but remained still. “Do you obey your master like a dog as well?” He questioned, his head tilted to the side. He wanted to get a rise out of her. His hand rose as if he were going to grab her, and Alarra flinched. Aemond hummed lowly, his hand sinking back at his side. Aemond leaned down his face dangerously close to hers. Aemond didn’t know why he touched her. Why did he feel the urge to trace her scar, her face? Why was he so close to her?

The proximity was close; too close and Alarra held her breath for what felt like minutes; hours, waiting for the prince to speak. Aemond’s eyes scanned her face and his hand rose to her face, tracing the line of her scar. He dug his finger, his nail catching the healing skin, and Alarra blinked rapidly, her eyes watering, biting her tongue to swallow down a low groan of pain.

“Threaten me again and you will learn to obey.” His breath fanned over her face now, and Alarra swallowed as his finger traced her scar towards her lips before his hand stopped abruptly and he pulled away from her. He looked at her for a pregnant pause before swiftly turning and leaving the library. Alarra stood there, her thoughts a mess inside her head. Aemond had touched her. He had touched her face. Her scar. He had reached his hand voluntarily to touch her. Alarra raised a hand to touch her scar, feeling the blood already dripping on her cheek. Aemond was provoked by Alarra. But, Alarra was not angry.

No, she was fierce.

In the morning, the first thing Alarra did was visit the princess Helaena. She felt obligated to speak to the girl after her odd dreams. She wanted answers. And she thought that Helaena would give them to her, no matter how confusing her words might be. Helaena was standing on her terrace staring outside at King’s landing before her. At the structures and buildings, at her city. Alarra was behind her and Helaena turned, unafraid as if she was expecting her.

“Lady in Red.”

“Princess, I don't mean to intrude-”

“We spoke last night.”

“I'm sorry, I do not recall-”

“In the mist, we spoke in the mist.” Alarra approached the princess slowly, setting her hands on the railing of the balcony as she looked out into the city. Birds flew past in the morning dew and the sun was just starting to rise from below the skyline.

“I’m…scared.”

“We should all be scared for what is to come,” Helaena walked towards Alarra, standing next to her as Alarra still stared at the city.

“But, why-”

“I do not know. Answers are a precarious thing. Answers are something we seek but cannot find. They are hidden for a reason,” Helaena paused, seeming to gather her thoughts and sucking in a quiet rasp. “I dreamt of you, Lady in Red.” Alarra was getting slightly agitated now.

“Helaena, I do not wear red.” She said swiftly but Helaena’s eyes widened as if she were on the verge of tears and she grabbed Alarra by the shoulders tightly.

“It is not red that you will wear but the blood of those you have slain. Alarra the Fierce; Lady in Red,” Helaena shook Alarra as she held her and Alarra blinked, her face scrunched up in pure astonishment. “You, Alarra, have already begun the path. The door has closed and there is no return from what is to come.”

Cregan,

I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home.

A/N: Thanks so so much for continuing to read! I'm really excited to get more into the fantasy aspects and what roles Helaena will play in this story.

Tags: @mamawiggers1980, @kritara

[spacelatinoluvr]

blood runs thicker than water (5/?) - aemond targaryen

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 6

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC word count: 4.5k tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage warnings: violence rating: 18+, !MDNI!

THE BLADE OF A WOLF

Alarra hadn't touched her sword in weeks. When she arrived at Dragonstone, she swore off carrying it and it laid untouched in a cabinet for one moon. Her sword remained in that cabinet even in King's Landing. It had been sitting for days since she’d arrived. She didn't figure she'd need it. Even as much as she wished to have it by her side, the dagger at her thigh would suffice for the time being. 

Alarra entered the training grounds, peeking behind the walls of the castle to watch the one-eyed prince and his dog train. She did this multiple times each day. Wishing it were her sweeping the men off of their feet onto their arses. 

But that would never happen. 

“Looks like we have a new onlooker, my prince.” Ser Criston Cole rang, loud enough so that Alarra could hear from whichever wall she was hiding. Aemond turned and saw a head of red hair behind a pillar. 

“I wouldn't mind a new opponent,” Aemond started stalking towards Alarra. 

“You, Ser, are predictable.” He muttered, and he felt the offended gaze of the knight on the back of his head. 

“Alarra the Fierce.” Alarra jumped, turning to face the prince. She bowed out of respect, feeling slightly embarrassed, her cheeks becoming red and warm. 

“Prince Aemond,” Aemond inspected her with his eye, and Alarra felt like a bird in a bear’s trap. 

“I was just watching. In Winterfell, I used to train with my brother with a proper sword I-” Alarra stopped herself, realizing she was talking too much for the prince’s interest. “I apologize. I overstep-”

“Do you own a sword?”

“Yes.”

“Is it with you?”

“In my room-”

“Fetch it.” Was she a dog? Some hound to fetch something for the prince? Alarra’s eyebrow rose, but she decided to not argue with the prince. She had already done that enough with his brother. Alarra arrived in her room to grab her sword, the sword of pure Valyrian steel. Alarra’s hand wrapped around the hilt tightly, and a small smile appeared on her face. It was nice to hold it again, to feel the coolness of its composure and its weight beneath her fingers. Alarra felt slightly embarrassed walking through the halls with a sword at her hip. Why was she so embarrassed? Alarra the Fierce does not get embarrassed. Alarra does not get flustered over a boy. Alarra lifted her head as she entered the training grounds, and both Aemond and Ser Criston Cole turned to her. 

She was Alarra the Fierce. 

“I have fetched my sword,” Alarra said as she joined Aemond and the knight where they were standing, men beginning to circle them as they awaited. “Am I to be your squire? Fetch you wine and water. Fetch you your sword. Perhaps feed grapes into your mouth?”

“No. Show me your skills.” Aemond said and Ser Criston Cole whipped his head so fast at the prince Alarra thought his head might have fallen off of his body. 

“What?” The knight said, his eyes thinning onto Alarra. “She is a woman-” The men around them started to laugh. 

“I am Alarra the Fierce. Would you like me to show you?” They stopped laughing. Ser Criston Cole was stunned for a moment, before a condescending grin grew upon his face. 

“Gladly.” He said his hand pointing towards the training area, motioning for Alarra to go first. Alarra stared at him as she passed, barely grazing her shoulder over his wishing she bumped into him. He grabbed a shield and Alarra looked back at him, smirking. 

“You need a piece of wood to protect you?” Ser Criston looked down at the shield before throwing it on the ground and waltzed over to her a smug look on his face to find Alarra who was already in stance, her sword unsheathed in her hand. Oh, how she wished to wipe that smirk off of his face. 

“Pure Valyrian steel…” He muttered looking at her sword then unsheathing his own sword, it glimmering in the sunlight. Aemond was watching them from afar, silently rooting for the Stark girl to put Ser Criston Cole’s dignity in the dirt. Someone had to. “Fighting in a dress? Isn't that…difficult?” The knight scanned Alarra’s frame, wearing a dark blue dress, quivering an eyebrow. 

“Maybe for a man like yourself.” She responded cooly, her sword now at eyes width. Alarra then lunged widely, her sword pointed at the man and Ser Criston Cole quickly lifted his sword, catching hers. He huffed letting out a small laugh. 

“Not fair.”

“Nothing is fair, Ser.” Alarra swiped again this time quicker but the knight still caught her. She hadn't practiced in three moons. Anytime Alarra advanced, the knight kept stopping her, his sword always colliding with hers no matter how much she succeeded. He was skilled, and it seemed he was too cocky for his own good, like most men. His ego was something that would not be tarnished by a woman. Especially a young girl from the North. 

Ser Criston Cole was slowly losing his confidence, and Alarra was gaining the upper-hand. His overbearing smile soon diminished, and he was scared of the girl he saw in front of him. She was no longer a princess but a fighter. She was fierce. And in that moment Ser Criston realized that the rumors were in fact not a lie but the truth. Alarra was fierce. And any man that faced her would soon regret it. 

But then Alarra found an opening. Ser Criston Cole’s eyes widened, almost as if he knew what she was about to do before she did and Alarra sweeped the knight off of his feet onto his back, her sword pointed directly at his neck, his sword sitting above his head. There was a beat of silence, only the heavy breathing coming from Alarra being heard. Then the men around them started to clap, cheering for her. 

For her. 

Alarra smiled to herself, sheathing her sword as Ser Criston Cole sat on the ground, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Alarra. 

“How did you do that? You managed to not only disarm me but land me on my-”

“Arse?” Alarra questioned, moving to stand in front of him. Ser Criston gave her a look of pure disbelief, and her confidence lingered in the air as the crowd's applause diminished. The knight was in awe for a moment before he became angry that she had embarrassed him. 

“The men of the North are skilled but-”

“You forget yourself, Ser. The Wolf of the North has taught me everything I know. I am a man from the North.” A man with tits, she wanted to say that to him also, but she was still a guest. But her Northern honor would not hide from the South. Her pride would not cower. From the corner of her eye, Alarra saw Aemond push through the crowd, and men made way for the Targaryen prince. She still had a smile on her face and Aemond was now in front of her, a look of dignation on his face. 

“I bet you won't do the same to me.” Aemond said, his sword unsheathed from his side and Alarra relished in his statement. Oh, how wrong the prince was. 

“Would you prefer to meet the same fate as Ser Criston Cole or something much less humiliating for a royal?” Alarra took her own sword out and the crowd grew quiet once again. Ser Criston Cole was now standing, looking tense, his eyes narrowed on Alarra. She had upset the knight. 

Aemond was the one who moved first, a grunt leaving his lips as he slashed at Alarra but she was light on her feet, able to miss the graze of his sword. Aemond huffed in annoyance, slashing again but her sword caught him.

Their swords clanged, echoing through the courtyard’s silence. Alarra felt the strength of Aemond’s strike reverberate down her arm, but she held her ground, smirking at him over the steel of their locked blades. Alarra tilted her head to the side, her hair falling over her face, and Aemond’s eye narrowed, his grip tightening on his hilt. He pressed forward, pushing Alarra back towards the crowd. 

Alarra twisted her wrist breaking their lock that forced Aemond to stumble back a few steps. Aemond had slowly become more and more agitated the more Alarra had taunted him. Aemond lunged again, seeming more ruthless this time as his blade whistled over Alarra’s head. Every move he made, she already saw. She anticipated everything he did. And this infuriated the prince. 

And then she fell, her sword on the ground and Aemond’s sword at her neck. Alarra’s shock was not hidden on her face, as she stared at the steel, her eyes wide. But, Alarra knew better than to let her guard down. She knew better than to yield just yet. 

Alarra’s hand went under her dress and Aemond’s eyebrows furrowed as she pulled out her dagger, pushing his blade away from her face with it and the sword fell to the ground. Alarra stood, her blade at Aemond’s neck. Aemond and Alarra stared at each other, their heavy breathing synchronized. She had never been so close to the prince, so close to his face, her blade at his neck. One swipe and he would be choking on his own blood. 

“Yield.” She said, lightly pressing her dagger against his throat. He stared at her, neither scared nor smug. Aemond was shocked. Ser Criston Cole was now in front of her, pushing her harshly away from the prince. 

“He yields.” The knight said, glaring at her. Alarra lifted her dress to put her dagger back at her thigh, her sword soon following now sheathed at her hip. She watched as Ser Criston Cole was saying something to the prince but he wasn't paying attention because he was only looking at the wolf from the North that had just bested him. 

Alarra turned, stomping away a few feet from the crowd and Ser Criston Cole when Aemond had trailed behind her, shoving past the knight and the crowd. 

“You are insufferable.” He was right behind her now and she turned fast, her hair almost hitting his face.

“Am I?” Alarra took a step forward, her face nearing Aemond’s steel gaze. 

“You are a dirty dog.” Aemond spat, his eye scanning her face. 

“Mhm…” Alarra smiled, her eyes never looking away from Aemond’s. “And yet, this dirty dog still handed you and your shit-wiper your arses.” She whispered, bumping into his shoulder as she walked past him. But, Aemond was quick and grabbed her wrist forcing her around to look at him again. His eye trailed over her face, no doubt staring at her scar. His eye always gravitated towards it, like it was haunting him. His hand stayed on her wrist, gripping it. Then suddenly, Aemond ripped his hand away, striding away from her back towards Ser Criston Cole who was watching their exchange closely. 

“You bested two of the best swordsmen in King’s Landing. That is something to be proud of.” 

Alarra was laying on the ground in the grass somewhere outside the Red Keep and Rhaena was sitting beside her, trying to comfort her. They were on a hill, watching the water in front of them. 

“I am not proud of it. Only embarrassed.” 

“Embarrassed of what exactly?” 

“That I let my ego get the best of me.” Rhaena laughed, looking back towards the water in front of them. 

“And I’m embarrassed of many things but I do not dwell on it.” Rhaena said, beginning to stand, wiping her hands on her dress. Rhaena was basking in sunlight as she opened her hand out to Alarra. Alarra grunted, taking her outreaching palm to pull her up onto her feet. Alarra paused, looking at the water again. 

“I never learned how to swim.” Alarra admitted, the wind blowing her hair and giving her a chill down her spine. 

“I can teach you if you’d like.” 

“I fear I’d only drown the both of us.” 

Alarra and Rhaena had just entered the Red Keep again, finding the three Velaryon boys playing in a grass courtyard. They were laughing maniacally, the musings of their voices heard from the depths of the castle. The older prince was chasing the younger two, and he caught up to them pushing them to the ground with him. Alarra laughed as she watched them interact, starting to miss her own brother. 

“My brother and I used to play like that. When we were children.” Alarra said, and she watched as they giggled rolling around in the dirt. 

Just then, the three boys stood up quickly, seeming to react to something or someone. Alarra turned her head to find Ser Criston Cole approaching them furiously, a determined look on his face. Alarra was quick to make the decision to walk over to them, interrupting what the knight was telling them. 

“-princes do not play.” The knight had just finished speaking when the disgusted look on his face grew even more when falling upon Alarra. 

“Is something the matter?” She questioned, and he turned towards her his hand falling upon the hilt of his sword. 

“Nothing is wrong. I am only telling these immature princes what royalty actually does-“ 

“What else are they to do? They are children-“

“Princes do not roll around in the dirt.” He said, taking a step towards her now. Alarra stood her ground, not to be intimidated by the knight. 

“You do not reprimand them, Ser.” She said, her hands forming into fists at her side. Jacaerys intervened, standing between them. 

“We will no longer play in the grass, Ser.” Jacaerys said, his eyes telling the knight to walk away. And he did. Alarra watched as Ser Criston Cole stalked away from them, seething as he did. Alarra watched as his shining armor shimmered through the halls. As if the knight had the honor to be wearing it. Alarra didn’t feel that he deserved it. He deserved his skin and bones beneath the dirt. 

“If you shall play in the grass, you shall play in the grass.” Alarra muttered, still watching the retreating body of Ser Criston. 

Nighttime came, and Alarra could not find peace in her bed. She twisted and turned unable to find rest beneath her linen sheets and feather pillows. The bed wasn’t the issue but her mind. She could not stop thinking about what she had done. She felt stupid. Stupid for allowing the knight and his prince to lead her into a trap. 

When Alarra could not sleep, she found herself reading in the library. She did not care what she read, as long as it was something to keep her brain from running circles. She even did this in Winterfell. Her brother would find her fast asleep on a table, a book beneath her face. He would scold her for sleeping in that position telling her that when she was old and gray, her back would be her enemy. 

When she first went to the library, a certain one-eyed prince had found her there but she had disappeared out the door before he could see her. After that, she never went to the library again at night. But tonight, she was desperate to find sleep. 

Alarra opened the large doors of the library, and they creaked slowly as she did. She hoped that it wasn’t too loud, but the library was hidden from most of the chambers that lay within the Red Keep. It wasn’t the main library, but one of multiple. This library was small, about the size of a council room but it held many books Alarra found interesting. She had managed to steal a book about the beginnings of Valyrian steel, and wanted to return it after finishing. 

Alarra quietly approached the shelf where she originally found the book, a lit candle in her hand as she did. The library was eerily quiet and her candle light was the only thing that she could visibly see. There were tall, narrow windows on the opposite side of the library, and the moon light filtered through the room, giving Alarra some other form of lighting. Alarra was browsing the books, her finger lightly tracing the spines when the door creaked open again. Alarra gasped quietly, ducking below the shelf. Another candle light shone through the room and Alarra quickly blew her own out. 

“I can see you.” A voice said, and Alarra closed her eyes lightly in disappointment. 

“I am sorry,” Alarra stood, playing with the ends of her night gown as she stared at the ground. She was encased in a dark blue robe her brother had gifted her. “I was only looking. I apologize if I am not allowed-“ Alarra looked up from the ground to see Aemond, his eyepatch gone and face illuminated solely with a single candle, her words getting caught in her throat. She hadn’t meant to stare or get flushed but she just did. Now she understood. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, lowering his candle from his face. His hair was down, and he wore what looked to be his night time attire. 

“I could not sleep. I know the hour is late but-“ 

“How did you find this place?” Alarra closed the robe around her body tighter. 

“I wander when I cannot sleep.”

“You should not be here. I shall get a guard to escort you to your bed chambers-“ Aemond moved to the door but Alarra jumped towards him, throwing her hand out. 

“No! Wait-“ Aemond stopped, turning back towards her. Her hand fell back at her side. “I just want one book and I’ll be on my way. Please.” She whispered the plea and Aemond seemed to pause, setting the candle down on a nearby table. Alarra couldn’t see him now, only his frame encased in black shadows visible. 

Alarra assumed he could not see her at all, and she moved back towards the book shelf to where she was previously browsing. Then Alarra remembered she blew her candle out, and she blindly looked at books. She frowned, unable to see any books in front of her. She picked the first one in front of her, turning around but she jumped gasping. Aemond was now closer to her, the candle still sitting on the table, but she could see the outline of his body a few feet away from her. 

Aemond picked back up the candle, and it slowly illuminated his arm up to his face, and Alarra watched him move towards her again, this time closer. The light made Alarra’s own shocked face visible and Aemond was looking at the book in her hand. 

“History hen Valyrio.” He said, his eyes reaching hers and Alarra furrowed her eyebrows bringing the book to her eyesight. It was thick, and the only language on it was something she did not recognize. “I did not know the princess from the North spoke high Valyrian?” He jested, a small smirk on his lips. Alarra’s face got deep red and he leaned down to take the book from her hands. He was so close to her. Close enough to where she could smell the faint scent of soap and pine. She could even see his missing eye clearly. And she was mesmerized. It was a glowing purple, and Alarra quickly looked away when his eyes met hers. When he retracted the book from her hands slowly, she took a step away from him.

“I was just curious.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. Aemond moved towards the table, sitting down at a chair, setting the candle and book next to him. Alarra stood there, watching him with a curious glance. What was he doing?

He opened the book, his fingers tracing over the pages lightly. Alarra watched him flip through the pages filled with history in a language she didn’t understand. 

“Have I taken your tongue? Are you going to just stand there, zokla?” Alarra stiffened, and Aemond was still looking through the book, the soft rustle of paper as he turned pages interrupting the sanctuary of the library. 

“I…” She started, her words in her throat once again. 

“You?” He prompted, his voice low. The turning of pages promptly stopped, and Alarra watched as Aemond looked up from the book at her. 

“I… know a little high Valyrian. My handmaiden speaks it.” Alarra confessed, moving towards the table. 

“But enough to read it? I assume not.” Alarra huffed, feeling vulnerable. They were in a library together, speaking in a civil manner. Alone. 

“I only know one word because my handmaiden says it a lot. Aek-” Aemond cut her bad pronunciation off, finishing the word. 

“Aeksio. It means lord…where is your handmaiden from?” 

“Essos…she was enslaved there and was sent here when she was young.” She said, sitting down at the chair in front of Aemond. Aemond stared at her for a moment, almost stunned that she had sat down, but he composed himself quickly and began scanning the pages of the book again. “What does the book say?” Alarra leaned over, to peek at the pages but Aemond slammed the book shut, standing with his candle in hand.

Alarra watched as he walked back over to the shelf, scanning the books with his candle before finding a particular book and bringing it back over to the table. This book was much larger than the one before, and had a wolf printed on the front of it. It was titled The Wolf in the North. Alarra sat up quickly, and Aemond opened the book skimming to find a particular page. 

“Why is there a book about-“ Aemond shushed her and Alarra slouched back in her chair reluctantly. Then Aemond stopped turning pages, and flipped the book so it was facing Alarra. He pointed to a particular paragraph. 

“Read it.” He muttered sternly, like a father scolding a child before leaning back in his chair. Alarra obeyed, reading the specific passage. 

“The prophecy in which is forgotten by the Gods. A Wolf from the North will bleed into the South. Blood of a Wolf can start wars, but the blood of a Dragon will end the realm.When one dragon meets fate, a Wolf will seek refuge.” Alarra stopped reading, her eyebrows forming into a straight line. 

“Continue.” Aemond said, his fingers pointing to the rest of the page. 

“Packs are large but dragons are much larger. A Wolf from the North. A Dragon from the South. Wolves bite, and dragons take flight.” Alarra looked up at Aemond quickly. Helaena had said those words to her. 

“What-“ 

“The rest of the book is about your heritage and family. But, why would a prophecy be in a book about the history of the North?” Aemond questioned, snatching the book back from Alarra, shutting it quickly. Alarra was quiet, not quite sure how to respond. But, Aemond was only questioning himself. 

“Why did you choose to read that particular book?” Alarra asked, her eyes falling upon the book again before raising to meet Aemond’s gaze, his sapphire eye staring back at her. 

“I’ve read every book in this library.” Alarra snorted, covering her mouth with her hand and Aemond’s face contorted into annoyance and anger. The library wasn’t too large, and there weren’t many books, maybe five shelves full, but Alarra still did not believe him. Aemond arched an eyebrow at Alarra’s skepticism. 

“You are a woman who is a skilled swordsman. I am sure there are less shocking things in the realm.” Aemond echoed, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly to form into a satisfied smirk. He had called her skilled. Alarra laughed, her hands falling on the table to grab the book from him again. 

“I will be needing this to fall asleep. Thank you for the humor, my prince.” She stood, and he stood with her grabbing his candle. 

“Your candle?” He questioned and Alarra moved towards the floor where her candle lay. She reached Aemond, and he touched his candle with hers letting her candle ignite, two flames now glowing in the dim of the library. They both stood in silence, both of their candles burning slowly. Aemond then nodded his head, before turning and leaving the library, his candle light now gone. 

The night had gone cold when Alarra ventured to her chambers after her encounter with the prince. And sleep had found Alarra that night. Alarra had not been able to sleep properly in weeks since leaving Winterfell. But that night, Alarra snuggled closer into her sheets, and for the first time she slept peacefully. 

The next morning, Alarra had been summoned to speak with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra was in her chambers, tending to one of her white-headed children Alarra did not know the name of. Rhaneyra smiled as Alarra entered and she approached the princess, respectfully bowing. 

“Please, sit.” She pointed to a chair with her free hand, still holding the babe in the other. She passed the babe to a handmaiden, before sitting across from Alarra. “How are you this morning?”

“I am well.” Rhaenyra crossed her hands on her lap, clearing her throat. 

“Your brother has sent a letter for you, but that is not why I have asked for you.” Alarra perked up, her eyebrows instantly raising at the mention of her brother. Rhaenyra was skeptical at first, but she smiled at Alarra again, but this smile was more reassuring. 

“What is it, my princess?” 

“I wish for you to train my sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys,” Rhaenyra shook her head, eyes closed for a moment. “If you are up for it, of course. I had heard the rumors of your…skill. I will say, I doubted it at first but Jace had convinced me otherwise telling me of your bravery,” Rhaenyra reached across for Alarra’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “You remind me of when I was young. I see myself in you.” Alarra swallowed harshly, before she squeezed the princesses hand back. Alarra could never refuse the words of a princess. Of a future queen. Alarra knew her answer the moment Rhaenyra had asked her. 

“I will train them. If the princes can keep up with a Northerner.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm so excited to dive into Alarra and Aemond’s relationship. While it is enemies to lovers, the beginning will not be as ‘enemy’ as the middle of the story. The worst is yet to come! They will start out as “friends” and then turn into enemies. So don't get disappointed just yet! I'm also very excited to see where Eyla’s character ends up because she is such a crucial character to the story and Alarra.

Tags: @mamawiggers1980, @kritara

[spacelatinoluvr]

blood runs thicker than water (4/?) - aemond targaryen

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 5, chapter 6

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC word count: 4.0k tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage warnings: mention of sexual content rating: 18+, !MDNI!

LADY IN RED

“Rhaenyra and her family plan to visit King’s Landing.” Aegon laughed, and his hideous cackle echoed through the hall and Aemond scowled lightly at his brother’s immaturity. 

“She dares show her face here-?” 

“Your father insisted-“ 

“My father has no solid thought in his decaying brain.” Alicent stood up fast, waving her finger towards Aegon's face and he shrunk down the smile leaving his face. 

“Do not talk about the king- your father.” 

Silence. 

“And the Stark girl will be with them-“ This time Aemond turned towards his mother, eyes wide. A Stark at the Red Keep?

“Stark?” The question had slipped from Aemond’s lips before he could think or even comprehend what his mother had said. She let out a huff before sitting back down in her chair.

“Yes, a Stark.” 

A wolf from the North had wandered into the South. 

Dragons were not what Alarra imagined. They were magnificent creatures, and not the terrible beasts her father had told her they were. Alarra remembered how her mother told her stories of flying flames and women with whispering hands of magic. How her mother filled her head with fairytales and myths while her father told her the truth and history. But sometimes myths can be proven true, and those are the stories Alarra wishes to create for herself. 

The myth of Alarra the Fierce. 

“My Alarra, my beautiful girl…“ Her mother’s eyes stared at her, blue and wide. She sat on her bed, next to her, running her fingers through Alarra’s red hair. Alarra smiled adoringly at her mother. 

“Dragons are beasts of fury, of fire. They guard the sky with their scales of iron and eyes of gold. They roam the Earth for their riders, and are lost without them.

“But you my rose are a Stark. You do not need a beast of fire to proclaim your fury…” Alarra’s mother pointed at her chest. 

“You have your heart. Your voice. Use it.”

Alarra’s mother died a fortnight before her fourth name day. She remembers crying for days, like she had wept for her father, but the days after her mother died were a blur. Something she didn’t quite recollect. But she does remember meeting Eyla. The woman with hair as black as a direwolf’s fur and eyes as enchanting as the movements of a great stallion. 

“My lady, I have been awaiting your arrival,” Eyla was in Alarra’s temporary room at the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had taken the initiative to send all staff ahead of time on a boat, and Alarra was thankful her handmaiden would be there with her in an unfamiliar place. “I haven’t been on a ship since I was…” Eyla paused, staring at the floor before she looked up at Alarra again smiling. 

Alarra smiled at Eyla, entering the large room. It was much larger than any room she’d stayed in. But Alarra was still skeptical. She was still unsure. 

“How was your trip?” Alarra asked, walking towards the woman. 

“I should be asking you the same!” Alarra laughed. 

“The air felt nice. It was cold. But I enjoyed it. I felt like a bird.” Alarra whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“Have you met the king? The queen? The princes and princess?” Alarra shook her head. 

“I’ve merely just arrived and was instructed to head to my room to unpack but it seems you have done so. We are meeting them tonight. Told to freshen up, smell nice and not like old meat.” 

“Oh how insulting the South is!” Eyla giggled, shaking her head. “Well I have laid out two dresses.” 

Alarra had chosen to wear the dark blue dress that was laid out for her. A color that always suited her best. A color that meant peace and innocence. The color of Starks. 

Alarra had been wandering the halls of the Red Keep by herself, admiring. She was feeling the walls with her fingers, how differently it was built than her own castle. Quick footsteps sounded behind her and then they stopped just as fast as they started. Alarra paused, turning her head around to find the one-eyed prince staring back at her. 

It was her.

Aemond froze. The rumors were true. Alarra Stark wasn’t just beautiful; she was breathtaking. The air had grown stale and Aemond was finding it hard to compose his heartbeat. No one had ever taken Aemond’s breath from his chest like Alarra Stark had done. And he hated her for it. He hated the way she made him feel the first time he saw her. 

Princess Alarra of the North, the Flower of Winterfell, the Cub and Alarra the Fierce.

Alarra approached Aemond, her steps soft yet calculated. She carried herself with a certain grace, but there was a dark shadow behind her eyes. And when his eyes met hers, Aemond could see that darkness within her. Stark women could freeze a man with a single glance, and Alarra had done just that to the Targaryen prince. 

As she neared, Aemond couldn’t help but notice the scar on her face. A scar so large it was hard to miss at a first glance. A scar that was long and white, done healing: but it still pained her no matter how much it healed. Alarra knew he was staring, opting to scorn him verbally.

“It’s quite rude to stare, Prince Aemond,” Alarra greeted, her voice low as it carried like the faintest chill in the northern winds. Aemond ignored what she had said, wanting to keep his manners in place. “Never seen a strikingly beautiful woman before?” 

Aemond had to keep from snarling. 

“I trust the hospitality of the Red Keep has been to your…liking. I imagine the Red Keep cannot compare to Castle Ward.” Alarra shifted on her feet, smiling and Aemond fought the urge to scowl once again, his anger rising to his face. Alarra noticed and picked up on the subtle way he bit the inside of his lip, his hands shuffling behind his back. Alarra noticed how his hair was pushed back just right, and his eye patch placed perfecting, shielding it from public view. Alarra noticed a lot about Aemond in those few seconds, but she still didn’t know what the prince was thinking. 

“Yes, my prince. Nothing is quite like Winterfell,” Her words were polite, but Aemond could read her tone. “Although, I imagine the North is far too cold for a dragon.” A knowing smile appeared on Alarra’s face yet again but this time slowly. 

“Mhm…and I assume the same for you,” Aemond’s gaze lingered on Alarra for a moment before he spoke again. “Wolves don't stray too far from the pack.”

“I am no ordinary wolf, my prince.” Alarra said, and Aemond’s eyes creased as he watched her. 

“I can see,” Aemond pursed his lips slightly and Alarra tilted her head to the side, an antagonizing grin growing on her face. “I shall see you at supper.” Aemond walked right past her, not giving Alarra a second glance before he was gone from the hallway, his steps no longer echoing. 

Alarra then found her way to the gardens where she stumbled upon Helaena, dipped below the ground playing with flowers and plants in the courtyard. 

“Oh! Princess Helaena,” Alarra watched as the princess did not move, still picking up flowers from the ground. “I did not mean to intrude-”

“You are always welcome, lady in red.” Helaena turned, looking at Alarra and Alarra got on the ground, sitting next to her on her knees. Her dress was bound to get dirty and muddy at one point, something common in Winterfell. Yet, it felt wrong to do it in the castle. 

“Lady in red?” Alarra smiled at the girl, questioning her nickname. 

“You were in my dreams…wearing red.”

“I do not wear red, princess.”

“But, you will,” Alarra tilted her head to the side, with so many questions racking her brain. “Wolves bite and dragons take flight.” Helaena whispered to herself. 

Alarra plucked a small flower, twirling it between her fingers as she stared at it. 

Wolves bite and dragons take flight. 

“Your hair looks beautiful, my lady.” Eyla combed her fingers through Alarra’s hair, as it was curled and splayed over her shoulders. 

“You should be complimenting yourself.” Alarra stared at her hair adoringly, as it was beautifully set into ringlets, a silver pendant with a red jewel sat atop her head. Eyla had gifted her that pendant as a form of love and was told it would ‘keep her safe’. Alarra only wore it when Eyla insisted, and this night she had guided the girl to wear it. 

Rhaenyra had instructed Alarra to sit next to Joffrey, but that would mean she would have to sit across from Aemond. Viserys and his hand were not present, only Alicent and her children. He must have been instructed with bed rest. Aegon was laughing drunkenly as he threw grapes into his mouth like a child. Helaena was next to him, playing with her food, not a single emotion present on her face. Lucerys, Joffrey, and Jacaerys were all talking lively to each other, ignoring their family members across the table. Rhaena and Baela were speaking to each other as well, bursting into hushed laughter occasionally. Daemon and Rhaenyra were speaking quietly, while Alicent glanced over at them once and awhile while she downed her own goblet of wine. Alarra was in her own bubble, chowing down on her food and keeping to herself. Until she noticed the person in front of her. Aemond was staring at Alarra, a small smirk placed upon his face. A smirk that brought Alarra pure anger. Alarra stabbed at her food, glancing up at him once and awhile. Aemond had grabbed his wine, looking at her over the top of it with that stupid, stupid smirk- 

“Is something the matter, my lady.” Aemond pulled Alarra out of her trance. She hadn’t realized she had been angrily staring at his face. And his dumb smirk. 

“Everything is well, my prince.” Alarra gritted the last part out of her teeth. Aemond’s smirk widened, if that was even possible. 

“Enjoying your duck?” 

“Very much so. And you?” Alarra stabbed a piece of the meat, bringing it to her lips slowly. Aemond watched her, his hand gripping his fork harder, his knuckles almost turning white. 

“Quite delectable.” Aemond wasn’t talking about the meat, but Alarra didn’t know that. 

“Your sister hasn’t touched her plate.” Alarra observed Helaena who was sitting quietly, pushing around her peas and carrots with her duck untouched, a small frown on her face. 

“She feels bad for the duck.” Aemond said it as if it were an insult. But, Alarra gazed at Helaena, sympathizing with the girl. She’s just a child. 

“Don’t make fun,” Alarra sniped, and Aemond tilted his head. “She is an empath. It is a wonderful thing to be.” 

“Until it gets you killed.” Aemond muttered. Alarra caught the disgust in his tone, scanning his face and his features and how he looked angry. But that anger was hidden by sadness. And she could see right through it. Right through him. 

Rhaenyra stood, clearing her throat as the sounds of laughter and talking died down, everyone turning their attention to the princess. 

“Since my father cannot be here tonight, I trust that he is in the Gods’ hands, free from pain this evening. Hopefully he will feel well soon enough to meet his newest kin.” Rhaenyra smiled at Baela, Rhaena and Alarra. 

“And to Alicent,” Rhaenyra looked at Alicent, her smile different from the one she gave the young girls. “I pray for your well being during my fathers torment.” And Rhaenyra nodded at Alicent before sitting down again. Nobody spoke for a few seconds, before Alicent smiled at Rhaenyra, nodding her head at her. 

The talking ensued again, and Alarra resumed eating her food. Aemond was no longer staring at her, but staring at his brother who was next to Helaena. Alarra watched as Aemond glared at Aegon, who was mindlessly drinking wine, seemingly making a fool of himself. She knew exactly what Aemond was thinking at that moment. How much hatred he had for his older brother. The misfortune that he was older. Alarra admired her older brother, yet Aemond showed no signs of admiration for Aegon. Aegon then stood, stumbling lightly as he did, reaching for his wine, and it spilled on the table as he grabbed it roughly. 

“A toast! To my nephews and their…” he snorted, laughing his head in the air. “Women. That one is quite pretty-” He pointed to Alarra and everyone looked at her. “-besides that ugly thing on her face. Maybe you won’t have to look at her when you fuck her dear nephew.” Aegon cackled again, his laughter filling the room. Alarra’s lip curled as her hands molded into tight fists under the table. She couldn’t help but open her lips. No one would speak to her like that. Even a foolish drunk prince.

“And what scars do you have to show for your skills in swordsmanship, my prince? Oh that’s right…” Aegon hummed, looking Alarra up and down, taking a big gulp from his goblet. He paused before slamming it back down on the table, the remains of red wine spilt.

“And she talks back. Most do not speak back to me. Maybe a slap across the face will do her well.”

“Likewise, my prince.” The prince’s eyes widened as he pointed an accusing finger at her across the table. He leaned over as far as he could reach.

“Excuse me-“

“Aegon, sit down.” Alicent had ordered her son, her voice loud. Aegon obeyed immediately, huffing as he fell back into his chair, glaring at Alarra. She looked away from Aegon to see Aemond with a small smile upon his face, obviously trying to hide it. This was amusing to him. Alarra raised an eyebrow at him as if to ask, is this funny to you? All Aemond did was smirk at her before he took another sip from his wine. Alarra couldn’t stand that smirk on his stupid face with his stupid blonde hair and his stupid eyepatch. But there was one thing Alarra knew for certain. She hated Aemond Targaryen.

Later that night, Alarra was bathing in warm water and lilacs speaking to Eyla about the dinner she had with the Targaryen family. 

“It was an interesting family reunion…” Eyla scrubbed at Alarra’s shoulders, the water cascading down her back. “It was…tense.” 

“I can imagine it wouldn’t be a joyous reunion.” 

“What makes you say that?” Eyla stopped scrubbing at Alarra’s naked body, pondering on what to say next. 

“The rightful heir to the iron throne is Rhaenyra Targaryen. But, Aegon Targaryen is the king’s first-born son. Who’s to say he won't overtake the throne once his father dies.”

“Aegon Targaryen is an idiot. A fool. He is not fit-” Eyla shushed the girl, her finger closing over her mouth. 

“The walls have ears, my lady.” Alarra snorted, her face contorting into a blissful grin. 

“The walls are walls. If anyone dares to use my words against me, I will cut their throat.” Alarra laughed at Eyla’s shocked face. A second later, a laugh emitted from Eyla’s throat and she shoved Alarra in the bath, water splashing on her dress. 

“My lady! Now you are speaking like me, not yourself. I fear you have been around me too much.”

“And is that such a bad thing?” Alarra now washed herself, drenching her hair in water. 

“You need to speak like a lady. Not a whore from Essos.”

“Eyla!” Alarra scoffed, pausing her cleanliness. The only sound that was heard now was the occasional splashing of water, as Eyla continued to clean her. 

“The princess calls me a silly name.” Alarra smiled at the memory, a nickname she thought was cute and had no meaning. 

“Does she call you a wet dog?” Alarra snickered, as Eyla’s hands moved towards her stomach area. 

“She calls me lady in red.” 

Eyla stopped cleaning Alarra, a concerned look crossing her features. 

“Lady in red?”

“Yes, but I insisted that I do not wear red-” 

“My lady, Helaena, is a dreamer. She sees things that others cannot.” 

“I have heard of her odd inquiries.”

“They are not just odd, my lady. There is talk that her dreams are prophecies from God.”

God. 

Eyla never spoke of what higher being she believed in. Alarra always wondered what she believed because she never brought it up until now. 

“Besides, red has never suited me.” Eyla sighed, beginning to scrub Alarra's body more harshly this time. 

“Every color suits you, my lady.” Alarra shook her head, her nose scrunching up in disgust. 

“Except yellow.” Eyla laughed, turning around to grab more lilacs and throw them into the bath that had grown colder. 

“Except yellow.” She repeated. 

“Aemond hates his brother. That is one thing I know. I see it in his eyes everytime he looks at him. Pure jealousy and rage.” Alarra whispered, thinking about his eyes and the way they glared at Aegon. Alarra almost felt bad for the prince. Almost. Something in her understood him. Something was telling her that maybe he wasn’t so bad- but that couldn’t be true. He was a Targaryen after all. And she was a Stark. Wolves and Dragons don’t get along. 

Ser Criston Cole was a man of honor. A man’s honor is something that can corrupt him, make him manic with power. And Alarra knew that all too well. Her uncle had surged, his hunger for power devouring his mind. Ser Criston Cole reminded her of her uncle and his unending thirst. The first moment she saw the knight, she saw the monster that lay between his gaze. Awaiting any moment to strike at anyone or anything that dares threaten him. But he could never scare her. For he was only a man with a tiny blade to save him. And Alarra had much more than that. 

Alarra approached Ser Criston Cole, as he stood outside the hall, not even meeting her gaze below him. He was frozen still, not even acknowledging the princess before him. Alarra was offended, but declared that it wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth her might. 

“Ser Criston Cole,” She rang, and he finally glanced at her, his head still forward but eyes scanning. 

“Alarra the Fierce…what a pleasure.” 

“I am sure it is a pleasure, Ser.” Ser Criston straightened, clearing his throat. 

“Do you need something?” He questioned, his eyes again falling forward. 

“I wish to break my fast.” Ser Criston Cole glanced at her again from the corner of his eyes. 

“Prince Aegon wishes to not be interrupted-“ 

“I wish to break my fast.” She said again, more loudly and clearly this time. Maybe he hadn’t heard her, from two feet away. 

“You will have to wait.” 

“My stomach is growling, do you hear?” Alarra pointed to her stomach, and the quiet was loud around them before her stomach growled. 

“Break your fast elsewhere.” 

A loud euphoric moan sounded from the hall, and Alarra’s eyes widened as Ser Criston Cole visibly stiffened. 

Alarra chose to break her fast outside. The hall was not inviting to her. She watched the water as she ate, as the blue sea crashed in waves against the cliffs. Alarra had never seen a sea so blue before.  

“Enjoying the view, my lady?” Alarra was in the middle of chewing, when she turned to find Rhaena standing behind her. Alarra almost choked on her pastry, as she turned to face the princess, who had a bright smile on her face

“Yes, very much so. I’ve never seen water so blue.” 

“I forget you don’t have seas in Winterfell.” 

When Alarra first arrived at Dragonstone, getting there by ship, she was in awe of the sea. She recalled never seeing something so blue. Something so vast and large, as it stretched before her. Rhaena moved to sit at the seat across from Alarra, the sunlight making her white hair look even brighter. 

“I haven’t gotten the chance to speak to you yet.” Rhaena folded her hands across her lap, a hint of shyness in her demeanor. 

“Likewise.” Alarra responded, swallowing the piece of food she had been chewing on with some effort.

“My brother never let me leave Winterfell,” Alarra said, shaking her head before speaking again. “That’s why I’ve never seen the sea before.” Rhaena’s eyebrows furrowed as Alarra spoke. 

“Why let your brother control you?” Alarra hadn’t thought about that before. Why had she let her brother dictate her choices? Her life. She could have left. She could have never seen her brother again, adventuring away from the North. But she didn’t. Alarra shook her head, looking away from Rhaena, her gaze drifting back towards the sea, its vastness pulling her inward.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Alarra looked at her again, the scar on her face more prominent in the sunlight. Rhaena had been the one person to not stare. Alarra remembered that act of kindness, and it had made her heart ache a little less. “I have duty there, I have a place in the realm, I am not a princess but a valiant knight.” Alarra knew she wasn’t a knight. She knew she could never be one. But she always dreamed of it. She always felt she was more than a princess at Winterfell. That she had a purpose other than producing heirs. Rhaena was silent, listening to the words that Alarra was saying. She didn’t need to respond for Alarra to know she understood. She just did. 

“I admire you. And your courage. The way you stood up for them, without even truly knowing them-“ 

“I know what is right. That is all I need to know.” Rhaena smiled, her cheeks rising to her ears. 

“Anyone would be honored to have you as their knight.” 

“I am not a knight. Only a lady.” 

“I know,” Rhaena smiled, beginning to stand. “Well I shall leave you to your sanctuary. And please,” Rhaena’s eyes glimmered as she looked at the girl. And Alarra knew just how well they would soon get along. “Talk to me at any time.” Before she left Alarra wanted to say one more thing. 

“Rhaena?” Rhaena looked at her, awaiting her words. “My brother does not control me. Only I control myself. Don’t let any man, no matter their title, tell you what you do. How you do things. They cannot touch you. You are a princess. Use that title to its purpose. I promise it will get you far,” Rhaena knew she’d liked Alarra just by meeting her. And this had just made her assumption much more true. 

“As women we don’t get much of a title. We don’t get much of anything. But what we can get, what we can earn, we must conquer. Do you see?” Rhaena could only nod, taking in the wise words of Alarra the Fierce. And then Rhaena was gone, only the wind and the sea to accompany Alarra with her meal.

Aemond could not sleep that night. He opted to wander the halls, get his mind out of everything but he assumed that would do more harm than good. Wandering only led to more thinking and more thinking led to bigger thoughts- it was turmoil. Aemond had decided to visit the library instead. The door squealed as Aemond opened it, only a candle in his hand to lead him through the dark room. 

Aemond thought he was alone as he walked through the rows of books, until he saw another light flash before him. Someone else was in there with him. Aemond moved his candle all around, trying to find where the light had come from but found nothing but darkness. Somewhere in the back of Aemond’s mind he had hoped it was the Stark girl. He hoped to get one more glimpse at her face before he slept. But he knew he’d see her in his dreams again.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I truly love writing Alarra, she's such a good character. Her and Rhaena's platonic and sisterly relationship is one I look forward to writing.

Tags: @mamawiggers1980, @kritara

[spacelatinoluvr]

“he’s so babygirl”

babe he just killed somebody.

[spacelatinoluvr]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍

dragonriding outfit in 2x08.

[spacelatinoluvr]

blood runs thicker than water (3/?) - aemond targaryen

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC word count: 3.6k tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage warnings: mention of sexual harassment rating: 18+, !MDNI!

BREATH OF FIRE

A Stark has been betrothed to a Velaryon.  

The word had slipped, spreading quickly among the Seven Kingdoms, the engagement reaching the ears of Aemond Targaryen. But, not to just any Velaryon: the youngest child of Rhaenyra Targaryen. 

Aemond didn't know why it had angered him. Why the thought of a Stark girl ruining the Targaryen line made him so furious. But, Rhaenyra had already done that bedding the plain featured man, he figured. Aemond remembered Rhaenyra had proposed the idea of Jacaerys and Helaena but his mother was quick to turn it down. 

“Aemond dear, what has plagued your thoughts?” Alicent’s sweet voice rang through the room, and Aemond was brought out of his running mind. 

“Nothing, mother.” Helaena was next to him, braiding Jaehaera’s hair. His fingers drummed mindlessly against the arm of his chair, staring at a doll with blonde hair on the ground. Aemond didn't realize how deep his scowl had become until Helaena pulled him from his indignation. 

“I had a dream about you brother,” She started, still braiding the hair of Jaehaera. Aemond turned to look at her from across the room. “Wolves bite and Dragons take flight.” Helaena whispered, her eyes unwavering.

Aemond had learned to ignore his sister's questionable inquiries, but this one intrigued him. Alicent’s gentle voice broke through the silence once again that enveloped the room. 

“You're always so pensive these days, my son.” Alicent waited a beat, her eyes studying her son and his cold demeanor. 

“My thoughts are only bare, mother.” Aemond muttered, before he glanced at Helaena again. Aemond was lying. His thoughts were never naked. His thoughts consumed him. And only one thing was on his mind.

“Did you hear?” Ser Criston Cole was standing next to the prince, breathing heavily from their training minutes before. “The cunt of Dragonstone has sold her bastard son to a wolf.” He rang, snorting. 

Aemond paused, turning his head to look at the Knight. 

“Princess Rhaenyra,” Criston Cole paused, his eyebrows scrunched together as he stared at the prince. “She is still a princess and you will address her as such.”

“I apologize my prince I-” 

“And yes, I had heard the rumors. So, they are true, yes?” Ser Criston Cole slowly nodded his head, adjusting the plate on his chest. 

“Alarra the Fierce is what they call her, my prince.”

Alarra the Fierce. 

Aemond had heard that name before. He had heard of her strength as much as her beauty. But she was a Stark, with rough features and dark hair. She was no Targaryen. 

“And is this Alarra truly fierce?” Criston Cole laughed, shaking his head. 

“She cannot be…she is a woman.”

“I wouldn't underestimate her because of her birth. If the stories are true…” Aemond pondered remembering hearing the story of the Princess who Lived at a young age. He never believed it, but if it were true…

“If the stories are true, then I will resign!” Ser Criston Cole joked, laughing again. 

But, Aemond had a feeling that the wolf from the North would bare her teeth at the dragons. 

It had been three days since Alarra’s visit to Castle Black when they received the Raven from Rhaenyra Targaryen. 

“The Princess and her family are to be in King's Landing with her father…” Cregan read, his eyes scanning over the letter again before he looked back up at Alarra. “She requests your presence at Dragonstone immediately.” Cregan’s voice was wavering, like he was uncertain. His fist was holding the paper tightly, his eyebrows furrowed into a singular line above his eyes. The further he read the more tense his face became. 

“Why so sudden?” Alarra questioned, leaning forward to glance at the letter, but Cregan ripped it away from the table. “What is it?”

Cregan remained still, his finger beating against the table. 

Thump, thump, thump.  

“Leave me, Alarra.”

“But-”

“Leave.” Cregan had started to gather a fresh piece of paper, ink and a quill. Alarra sat there for a moment before she slowly stood quietly leaving the room.  

Alarra was brushing one of the many horses in the stable, something she enjoyed doing. It was a way to calm herself and stay collected. She brushed one of the brown horses, a small smile on her face as she whispered to the animal, receiving no reply. Alarra was too focused, letting her guard down, and she didn't notice a figure standing behind her, watching. 

“Alarra.”

Alarra jumped, becoming alert, turning around to find her brother approaching her. His face was pale, and he looked like a boy at that moment. Not the lord of Winterfell, not the king of the North but her brother. He looked like he did when they would play in the creek, splashing water until the sun fell beneath the trees and their father would tell them that night time was not safe. He looked like himself. 

“Cregan.” She replied, turning around to face him and her back towards the horse. He stepped towards her again, slightly skeptical, like a fox approaching a bird. 

“I seem to always find you here when you are upset.”

“I find solace in the most accepting creatures,” Alarra started, turning back around to pet the horse’s face with her palm, and it moved towards her hand, inviting her. “Horses are kinder than humans.”

“I am…sorry.” Cregan began.

“Now you are sorry?” Alarra’s tone was steady and calm, no trace of being indignant. She wasn't angry nor was she upset, just curious. 

“It was an irrational decision- I…” Alarra stopped petting the horse to turn back towards Cregan. He was staring at the floor of the stable, thinking. He looked back up at her before he continued. “But it was necessary.”

“You say that a lot.”

“What?”

“You think that every decision you make is justified because it benefits you or our house. Every decision, every choice you make is based on one emotion, whether you like to admit it or not,” Alarra paused, smiling lightly and Cregan’s shoulders sank, a breath of relief leaving him. “You're scared.”

“I just want to keep you safe. That is all I want.”

“And you can't do that here? In Winterfell?”

“Alarra you have to understand that I am your brother. I am your protector from all things evil. I am your guardian. Father bestowed upon me that I keep you safe. Always. I almost failed him that day- the day that the Gods almost reached you.” Cregan’s eyes were watering, and Alarra knew how he never let his emotions get the best of him. She knew he loved her, as much as he didn't say it, he showed it. He never let himself cry. Cregan sniffled, his lips forming a thin line. 

“You know that I-”

“I know, Cregan.”

“Everything I do is for you.” Cregan’s voice cracked at the end, as he stared at Alarra most likely fighting the tears. The last time Cregan cried in front of Alarra was when she had almost endured the end. When she almost died. And after that day, Cregan never let her leave his sight, unless she was under supervision of Ser Wildrow of course. It pained him as much as it did her for her to leave him. But, Cregan knew where his duty lay; where his morals sat. And Cregan had regretted it the moment the approval left his mouth. The moment he agreed to give his little sister away to a child. “And the last thing I want is for you to leave, hating me.”

“It's alright, Cregan, truly. I do not resent you for it. I will learn to accept it. And besides, it will be a dutiful task, no?” Alarra smiled again, her eyes glossy. And Cregan sighed, pulling Alarra in for a tight hug. 

I love you.

“Be safe.” Cregan whispered into her ear, not pulling away from the embrace just yet. Not ready to let go of his little cub.

“Always,” Alarra rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent of leather and smoke. “I am Alarra the Fierce after all.” She spoke into his shoulder, and he pulled away from her his hands stationary on her shoulders. 

“But, if anyone lays a finger you-” Cregan’s eyes were hard, piercing into Alarra’s face as his hands gripped her shoulders firmly. “I will pursue them myself, fuck the arrangement. They will meet the Wolf of the North.” Alarra smiled, nodding because that was the Cregan she knew. The Stark she had known all her life. 

“They would be utterly stupid to even try, brother.”

That night, Aemond dreamt of a girl he had never had the pleasure of laying his eyes upon before; a girl with red hair. A girl named Alarra Stark. He dreamt of her long hair, her blue eyes, her sword swinging in the air, her freckles. He awoke in the night, gripping his sheets, seething. And he lay awake, the rest of the night, angrily staring above him, his thoughts corrupted of a girl he never knew. And that is what angered him more. 

Alicent noticed the way Aemond stomped into the hall that morning, his composure radiating pure hatred. The way he hastily dragged the chair out from the table. The way he ate in silence, stabbing at the food on his plate. The way he left without a word, no announcement upon his arrival or leave. She didn't question him, as she assumed he didn't get enough rest. It wasn't until he had brought that mood into a visit with his father, that she approached Aemond. 

“Aemond, what is the matter?” Alicent’s eyes fanned over him, her eyebrows furrowed, worriedly. Alicent and Aemond had quietly left the king’s chambers, standing outside his door. Aemond turned towards his mother, still tense. His mind flashed, going back to the red haired girl. The beautiful red haired girl that poisoned his brain and made him feel so angry he could vomit. So full of hatred he felt utterly sick at the thought of her. 

“Aemond?” Aemond blinked, staring at his mother again. She was gripping his hand tightly, and he pulled it away. 

“Nothing. I am fine. Just tired.” Aemond responded quickly, feeling as though his mother could see through his lies. And she could, like looking through glass she could see his emotions clearly. Aemond was unsure of how to tell his mother what was really bothering him. 

Enraged by a dream? A figment of a woman who walks in his sleep? Oh, how he imagined she'd laugh. 

“Aemond…” Alicent prodded, stepping closer to the prince. 

“I shall bid you goodnight.” And that was the last thing Aemond said for the night, before he left for his chambers. Sleep was not his friend that night, and when he did enter slumber, his dreams were again overtaken by the Stark girl. 

Alarra was not ready to leave Winterfell. As much as she knew she had to, she did not want to. Cregan had hung onto Alarra, not ready to let go of her. Not ready to let her leave him and his sight. Cregan squeezed her one last time before ruffling her hair and kissing the top of her head. 

“I'm only a raven away.” He said, smiling at her, still gripping her shoulders. 

“And so am I!” Alarra laughed as he hugged her again, lifting her off her feet. He was hugging her still, his hair in her face. 

“Just promise to take care of yourself. Please.” He said into her ear, and Alarra laughed again, pulling away from him. 

“I always do. You know this,” Alarra patted her thigh, where her dagger always sat, hidden. “Just in case.”

Cregan laughed, admiring his sister and the woman she was becoming. And that he would miss out on the bigger parts of her life. He wouldn't see her for years he supposed. Wouldn't see her blossom into the beautiful woman he knew she'd become. 

“You are destined for great things, Alarra.”

Before she got in the carriage she hugged her brother one last time. And she watched as her brother got smaller and smaller, his frame no longer visible. And then Wintefell was gone, only trees surrounding her.

Alarra had just gotten done laughing at a joke Eyla had made, and could barely get a sentence out. Through her laughter, Alarra questioned her. 

“And how do you know that this servant boy was staring at your…” Alarra snorted, her eyes trailing to Eyla’s breasts. 

“His eyes were not meeting mine, my lady.” Eyla let out a short laugh, and after their shared laughter the carriage became quiet again. 

“Does that not make you uncomfortable?” Alarra questioned, her cheeks red from laughing and a smile resting on her face. 

“No. I am used to it. You forget how long I have been in this realm, my lady.” Alarra never questioned Eyla about her life in Essos. She never had reason to; it was her business and her business only. Eyla and Alarra had shared respect for each other; they were friends. 

“You shouldn’t be used to it.” Alarra stated, mourning slightly for the woman. 

“As women-”

“No, no excuses because we happen to spill milk from our breasts,” Alarra was getting heated now, her face red because of her irritation. 

“Alarra, it is how things are here-”

“Well, things can change. The color of the sky changes, why can't we?” 

“I cannot answer that, my lady.” Silence encased them again, before Alarra spoke up, shaking her head.

“Sometimes I wish I were born a boy, like my brother,” Alarra confessed, her voice meek. Like it was a terrible thing to say. But truth holds so much more meaning than a lie. “I wonder if I would even be fierce, if I would even have to prove myself fierce.” Eyla was quiet, never looking away from Alarra, her face frozen and eyes a dark void before she spoke. 

“Women don't just earn a place in the realm from birth…we must take it,” Eyla paused, her voice proud and mighty. She had a determined look on her face but quickly covered it up with her usual airy smile. Alarra always noticed how Eyla’s accent thickened whenever she was extremely passionate. Whether she was angry or excited, Eyla knew how to use her words. 

“And that is exactly what makes us different from men.”

Dragonstone was much more different than Winterfell. Alarra noted quickly how the air was much warmer, much more salty. She noticed how the sun was blocked by clouds of gray and the wind wasn't as harsh. Alarra was terrified, but she chose not to acknowledge her fear because it would only encourage a scared Alarra; and Alarra was to be fierce, not tuck her tail between her legs. 

When Alarra arrived, the first person she met was Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra was wonderful, truly. As much as Alarra hated that she was there, away from her brother, Rhaenyra brought a certain comfort to the girl. Rhaenyra then introduced her to her oldest son, Jacaerys, and he was as handsome as the people said. Maybe even more than the rumors. Alarra then was introduced to Lucerys, he was lively like his older brother and Alarra noticed that he had a confidence about him. She then met Rhaena and Baela; both beautiful and elegant. And last, she was met with her betrothed. The only person missing was the rogue prince.

The little one, presumably Joffrey, was hidden behind his mother’s dress, staring at Alarra’s face. At her unmistakingly large scar. Alarra frowned as he just continued to stare, his face contorted into one of curiosity. 

“This is Joffrey.” She said, and Alarra looked down at him as he hid behind his mother.

“How old is the little one?” Alarra questioned, meeting the gaze of Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra looked down at the bashful boy, petting his head with her hand. 

“Seven.” She said, swallowing as she said it. Alarra hadn't realized how young he was, how long she would have to stay in the castle, locked away for years and years awaiting the Velaryon boy. What a fool her brother was. A fool. 

Three moons with the Blacks had already come and gone, and Alarra was starting to enjoy her time spent with the Velaryon boys. She was in the courtyard, playing with the youngest boys, Joffrey and Lucerys. Joffrey was somewhere running around but Lucerys had been talking to Alarra, asking her questions. 

“Do you miss him? Your brother.” Lucerys asked innocently, a sad look upon his face. Lucerys could never imagine being without his brothers. 

“I miss my brother…but dragons are much more fun than wolves.” Lucerys giggled, his face now bright and teeth shining. Alarra laughed with him as he sat closer to her, eyes wide with wonder. 

“What is Winterfell like?” Alarra stared at the boy, her eyes glimmering with thoughts of her home. Her old home. Winterfell was home, she wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him how much she missed it, how much she missed her stubborn brother, how much she missed teasing Ser Wildrow, how much she missed her horses, how much she missed the cold air and wearing thick clothing. But, she opted to tell the young prince this:

“Winterfell is nothing like Dragonstone. Instead of dragons we have horses. Instead of gray skies we have blue ones. Instead of warm air we have cold air. Instead of Targaryens we have Starks.” Alarra teased, poking Lucerys lightly on the chest and he whined, pushing her hand away and running to find Joffrey.

“My brothers seem to like you, lady Alarra.” Alarra turned to find Jacaerys watching as Joffrey and Lucerys ran around the courtyard, playing like children. 

“I would hope so.” Alarra rang, not trying to jester but Jacaerys let out a small laugh. 

“Do you like it here?”

“I am managing,” Alarra didn't know why she was being so honest with the boy. Maybe it was because he reminded her so much of her own brother: of Cregan. “You resemble him. Cregan.” She muttered, smiling as Lucerys and Joffrey sat on the grass playing with the leaves on the ground. 

“They remind me of…” Alarra paused the words stuck on her tongue, pushing to leave her throat. Alarra saw herself in both of the boys. Their liveliness and their innocence. So young and little. Jacaerys moved to sit down opposite of her on the bench. Alarra turned towards him, putting her hands in her lap. She was about to speak when Rhaenyra appeared, walking towards them hastily. Alarra stood quickly, bowing her head.

“Princess.”

“Lady Alarra,” Rhaenyra smiled at the girl, before she quickly turned to her son addressing him. Jacaerys stood, glancing at Alarra. They both bid her goodbye before he followed Rhaenyra out of the courtyard and Alarra was left alone with the two little princes.

The first time Alarra met Daemon Targaryen was before they were to depart to King's Landing. Alarra was excited to leave the castle and travel to a new one. She was finally going to explore Westeros, however long it took her. But she was most excited to meet the dragons. Rhaenyra had assured her that she would be fine as a passenger on Syrax and had nothing to worry about. But, Alarra was still skeptical as she was curious.

Daemon was not what Alarra expected. She expected a brute and confident man: someone she would not like. But he seemed closed off and quiet, mostly keeping to himself. Until he approached Alarra, standing next to her as she took in the large dragons before her. She had only heard stories of dragons from her father. And now she was standing in front of the creatures she was taught to hate. 

“First time seeing a dragon?” Daemon spoke first, the wind was howling now and Alarra shivered. 

“What do you think, my prince?” Sarcasm dripped from Alarra’s tone, and Daemon's eyebrows raised. Alarra feared she had offended the prince until he smiled at the sky letting out a small laugh. 

“I forget you Stark’s are warm-blooded.” Daemon muttered, it sounded like an insult but Alarra looked at Daemon for the first time laughing. 

“Funny. I would say the same yet your blood runs cold.” Alarra laughed again and Daemon just stared at her and the only thing that they heard was the wind and growl of dragons. 

“Usually people run and cower and hide yet you're…” Daemon started, looking back at the dragons. 

“I was always scared of dragons because of the stories my father would tell me…how they were horrible beasts with breath of fire,” Daemon was quiet, just watching Alarra as she gazed at the dragons in front of her. She hummed before she spoke up again, reminiscing. “‘Little flame, you are the one that should breathe fire’ he would tell me,” Daemon watched her, his eyes calculated but a small smirk made its way to his face as he snorted. 

“And do you breathe fire, lady Alarra?” 

“Fire is meant for dragons,” Alarra turned her head to look at the rogue prince.

“And I breathe ice.” 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This chapter might have been a boring one and slightly rushed just because this was to set up the bulk of the rest of the story. And Aemond and Alarra will meet in the next chapter so I’m super excited about that! I'm going to miss Cregan but he'll be back...