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#'Looking for the feeling that moved her so long ago'
stylesispunk · 3 days
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Silent Strain | Part iii
Outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader
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chapter summary: Joel is afraid of letting you out of his sight and you were afraid of him slipping away.
w.c: 16k> (it was going to be 8k but this happened)
warnings: angst, mentions of panic attack, fluff. no proofreading. Probably some things won't make sense, but I felt pressured and I had to post this chapter.
a/n: hello! Last fic I posted didn't go how I expected but here's another chapter of this series. I hope you like this chapter and PLEASE share your thoughts with me. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
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As the first gloomy light of morning crept through the window, Joel felt like he could finally breathe again. The soft, grey dawn brought with it a sense of calm that the night had cruelly stolen away. He didn’t fear the darkness itself; he'd learned long ago to live within its shadows, but he feared the memories that the darkness brought to him. The loss, the crying, the desperation... and the blood.
The thought of losing another child, and losing you in the process, cracked the rough surface he had been hiding behind for so many years. It was too much; it was too familiar. As much as he tried to stay strong, the fear had gnawed at him, tearing at the fragile walls he had built around his heart.
Your breathing had steadied, though the pain had not fully subsided. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, uneven but there, steadying his own frantic pulse. He had held you tighter, his own breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps, trying to stay calm for you, for the baby.
After the scare from last night, Joel had held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your hair. He whispered softly; words meant to soothe you but also to keep his own panic at bay. "It's okay, darlin'. I'm here. Just breathe. Stay with me…"
The hours had dragged on, and every flicker of discomfort on your face sent a fresh wave of panic through him. He hadn't let himself sleep, afraid that if he closed his eyes, he might wake up to another nightmare.
Now, in the pale morning light, Joel watched you. Your eyes were closed, but your breathing was calm and even, a welcome change from the strained, pained gasps that had filled the room only hours before. He stroked a thumb gently along your arm, his touch feather-light, afraid of disturbing you but needing the contact to ground himself.
Ellie, who had kept a worried vigil nearby, finally stirred awake. She glanced over and saw Joel watching you, the lines of tension still etched into his face.
"Is… is she okay?" Ellie whispered, moving closer, her eyes wide with concern.
Joel nodded slowly, his voice barely a murmur. "Yeah, I think… I don’t know.”
Ellie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "God, Joel, you looked so scared," she admitted, trying to lighten the mood, though her voice was shaky. "I’ve never seen you like that."
Joel’s lips twitched into a faint, weary smile. "Guess I'm getting soft, huh?"
Ellie leaned against the wall, watching him carefully. "That isn’t bad thing," she muttered, her eyes flicking over to you. “She needs you.”
Joel’s gaze softened, his eyes returning to you, still sleeping peacefully. Then, his gaze went to Ellie’s again.
“Ellie, can you take care of her for a moment?”
Ellie nodded, confused as Joel stood up, walking towards the door without saying a word to her.
Joel's steps were heavy, each one echoing softly in the quiet room. He reached the door and paused for a moment, his hand resting on the rough wood. His shoulders were tense, his head slightly bowed as if wrestling with some invisible weight.
Ellie watched him, frowning. "Joel?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Where are you going?"
He didn't turn around, didn't meet her gaze. "Just… need a minute," he replied, his tone low and strained. "I'll be back soon."
Ellie’s eyes flicked back to you, still resting, and then back to Joel. “She’s gonna wake up and ask for you,” she said, her voice gentle, but firm. "You sure you’re, okay?"
Joel nodded, though his movements were stiff, almost mechanical. "Yeah," he muttered, though he didn’t sound convinced. “I just need some air."
With that, he slipped out the door, the cold morning air rushing in as he opened it. He took a deep breath, feeling the sharp chill hit his lungs, grounding him momentarily. He stepped outside, letting the door close quietly behind him.
He stood there, just outside, his breath visible in the cold air, his mind racing. The panic from the night before still clung to him, like a dark shadow that refused to leave. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair, trying to calm himself down.
He couldn't shake the image of you in pain, the fear in your eyes, the blood on your hands. It felt like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from, a terrifying reminder of all the things he couldn't control, all the people he couldn't protect.
He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall of the house, his breathing coming in short, uneven bursts. He pressed his hands against his chest, trying to steady his heart, but the memories wouldn't let him rest. Memories of Sarah, of the pain of losing her, of the years spent hardening himself against that same pain.
And now, here he was again, facing the possibility of losing someone he cared about more than he wanted to admit.
"Come on, Joel," she muttered under her breath, killing the silence on Joel’s mind.
“Go back inside” he said.
Ellie jumped slightly at his words, her eyes darting to Joel. She could see the tightness in his shoulders, the tension in his jaw. For a moment, she considered arguing, but something in his voice stopped her. There was a rawness there, a plea she hadn’t heard before.
“Joel…” she started, her voice softer now, more careful.
His eyes flicked to hers, the pain clear, almost palpable. “Ellie, just… go back inside,” he repeated, his tone almost breaking. “Please.”
She hesitated, biting her lip, before nodding “You know it’s not your fault.”
Joel's face tightened at Ellie's words, his jaw clenching as if he was holding back a torrent of emotion. He shook his head, looking away for a moment, his gaze hard and distant, lost in anger and regret.
“I dragged her here,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained. “Knowing her state, knowing what could happen… I should’ve left her behind. Should’ve kept her safe.”
Ellie took a step closer, her own face a mix of frustration and empathy. “But you didn’t,” she argued softly. “Because you knew she’d never forgive you if you did. She wanted to be with you, Joel.”
He looked back at her, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing her words. “It doesn’t matter,” he replied, his voice a little louder now, a little more forceful. “I still made the call. I still put her in danger.”
Ellie shook her head. “You’re doing everything you can to protect her. You think she doesn’t know that?” She took another step closer, her tone firmer. “She trusts you, Joel. She believes in you. And… so do I.”
For a moment, Joel’s expression softened, the harsh lines of his face easing slightly. But then he closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself. “I don’t know if that’s enough, kid,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Ellie sighed, glancing back at the door. “It has to be,” she said. “Because she needs you now more than ever. And you’re the one who’s gonna keep her safe.”
Joel let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as if a weight had settled on them. He looked at Ellie, his expression caught between determination and fear. "Yeah… I hope you're right," he murmured, almost to himself.
Ellie reached out, touching his arm gently, a rare moment of softness between them. “Just… don’t beat yourself up too much, alright?” she said, her voice low. “She’s gonna need you to be strong for her. And so am I.”
Joel and Ellie stepped quietly back inside the house, the dim light from the early morning casting long shadows across the walls. Joel's eyes immediately moved to you, lying on the couch, your face still and peaceful in sleep. For a brief moment, he felt a strange calm settle over him, just seeing you safe, resting.
But as if sensing their presence, you began to stir. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the dim light. The ache in your body was still there, a dull throb in your stomach, but the sharp pain had subsided, leaving only a sense of heaviness. You blinked a few times, your gaze settling on Joel and Ellie as they stood by the door, both looking back at you with relief.
“Hey…” you murmured; your voice raspy with sleep. You tried to push yourself up, but Joel was by your side in an instant, his hands gently helping you to sit up. His touch was careful, as if he was afraid you might break.
“Take it easy,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing.
You nodded, wincing slightly as you adjusted yourself. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I just…” Your voice trailed off, and you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I’m okay, really.”
Ellie stepped closer, her eyes wide with concern, but there was a hint of a teasing smile on her lips. “You better be, ‘cause I don’t think I can handle Joel being that freaked out again,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
You chuckled softly, a weak smile spreading across your face. “Guess I gave you both a bit of a scare, huh?”
Joel’s expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand. “Yeah, you could say that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
He didn’t meet you gaze, and you know damn well what that meant. You noticed the way his eyes seemed to avoid yours, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in the room. His thumb kept moving over the back of your hand, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a hesitation in his posture that made your heart ache.
“Ellie,” you said softly, turning your head toward her. She paused, halfway through rummaging in the supply bag, her eyes darting between you and Joel. “Could you… give us a minute?”
Ellie hesitated, her gaze lingering on Joel for a moment, and then on you. She seemed to understand that something more needed to be said between the two of you. She nodded slowly, trying to mask her concern with a casual shrug. "Yeah, sure," she muttered, trying to play it cool, even as her curiosity buzzed beneath the surface. “I’ll, uh, go check on the weather or something.”
She grabbed her jacket, slinging it over her shoulders and headed toward the door. “But if I hear any yelling, I’m coming back in,” she added with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood before she slipped out the door, leaving the two of you alone.
The room was suddenly much quieter without Ellie’s presence. The only sounds were the crackling of the dying fire and the distant, muted wind outside. You turned back to Joel, your eyes searching his face. He still wasn’t looking at you, his thumb still moving in that steady rhythm against your hand.
“Joel,” you whispered, trying to draw his gaze back to yours. "Look at me."
He hesitated, his shoulders tense, but finally, he lifted his eyes to meet yours. You could see the conflict there, the worry, the guilt. “What is it?” you asked gently. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching for a moment before he spoke. "I… I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For all of it. For dragging you out here, for… putting you in danger."
You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “Joel, I made that choice. I knew what I was getting into.”
He shook his head, his eyes dropping again, filled with that familiar guilt. “No… you didn’t. Not really,” he muttered.
You reached up, cupping his cheek with your free hand, forcing him to look at you again. “Joel, stop,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “Nothing is going to happen to us. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”
He closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I’m just… I’m so damn scared,” he confessed, his voice breaking slightly. "Of losing you. Of losing another…"
You felt a lump form in your throat, understanding the weight of his words, the depth of his fear. You leaned closer, pressing your forehead against his, your voice soft.
“Joel, the baby is okay,” you reassured him softly, hoping your words would ease some of the fear you saw in his eyes. "I can feel it."
He shook his head slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “How do you know?” he asked, his voice low and rough. There was a tremor in it, a crack that revealed the depth of his concern. “How do you know when we’re out here, and everything’s…” He trailed off, his breath hitching.
You swallowed, trying to find the right words, to offer him some kind of comfort. “I just do,” you whispered, moving closer to him. “I can feel it. Maybe it’s just… a mother’s instinct. But I believe it, Joel. I feel like… this baby is strong.”
Joel's eyes softened at your words, but the fear still lingered there, heavy and ever-present. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to steady himself. His hand moved to rest on your stomach, his palm pressing gently against the swell. He closed his eyes, as if trying to feel what you felt, to believe in what you were saying.
“Strong,” he repeated softly, almost like he was testing the word, trying it out to see if it fit. "I hope so… I really do."
You placed your hand over his, squeezing it lightly. “I know so,” you assured him, your voice unwavering. “I know it’s a little tiny thing but..I feel it.”
He exhaled slowly; his breath warm against your cheek. “I want to believe you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I do."
“Then believe me,” you urged, your thumb brushing against his cheek in a soothing motion. “We’ve made it this far, right? We’re almost there, Joel… we just need to hold on a little longer.”
He nodded, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah,”
For a moment, the room was silent except for the crackling of the fire and the faint sound of the wind outside. Joel finally met your gaze again, a mix of hope and fear in his eyes. "I’ve lost so much,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t… I can’t lose you, too.”
Your heart ached at his words, understanding the depth of his pain. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, trying to pour all the reassurance you could into that touch. "You won't," you whispered against his mouth. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."
He kissed your back, a little more desperately this time, as if he were afraid you might disappear. You held him close, feeling his body tremble slightly against yours, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.
Ellie pushed the door open, her footsteps echoing in the quiet room. She froze mid-step, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of you and Joel, wrapped in each other's arms, lips just parting from the kiss. Her face scrunched up in mock disgust, and she rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Ugh, seriously?” she groaned, putting her hands on her hips. “If you two wanted to get all mushy, you could’ve at least sent me away or something. Or, I don’t know, given me a warning!”
Joel pulled back, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He coughed, trying to mask the embarrassment with a stern look. “Ellie,” he started, his voice gruff, but she just waved him off.
“No, no, it’s fine," she said with a playful grin, "I mean, I get it… the world’s falling apart, and you’re all about the dramatic declarations of love. But can you keep it PG for the kid in the room?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension of the moment breaking as you met Ellie’s teasing gaze. “Sorry, Ellie,” you chuckled.
She rolled her eyes again but smiled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. "Yeah, yeah. Just… don't make me an unwilling participant in your cheesy romance, okay?" She paused, glancing between the two of you, her expression softening just a bit. "But… I’m glad you’re both okay.”
Joel shook his head, a small, reluctant smile forming on his lips. "We’re okay, kiddo," he replied softly, his voice still carrying a hint of emotion. "We’re all okay."
Ellie grinned, nudging Joel lightly with her shoulder. “Good,” she muttered, “'Cause I need both of you.”
You and Joel exchanged amused glances, and for a moment, the heaviness in the room seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort in knowing you were all still together, facing whatever came next.
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Four months had passed since that tense night, and winter had settled in with a cold grip. The once vibrant landscape had transformed into a stark, snowy expanse. You, now seven months pregnant, felt the weight of your journey more than ever, but the quiet strength of Joel and Ellie beside you made the harsh conditions more bearable.
Now seven months pregnant, you felt the weight of it all pressing down on you, not just the baby growing inside, but the miles you had trudged through the wilderness. Your feet ached, your back was sore, and your hands were red and raw from the cold. Yet, the quiet strength of Joel and Ellie beside you made the harsh conditions somehow more bearable. Joel, ever watchful, kept close, his eyes always scanning the horizon for any sign of danger, his presence a constant comfort. Ellie, with her relentless spirit, kept the mood light with her jokes and sarcastic comments, doing her best to distract you from the relentless chill.
The trio of you had walked through miles of frost-covered terrain, the snow crunching beneath your boots. Each step was a reminder of how far you had come and how much further you still had to go. Wyoming was just ahead, a small but significant milestone in your quest for safety and a future.
Joel trudged ahead, his face set in determined lines, but every now and then he would glance back at you, making sure you were okay. He had taken to carrying a small pack with supplies, his concern for you palpable. Ellie, now a bit more grown and experienced, walked close by, occasionally breaking the silence with a joke or a comment, trying to keep your spirits up.
You looked at Joel’s profile, his face partially hid the fear on his bones and despite his gruff exterior, he had become your rock through this tumultuous journey. You had come to rely on his strength and his soft, rare moments of tenderness.
December 1st
“Winter has arrived with a vengeance. The cold is biting, and our progress has slowed. We’re staying in an old barn for the night, huddled together to keep warm. Joel’s been making sure the fire stays lit, while Ellie tries to make the best of our situation.
I can feel the baby kicking more strongly now. It’s a constant reminder of why we’re enduring all of this. Joel’s been more attentive, though still guarded. He’s trying so hard to protect us, and I wish he could see that his presence alone is enough.
The snow makes everything look different. Almost beautiful, in a way that feels wrong given the world we’re living in. We made camp in a small cabin tonight. Joel found some firewood, and Ellie kept herself busy by trying to make soup out of what little we had. She’s worried about me, even though she pretends not to be. I can see it in the way she watches me, like she’s waiting for something to happen. Joel, too, keeps his eyes on me, never letting me stray too far. I think he’s afraid, maybe more than he’ll ever admit.
The baby’s been kicking more. It’s a strange feeling, like little taps from the inside, reminding me that there’s something good in this world. Something worth fighting for.”
The cold wind whipped around you, making it difficult to see very far ahead. Joel motioned for a short break, and you gratefully lowered yourself onto a nearby snow-covered log. Ellie quickly dug out some snacks and hot drinks from her pack, her hands red and numb from the cold.
“Here,” she said, handing you a steaming cup. “This should help warm you up.”
You took the cup gratefully, savoring the warmth as it seeped into your fingers and then your body. “Thanks, Ellie,” you said, smiling. “I don’t know how we’d have made it without you.”
Ellie shrugged; her cheeks flushed from the cold. “Just doing my part,” she said with a wink. “And keeping you guys from going completely crazy.”
Joel joined you, taking a seat beside you and offering you a small piece of dried fruit. “We’re almost there,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “Just a bit further, and we’ll be in Wyoming.”
You nodded, taking comfort in his words. “I know,” you replied. “It’s just... sometimes it feels like it’s never going to end.”
Joel’s hand reached out, gently resting on your knee for a few minutes to provide the comfort he knew you needed.
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As you made your way through the snow-covered terrain, the excitement of nearing Wyoming provided a much-needed boost. Joel’s usual calm demeanor had been unwavering through most of the journey, but today, there was an underlying tension in his movements that you and Ellie didn’t immediately notice.
Joel’s breaths were more rapid and shallow, though he tried to mask it behind a determined facade. He kept a firm grip on his pack and occasionally glanced around with a slightly strained look. His face, though mostly hidden by his scarf, betrayed signs of an inner struggle that he wasn’t quite ready to share.
Ellie’s voice broke the silence, sharp and unfiltered as always.
"Are you dying?" she asked, half-joking but with an edge of genuine concern. She was walking beside you, her eyes narrowed at Joel, who hadn’t slowed his pace despite the obvious tension in his movements.
Joel grunted, his response delayed as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder. "No," he said curtly, his breath coming out in visible puffs in the cold air. "I’m fine."
"You don’t look fine," Ellie pressed, glancing at you as if seeking backup. "You’re all... sweaty and weird."
You frowned, watching Joel carefully now. Ellie wasn’t wrong—there was something off about him today. The way his shoulders hunched, his steps just a bit too heavy, like he was pushing through something. He had been quiet, more so than usual, and you could sense the strain behind his eyes whenever he glanced back at you.
"Joel?" you asked, your voice softer than Ellie’s but carrying the same concern. "What’s going on?"
He slowed his steps, finally stopping to catch his breath. His hand went to his side, rubbing it briefly before he straightened up, avoiding eye contact. "It’s nothin’," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual strength. "Just... pushin' too hard today. We’re close, is all. No time to slow down."
Ellie crossed her arms, her eyes flicking between you and Joel with a skeptical look. "Right," she said, not convinced. "You’re not dying, but you’re also... not dying?"
Joel shot her a look that could’ve silenced most people, but not Ellie. "I said I’m fine."
You stepped closer to him, concern outweighing your hesitation. "Joel, you need to tell us if something’s wrong. You can’t carry this all by yourself."
He exhaled through his nose, the stubbornness etched in his expression softening for just a moment. "I’ll be alright," he said, though now his voice was quieter, less defensive. "Just... need a minute. We’ll keep movin’ after that."
Ellie threw her hands up. "Well, that’s reassuring," she muttered, but you could tell the worry hadn’t left her eyes.
You stayed close to Joel, watching him as he tried to steady his breathing, his hands resting on his knees for support. The tension that had been building inside you all day finally surfaced, the reality of how much you were relying on him pressing down on you. But even now, as he struggled, he was still trying to protect you both.
Joel glanced up at you, catching your gaze, and for a brief second, his walls dropped. There it was—the vulnerability he was so good at hiding, but not today. Not from you.
“I want to rest for a bit” you said, placing your hand over your swollen belly. You needed the rest, but you also wanted to force Joel to slow down a bit.
Joel’s eyes flicked down to your hand resting on your belly, then back up to meet your gaze. His expression softened, the usual stubborn resistance he wore melting away for a moment. He sighed, clearly torn between pushing forward and giving in to the obvious need for a break. You could see the struggle in him—the need to keep going, to get you all to safety—but he couldn’t deny the toll it was taking on both of you.
"Yeah, alright," he muttered, standing upright and scanning the area. "We’ll rest."
Ellie, who had been quietly watching the exchange, gave a slight huff of relief. "Finally," she said, throwing her pack down onto the snow and plopping down next to it. She stretched her legs out in front of her, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "You both needed this."
You nodded, grateful for the pause, though your focus remained on Joel. He had been pushing himself too hard, and the weight of that knowledge gnawed at you. It wasn’t just about the miles or the cold—it was the responsibility, the fear of what would happen if he couldn’t protect you both. You were carrying a life inside of you, and while you knew Joel would never admit it, that added an extra layer of pressure on him.
Joel knelt down beside you, his eyes still scanning the landscape as though danger could appear at any moment. "We won’t stay long," he said, his voice low. "Just enough time to catch our breath."
But it wasn’t true.
As night wore in, Joel had begun gathering wood for a fire, his movements stiff from the weight he carried, not just the physical strain but the burden of keeping you all safe. You watched him silently, your breath visible in the cold night air, as he crouched near a small clearing, arranging the branches and kindling with expert precision. The flicker of the firelight cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw.
Ellie sat nearby, uncharacteristically quiet, watching Joel with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She hugged her knees to her chest, her usual stream of sarcastic comments absent for now. The cold seemed to have silenced her usual banter, or maybe she was just tired, like the rest of you.
Joel caught your gaze from across the fire, his eyes locking onto yours for just a moment longer than usual. He was tired—so tired. But he wouldn’t say it. He wouldn’t admit that he needed to rest just as much as the rest of you, if not more. His protectiveness ran so deep, it was like a force of nature, driving him even when his body begged for relief.
"You should sleep," he muttered, breaking the silence, his voice rough but soft. "I’ll keep watch."
"You need to rest too, Joel," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper over the crackling fire. "You can’t keep pushing yourself like this."
He didn’t respond right away, his eyes flickering to the flames as if avoiding the truth of what you were saying. Ellie, sensing the tension, chimed in from her spot by the fire.
"Yeah, seriously, man. You’ve been on ‘protector mode’ for hours now. You’re not a machine, you know."
Joel grunted, his usual response when he didn’t want to argue but also didn’t want to agree. He poked at the fire with a stick, the sparks floating up into the dark sky. "I’m fine," he said again, the same phrase he’d been using all day, but it sounded weaker now. Less convincing.
You leaned back against the cave wall, watching him through the flickering light. He was still trying to protect you, still carrying the weight of all your lives on his shoulders. But you could see it wearing on him, the exhaustion, the fear he wouldn’t admit to, the responsibility that felt crushing.
"Joel," you said quietly, "we’re not going to make it if you don’t take care of yourself too.
His eyes snapped to yours again, something unreadable passing through them. For a moment, you thought he might argue, might tell you once again that he was fine. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with everything he wasn’t saying.
"I’ll rest when you two are safe," he said, his voice rough and tired, like he was trying to hold back the weight of the world. "I promise."
Ellie threw a stick into the fire, watching it crackle with an unimpressed look. "Great. So, we’re just supposed to wait until you collapse?"
Joel shot her a look, but it lacked its usual sharpness. You could see that even he was starting to acknowledge the truth.
And just when he was about to say something, you moved uncomfortable. 
Before Joel could respond to Ellie’s sharp comment, you shifted in your spot, a small grimace passing over your face as the baby kicked again. This time, it was stronger, more insistent, and the discomfort rippled through you unexpectedly. You instinctively placed a hand over your belly, your breath catching as the sensation overwhelmed you.
Both Joel and Ellie immediately noticed the change in your posture. Joel's eyes widened, all traces of exhaustion vanishing in an instant as he leaned closer, his expression full of concern.
“What is it?” His voice was tight, his protective instincts kicking in instantly. “Are you alright?”
You nodded, though the tension in your face said otherwise. “I’m fine… it’s just… the baby’s kicking. It’s strong.”
Ellie scooted over, her eyes wide with curiosity and a mix of awe. “Whoa, really?” she asked, her usual snark replaced by genuine interest. “Can I feel?”
You smiled, despite the ache, and gestured for Ellie to come closer. She tentatively reached out, her small hand resting on your belly. A few moments passed, and then the baby kicked again, more pronounced this time. Ellie’s face lit up, her eyes going wide with amazement.
“That’s wild,” she breathed. “It’s like… a real person in there, huh?”
Joel remained still, his expression a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty. His eyes flickered from your face to your belly, where Ellie’s hand still rested, her excitement palpable. But Joel… his gaze was distant, conflicted, as though something heavy was weighing on his mind.
You watched him for a moment, noticing the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched like he was fighting something deep within. He had been so protective of you and the baby, yet now, there was this hesitation that hadn’t been there before. Like the reality of it all was finally sinking in, and it scared him in a way he hadn’t expected.
Your heart softened at the sight of him—this man who had carried so much weight on his shoulders, trying to keep all of you safe. And now, with the baby growing inside you, it seemed like the responsibility was becoming even more overwhelming for him.
Without saying a word, you reached for Joel’s hand, gently pulling it toward your belly. He resisted at first, his eyes meeting yours with an uncertain look. But you smiled, reassuring him, and after a beat, he let you guide his hand to rest over where the baby had just kicked.
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His hand, warm and rough, pressed against your belly, and then the baby kicked again—strong and insistent, like it was reminding him of its presence. Joel’s breath hitched, and his eyes widened in surprise. You could see the emotions flashing across his face—fear, wonder, maybe even hope—but he didn’t pull away.
He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s… that’s the baby,” he said, his tone filled with awe, like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.
You nodded, your hand still resting on top of his, offering comfort. “Yeah, Joel. That’s our baby.”
For a moment, Joel just stared at your belly, his hand still pressed against you. Then, slowly, his walls started to crumble. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath, the tension that had been building inside him for days finally releasing.
As you watched Ellie marvel at the sensation of the baby kicking, you couldn’t help but notice Joel’s face. His eyes, though focused on your belly, were distant, clouded with thoughts you knew all too well. His silence spoke louder than any words could, and you could see the weight of it pressing down on him, the same doubts and fears he always tried to hide. But this time, there was no hiding.
Without thinking, you gently placed your hand over Ellie’s, signaling for her to stop. "Hey, El… let’s give the baby a little break," you said, your voice soft but firm.
Ellie looked up at you, confused for a second, before pulling her hand back and sitting up straight. She shrugged nonchalantly, though her eyes lingered on your belly, clearly still amazed. “Yeah, sure. That was pretty cool though,” she muttered, leaning back and poking the fire with another stick.
But your attention wasn’t on Ellie anymore. It was on Joel. His hand was still resting on your belly, and he hadn’t moved. You could see the tension in his face, the way he was trying to hold it together for both of you. He needed to rest, to let himself break for just a moment, but you knew how hard that was for him. How much he felt like everything was on his shoulders.
"Joel," you said quietly, almost more gently than you intended. His name felt different on your tongue, like it wasn’t really you speaking.
He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still locked on your belly. You took his hand and slowly lifted it away, placing it in his lap. He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and finally looked at you. The weariness in his face was undeniable now, and you could see the cracks in the facade he always tried so hard to keep in place.
“You need to rest,” you said, your voice soft but firm, with an edge that wasn’t quite your usual tone. It was more insistent, more like a command than a request. You weren’t just asking him to take a break—you were telling him.
Joel’s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly as if to protest, but you cut him off before he could speak.
“I mean it,” you added, surprising even yourself with the intensity of your words. “You’re not going to help anyone if you collapse, Joel. We can’t keep going like this.”
His mouth closed, his eyes searching your face as if trying to figure out what to say, how to argue with you without pushing too hard. But he couldn’t. Not this time. Not with the way you were looking at him, with that mix of worry and determination that left no room for debate.
Ellie, sensing the shift in tone, stayed quiet, glancing between the two of you. For once, she didn’t throw in a sarcastic comment. She just waited, watching the fire crackle and listening to the tension settle around you.
Joel let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of him. He nodded, though it seemed reluctant, like he still couldn’t fully let go of the idea that he had to be the one holding it all together.
“Alright,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just for a bit.”
You exhaled, relieved, but you still held his gaze, making sure he understood. “It’s not just for us, Joel. It’s for you too. You need this.”
He nodded again, and this time, it seemed a little more genuine. “Yeah… I know,” he whispered, his voice raw with exhaustion.
Ellie glanced up, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Finally,” she muttered under her breath, though there was no bite in her words this time.
As Joel shifted to find a more comfortable position, he laid his head against your lap, his face pressing gently against your belly. The closeness of him, the warmth of his body leaning into yours, made something inside you tighten—an emotion you couldn’t quite name but one you understood all too well. His breaths slowed as the exhaustion finally caught up to him, his body surrendering to the rest he so desperately needed.
Your hand moved on its own, fingers threading through his hair, then brushing down to caress the rough stubble on his face. The small gesture felt both intimate and protective, like you were guarding him for once, in the only way you could. His face softened in his sleep, the tension that had etched itself into his features over the last few days easing away.
Ellie, watching the scene unfold, stifled a quiet chuckle. "Well, that’s a sight," she whispered, shaking her head with a faint smile. “Didn’t think I’d ever see Joel like this.”
You gave her a soft, knowing smile, your hand never leaving Joel’s face. “Yeah, me neither,” you whispered back. The fire crackled between you, casting soft shadows on the cave walls. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was you and Ellie staying awake, the weight of the night’s silence shared between the two of you instead of Joel.
Ellie stretched out her legs, staring into the flames. “So... how’s it feel?” she asked, her voice low as if she didn’t want to disturb Joel. “Y’know, the baby. It’s kinda crazy to think that in the middle of all this... you’re growing a person.”
You let out a quiet laugh, glancing down at Joel’s sleeping form, then at your belly. “Yeah... it’s crazy,” you admitted, your voice soft but filled with a quiet wonder. “But it feels... right, somehow. Like maybe this is the one good thing left in the world.”
Ellie nodded thoughtfully; her gaze still locked on the fire. “Guess we all need something good to fight for.”
Silence settled over you both, the crackling of the fire the only sound as the night stretched on. The cave was cold, but there was a warmth in this moment, a quiet bond growing between you and Ellie as Joel slept soundly against you.
For the first time in a long time, it felt like you had a moment to breathe and be still. And in that stillness, with Joel safe and Ellie by your side, you allowed yourself to hope, just for a little while, that maybe everything would be okay.
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December 10th
We made it to Jackson today. It’s hard to believe after everything, but we’re finally here. We’re safe… but something doesn’t feel right.
Tommy was so happy to see us. To see Joel. I saw it in his eyes, the relief of having his brother back. And when he looked at my belly, he was surprised, of course, but happy. Even Maria, his wife is pregnant too. She seemed genuinely excited for us, for what this means. But Joel... Joel didn’t react the way I thought he would.
I’ve seen him handle danger, grief, and loss; nothing seemed to break him. But today, when Tommy told the news when Maria shared her news, I could see something change in Joel. He didn’t smile, didn’t share in the moment like I hoped he would. Instead, he shut down. And it hurts. It hurts to think that maybe he’s not ready for this, for us. Maybe he’s scared, maybe it’s just too much. I don’t know, but it’s like I’m carrying this alone.
I’m scared too. But I want this baby. I want us to be a family. And I thought… I thought Joel did too.
He’s with Tommy now, catching up after a long time or at least pretending to. I can feel something shifted, the distance between us growing, even though we’re finally somewhere safe. What if Jackson doesn’t fix this? What if the problem isn’t out there, but here between us?
You set the pen down and closed the journal, feeling the weight of the words settling into your heart. You glanced over at the new clothes Maria had left for you in the bed.
As you dressed in the clean, comfortable clothes Maria had left, the familiar weight of worry crept back in. The thoughts of the QZ and everything you’d been through tugged at the edges of your mind, but you pushed them aside, determined to move forward and focus on this new chapter in Jackson. This was supposed to be a fresh start. You were determined to make it feel that way.
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The cold air outside hit you as you stepped out of the house, but it was fresh, invigorating. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself and began walking through the quiet streets of Jackson, hoping that a bit of solitude would clear your head. But as you passed by one of the larger buildings in the town, you heard voices, low but familiar.
Joel and Tommy were inside.
You hesitated by the window, not meaning to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help yourself. The tension in Joel had been building all day, and Tommy’s words floated out into the cold air.
“I thought you’d be happy for me, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern. “I’m going to be a father. Can you believe that? I thought—hell, I thought you’d understand more than anyone.”
There was a long pause before Joel responded, and you could practically feel the weight of what was about to come.
“I don’t know if I want to be a father again,” Joel said, his voice low, almost too quiet to hear. It wasn’t a confession so much as an admission, like it was something he hadn’t even allowed himself to think about until now. “Tommy… it’s different this time.”
“You’ve got someone, Joel. She’s—she’s carrying your kid. That’s not something you just walk away from,” Tommy replied, clearly trying to keep his patience. “You don’t get to be scared and check out now. That’s not you. At least, that’s not the brother I know.”
“I know that,” Joel said, but there was a tremor in his voice that betrayed him. “But I’ve been through this before. And it didn’t end well. What if I can’t do it again? What if I can’t protect them?”
Tommy’s voice softened. “You’re not the same man you were back then. And you’ve got people now. You’re not alone in this, Joel. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”
Another silence followed, and you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for Joel to say something—anything—that would give you an idea of what he was feeling. But when he spoke again, his voice was strained, full of conflict.
“I want to be there for them. I do. But I don’t know how to be a father anymore. After Sarah... it feels like too much.”
Hearing him say her name, his late daughter, hit you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t heard Joel talk about Sarah much, but you knew how deeply her loss had affected him. The silence that followed was thick with emotion, as if Tommy was waiting for his brother to find the words he was searching for.
“Then learn, Joel,” Tommy finally said, his tone soft but firm. “You can still be a father. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be you trying.”
You could hear the clink of glasses as Tommy poured them both a drink. Joel didn’t respond right away, and you took that as your cue to move away from the window, giving them the space they needed.
As you walked away from the window, your thoughts swirling with everything you’d just overheard, you almost didn’t notice Maria approaching from down the street. Her footsteps were quiet on the dirt path, and by the time you spotted her, she was already close enough to call your name.
“Hey,” Maria greeted softly, her eyes warm but cautious. She seemed to sense the heaviness on your shoulders. “I was just coming by to check on you. How’re you settling in?”
You managed a small smile, though the weight of what you’d overheard lingered in your chest. “It’s... good. It’s a lot to take in, but it’s good here.”
Maria studied your face for a moment, as if she could see the mix of emotions brewing beneath the surface. She gave a small nod, choosing not to press. Instead, she shifted the conversation to something else. “I wanted to let you know, we’ve got an ultrasound machine here in town. It’s old, but it works. If you want, we could take a look at the baby, make sure everything’s okay.”
Her offer took you by surprise, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. The thought of seeing the baby—of actually hearing its heartbeat, seeing it move—was both exciting and terrifying. You hadn’t had the chance for anything like this since leaving the QZ, and the opportunity stirred a mixture of emotions you hadn’t quite prepared for.
“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down at your belly.
Maria smiled gently, her understanding clear. “I get it. It can be overwhelming, especially with everything you’ve been through. But maybe it’ll help. You were out there for so long, it wouldn’t be bad give it a check.
You hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, maybe. I think I’d like that.”
“Good,” Maria said, her smile growing. “Okay, let’s go”
“What now?” you asked, surprised and afraid, there was a strange feeling on your heart at the thought of seeing your baby for the first time.
Maria chuckled softly, sensing your hesitation. “No time like the present,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “I know it’s a lot, but you’ve been through worse. This is something good, something for you. And for the baby.”
You felt a flutter of nerves as the reality of it hit you—the idea of seeing the baby, confirming its presence in a way that was more than just kicks and feelings. It was a lot to take in, and your heart raced at the thought.
“But... what if something’s wrong?” you blurted out, your voice quieter than you intended. It was a fear you hadn’t allowed yourself to voice until now, but it was there, gnawing at the back of your mind.
Maria’s expression softened even more. “That’s exactly why we check. If something’s wrong, we’ll know, and we’ll take care of it. But listen, you’ve come this far. You’re strong, and so is your baby.” She placed a gentle hand on your arm, grounding you. “You’re not alone anymore, okay?”
Her words gave you a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed. You took a deep breath and nodded, more firmly this time. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Maria smiled again, “Do you want to find Joel first?” she asked
But you thought about his words, and said no.
You shook your head, the memory of Joel's hesitant confession weighing on your mind. "No," you said quietly, but with conviction. "Not right now."
Maria studied your face for a moment, her expression thoughtful but understanding. She didn’t push, simply nodded. "Alright," she said gently. "This is your moment, then. Just you and the baby."
You appreciated her respect for your choice. As much as you wanted Joel to be there, to share this experience with you, part of you knew he wasn’t ready. He needed time to sort through his own fears, and you needed this moment to yourself, to connect with the life growing inside you without the burden of anyone else's emotions.
“Let’s go,” you said, your voice firmer now, a strange mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside you.
Maria led the way back toward the clinic, with Ellie joining you both, the air cool and crisp as you walked through the quiet streets of Jackson. Inside, the warmth of the room wrapped around you, soothing some of your tension. As you lay back on the table, ready to see your baby for the first time, you felt a flicker of hope, a hope that despite everything, you and this little life inside you could make it.
The door creaked open, and the doctor stepped in. He was tall, with tousled brown hair and kind eyes that immediately locked onto yours. There was a brief pause as he stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from professionalism to something softer, almost as if he were momentarily caught off guard.
"Hi, I’m Dr. Paul..." he trailed off, his gaze lingering on you just a second too long before he quickly composed himself, stepping further into the room. "Paul Mesner," he added, clearing his throat, his tone now more formal, though there was a warmth in it that you couldn’t quite place.
You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, unsure of the sudden tension that filled the small room. It wasn’t overwhelming, but you could feel something shift in the air, as though Paul had felt something the moment he laid eyes on you.
Maria, standing by your side, glanced between the two of you, raising an eyebrow but choosing not to comment.
As you lay back on the examination table, the soft hum of the ultrasound machine filled the room. Maria stood nearby, and Ellie sat on a chair in the corner, her legs bouncing restlessly. Paul prepared the equipment, his movements efficient but gentle.
Ellie glanced around nervously, trying to act cool, but you could see the curiosity and excitement in her eyes. “So… this is where we get to see the little peanut?” she asked, her voice trying to mask her eagerness.
You smiled at her, feeling a sense of comfort that she was here. “Yeah, Ellie. This is where we’ll see the baby.”
When Paul applied the gel to your belly, Ellie’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t say anything, her attention fully focused on the screen. As the image flickered to life, the small form of the baby appeared, its heartbeat strong and steady. The room seemed to hold its breath.
He guided you through the process, explaining each step, though his voice was gentle, almost reverent. As the cold gel touched your skin and the machine came to life, Paul’s eyes never strayed far from yours. When he finally looked at the screen, the image of your baby appeared, and so it’s heart beating that filled the silence of the room.
“There it is,” Paul said softly, the awe clear in his voice. He glanced at you with that same warmth, but your focus was entirely on the screen. But when he looked at you again, there was something undeniably personal in his eyes, like you were the only person in the room.
Ellie leaned forward; her face lit up with wonder. “Holy shit… that’s… that’s the baby?”
You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the tiny form. “Yeah, that’s the baby.”
Ellie’s gaze flickered from the screen to you, then back again. “That’s… insane. It’s real,” she whispered, her usual bravado melting away in the face of something she couldn’t joke about.
Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the tiny image on the screen, tears welling in your eyes.
As you stared at the tiny, flickering heartbeat on the screen, a rush of emotions overwhelmed you. Tears blurred your vision, but you couldn’t look away from the image. It was real—your baby, alive and growing inside of you. The room was quiet, except for the steady thrum of the baby’s heartbeat echoing in the air, a soft, rhythmic reminder that you were carrying a new life.
“Ellie,” you whispered, looking at her, “you’re going to be part of this too. You’re family.”
Ellie blinked, clearly moved by your words, though she quickly masked it with a grin. “Thank you” she said, smiling down at you.
Paul’s gentle voice brought you back, and when you glanced up at him, he was still looking at you, his eyes filled with something more than just professional care. It was warmth, empathy... maybe something else.
"You’re doing really well," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he didn’t want to break the delicate atmosphere of the moment.
You smiled weakly, feeling the tears spill over, but you quickly wiped them away. "I wasn’t sure what to expect," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "But hearing the heartbeat... it’s incredible."
Paul nodded, his gaze still steady on you, his expression soft. "It’s a moment that changes everything," he said, his voice full of sincerity. "You’ll remember this for the rest of your life."
His words settled over you like a blanket of reassurance, and for the first time since you had arrived in Jackson, you felt a small sense of peace. There was still so much uncertainty ahead, but in this moment, everything felt possible.
Maria, who had been standing quietly off to the side, finally broke the silence. "It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" she said, her voice filled with genuine warmth. She walked over to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You’ve been through so much, but you’re going to be okay here."
You nodded, grateful for the support. But your thoughts drifted back to Joel, to the conversation you had overheard between him and Tommy. You couldn’t help but wonder how he would react when he saw this—when he heard the heartbeat and realized what was truly at stake.
But for now, you allowed yourself to just be in the moment, surrounded by the quiet reassurance of Maria’s words and Paul’s steady presence.
"Thank you," you whispered, meeting Paul’s eyes again.
He smiled, the corners of his mouth tugging upward just slightly. "Anytime," he said softly, and for a moment, it felt like he wasn’t just talking about the ultrasound.
As you, Ellie and Maria gathered your things and prepared to leave the small room, you felt Paul’s eyes lingering on you, even as you reached for the door. His gaze was soft, but intense, as if he couldn’t tear himself away. It left a strange flutter in your chest, a mix of emotions you weren’t ready to unpack.
“Thanks, Paul” you said, honestly, smiling at him.
Maria, standing by your side, must have noticed too. When you touched the door handle, ready to step out, she placed a gentle hand on your arm. “Wait for me outside,” she said, her voice calm but firm.
You hesitated, glancing between her and Paul, but then nodded, stepping out into the cool air of the hallway. As the door clicked shut behind you, a strange tension filled the room you had just left.
Inside, Maria turned to Paul, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. His gaze had been a little too fixated on you, and Maria’s protective instincts kicked in immediately.
"Paul," she began, her voice quiet but filled with a clear warning. "Don’t ever think about it."
Paul blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Maria took a step closer, her expression hardening. "I saw the way you were looking at her. But you need to understand something—she’s not here alone. The baby’s father is here in Jackson."
Paul’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, though he quickly tried to mask it. "I wasn’t—" he started, but Maria cut him off.
"Tommy’s brother," she said, her voice low and steady. "That’s the father. And trust me, you don’t want to get involved in that kind of situation."
Paul looked taken aback, the realization sinking in. He glanced down, his expression shifting as the weight of her words hit him. "I didn’t mean any disrespect, Maria," he said quietly, his tone more subdued now. "I just—"
"I know you didn’t," she replied, softening just a bit. "But I’m telling you now, for your own sake. Stay professional. Keep it that way."
Paul nodded, the intensity in his gaze dimming, replaced by something more resigned. "Understood," he muttered, his voice low.
Maria gave him a long, measured look before turning to leave. As she opened the door, she glanced back one last time, as if to reinforce her message. Then, without another word, she stepped outside to join you.
You and Ellie were waiting just outside, leaning against the wall, lost in thought. When Maria emerged, she gave you a small, reassuring smile.
"Ready to head back?" she asked, her tone light, as if the conversation inside had never happened.
You nodded, pushing yourself off the wall.
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The makeshift theater was packed with people from the community, the flickering light from the old projector casting shadows on the walls. It felt surreal, sitting there with everyone, watching a movie like things were normal. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to sink into that illusion—into the laughter, the shared smiles, the warmth of the crowd around you.
But then you saw Joel, after missing him for the whole day.
He was sitting a few rows ahead, his posture tense, eyes focused on the screen but not really watching. You’d been keeping an eye on him ever since you got there, sensing the turmoil still brewing beneath the surface. As the movie played on, Joel stood quietly and slipped out of the room, unnoticed by most. Except for you.
Something stirred in your chest, a familiar pull that you couldn’t ignore. You glanced around, checking if anyone else noticed, but everyone was still absorbed in the film. Quietly, you stood and followed him out, slipping through the door into the cold night air.
The streets of Jackson were quiet, the sound of the movie muffled behind you as you walked. You could see Joel ahead, his figure silhouetted against the dim streetlights. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his steps slow, like he wasn’t sure where he was going, just that he needed to get away.
“Joel,” you called softly, your voice breaking the silence.
He stopped but didn’t turn around immediately. You quickened your pace, coming up beside him. When you reached him, he finally looked at you, his expression a mix of exhaustion and something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place.
"You okay?" you asked gently, though you already knew the answer.
Joel let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as if the weight he’d been carrying all night had become too much. "Just needed some air," he muttered, his voice rough, but not unkind.
You fell into step beside him, walking in silence for a while, letting the quiet between you settle. You knew Joel wasn’t one to open up easily, and you didn’t want to push him. But you couldn’t just leave him to his thoughts, not when you knew he was struggling.
"Talk to me, Joel," you said softly. "What’s going on?"
He was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know if I can do this."
Your heart tightened at his words. "Do what?"
"All of it," he said, his voice strained. "Being here... with you, the baby. It feels like I’m tryin’ to fit into somethin’ I don’t deserve. I don’t know how to be this person anymore."
You stopped walking, turning to face him, the moonlight casting shadows across his face. "Joel, you don’t have to have it all figured out. None of us do."
He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I want to be there for you, for the baby, but I don’t know if I can protect you. I’m scared I’ll fail again."
The mention of his past failures cut deep, and you could see the ghosts of his memories haunting him. Sarah. The QZ. Every person he couldn’t save.
"You won’t fail," you said firmly, stepping closer, placing a hand on his arm. “I saw the baby today” you said with a tiny smile appearing.
His eyes flickered up to meet yours, a hint of surprise breaking through the heaviness that surrounded him. "What do you mean, you saw the baby?" he asked, the tension in his voice softening just a fraction.
You took a breath, feeling warmth spread through you at the memory. "Maria took me for an ultrasound. It was… incredible. I felt the heartbeat, Joel. It’s real. There’s a little life in there."
A mixture of emotions crossed his face, curiosity, wonder, and a flicker of fear. "And? What was it like?"
You smiled wider now, unable to contain the joy bubbling within you. "It was amazing. The little form on the screen, just... there. It made everything feel more possible, like maybe we really could do this."
For a moment, Joel’s expression softened, and you could see the flicker of hope behind his eyes. "That’s… good," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he was afraid to believe it.
"It is," you reassured him, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. "And you’re going to be a part of that, Joel. You’re not just the protector; you’ll be a father. And I know it’s scary, but it’s also something to live for."
He looked down, his brow furrowing as he processed your words. "You really think so?"
"I know so," you said, reaching up to cup his face again, letting your thumb brush gently across his cheek. "You’re already so protective of us, and that matters more than you realize. You’ll figure it out as we go along."
As you stood there, the world around you faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in that intimate moment. Something in Joel shifted, the walls he had built around his heart starting to crumble. You could see the conflict within him, fear battling against a yearning to embrace this new reality.
With a gentle tug on his shirt, you pulled him closer, your heart racing in anticipation. "Trust me," you whispered, your eyes locking onto his.
And then, without overthinking it, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his. The kiss was tentative at first, a mingling of uncertainty and hope. But as he responded, deepening the kiss, you felt a wave of warmth wash over you, as if the two of you were forging a new bond amidst the chaos.
His hands found your waist, holding you close, and for those brief moments, it felt like everything else faded away, your fears, the weight of the past, the uncertain future. It was just you and him, sharing something genuine and profound.
When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathing heavily, the world outside momentarily forgotten. The flicker of fear in his eyes had shifted to something softer, more determined.
"You really mean it," he said, his voice rough but filled with newfound conviction.
"I do," you replied, smiling up at him. "We’re in this together, Joel. No matter what."
He nodded, a faint smile breaking through the weight he had been carrying.
As the warmth of the moment lingered, Joel’s hands moved gently to your belly, resting there as if he were trying to connect with the little life growing inside you. His expression softened, and a protective instinct shone in his eyes.
“Get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’ve been through a lot today. We both have.”
You nodded, appreciating the concern in his tone. “I will. But I want you to come back soon, okay?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I will. Just need a minute to clear my head.”
With a lingering touch, he pulled his hands away, and you felt a strange mix of warmth and longing as he stepped back. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he promised, his gaze still fixed on you, as if he were memorizing every detail.
You turned, feeling lighter, ready to head back inside and allow yourself the rest you needed. As you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder one last time, catching his eye. The connection between you remained palpable, and you knew that this was just the beginning of something profound.
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As you stepped back into the house, the warmth hit you immediately, chasing away the cool night air. Ellie was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a book she'd found earlier, her legs crossed as she absentmindedly skimmed the pages.
She looked up as you entered, her face softening into a lopsided grin. "You okay?" she asked, her tone casual, but you could hear the concern behind it.
You nodded, sitting down beside her. "Yeah. Just needed to talk with Joel for a bit."
Ellie studied your face, her eyes sharp. "And? Everything good?"
You smiled gently, trying to reassure her. "It will be. We’re figuring things out, one step at a time." You hesitated for a moment before continuing, "You know, we could be a family here. You, me, Joel… and the baby."
Ellie blinked, her usual tough exterior cracking just a bit. She let out a breath, leaning back against the couch. "A family, huh?" she muttered, her voice almost too soft for her usual snark. "Never really had one of those."
"You do now," you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It’s not perfect. None of this is. But we’re all in this together."
Ellie let the words sink in, her eyes drifting toward the window as if trying to imagine what a life here could be. "Guess I could stick around," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Teach the kid how to shoot and stuff."
You chuckled softly.
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Meanwhile, on the other side of the community, Joel sat at the bar with Tommy, the weight of his emotions too much to bear any longer. He stared down at the whiskey in his hand, his knuckles white from gripping the glass too hard.
"Tommy…" Joel’s voice was low, broken, as if the words were being pulled from some deep, hidden place. "I need you to do something for me."
Tommy frowned, concern flickering across his face. "What is it?"
Joel swallowed hard; his throat tight. His eyes were red, the strain of the day finally catching up with him. "I need you to take Ellie to the Fireflies."
Tommy blinked; his confusion clear. "What? Joel, -“
"She’s immune” Joel cut him off, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. "But I can’t do it I can’t take her.  I don’t have the heart to leave my woman behind.”
Tommy’s gaze softened, understanding dawning on him. "You mean…"
"She’s pregnant, Tommy. I can’t take her with us. I can’t risk her life or the baby’s. And I can’t just leave them behind, not after everything." Joel’s voice wavered, his hands shaking as he finally let the tears fall, his tough exterior crumbling. "I thought I could do it… thought I could keep everyone safe, but I’m just not strong enough.”
Tommy leaned forward, his expression torn between concern and disbelief. "Joel, you don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got people here. You’ve got me."
Joel shook his head, wiping at his eyes. "Ellie needs to get to the Fireflies, for the cure. It’s what she’s meant for. But I can’t go, not with the baby coming. I need you to do this for me, Tommy. Please."
Tommy was silent for a long time, his heart breaking for his brother. "Joel… are you sure?"
Joel’s shoulders slumped as he nodded, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. "I don’t want to lose her, but I can’t lose them either. I can’t make this choice."
Tommy sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. "Alright," he finally said, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ll take Ellie. But, Joel...”
Joel took a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the bar. “It’s not just Ellie, Tommy. It’s me too.” His voice cracked, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself be vulnerable. “I’ve been having these panic attacks. Can’t breathe, can’t think straight. I… I haven’t felt this way since… since Sarah.”
Tommy's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and concern flooding his expression. "Joel…"
“I try to hold it together, but I’m falling apart, man. And I don’t know how to stop it,” Joel confessed, his voice breaking. “I’ll be out there, trying to protect her, trying to protect all of us, and suddenly it hits me — like a damn freight train. My chest tightens, my heart races, and I feel like… like I’m losing control.”
Tommy was silent for a moment, letting the weight of Joel’s words sink in. He'd seen his brother take on the world, survive impossible situations, but this was different. This was something Joel couldn’t fight with his fists or a gun.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Joel whispered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm scared all the time, Tommy. Scared that I’ll mess it up. That I’ll lose Ellie. That I’ll lose..." He faltered, swallowing hard. “That I’ll lose them both.”
Tommy stepped closer; his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to carry this alone, Joel. You never did. It’s okay to feel this way, man. No one expects you to be invincible.”
Joel let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. “But that’s what I’ve always had to be, ain’t it? The strong one. The protector. I don’t know how to be anything else.”
“You’ve been protecting people your whole damn life,” Tommy said, his tone filled with empathy. “But now… now it’s time to let people protect you too.”
Joel’s eyes were red, his jaw tight as he fought the urge to break down. “I don’t know if I can do this without her. Without them.”
“You don’t have to,” Tommy said quietly. “But I’ll take Ellie to the Fireflies. I promise I’ll keep her safe. You take care of yourself, Joel. Take care of the family you’re building here. You’ve earned that.”
Joel nodded; his heart heavy but grateful for Tommy’s understanding. He still felt the crushing weight of his fears, but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel completely alone. Tommy was there. Ellie was there. You were there. And soon, there would be a baby who needed him too.
But still, his tears silently fell as he tried to hold himself together. This was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, and it tore him apart inside. But he knew it was the only way to protect the people he loved. Even if it meant letting go.
+++++++++++++
You sat on the couch with Ellie, the warmth of the fire crackling in the fireplace nearby, casting a soft glow across the room. Ellie was watching the flames, her mind elsewhere, while you found yourself glancing down at your belly again, thinking about everything that was changing, everything that was coming.
“Ellie,” you began softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you. She turned her head slightly, her expression expectant. “I’ve been thinking… Would you wait until after the baby is born to go to the Fireflies? Just a little longer?”
Ellie’s brow furrowed slightly, as if the idea weighed heavily on her. She didn’t answer right away, and you could see the internal struggle flicker in her eyes.
“I know you want to help,” you continued, your voice gentle. “I know you want to be the cure, to make a difference. But… it’s dangerous out there. And I don’t want to lose you.”
Ellie shifted uncomfortably, pulling her knees up to her chest as she stared down at the floor. “It’s not about me, though,” she said, her voice low but steady. “I get it, you want me to stay, but the cure... it could give the baby a better future. It could give everyone a better future. And I can’t just sit here while I have the chance to do that.”
Her words struck you deep, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for wanting her to stay, to keep her close, to keep her safe. But Ellie had always been selfless, always thinking of others, always wanting to make things better.
You sighed, resting a hand on your belly as the weight of her words sank in. “I just want you to be safe, Ellie. You mean a lot to all of us. And I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Ellie smiled faintly, though her expression was filled with understanding. “I know. But… if I can do something to stop all of this, the infection, the danger, then the baby… they won’t have to grow up like this. They could have a real life, without the constant fear of what’s out there.”
The thought of that future, one where the baby didn’t have to face the same horrors that you and Ellie had, made your heart ache. She was right, and that was what made it so hard.
Ellie noticed the worry lines forming on your forehead and reached over, giving your arm a gentle nudge. “Hey,” she said, her voice softening, “don’t stress yourself out. You’ve got enough to think about. Go and rest. You need to take care of yourself, and the peanut.”
You offered her a tired smile, appreciating the concern in her tone. “You sound like Joel.”
Ellie smirked. “Guess he’s rubbing off on me.”
You laughed softly, but the weight of the conversation still hung in the air. “Just… promise me you’ll think about it, Ellie. Please.”
Ellie met your gaze, her eyes serious. “I’ll think about it,” she said, and though you knew her mind was made up, her words gave you a small sense of comfort.
With that, you slowly stood, feeling the fatigue settle into your bones. Ellie watched you with a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Go rest, Mom-to-be,” she teased. “I’ll be here.”
You chuckled softly, grateful for the lightness she brought to the moment. “Alright, alright. I’m going. Good night, Ellie.”
“Good night” she replied, smiling as you entered the bedroom.
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Joel stood outside for what felt like an eternity, staring into the darkness, weighed down by the decision he had made. He knew it was the right thing to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. The thought of sending Ellie away with Tommy gnawed at him, the fear of losing her or failing her again tightening around his chest like a vice.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, he walked back into the house, his footsteps slow and hesitant. The place was quiet, a stillness that only made the ache in his heart more pronounced. He stopped by the door to your bedroom, hearing the soft rhythm of your breathing. You were resting, just like you needed to be.
But there was another conversation he couldn’t avoid.
Joel walked down the hall to Ellie’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see her sitting on the edge of her bed, lost in her own thoughts. She turned her head when she noticed him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“What’s up?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual, but there was an edge to her voice that Joel couldn’t ignore.
Joel hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. He couldn’t meet her gaze right away. “Ellie, we need to talk,” he said, his voice low and thick with the weight of his words.
She sat up straighter, sensing that something was wrong. “What is it? What happened?”
Joel rubbed a hand over his face, trying to find the right words, but all that came out was, “Tommy’s taking you to the Fireflies.”
The room fell into a tense silence, Ellie’s eyes widening in shock before narrowing in anger. “What? No,” she said, her voice rising. “You’re supposed to take me. That was the plan!”
“I can’t,” Joel replied, his voice breaking just slightly as he tried to keep his composure. “I can’t leave them behind. Not with the baby coming.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ellie snapped, standing up now, her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re just gonna pass me off to Tommy like I’m some burden? What the hell, Joel?”
“It’s not like that,” Joel said, shaking his head, but the guilt was already eating at him. “I’m trying to protect you.”
Ellie scoffed, her frustration boiling over. “Protect me? you’re just okay with sending me away? Why can’t you take me?”
Joel took a deep breath, the panic rising inside him. “Ellie, I’ve been having these panic attacks,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I can’t—I’m not strong enough anymore. I can’t do it. I can’t protect you the way I need to, not with all of this happening. I don’t want to fail you.”
Ellie’s anger wavered for a moment, her eyes searching his face. “Joel…,” she said, her voice softer now. “You’re not gonna fail me. You never have.”
“I already have,” Joel whispered, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Too many times. I couldn’t save Sarah. I couldn’t stop Tess from getting hurt. I won’t let you get hurt too, Ellie. And I can’t leave them—her, the baby—behind. I just can’t.”
Ellie’s face softened, but the frustration was still there. “Joel, I don’t want Tommy to take me. I want you. We’ve been through all of this together. It’s you and me. You don’t get to just hand me off when it gets hard.”
Joel’s eyes were wet now, the emotions too much to hold back. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Ellie. That’s all I want.”
Joel stood outside for what felt like an eternity, staring into the darkness, weighed down by the decision he had made. He knew it was the right thing to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. The thought of sending Ellie away with Tommy gnawed at him, the fear of losing her or failing her again tightening around his chest like a vice.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, he walked back into the house, his footsteps slow and hesitant. The place was quiet, a stillness that only made the ache in his heart more pronounced. He stopped by the door to your bedroom, hearing the soft rhythm of your breathing. You were resting, just like you needed to be.
But there was another conversation he couldn’t avoid.
Joel walked down the hall to Ellie’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see her sitting on the edge of her bed, lost in her own thoughts. She turned her head when she noticed him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“What’s up?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual, but there was an edge to her voice that Joel couldn’t ignore.
Joel hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. He couldn’t meet her gaze right away. “Ellie, we need to talk,” he said, his voice low and thick with the weight of his words.
She sat up straighter, sensing that something was wrong. “What is it? What happened?”
Joel rubbed a hand over his face, trying to find the right words, but all that came out was, “Tommy’s taking you to the Fireflies.”
The room fell into a tense silence, Ellie’s eyes widening in shock before narrowing in anger. “What? No,” she said, her voice rising. “You’re supposed to take me. That was the plan!”
“I can’t,” Joel replied, his voice breaking just slightly as he tried to keep his composure. “I can’t leave them behind. Not with the baby coming.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ellie snapped, standing up now, her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re just gonna pass me off to Tommy like I’m some burden? What the hell, Joel?”
“It’s not like that,” Joel said, shaking his head, but the guilt was already eating at him. “I’m trying to protect you.”
Ellie scoffed, her frustration boiling over. “Protect me? I thought you didn’t want me to go at all, and now you’re just okay with sending me away? Why can’t you take me?”
Joel took a deep breath, the panic rising inside him. “Ellie, I’ve been having these panic attacks,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I can’t—I’m not strong enough anymore. I can’t do it. I can’t protect you the way I need to, not with all of this happening. I don’t want to fail you.”
Ellie’s anger wavered for a moment, her eyes searching his face. “Joel…,” she said, her voice softer now. “You’re not gonna fail me. You never have.”
“I already have,” Joel whispered, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Too many times. I couldn’t save Sarah. I couldn’t stop Tess from getting hurt. I won’t let you get hurt too, Ellie. And I can’t leave them—her, the baby—behind. I just can’t.”
Ellie’s face softened, but the frustration was still there. “Joel, I don’t want Tommy to take me. I want you. We’ve been through all of this together. It’s you and me. You don’t get to just hand me off when it gets hard.”
Joel’s eyes were wet now, the emotions too much to hold back. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Ellie. That’s all I want.”
“I know,” she said, her voice wavering. “But you’re all I’ve got. You can’t just let me go like that.”
They stood there in the quiet room, both of them battling their own fears and emotions. Joel wiped at his eyes, trying to collect himself.
“I’m not abandoning you,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t make this choice. I can’t risk losing all of you. Tommy… he’s strong. He’ll get you there.”
Ellie shook her head, frustration flashing across her face. “You’re not listening. I don’t want Tommy to take me—I want you.”
Joel looked at her, his heart twisting. He hated this, hated that he was letting her down. “Ellie... I’m not your father,” he said, his voice cracking with the weight of the admission. He had never said it out loud like this, and it hit him as hard as it hit her.
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Ellie looked like she’d been slapped. Her face hardened, jaw clenched. “Well,” she started, her voice sharp and bitter, “your girlfriend told me we could be a family.” She glared at him, daring him to contradict her.
Joel winced. The truth of it stung, the possibility of a family he didn’t feel worthy of. “I know,” he murmured, struggling to find the right thing to say. “But Ellie, that doesn’t mean I can risk everything—risk you—for a chance at something that might never come.”
Ellie shook her head, her eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall. “You don’t get it, do you?” she whispered. “I don’t want a family that leaves me behind when things get tough. I don’t want Tommy, or anyone else. I just want you.”
Joel’s heart shattered at her words. He saw the hurt, the fear of abandonment in her eyes, and it crushed him. He stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.
“Ellie, please...” Joel started, but she cut him off, her voice trembling with emotion.
“No, Joel. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me without even asking me what I want. We’ve been through too much for that. And now, just when we could finally be something—be a family—you’re pushing me away.”
“I’m trying to keep you safe,” Joel repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“And what if I don’t want safe?” Ellie shot back, her voice shaking with frustration. “What if I want you?”
Joel swallowed hard, unable to find the words to answer her. He had spent so long keeping her at arm’s length, convincing himself that it was for her own good. But now, standing here, watching her fight to stay close to him, he realized how much he needed her too. How much she had become a part of his life, of him.
Joel’s jaw clenched, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He didn’t want to hurt Ellie, didn’t want to push her away, but he felt trapped. Torn between protecting her and staying with the new life that was growing inside you. He took a deep breath, his voice low and firm, but his heart breaking as he spoke.
“That’s final, Ellie,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll go with Tommy.”
The words seemed to echo in the room, heavy and irreversible. Ellie’s face crumpled in disbelief, anger flashing through her eyes, but before she could respond, Joel turned and walked out, the ache in his chest almost unbearable.
He moved through the quiet house, his footsteps heavy, his heart even heavier. His mind raced with guilt, fear, and uncertainty. He didn’t want to lose Ellie, but he also couldn’t leave you behind, not with the baby on the way. He just couldn’t.
As he reached the bedroom where you were sleeping, he paused in the doorway. The soft sound of your steady breathing filled the room, offering a strange kind of peace amidst the chaos swirling inside him. Joel leaned against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on your sleeping form, wondering how everything had become so complicated.
He stepped inside, moving quietly so as not to wake you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ran a hand through his hair, staring down at his hands as if the answers to his problems might appear there. The weight of his decision pressed down on him, and for the first time in a long while, Joel felt truly lost.
You stirred in your sleep, sensing his presence. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light in the room. Seeing Joel sitting there, shoulders slumped, staring down at his hands, you felt a surge of concern wash over you.
“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, your voice groggy from sleep but laced with worry.
Joel flinched slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to wake up. He shook his head, his eyes not meeting yours. “Nothin’,” he muttered, his voice quiet and strained. “Go back to sleep.”
But you knew better. You could see the tension in his body, the heaviness in his expression. You reached out, gently touching his arm, urging him to lie down beside you. “Joel… talk to me.”
He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the world still pressing down on him. But instead of saying anything, he let out a long breath and slid under the covers next to you. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if every action carried the burden he was trying to hide.
You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, steady but faster than usual. His arm wrapped around you almost instinctively, holding you close, but you could feel the tension in his muscles, the internal battle he was fighting.
“You don’t have to carry it all on your own,” you whispered, your hand gently tracing patterns on his chest.
Joel’s arm tightened around you, but he didn’t respond right away. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “I’m tryin’ to keep everything together… for you, for the baby… for Ellie.”
You looked up at him, your heart aching at the sight of the pain etched into his face. “And who’s keeping you together, Joel?”
He didn’t answer. He just held you tighter, as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded in that moment. The silence stretched between you, heavy but comforting in its own way.
Joel exhaled slowly, the tension in his body softening just a little as he held you close. He could feel your warmth against him, the steady rhythm of your breath, and it made something inside him loosen—a little piece of that ever-present weight.
He ran a hand through your hair, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know,” he started, his rough tone softening, “I used to think I was too broken for this… for love, for family, for you.”
You lifted your head slightly, looking at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Joel…”
But he continued, his words flowing quietly into the night. “But you—you’ve been so good to me. You, with your stubbornness and your heart… you gave me somethin’ I thought I’d never have again. You make me want to be better. For you, for the baby.”
His hand traced slow, gentle circles on your back, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the heaviness in the air easing just a little. “You’re a sap, Joel,” you teased, though your heart was fluttering at his words.
Joel chuckled, the sound low and raspy, but it carried a warmth you hadn’t heard from him in a while. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he said with a small smirk, his eyes softening as he looked at you.
You settled back against his chest, your cheek pressed to the steady rise and fall of his breath. His hand continued to stroke your back, grounding both of you in that moment. But even as the quiet warmth between you spread, you could feel there was something deeper weighing on him still.
After a few moments, Joel spoke again, this time more serious. “There’s somethin’ I gotta do. And you’re not gonna like it.”
You shifted slightly, lifting your head to look at him again, your brows furrowing with concern. “Joel, what do you mean?”
His eyes flickered with something—guilt, regret—but he swallowed it down, forcing a gentle smile for you. “You’re gonna hate me for a little while, darlin’. But I need to do what’s right. For you. For Ellie. For this family.”
You opened your mouth to protest, worry creeping into your chest, but Joel stopped you with a soft kiss on your forehead. “Just trust me,” he whispered. “I’ll make it right.”
You searched his eyes, seeing the weight of the decision he had made. Part of you wanted to push, to ask him what he meant, but the other part knew better. Joel had always carried the burden of protecting those he loved, even when it hurt him.
Eventually, the quiet comfort of his presence and the exhaustion of the day began to take over. You rested your head back on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath you.
“I trust you, Joel,” you whispered, though your mind still whirled with questions.
He held you close, his arm tightening around you, and for a moment, he felt like he could breathe again. But he knew, deep down, that the decision he had made would change things. For better or worse, he would protect the people he loved, even if it meant you’d be angry with him for a time.
As your breathing began to slow, sleep tugging at you, Joel leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I love you,” he whispered into the quiet, his voice raw with emotion. “No matter what happens. I love you.”
You didn’t respond, already drifting off to sleep on his chest, but the warmth of his words followed you into your dreams.
Joel he couldn’t stop feeling his heart breaking at the sight of you sleeping on his chest right now. He had made you believe that safety was a place wherever he was, he made you believe that you were going to have a place to sleep next to him to keep the demons away.
Joel, still wide awake, stared at the ceiling, the weight of his decision settling heavily over him. But for now, with you sleeping peacefully beside him, he could pretend that everything would be okay, just for a little while longer.
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You slowly woke to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, stretching and blinking against the brightness. As your mind cleared, you reached for Joel, but the spot next to you was empty. A sense of unease settled in your stomach.
Sitting up, you glanced around the room, noticing the stillness. That’s when your eyes caught sight of a folded piece of paper on the nightstand, the sight of it sending a rush of anxiety through you. You could see your name written in Joel's familiar handwriting, and your heart sank.
You reached for the letter, your fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded it. The words blurred for a moment, but you forced yourself to focus, the reality of the situation washing over you as you read:
Darlin’,
I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I have to do this. I’m leaving you here while I take Ellie to the Fireflies. I thought long and hard about it, and I believe it’s what’s best for all of us.
I can’t risk losing you or the baby. I don’t want to drag you into danger. This is something Ellie needs to do, and I can’t leave her behind. I hope you can understand.
You’re stronger than you know, and I trust you to take care of yourself. I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise. Just… please take care of yourself and the baby.
I love you.
—Joel
Your heart raced as you reread the letter, each line cutting deeper than the last. Confusion, anger, and heartbreak swirled within you, each emotion colliding as you tried to process his decision. He was leaving. Leaving you behind to take Ellie away, and you had no way to stop him.
You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as you rushed to the door, but there was only silence on the other side. You felt a surge of frustration and fear; how could he think this was for the best?
After a moment, you took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. You could be angry later, but right now, you needed to find him. You grabbed your jacket and hurried out of the bedroom, determination pushing you forward.
“Joel!” you called out, your voice echoing through the empty house. There was no response, only the quiet that surrounded you. You raced down the hall, hoping to find him somewhere inside, but he was nowhere to be found.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you stepped outside, the cool air hitting your skin. You squinted against the light, scanning the area for any sign of him.
The sight of him made your heart drop. Tommy’s face said everything. He looked worn, the weight of the situation clear in his eyes, and that only fueled your rising panic. You rushed toward him, emotions spilling over as tears began to blur your vision.
“Tommy!” you cried, your voice breaking. “Have you seen Joel? He… he’s leaving me here!”
Tommy stepped forward, his arms opening instinctively as you reached him. You collapsed into his embrace, the warmth of his support contrasting sharply with the cold fear wrapping around you. As he held you close, your tears flowed freely, each sob echoing the pain and confusion swirling inside.
“It’s okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
You buried your face in his shoulder, the reality of the situation crashing over you like a tidal wave. “He thinks he’s doing what’s best, but he’s not! I can’t believe he would leave me.”
Tommy held you tighter, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I know. I know it hurts. But Joel cares about you—about both of you—more than anything. He’s just scared.”
“But I need him here!” you exclaimed, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes, the pain reflected back at you. “I don’t want to be left behind. We’re supposed to be a family!”
“I’m your family,” Tommy whispered, his voice steady and sincere.
You felt a flicker of comfort in his words, but it didn’t erase the emptiness Joel’s absence left behind.
………
“Tommy,” Joel had said, his voice low and urgent as he leaned closer, eyes dark with concern. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” Tommy replied, sensing the gravity of the moment.
“Take care of my baby,” Joel had insisted, his expression fierce. “Promise me they’ll be okay.”
Tommy had nodded, ready to reassure him. “Of course, Joel. I’ll do everything I can to keep the baby safe.”
But then Joel’s gaze sharpened, a hint of desperation in his voice. “No, I mean my baby,” he clarified, referring not just to the life growing inside you but to you as well. “Promise me both will be okay.”
Tommy had felt the weight of that request, the unspoken fears underlying Joel’s words. “You have my word, brother. I’ll protect them both.”
……
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ashwhowrites · 2 days
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Hello, are applications still open? I was thinking of an Eddie x Reader scenario with their first child, maybe 4 or 5 years old. Eddie loves his daughter with all his heart, feels incredibly proud of creating something so beautiful, but every time he wants alone time with his wife, the little one needs mom or dad, so they have to leave their business unfinished, and this happens multiple times, until finally, he gets his wife all to himself. Smut and fluff, if you're comfortable with it. I love your writing ❤️
-🧚🏻‍♀️
I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻
Alone time
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Lainy Munson stole the hearts of everyone around her. She had Eddie wrapped around her finger and stuck by her mom's side. All of Eddie's and Y/N's friends adored her. They were proud of the daughter Y/N and Eddie raised.
Eddie adored his daughter, and it was obvious. He was her pride and joy, and one of the most important girls in his life. One of the things he loved about Lainy was that she came from Y/N.
Eddie fell in love with Y/N at first sight, she was breathtaking and kind. Lainy was the same way, a mini copy of her mom. It didn't matter how long he was married to Y/N, he was still smitten.
He loved his daughter, but he did not love her clinginess. Only because it got in the way of his private time with his wife.
"Lainy is in bed, all tucked in and ready for bed," Y/N said as she walked into the bedroom. Eddie pulled back the sheets and covers, inviting Y/N into the bed. Y/N happily listened, sighing in bliss as she crawled into the cold bed.
"I can't wait to sleep," Y/N groaned
"Sleep? What about something else?" Eddie asked his lips already on her skin. Y/N was putty in her husband's hands. She moaned as he sucked on her neck, his lips making their way to her lips.
She kissed back, and her hands traveled into his hair. She moaned as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, he moved to settle his body on top of hers. As Eddie kept his lips on her, his hand moved down to slip inside her underwear. He hummed in bliss when he felt how wet she was. He gently rubbed his middle finger up and down through her folds, teasing her as she yanked his hair. He let out a growl and slipped his finger inside of her.
"MOMMY"
Y/N groaned and softly pushed Eddie off of her with a sad smile
"Maybe next time, daddy" she teased, patting his cheek as she rolled out of bed.
Eddie huffed as he collapsed against the bed, his cock pulsing in pain.
~~~
Eddie had his head thrown back, his right hand on the back of Y/N's head as she bopped up and down on his aching cock.
He bucked his hips off the couch, moaning at the sound of her gagging. She breathed through her nose and kept a fast pace.
Steve told Lainy to the park five minutes ago and it didn't take long for Eddie and Y/N to go at it. The second the door closed Eddie was tossing her on the couch.
"Just like that" Eddie moaned, his brain was mush. He hadn't felt this good in so long and he wasn't sure he'd last long.
"So fucking gorgeous" he praised as he looked down at her. Her hands were on his hairy thighs, the cold ring on her left finger did nothing to take the heat away from his skin.
Eddie clenched his teeth as he felt his stomach tighten, he was about to tell her when a knock on the front door interrupted them. Y/N perked up and removed herself.
"Ignore it" Eddie grunted, pushing her head back down. Y/N figured it might have been the mail or something so she ignored it. Her cunt pulsed as she felt Eddie's cock begin to twitch in her mouth.
"DADDY!"
"Guys? We had an accident at the park!"
Y/N removed herself from Eddie, a disappointed sigh as she patted his thighs.
Eddie threw his head back in agony but slipped on his sweatpants. He placed a pillow on his lap and looked at the door.
Y/N opened it and Lainy came in running, Steve walked in behind with an apologetic smile.
"Let's go get you cleaned up!" Y/N said, picking her up and walking them to the bathroom.
"At least you got five minutes of peace, right?" Steve joked, laughing at his joke but Eddie didn't crack a smile.
"Five minutes isn't even close to enough time" he hissed
~~~
"We love you very much. Have so much fun with Robin!" Y/N said as she pressed multiple kisses to Lainy's face
"We'll see you tomorrow, princess," Eddie said as he kissed her forehead.
They waved as Robin left with Lainy next to her. Once they were out of the driveway, Eddie already had the door slammed.
Y/N squealed as Eddie picked her up and ran to the bedroom. She laughed as he tackled her against the mattress.
"Finally all to myself," Eddie whispered in her ear. His hands were already skimming under her shirt. His rough hands massaged her breasts, making her moan out.
"Yeah? What's your plan with me all to yourself?" She edged on. She gasped when he twisted her nipple between his fingers and his teeth scraped against her jaw as he moved to her mouth.
"I'm going to fuck you all night long"
She whimpered at his words but his kiss swallowed her sounds. She shivered as he pulled back and yanked off all her clothes. She could sense how desperate he was and how fast he was moving.
She sat up and helped him remove his clothes, kissing the bare skin that came into view. Eddie felt on fire from her touch. His body reacted to everything like he was a virgin all over again.
"I need you so bad right now," Eddie whined, pushing her back down. She smiled and giggled at his desperation but he was fast to shut her up when he slid himself inside of her.
She moaned as he pushed himself all the way in. He gave her a few moments to adjust to him, knowing it had been a long while.
Once she gave him the green light, he lost all control. Something switched in him and his thrusts were at a rapid speed. She clawed at his back as she took everything. Her hands moved into his sweaty hair, twirling his curls around her fingers and yanking him down.
He hissed at the sting from his skull but he didn't care. He shuddered at how amazing she felt wrapped around him. He placed his hands on the sides of her head and smashed his lips on hers.
They pushed their tongues into each other's mouths, swallowing every sound either of them made. She wrapped her legs around Eddie's waist, pushing him somehow even deeper inside of her.
The room began to smell of sweat and sex, it felt like straight nicotine to Eddie's brain.
They touched each other everywhere, feeling every inch of skin.
"I don't think I'm going to last long, baby" Eddie groaned, her walls were clenching around him perfectly
"You don't have to" Y/N moaned, "cum for me, Eddie. Remember how good it feels when I milk you? Cum baby"
Eddie moaned at her words, his eyes staring into hers as he slowed down his thrusts. He nodded his head, clenching his eyes shut as he focused on the feeling in his stomach.
"Fuck, baby you're making me cum!"
Y/N moaned as she felt Eddie fuck her deep, each thrust bringing him closer to his orgasm.
"I love you," he moaned, his lips pressed against hers as he came. His hot breath against her lips as he felt the blissful release of his cum painting the inside of her walls.
"I love you," she said. She gasped when his hand moved down to her clit.
Eddie hissed as his cock got too sensitive to stay inside of her, but he wouldn't leave his girl untaken care of. He kept his fingers rubbing her clit but slid his cock out.
"Lay down" Y/N demanded, Eddie obeyed placing his back against the mattress.
Y/N slid her body on top of his, straddling his muscular inked thigh. She lowered herself to his thigh, rubbing her clit against his skin.
"Oh, I see, gonna be a good girl and ride my thigh?" Eddie edged on, moving his hand up to wrap around her neck softly.
Y/N rode his thigh, chasing her orgasm as she looked down at her husband. The sight of his fucked out face, sweaty chest, and his tattoos. She shivered at his smile and the lust in his eyes.
"Cum for me, baby. Go ahead and soak my thigh." Eddie encouraged, a soft pressure added to her neck
Y/N moaned out as she came all over his thigh, riding out her high. Eddie watched in awe as she came on top of him. He watched as her eyes clenched and her mouth fell open, she looked beautiful.
She collapsed against his chest, panting as her high slowly came down.
"God I missed that," Eddie said as he wrapped his arms around her. She laughed and nodded in his arms, her lips softly kissing his neck.
"I missed it too," she said into his neck, leaning up to softly kiss his lips. He kissed her back, squeezing her body against his.
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Desperately need my wife Sevika to hold me by the throat while she fucks me all slow and deep until i’m squirming and whining. Bonus points if she doesn’t let me move too much and tells me how pretty my pussy looks around her strap-
but i’m totally calm about her what do you all mean- i’m totally normal and calm.
- Pythia
ooooooh my god. i' mso normal.
men and minors dni
"sev-- 's too big!" you whine, desperately clawing at the sheets as you try to scoot away from your wife.
sevika grins and tugs your hips back down the bed, forcing you to take her to the hilt. she growls and you squeak, moaning and blubbering as she starts fucking you mercilessly. "quit squirming, baby, 'm tryna make you feel good."
you shiver, your words lost to the feeling of sevika stretching you out. she's smiling sweetly down at you like she's not ruining you right now, gently pecking your calf where it rests on her shoulder while her hands claw at your hips hard enough for you to be certain you're bleeding.
"you're ridiculous." she giggles eventually, her eyes fondly watching your cunt stretch around her strap. you just moan. "actin' like you can't take it-- like you weren't fuckin' beggin' for it ten minutes ago-- i know you baby. 'd you forget? i know how much you can take. i know how to make you scream--" you cut her off with just that-- a loud wail filling the bedroom when sevika starts rubbing your clit as she continues pounding inside you. sevika lets out a cocky little chuckle. "i know how much you fuckin' like it."
"sev, sevika!" you squawk, trying again to run away from her as she rearranges your guts.
"quit squirming." she grunts, smacking your ass. you whimper.
"can't help it! you're in my stomach!"
"'s it hurt?"
"n-no but--" the moment the word leaves your lips sevika's smile gets even eviler, and she stops her hips movements only to quickly rearrange your limbs, wrapping your legs around her hips, using one hand to keep you clinging to her, while the other trails up your body, briefly pausing to pinch your tits, before wrapping around your throat.
the moment she starts squeezing, you start to cum.
sevika cackles as she fucks you through your first orgasm, letting go of your throat long enough for you to gasp a breath of air, before ducking down and kissing you.
it's more like she's fucking your throat with her tongue-- just grunting into your open mouth as her hand cradles your jaw gently, greatly juxtaposing the way she's fucking into you.
"fuck, i wanna get you pregnant." sevika huffs against your lips. you whimper. "you're just so fuckin' cute, i can't fuckin' help myself. wanna ruin you."
"you are." you moan out eventually-- finally catching your breath from your last orgasm. sevika hums happily.
"'s good?" she asks.
"fuckin' perfect." you sigh. "fuck, sev, i love you so much. 'y fuck me so good."
"i know baby." sevika sighs happily, leaning back down to kiss you sweetly before she starts hammering into you again. you gasp. "i know." sevika repeats.
she brings her hand back around your throat, holding you in place while she starts to chase her own pleasure, her eyes locked on you, tracking every twitch and jump she pulls from you, her smile growing when your thigh starts to spasm as you get close.
"you gonna cum?" she asks. you nod underneath her. sevika grins. "fuck, me too. i dunno how you do it-- y' get me so fuckin' worked up baby, just watching you be all pretty, fuck-- shit, i'm gonna knock you up."
"sevika!" you sputter. she giggles.
"go ahead, baby. cum all over my cock and i'll fill you up with my babies."
you gasp and cum again, and the moment you do, sevika groans and collapses on top of you, cumming deep inside of you while you cling to her.
"fuck." you giggle. sevika snorts in your throat.
"fuck." she agrees. "shit, baby, you had my fuckin' legs shaking this entire time y' feel so fuckin' good. gimmie five minutes to catch my breath 'n we're goin' again." sevika sighs, settling in on top of you for a cat nap. you burst into laughter.
"sevika, you can't sleep inside me!"
"why not?" she asks, pouting down at you. you snort.
"'cause five minutes'll turn into two hours and then we'll wake up and you'll've been inside me for half the day. i'm not trying to be that sore tomorrow."
sevika huffs and reaches out for her phone, tapping a few buttons before throwing it on the other side of the bed. "there. i set a timer. happy?" she asks.
you grin. "deliriously."
sevika's responding smile is so sweet it gives you butterflies.
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner
@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther
@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai
@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette
@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp
@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen
@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom
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Text
Last, Last Time
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)
WC: ~7.3k
TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.
a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!
Spencer Masterlist
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“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.” 
“Y/n…”
“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”
The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart. 
“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.” 
“Wait for the potential of us?” 
Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.
“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.” 
“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”
“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”
“That’s not fair—”
“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”
“I’m sorry.”
You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.” 
Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face. 
“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....” 
“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…” 
The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.
“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved. 
The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough. 
“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.” 
Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home. 
Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..” 
About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him. 
He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty. 
And it stuck. 
Now? It stung. 
All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.
“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms. 
“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...” 
Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face. 
You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time. 
You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you. 
Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it. 
Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you. 
You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—
Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years. 
Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job. 
Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—
The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off. 
This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years. 
You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone. 
Emily Prentiss
______________________________________________________________
The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.” 
Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”
The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. . 
Spencer just stared at the photo. 
Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”
He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”
“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours.  I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”
______________________________________________________________
Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call. 
You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“
“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.” 
Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything. 
“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?” 
“What?” 
“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.” 
“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?” 
Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now. 
You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life. 
Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter. 
You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely. 
It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit. 
You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night. 
As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car. 
Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face. 
Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.” 
“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort. 
“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.
“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.
“Let’s head inside?” 
The three of you moved inside. 
Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like. 
As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you. 
“What do you know about Cat Adams?” 
That bitch. 
______________________________________________________________
“I would like to go on a date. With you.” 
Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”
“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”
Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”
Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.
“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”
Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”
“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”
Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”
His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.” 
And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.
______________________________________________________________
Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.” 
They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was. 
“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.” 
Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips. 
Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too. 
She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”
“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file. 
Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh. 
“What is the last thing you know about her?” 
You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later. 
They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces. 
“What? What happened?” 
“Y/n..”
“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?” 
Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—
“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”
“We didn’t think you’d–” 
“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.” 
Both of them went silent. 
“So is he out?” 
They nodded slowly, silently. 
“How long was he in there.”
Nothing. 
“I asked. How. Long.”
Luke spoke up. “Three months.” 
“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down. 
Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you. 
“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?” 
“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.” 
Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her. 
They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile. 
You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind. 
Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.
“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.
At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed. 
______________________________________________________________
“Victimology is off.”
“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room. 
“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.” 
Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.” 
Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.” 
“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer. 
Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.
While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.” 
“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid. 
Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture. 
Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?” 
“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.” 
______________________________________________________________
After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it. 
Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.
There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest. 
Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong. 
Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter. 
“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”
You nodded. “How does this affect me?” 
“She took your father and sister.” 
Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.” 
His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear. 
“So why is she here?” You whispered back. 
“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.” 
You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.” 
Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation. 
The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet. 
It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent. 
The pity from Rossi's look was palpable. 
“Don’t even start.” 
He shrugged and stayed silent. 
Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.” 
Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.” 
You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone. 
Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch. 
Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch. 
______________________________________________________________
“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”
Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “
“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.” 
“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.” 
Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.” 
“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?” 
“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office. 
“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily. 
Emily sighed in agreement. 
Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n  really shouldn’t be in there.” 
Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.” 
Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ. 
JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.
Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”
“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”
Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”
Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.” 
______________________________________________________________
Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open. 
And there he was. 
This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years. 
And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams. 
The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship. 
After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours. 
It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed. 
“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit. 
You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine. 
His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger. 
You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…
“What are you doing here?” 
You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face. 
Remember what Prentiss had said to you. 
“You know why I’m here.” 
Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them. 
Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back. 
Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off. 
She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?” 
You shook your head. “No.”
Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.
“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”
Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?” 
“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”
Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”
You scoffed. “What does that mean?”
Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser. 
“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue. 
Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.” 
You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense. 
Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face. 
Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before. 
“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.” 
Spencer spoke up. “With you?”
“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.” 
“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud. 
“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?” 
Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”
Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”
Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.” 
You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.
Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”
Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?” 
“No.” you just looked down at your hands. 
“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.” 
“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?” 
“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.” 
Spencer stood up, squaring off against her.  “That was a very different situation.”
“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch. 
“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.
“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed. 
Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”
Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?” 
Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”
Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine. 
Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.” 
“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”
Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.” 
“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.” 
“That doesn't mean I-I would…”
Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”
Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head. 
After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.” 
It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where. 
Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.” 
Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”
You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”
Spencer just looked over at you. 
Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?” 
Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”
And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you. 
Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?” 
You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.” 
“Stop.”
Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?” 
You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”
That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.” 
Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.” 
“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”
You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?” 
“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”
You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here.  Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”
She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”
“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”. 
Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”
“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”
“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”
You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”
Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?” 
“Last year.” 
“Was he good in bed?” 
Spencer stood up. “Shut up.” 
Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”
“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”
There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow. 
Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?” 
You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”  
“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?” 
“ I planned and I... I waited.”
Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “
“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”
Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”
Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."
You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send. 
Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”
Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”
“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.” 
Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.” 
Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” . 
“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.” 
The phone in your hand buzzed.
“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.” 
Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.” 
She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer. 
Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.” 
______________________________________________________________
The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up. 
“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?” 
Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”
“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”
Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.” 
“Would you have written me back?” 
When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer. 
“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison. 
______________________________________________________________
The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke.  “We need to debrief.” 
Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in. 
“Spencer, are you okay?” 
Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug. 
He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.
You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound. 
Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached. 
“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”
She nodded at him and walked away. 
Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other. 
“I should explain all of this.” 
Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.” 
You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.” 
He just nodded, staring at you really. 
You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back. 
“Thank you for saving my sister and father.” 
Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find. 
Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief. 
“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.” 
Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face. 
He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger. 
“They gave me an ear piece and everything.” 
Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.” 
You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…” 
Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”
“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation. 
You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…” 
She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was. 
He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.” 
Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better. 
You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago. 
You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him. 
As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you. 
Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. 
It was Spencer who spoke first. 
“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—” 
You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did. 
“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered. 
The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different. 
It’s not the way it used to be. 
“I need to go Spencer.” 
He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek. 
You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. 
“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure. 
“Y/n…”
You took another step away from him and shook your head. 
“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.” 
You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.” 
“Y/n please.” 
“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.” 
Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek. 
Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out. 
You didn’t. 
His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you. 
But it had to end. 
You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you. 
Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car. 
Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces. 
You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you. 
The doors shut. 
You were all alone in this hollow parking garage. 
Your heart was aching, burning. 
But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time. 
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say-al0e · 21 hours
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Want You
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Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!
Summary: Aegon had no desire to ruin you, so he buried himself in his favorite wine and favorite whores to keep his blossoming feelings at bay. Only, his efforts seemed to work too well and he has to convince you that you’re all he needs. Warnings: No Dance AU, inaccurate use of some characters (Tyrell was an infant during this time but here he's in his early 30s), two smut scenes (Aegon is a dick in the first, much better in the second), infidelity (Aegon), Targcest (Aemond x Helaena), nice guy Criston Cole, unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), miscommunication. Anything else, let me know and I'll tag. Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!Reader (Manderly!Reader - no features mentioned) Word Count: 22.8k (....I'm so sorry) HotD Taglist | HotD Masterlist
The Red Keep was rarely, if ever, silent.
There were moments - fleeting, few and far between - where a hush befell the Keep with only the quiet noise of servants and guards dutifully moving about to shatter the illusion of solitude. But, no matter the hour, it was rare to find a silence so unbroken that it teetered on the edge of maddening.
However, as Aegon sat in your chambers for the first time in weeks, slouched in a chair adjacent to the couch you lounged on, you found the silence drawing on long enough to surpass discomfort and edge into pain.
Aegon - sobriquet still undecided, though he’d dismissed ‘The Magnanimous’ the moment you frowned as he spoke it, the moment Aemond snickered - sat with a cup of wine in one hand as he used the other to flip the pages of a book. It was one you’d left on the table, brought to you by Aemond and next on your list to read, and you hoped Aegon couldn’t see the way you winced every time wine sloshed a bit too close to the text for comfort.
As silence persisted, there was little doubt that the reason for his presence was his mother’s insistence.
Alicent, as well intentioned as you imagined her to be - and, where you and Helaena were concerned, she seemed to be truly well intentioned - chided him relentlessly these days. Since he became king, there was no end to her and Otto’s lectures. They urged him to play his part as faithfully as you played your own, to act as your husband and try to keep from embarrassing you. Time and again, you heard Alicent’s furious whispers, instructing her eldest son to think of the shame he continued to bring upon you, but you knew as well as she did that the time for his acquiescence had passed.
Everyone knew the kind of husband Aegon was, the kind of man he’d grown to be.
Though there was little chance he might, it he would have thought to ask you for your opinion -  as he once did in the earliest days of your marriage - you wondered if you would’ve been able to stop yourself from sharing the sobriquet you chose but did not dare speak aloud; Aegon the Shameless.
Despite becoming Queen Consort, looks of awe and excitement had shifted into looks of pity that burned into your skin each time you found yourself in court. There were few who did not know where your husband spent his nights - in the throne room, deep in his cups and surrounded by idiot guards and naive squires; or, perhaps, lost in the streets of silk, deep inside one of his favorite whores. The only boundary he seemed to respect was that now his trysts were kept from the Keep, his whores bedded elsewhere.
Though eleven moons had passed since you were married, he’d shared your bed only a handful of times. Once, on your wedding night, to consummate the marriage; a drunken attempt or two at creating the heir the realm demanded; and once, not long ago, when he stumbled into your chambers by mistake and couldn’t be roused to move until morning.
Yet, as much as you hated to admit it and as unbelievably foolish as it made you feel, you’d somehow grown to love him.
In the very beginning, you had hope that your marriage might be a happy one.
Aegon was not perfect, you knew that. But for all his faults, he was kind to you in the light of day. The cruelty you caught glimpses of, the derision and bursts of anger, was never leveled at you. In fact, it often seemed that you were the only person he deemed worthy of sparing his unpredictable moods. He softened whenever you entered a room and made an attempt at levity. Though there were whispers of his sharp tongue and quick temper, you saw little of it.
The words he leveled at you were often kind - compliments, jests - and, if not kind, at least cordial. He gifted you beautiful gowns, glittering jewelry, perfumed soaps and oils, and allowed your youngest sister and a cousin to serve as your companions, all the while remaining very far from them himself.
When you chose to eat your meals outside of your own chambers, he kept you near and included you in the conversation at hand, no matter how little attention you paid. When decisions were made, he seemed to take your counsel more seriously than anyone else’s - save, perhaps, Aemond’s. When you took your daily walk around the gardens, he joined as often as he could, though he typically fell behind you and your companions and departed halfway through to return to the small council.
During the early days of your marriage, you spent a great deal of time seeking him out. Whatever moments he could spare for you were cherished and you treated them as gifts worth more than anything gold could buy. As far as you were concerned, Aegon was trying his best. You knew that his reign was young, that he was young, and took no offense to his frequent absences.
Though much and more of your time was spent with others - your companions, Helaena, Alicent, even Aemond - Aegon was present. Time alone with him, however, was scarce. And, despite Alicent’s repeated assurances that his absence was merely a matter of his duty to the Realm, you began to believe the truth was much simpler.
Aegon simply did not wish to be alone with you.
Of all the things Aegon had done to, according to Alicent, bring shame upon you, none hurt quite so much as the realization that you were nothing more than an accessory to his reign.
Much like his crown, you were only there to solidify his status as king.
Despite the fondness you sometimes felt from him, you realized very quickly that Aegon did not want to be married. He had been forced to wed and you were the least offensive choice. You were nothing more than a pawn chosen by his grandsire for the strength of your house, and meant to be nothing more than an acceptable queen to stand beside the king.
Still, the realization was one you struggled to make sense of.
Affection was, at least in the beginning, a somewhat regular occurrence. Though you did not lie together, he never turned down a kiss or a soft caress of your hand. If anything, he sought those fleeting gestures out. He also seemed to favor the soft press of your hand to his thigh beneath the table - a calming gesture, offered whenever his grandsire or another council member undermined his authority - or a gentle squeeze of his hand more than anything.  And, for a while, even initiated the gestures himself.
There were moments when Aegon seemed to make an honest attempt at being a husband.
Though he did not spend much time with you alone, he sometimes sat with you in the evenings as you and your ladies sipped tea. He sought your company when settled amongst a crowd, standing close and smiling every time you caught his eye. He remembered the little details you shared with him and asked about things you’d only mentioned in passing as a thousand other conversations carried on around you.
The first time you wore the green of his house, he complimented your gown and granted you a brilliant smile with each green gown that followed. When you passed him in the halls, one of you rushing to someplace else, he would always catch your eye and allow his hand to graze yours.
Thus, for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe the hollow reassurances.
For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe that you truly meant something to Aegon. The bitter sting of rejection, of humiliation, that accompanied his lack of desire to see you alone - his near refusal to bed you, unless he’d drowned in his cups and found himself on the receiving end of a lecture from his mother - was rationalized away.
It was easy, for a time, for you to believe that you simply meant more to him. Whores were meant to be bedded, a way for men to rid themselves of frustration - something a king had in spades. You told yourself that Aegon’s distance was a kindness, a form of respect. Your affection meant more to him than your ability to warm his bed. And for longer than you cared to admit, you allowed yourself to believe it; to love him, despite it.
Only, the lie grew harder to believe with each moon that passed.
Gradually, the little affection Aegon seemed to hold for you began to fade and the distance between you grew. While his visits to the streets of silk were few and far between in the early days of your marriage, the longer you were wed, the louder the whispers that he’d resumed his trips grew.
With every whisper came a lecture from Alicent, from Otto, from Aemond. And with every lecture, the more eager Aegon seemed to disappear into the deepest corner of his favored brothel.
One by one, every ounce of Aegon’s affection and attention seemed to disappear. The lingering glances he’d once spared in the halls, the brilliant smiles he leveled you with when you opted to join the family for dinner, the soft caresses of your hand when he passed you in the halls; they were no more and your heart ached with each disappearance.
Soon came the day of realization; if you did not offer affection, you received none.
After the passage of seven moons, it became obvious that Aegon merely tolerated. While he may once have even  liked you, with the passage of each moon, you came to realize and accept that he did not love you.
While you found yourself grateful he was not unkind to you, that he did not seem to loathe being married to you, the realization that he did not love you was one that shattered the glittering illusion you’d been clinging to so desperately. You’d hoped that he would settle, that with time he would grow to love you as you were growing to love him, but there was no use.
Every day that passed, he seemed to drift farther from you and only proved there was no sense in waiting for him to love you back. There was no point in inserting yourself into places you weren’t wanted or making gestures that went unnoticed. So, you stopped trying.
And, if Aegon noticed that you’d stopped putting in the effort he’d grown accustomed to, he did not mention it.
In the beginning of your marriage, you rarely went more than a few hours without seeking Aegon out. Even if he could only spare a moment, even if you were only at the periphery of his attention, you accepted it happily. Now, it had been two days since you last saw him.
A simple change in your routine kept you from seeing Aegon much at all these days.
Whereas you would normally walk the gardens at midday, your companions in tow and occasionally accompanied by Helaena or Alicent, you chose to spend that time perfecting your needlework instead. The walk was pushed to either early morning or afternoon - when Aegon was busy with the small council. And, as for dinner, more often than not, you ate along in your chambers. Your sister and cousin joined you occasionally, even sometimes Helaena, but your goal was to avoid Aegon and that you did.
Still, you played your part dutifully when called upon.
As requested, you stood beside him to welcome the first of the lords arriving in King’s Landing for Daeron’s six-and-tenth nameday tourney. There were a handful of lords from the Reach accompanying the Hightower host and Aegon pulled you close, standing tall with pride as they all complimented what a beautiful couple you made.
Though your heart was no longer in it, you put on your happiest face - thanking the lords whose names you would doubtlessly spend the rest of the tournament whispering to your husband before he could ask - and resisted the urge to step away from him before you were granted leave.
Embarrassment and shame now burned in the pit of your stomach, heated your skin and left an acrid taste in the back of your throat, each time you stood at his side. The glances shared between the ladies of the court, the whispers you knew would inevitably follow - blaming you for not yet giving him an heir, for not being enough to keep him from straying - needed at your already frayed nerves.
Believing that he ever loved you was foolish and you were reminded of your delusion with every pitying glance you were spared.
Now, despite the silence that stretched unbroken for nearly an hour, instead of pitying glances, you felt the weight of Aegon’s gaze upon your skin intermittently. Violet eyes observed your stillness, watching with an uncharacteristic intensity you’d never seen directed at you before, and you wondered if that was worse. However, before you could wish for an interruption - someone to step in and save you - Aegon finally placed his cup onto the table.
“What troubles you, dear wife?” Though his words were beginning to slur, there was still a coherence to his speech that sometimes surprised you. “I’ve been here a while and you’ve yet to turn a page.”
“I believe I chose the wrong volume,” you sighed. The lie fell from your lips easily - unwilling to confess that it was the weight of his attention that distracted you, his very presence that left you unable to concentrate on the words you wanted desperately to read - as you lifted your head to meet his intense gaze. His attention remained on your face, eyes searching for something, as you placed a ribbon between the pages and placed the book onto the table, far from his glass. “This one is… dull.”
“They’re all histories written by maesters,” he reminded you with a laugh that rang a touch hollow, a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Dull is expected, is it not?”
Though Aegon could be kind to you - when he so desired - and once took an interest in what interested you, you were often reminded that you had little in common. Aemond was the studious brother, well-versed in the histories and philosophy, while Aegon found it all dreadful. Where Aemond could spend days locked away in the library and never grow bored, Aegon had only read what was required of him as a boy - sometimes - and only occasionally listened when you read aloud to him in the early days of your marriage.
“Perhaps,” you allowed, after a moment of thought. “Some of the stories about the Conqueror have been interesting,” you defended, “but Aemond assured me this was a favorite of his.” With a shrug, you leaned back into the cushion of the couch and admitted, “We must have different tastes.”
Aegon laughed, a derisive sound that made you frown as his eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t place so quickly you almost considered it a trick of the light. He reached for his glass once more and swallowed a scoff. “Of course you do,” he exclaimed, with a touch of venom you were unused to, “you are married to me and he can barely stand to be in the same room these days.”
With a sigh, you reached for your own glass. “That’s not true,” you reminded him, though not as gently as you supposed you should have. “Aemond’s part of the small council and plans with you, not over you. He’s loyal to you.”
“All one could ask of a guard dog,” he declared, lifting his cup, though there was little bite to the insult - as if it were spoken reflexively, rather than intentionally.
“I wish you wouldn’t antagonize Aemond,” you chided, almost wincing as you heard an echo of Alicent in your words. “He means well. He’s trying to help. All of your family is.”
The moment the words left your lips, you regretted them. Though you had grown uncomfortable in his presence, you did not wish for him to leave - not really. But you could see the flicker of warmth that lingered in Aegon’s gaze, the slight fondness he still regarded you with, cool completely as you uttered your admonishment. However, before you could apologize, blame the comment on your exhaustion, Aegon stood.
“As I’m often reminded,” he scoffed, though he attempted to cover it with a smile. “I’ll leave you to your dull volume, then. Goodnight, my queen,” he bade, smile tight and not reaching his eyes.
“Goodnight, Your Grace.”
Aegon bristled at the formal title - one you’d taken to calling him earnestly, no longer in jest as it had been the first few moons of your marriage - but paused only for a moment before striding out of the room. Behind him, the doors to your chambers fell shut with a heavy noise and you were, once again, alone with your thoughts.
For a few long moments, you sat with only the crackling of the hearth to fill the quiet. Somehow, the silence felt more overwhelming without Aegon’s presence, more oppressive, and you hated that you missed him.
Though you now felt a pinprick of bitter shame in his presence, you still felt guilty any time you pushed him away. Aegon was the one who began to pull away from, to place a wall between you and dismiss your attempts at affection, but you loved him. Despite realizing the few precious moments he spent with you alone were forced upon him, you cherished them, just the same - regardless of how ill they now made you feel.
To be the center of his attention, if only for a moment, still filled you with an awful, overwhelming, lovesick feeling. It once was the highlight of your day, the bright spot in an otherwise dull pattern of needlework and gossip. Now, however, the once bright light only served to further illuminate your own foolishness.
The giddy feeling was now replaced entirely by a roiling in the pit of your stomach, a bitter nausea that heated your skin and made your head spin, and you couldn’t help yourself as you stood to pull on a heavy cloak.
Despite being queen, you often felt an afterthought. There were only a handful of guards lingering near your chambers - none directly in front of your door - as most were keeping an eye on Aegon, Helaena, Helaena and Aemond’s children, or Alicent. It was easy to slip past them undetected and trace a familiar path through the halls.
At night, the Keep was almost peaceful.
Though a few lords lingered about, and others were on their way, there always seemed to be less pressure at night. Most were too deep in their cups or too weary from a long day to pay you any mind. The guards who kept watch at night were often less steadfast than their day-shift counterparts and most ladies who sent you pitying looks - or openly lusted after your husband - were locked away in their rooms.
Wandering about the Keep under the cover of darkness had become something of a routine for you and, with practiced ease, you made your way through the labyrinthine halls to the riverwalk.
Standing in the cool night air, the breeze surrounding you and filling your lungs with the familiar salt scent of the sea, soothed a touch of the homesickness you sometimes felt. King’s Landing was not White Harbor, not even close, but standing atop the riverwalk, you were able to pretend and felt your heart begin to calm. It was the hour of ghosts, a quiet time where the full moon shed bright white light over the bay and illuminated the water below just enough for you to watch it crash onto the shore.
There was no way of knowing how long you stood there. The only real measure of the passage of time was how cold your hands had grown. However, you realized that it had been long enough for your absence to be noticed as the clink of armor approached.
“Your Grace,” Criston began, voice carrying on the cool breeze as he stopped a few steps from where you stood, “the hour grows late and the night grows cold. You should return to your chambers.”
The question was no longer where you’d gone. Criston himself was the first to find you on the riverwalk one night, shortly after Aegon summoned you to his chambers in a drunken attempt to produce an heir that left you wondering why he would willingly bed everyone but you. The question was now how long you would remain.
Despite being from the North and used to far colder nights - longing for them, even - as winter began to creep into King’s Landing, Criston seemed to allow you less and less time in the cool night air.
“Why?”
If the question was unexpected, or confusing, Criston did not let on. Instead, he stepped closer - moonlight glinting off the silver of his armor with every step - and sighed as he watched your fingers trace the smooth edge of the stone barrier. “You are the queen,” he reminded you, simply, as if it were answer enough.
“I am the queen,” you agreed, voice quiet amidst the crashing of waves. A rueful smile twisted your lips as you shook your head. “Though, it is easy to forget.”
With a quiet sigh, Criston turned to face the water and watched the waves crash silently for a long moment. There was an affinity you shared with Criston, an understanding as he knew Aegon better than most - and regarded you with an affection similar to the one Alicent held for you. He seemed to share your disenchantment with life in King’s Landing, life in the Red Keep, and did not turn to face you as he asked, “Trouble sleeping again?”
“Mm. I do not wish to rely on the maester’s dreamwine to find sleep. The cool air helps. I apologize if I’ve caused worry.” A small part of you doubted anyone else knew you were missing - certainly not Aegon, for he was likely half-conscious in the throne room or already hidden inside the walls of a brothel by now - but you felt obliged to apologize, anyway.
Criston nodded, remained silent for a beat, and then pressed for another answer - the one he truly wanted. “What troubles you, Your Grace?”
Despite yourself, you found it easy to admit your upset to Criston. If anyone understood, you supposed it was him.
“I was excited to marry Aegon,” you admitted, a mirthless laugh escaping as you lifted your gaze to the moon. “I knew little of him but when we met, I found him charming. He made me laugh and he’s handsome. When he chooses to be, he can be good. Upon meeting, I forgot why I was afraid to marry, and my mother gave me reason to believe it would be… joyous, I suppose, too marry someone like him, to live in a place like this. I imagined a life that, looking back, could have never been mine.”
“Life rarely happens the way we imagine it will,” Criston reminded you, though it was gentler than you were used to. “We live the lives the gods see fit to allow us.” Those words, though spilling from his lips, were Alicent Hightower’s and you struggled to bite back a laugh as you recognized that you both pined for someone whose love eluded you. You wondered if this was the life he imagined for himself - a Kingsguard, hopelessly in love with someone who would never love him back.
“In that case,” you began, shoulders rounding as you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I can’t help but wonder what I’ve done wrong, what I’ve done to anger the gods so.” Your voice faded to a near whisper, lost in the wind, and Criston stepped closer to hear you as you continued. “I have no children to attend to, though if I did, there would be a nurse dedicated to them. They would not being to me, but to the realm.”
Another sigh escaped your lips as you blinked back the tears stinging at the backs of your eyes. “My only friends are two members of my own family. The rest of the ladies at court all cower in fear of my goodbrother or regard me with pity because of my husband’s reputation. And my husband…” Another laugh, this one bitter and harsher than you intended, escaped as you shook your head. “My husband drowns in his cups or remains too lost in the streets of silk to even consider wanting for an heir.”
With a hand brought to your cheek, brushing away traitorous tears that fell despite your best efforts, you felt a lump of emotion form in your throat. “Why does he seem so eager to bed every woman in King’s Landing, save his own wife?” Your voice broke, betraying your hurt, and you could see Criston tense beside you - uncertain, though hurting for you. The comment lingered for a moment before you shook your head once more and cleared your throat. “I apologize, Ser Criston,” you sighed, as the realization sank in. “Please forgive my outburst. It was inappropriate and I did not mean to… Perhaps you’re right, it is time for me to retire.”
“Your Grace,” Criston began, hesitant as he always seemed to be where matters of Aegon’s indiscretions were concerned, “it is understandable that you feel this way. Your patience has been impressive. Aegon is… he is young, but he will settle. Just give him time.”
“I’ve given him nearly a year,” you declared, suddenly angry as you turned to face him. “I knew, entering into this marriage, that it was little more than a political arrangement. I am but a pawn in the games of men. But I thought I might at least find a companion in Aegon. Now, I wish it did not feel so obvious that he cares little for me. I don’t want a husband to settle for me,” you declared, stronger than you intended. “I want a husband to want me, to desire me, to care about me. Aegon, I fear, barely knows I exist.”
A moment passed in which you sought to regain control of your own temper, your own tongue, and just as quickly as your anger arrived, it began to ebb. Exhaustion replaced it and you wrapped your cloak tighter around your body as you gave Criston a rueful smile. “Some in the realm consider that a blessing.”
Without waiting for his reply, you turned and set off in the direction of your chambers.
Criston followed close behind, remaining silent as you stepped through the halls much quicker than you had earlier in the night. It was only when you approached the door of your chambers that he spoke.
“For all your concerns,” Criston began, voice low and wide brown eyes meeting yours as he held the door open for you, “know that Aegon loves you deeply. It may not be visible in the way you wish, but it is there, in his heart.”
It struck you how deeply, how truly, Criston seemed to believe the words himself. There was an earnestness in his tone, a hope that you might believe him, and you desperately wanted to. But the best you could do was offer him a sad smile. “If only that were true,” you hummed. “Goodnight, Ser Criston.”
With the heavy, wooden thud of your door closing, you found yourself blinking back tears and hoping that the coming days would distract your husband enough to give you time to gather yourself. Every whisper convinced you of something different - that Aegon could someday love you, that he had no use for you, that he meant well, that he wished he was married to anyone else - but falling apart would do you no good.
The swirling thoughts in your head, the bitterness gathering in the pit of your stomach, had you on edge but it would only hurt you in the long run. You would have time to try and make sense of it all later, after the tourney ended and the Keep once again returned to its normal state of being.
For the moment, you could only hope that Aegon himself would remain distant.
Aegon was certainly distracted by his responsibility as king. Council meetings, petitions, private meetings; all took up valuable moments he once might’ve spared for you. He wasn’t fond of any of it, though he suffered through at the behest of his mother and grandsire. Like his father, however, he found a certain joy in hosting. Feasts, tourneys, dances; Aegon enjoyed them all in a way that you and his siblings did not. Merriment pleased him as he found himself at the center of attention, amidst happy revelers and praise directed at him.
Though the tourney was being held to celebrate Daeron’s nameday, Aegon still found himself at the center of every conversation. And his youngest brother, like Aemond, allow him to do so without complaint.
And while you would have preferred engaging in conversation with the other Targaryen siblings - or, perhaps, Aegon’s Velaryon nephews, or even the ladies who pitied you - you dutifully remained at Aegon’s side as he drank and laughed and feasted with lords whose names he could barely remember.
The few ladies surrounding you remained polite, though you could see their shared glances every time Aegon’s attention drifted from you. Regardless, he remained as close to his best behavior as he could and kept his hand in yours as Lady Redwyne offered you a smile that even he could see through. Aegon squeezed your hand - in comfort, you supposed, though you refused to read into it, even as your heart leapt - as she opened her mouth.
“How are you faring in the South, Your Grace? I imagine King’s Landing is wholly different from White Harbor,” she declared, taking a sip from her glass as she awaited your answer.
“It has been an adjustment, to be sure,” you returned, as polite and pleasant as you found yourself capable after hours of cordiality with women who openly snickered at your marriage. “But it is nice to experience a change of scenery. There is no shortage of excitement in King’s Landing.”
“An understatement,” Lord Tyrell declared, laughing as he shared a conspiratorial look with Aegon that you didn’t very much like. “Though, one can assume you’re glad of the coming winter,” he continued, gesturing to the gown you wore - a lighter fabric, compared to the warmer gowns the other ladies had opted for in response to the biting chill that settled into the air.
“An understatement,” Aegon parroted, tipping his cup for a cupbearer to fill. “She’d spend all night out in the cold, staring out the water, if she could,” he revealed. “Cole has to drag her in at night,” he continued, and you felt a sharp pang of disappointment as you realized Criston had informed him of your whereabouts.
“A reprieve from the warmth of the Keep,” you agreed, smiling politely - even as you couldn’t help but wonder what else Criston had shared with your husband. “And a marvelous view of the Bay,” you continued, pulling your hand as naturally from Aegon’s grasp as you were able, unwilling to spark any questioning looks.
“A marvelous view, indeed,” Lord Tyrell agreed, a salacious smile curving his lips as his gaze dipped to the curved neckline of your gown. Though your stomach roiled at the way he glanced at you, you kept your expression neutral as he continued. “And a wondrous place to share with a child, if the gods should allow it.” A few heads turned, then, all certain of the direction Lord Tyrell intended to steer the conversation as you reached for your wine. “We are all thankful to be celebrating Prince Daeron’s nameday, but cannot help wondering when we might convene to celebrate the birth of the crown’s heir.”
Luckily, before you were forced to offer a polite response to the inquiry made countless times in such a short timespan, Daeron appeared at your side and offered a brilliant smile. “I would be honored if the queen would grant me a dance,” he declared, glancing first at Aegon for permission before offering a hand when he was granted it.
Eagerly, you grasped Daeron’s outstretched hand and allowed him to lead you into the throng of people - still within reach of the guards and within Aegon’s line of sight. “Thank you,” you sighed, allowing Daeron to take the lead with a practiced ease. “While I’ve enjoyed having so much excitement around the Keep, I’m not quire sure how you deal with all the fine people in the Reach regularly.”
Daeron laughed, violet eyes glimmering in the light and untroubled by life in King’s Landing as he moved gracefully in time with the music. You almost envied his weightlessness, his freedom, as he revealed, “Thank the Seven, my days are spent training. Conveniently, I am exhausted any time there is to be a dinner.”
With a hum, you asked, “Do you think one of the guards might train me, so I could have the same excuse?”
“No.” He twirled you, smile bright as he watched the soft green fabric of your gown shift with each motion, and kept pace with the other dancers easily. “But you’re the queen. You can do as you please.”
“If only that were true, my prince.” Despite your best efforts at levity, the statement sounded as disheartened as you felt, a note of bitterness - acrid and biting in a way you had no desire to be with the youngest of Aegon’s siblings - laced every word. However, before you could apologize, Daeron’s smile softened into something understanding.
“If only,” he agreed with a wistful shake of his head. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what life is like here,” he admitted, not bothering to pay any attention to the others hoping to cut in. “But I do hope you can find joy in it someday.”
“Tell Aemond and I will adamantly deny I said anything,” you began, smiling conspiratorially at Daeron, “but I do believe you’re my favorite goodbrother.” When he grinned, smile bright and boyish in a way that reminded you of Aegon - painfully similar to the way he smiled at you so early in your courtship when you complimented him - you returned it with a soft smile of your own. “I’m happy Oldtown has treated you so well but very glad you’re here to celebrate with us.”
“I suggested a progress to mother and grandsire,” he announced, grin brightening when you blinked. “Aegon’s never visited the Hightower and grandsire was inclined to agree that he should. While my brother entertains Lord Tyrell and the other fine people of the Reach,” he parroted, laughing as you rolled your eyes at him, “I’ll give you a tour. Perhaps we’ll even find a few new volumes for you to bring back to King’s Landing.”
That anyone - let alone the youngest of your husband’s siblings who’d only been at court a few short days - could see that you needed a respite from the halls of the Red Keep and would advocate for it pressed a weight to your chest in a way that might’ve concerned you had Aegon not become so oblivious to your distress.
For a brief moment, the time it took for the music to change and you both to begin the new routine with practiced ease, you wondered if anyone else could see what he saw so easily or if his distance from the Keep gave him clarity others did not have.
Idly, you wondered if your husband’s family had all become so blinded by the mundane - by their own gilded cages - that your growing discomfort was simply regarded as part of the life you now lead. There was nothing anyone could do about your discomfort, nothing that could be said to Aegon that hadn’t been repeated a thousand times over. This was now your life, as it had always been their’s, so they simply allowed you to suffer in silence, as they did.
Though they tried to placate you, it was often confined to the Keep. They never gave you the freedom to wander, to disappear when the walls of your gilded cage began to close in on you, and you wondered if it was because they never considered leaving.
Regardless, you were touched by Daeron’s considerations. “I no longer believe you are my favorite goodbrother,” you announced, trying and failing to hide the emotion in your voice. “I know it for a fact.”
Daeron’s gaze softened for a moment, violet eyes alight with an understanding wise beyond his years - a kindness, an empathy ingrained in him by Gwayne, you realized - before he leaned in conspiratorially. “Let me further establish my place in your heart by promising to share word that the queen regrets her absence but fell ill with a sudden headache and decided to retire for much needed rest before the tourney begins,” he offered, and it was only then that you realized how close to the door he’d managed to guide you both.
“Well, now you’re just unabashedly courting the favor of the queen,” you teased, the words weak though the smile you offered him was genuine. “Thank you, Daeron,” you whispered, squeezing his arm in a gesture of appreciation.
“I hope your rest revitalizes you, my queen,” he bade, “so that you might attend the tourney.” His voice carried just far enough to attract the attention of the few lords and ladies surrounding you and, with a nod of acknowledgement, he allowed you to slip through the small group near the door before turning to pass along your regrets to Aegon.
Despite how exhausted you suddenly felt as you left the feast - the noise from the hall fading into a muffled cacophony with every step you took - sleep was the last thing on your mind. Since the arrival of the first lord, your days had suddenly become filled with noise, an endless, mindless stream of sound that deeply unsettled you. Though the Keep was never silent, it was mostly tolerable.
Now, however, you knew that every place you sought solace was like to be filled with lords and ladies from every corner of the realm. The gardens, the courtyard, the entire Keep swarmed with people. There was no solace to be found in your usual perch atop the riverwalk, not tonight - not after Aegon’s laughter - so you opted for a place you knew few would venture.
The library was, even in the bright light of day, usually deserted.
Very few people, aside from the maesters - and a septa or two - set foot in the dim room. Even when the Keep was filled to the brim with people, it was rare to find anyone in the darkness sifting through volumes kept in the royal collection.
As such, you were pleased to find yourself alone for the first time in hours as you lowered yourself into one of the chairs scattered about the room.
For a few long moments, you were left alone with your thoughts. There were very few that many any sense, all jumbled into a cacophony of noise that did, unfortunately, cause an ache to form at your temples. It felt as if each thought was made of smoke, impossible to catch and examine in the way you often felt necessary to make sense of them all, and you released a heavy sigh as you sank deeper into the chair and closed your eyes.
“Quite concerning how quickly your headache appeared, Your Grace. Though this is not the place to sleep it off.”
With a start, your eyes flew open and a hand lifted to your chest as you inhaled sharply.
Aemond stood in the doorway, illuminated by the dim orange glow of candlelight, and studied you with an intense understanding you’d started to grow used to. The green leather he wore looked black in the low light and you sighed as you settled.
“By the gods, Aemond,” you huffed, shooting him a look that might’ve caused anyone else to wither but seemed to have no effect on him, “you frightened me.” As he stepped into the room, moving to sink into one of the chairs across from you, you sighed. “I do have a headache,” you defended, lifting the hand from your chest to your aching temple, “and I did not intend to sleep here. I just needed a moment alone. What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to check on my goodsister,” he declared, lips curving into a smirk as you rolled your eyes. “I only wanted to see that you were alright, my queen. And remind you that you shouldn’t leave accompanied. There’s no telling who might be lurking in the darkness.”
“I’m afraid you’re the only one who worries about such things. I doubt anyone else would notice my absence,” you declared, tipping your head to rest on the edge of the chair. “What are you really doing here, Aemond?”
Though your comment earned a frown, thoughtful and calculating, Aemond ignored it for the moment. “The same thing you are; escaping the mindless, drunken chatter of our king and his esteemed guests,” he declared wearily, tipping his head to study you - daring you to deny your true reason for leaving the feast.
There was nothing you could say that would convince him otherwise and, besides, you made it a habit not to lie to Aemond. He always seemed to find the truth in the end; it was easier this way. So, instead of playing coy, you simply asked, “How did you know where to find me?” When he raised a brow, you barely refrained from rolling your eyes once more. “Stupid question,” you admitted, sighing as you raked a hand over the intricate fabric of your gown in an attempt to distract yourself.
“Your absence is noticed, by more than me,” he declared, voice quiet in the still of the room.
When he offered no elaboration, you heaved a heavier sigh and asked, “Is Aegon still entertaining Lord Tyrell?”
Pursed lips served as your only indicator of Aemond’s contempt as he hummed. “Hatching a plan to escape the Keep and explore the streets of silk, no doubt,” he declared casually, only pausing to gauge your reaction. When you swallowed, he continued. “Lord Tyrell’s appetites are… notorious.”
“No more so than Aegon’s, I’d wager.” Aemond tipped his head in silent agreement as you sighed and stood. As you began to pace, a slow back and forth across the stone floor, your goodbrother’s violet eye tracked your every step as he waited for you to continue.
“I try,” you began, with a shake of your head, “relentlessly, it sometimes feels, but it all seems so pointless. I heard the whispers before we were married, there is no woman in the real that hasn’t. But I hoped, naively, that he might change when we were wed. Foolish, I now realize, but I still don’t understand why he seems so particularly… displeased with me.”
As you paused, inhaling a shaking breath, Aemond sighed. “Aegon is a fool,” he declared, strong and certain in a way you only wished you could be, “though I believe you knew that when you were wed.” Despite yourself, you cut your eyes at him - discouraging the insult, though you knew it to be true - and he repented with a tip of his head. “But you are as much a fool as he if you think he is displeased with you.”
With a frown, you continued your pacing. “What other explanation is there? I care, more deeply than I suppose I should, that he continues to spend his nights haunting the streets of silk. But it is more painful to hear the whispers at court. Those women who denigrate me, claim it is some fault of mine own that he strays - that there is no heir yet… I know I shouldn’t care, but by the gods, I do. We have lain together only a handful of times while he’s bedded every whore in King’s Landing thrice over by now. Eleven moons have passed and we have no child. I tried, in the beginning, but he’s turned me away at every chance lately.”
Another moment, another beat of silence, as you blinked back the traitorous tears that you refused to allow Aemond to see. You swallowed the emotion settling at the back of your throat and shook your head. “Do you know how humiliating it is, to know that my own husband would rather lie with every whore on the streets of silk than take me to bed? I just wish he would tell me what it is he dislikes, what displeases him, so that I might try and change it.”
Aemond sighed heavily and you could feel his intense gaze burning into your skin. You knew that if you looked at him, you would break - the dam keeping your emotion at bay would burst and tears would flood your eyes - so you kept your gaze cast to your shoes and waited, with an anxious need, for his response.
If there was anyone who might understand, anyone who might offer you the truth, it was Aemond.
As he stood, your breath caught in your throat. With only a few steps, Aemond met you in the center of the room and urged you to lift your head. “There is nothing wrong with you. If anyone needs to change, it is Aegon. You are… formidable,” he declared, unflinching as he took in the way your eyes shimmered in the dim light. “That is a compliment I do not spare lightly. Aegon, despite his foolishness, has never wanted for anything. Except, I believe, to be worthy of you."
The declaration settled over the library with a finality only Aemond seemed to possess, a certainty that nearly made you believe him without question, and the words reverberated in your mind for a long moment. Aemond granted you silence, understanding as your jumbled thoughts began to make even less sense in a desperate bid to make something of his certainty, and you inhaled sharply as you tried to follow a single train of thought for longer than a moment.
However, before you could beg for clarity - for him to speak plainly, as if he were explaining the concept to one of his children - your sister’s voice interrupted. “Apologies,” she began, sparing a glance between you and Aemond with a look you recognized as something akin to regret. “The king has asked for you to visit him in his chambers, sister. He was told you did not feel well,” she announced with a sigh, “but he insists.”
“Very well,” you acquiesced with a sigh of your own. “I can see myself to his chambers. If you could make sure a bath will be waiting for me when I return to my own, you can retire for the night.”
With a pitying look you did not much care for - especially not from your youngest sister - she nodded. “Of course. Goodnight, sister."
As she took her leave, Aemond hummed once more. “And here you thought him displeased,” he teased, lips twitch with the ghost of a smirk. “He could be perusing the streets of silk with Lord Tyrell but he wants for his wife. How touching.”
“You are insufferable,” you declared, turning to make the journey to Aegon’s chambers, though there was no heat - save for a fond warmth - in the statement.
“Yet you seek my counsel and company,” he reminded you. “If I am insufferable, it is a burden you willingly bear.”
“Gladly,” you corrected, easily. “A burden,” you confirmed, though Aemond knew you did not truly consider him one, “but one I gladly bear. Goodnight, Aemond. Bid Helaena goodnight for me, as well.”
Despite the growing resentment you felt toward Aegon, the bitter sadness that started to fill your heart, your found a sort of comfort in his family. They all seemed determined that yours would be a happy marriage, no matter the doubt you now felt, and you appreciated their efforts. Though it seemed to be something of a coping mechanism for them, brushing truth aside for something happier - something lighter, even if it was unrealistic - it brightened your considerably gloomy outlook in a way you needed.
Though you were not a Targaryen by blood, they all stood with you - sheltered you from the outside world, even if they could not shelter you from one of their own.
And as you stepped through the halls in the only vaguely familiar direction of Aegon’s chambers, you wondered if he would even be awake to greet you - a cynical thought that once would’ve never crossed your mind as you rushed to Aegon as soon as he asked.
Much to your surprise, however, he was wide awake and waiting near the foot of his bed for your arrival.
“My queen of ice,” Aegon slurred, grinning at you as you entered his chambers. The doors fell closed behind you, the hall and the guard disappearing, and you bit back a sigh as you stepped deeper into the dimly lit room. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? Green suits you,” he complimented, though the words were broken by a hiccup and a scrutiny that you believed to be his curiosity as to whether the gown was one he’d given you.
“You have,” you assured him, though not a word of compliment had been uttered in longer than you cared to admit - the sentiment in his words now unsettling your stomach rather than setting your skin alight. You also did not bother to remind him that the green you wore was the color of your own house, not Hightower green, as you watched him pour himself another cup. “Perhaps you should rest, Your Grace. It has been a long day, filled with excitement. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
“Not until I have done my duty as your husband,” he declared, before downing the contents of the cup in a long gulp. “Lost count of how many times I was asked when there might be a feast welcoming an heir to the throne.”
A small sense of satisfaction lingered for a moment - at least you were not the only one facing the repeated question. However, the satisfaction was short lived as conflicting emotions surrounding lying with Aegon began to cloud your mind.
For nearly a year, all you wanted was for him to want you. With each day that passed, you hoped - despite yourself - that he might seek you out and offer some of the affection you once received. You hoped that he might spare you the most fleeting glance, the softest touch, the smallest smile. It made you feel pathetic, but you wanted it so desperately.
Anything Aegon wished to give you, you realized you would gladly take.
However, now that he was offering you something of the affection you dreamt of each night you spent alone, the throbbing in your temples grew greater and the churning in the pit of your stomach nearly overwhelmed you. Thoughts - wondering if he would lay with you and then depart the Keep with Lord Tyrell, anyway; wondering if he might someday slip up, call you the name of one of his favored whores; wondering what might happen if you did fall pregnant, if he no longer had a reason to call for you - swirled so quickly that they stole the air from your lungs.
The room felt as if it were spinning around you and, for a moment, you felt drunker than Aegon seemed. Regardless, you could not bring yourself to deny him.
As pathetic as it made you feel, you grasped the opportunity to be closed to him with both hands.
“As you wish, Your Grace.” The acquiescence was soft, spoken in a breathless whisper to keep your voice from breaking, as you stepped deeper into his chambers. Despite the glassy sheen to his violet eyes, a flash of something dark - something angry, all too aware - flashed in them.
“I wish for you to call me anything else,” he sighed, pouring himself another cup of wine. The words were sharper than you imagined he intended, exhausted in a way you’d never heard him sound, and you felt yourself falter.
Breathing his name had once been your greatest joy. Calling him ‘Aegon’ or ‘husband,’ where others addressed him so formally, made you feel as if you had at least one piece of him others did not. Now, however, it brought you little comfort as you knew there was nothing you had others wanted for. You wondered, only for a moment, what the other women called him, before you bit the inside of your cheek to anchor yourself to the present.
There was no longer anything you possessed that was solely yours. No matter how badly your heart ached at the thought, no matter how angry it made you, there was nothing left. The only thing you could even hope for was a child born from your own body, though you knew even that would belong to the realm first, as Aegon’s heir.
With a swallow, you reminded yourself there was no sense losing the moment. Aegon wanted you, if only because he had to, and you would take it. You steeled yourself, willed yourself to remain upright and calm, and resumed your path.
“Very well, my king,” you agreed, stepping closer to the bed - unable to make yourself call him anything but. The possessive ‘my’ seemed to soften the title some, deemed it appropriate somewhere in the recess of his wine-muddled mind, and those violet eyes cooled some. They were beginning to glaze over, beginning to lose their focus, as he beckoned you closer.
Aegon drank deep from the cup, a few drops of wine escaping down his chin, and you sighed quietly as your fingers tugged at the intricate laces of your gown to keep from reaching for him. You wanted to, wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush the deep red from his pale skin, but you were uncertain how he would react.
However, before you could make much progress, Aegon pushed himself away from the bed and closed the distance between you.
Standing so close to Aegon left your heart beating wildly in your chest. You could feel it throbbing in your temples,  in the balls of your feet that ached after spending the day standing to receive guests, thudding heavily against your ribcage. The scent of him filled your nose - the soaps and oils used earlier to prepare him for guests, the heady combination of wine and dragon fire that lingered on his skin - and it brought an ache to your chest.
Though it once might’ve made you swoon, brought a girlish warmth to your skin and sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, it was now almost entirely unpleasant. As badly as you wanted this, wanted him, you also wanted to turn and run. But you kept yourself standing and schooled your face into an impassive mask as his fingers tugged at the laces.
Even drowning in his cups, he managed to make quick work of the ties that held your gown together - and, bitterly, the only thought you found yourself capable of forming was a question of how much practice that had taken.
Long ago, the first few times he’d taken you, there was some semblance of effort. Though you knew he did not want you, did not yet love you - though you still had hope then that he someday might - he tried. He kissed you softly, caressed your skin, whispered compliments in the dim of the room.
Now, he could barely keep himself upright as he helped you out of your gown.
Despite his drunkenness, Aegon still managed to remove the gown easily. The laces came undone quickly and it fell to the floor, piled into a heap around your feet. He stepped away, just enough for you to step out of the fabric and climb into his bed, before placing a knee onto the bed to follow.
Only then did he pause, seeming to remember himself. He stepped away for a moment, searching the small table near the privacy screen, and grabbed the oil the maesters had given you in hopes that it might aid the process.
A small part of you resented it - it hadn’t been necessary, in the beginning - while the larger part was thankful. It made the act more tolerable, easier to withstand, easier to pretend that the want was mutual and Aegon was not simply ‘doing his duty.’ 
Aegon tossed the vial onto the bed and peeled himself out of his clothes. The undershirt and breeches were tossed away, along with his small clothes, before he returned his weight to the mattress. He was half-hard, another surprise with how much he drank, and you contented yourself with watching as he reached for the vial and poured a few drops into his palm.
You were conflicted as to whether his refusal to glance at your face should be seen as an insult or a kindness as he worked himself to full hardness.
The man above you was somewhat unsteady, wobbling precariously as he climbed over you, and you had half a mind to reach out and steady him. However, you kept your hands fisted tightly in the sheets as he absentmindedly reached for your thigh with a slick hand and settled between your now spread legs.
Aegon’s eyes closed as he situated the head of his cock at your entrance, brows furrowing, and you followed suit as he pressed forward.
Unable to help yourself, a noise - louder than you would’ve liked - escaped your throat at the stretch. It had been nearly two moons since you last laid together and you couldn’t make much sense of how you felt in the moment as his weight descended upon you.
“Keep your voice down,” he slurred, shushing you - though you knew he would soon grow louder. “There’s still a feast going on.”
None of the guests would hear you, the feast was far enough away. If they did, it wouldn’t have been a bad thing - perhaps they might stop asking when to expect an heir, they might stop whispering that he refused to lie with you. But you relented and kept quiet, as he ordered.
The act itself was not wholly unpleasant, not when you relished in being the center of Aegon’s attention if only for a moment, but it was nothing like you’d hoped.
Aegon did not love you, nor did he desire you. The realization was enough to have you counting down the moments until you were allowed to return to your own chambers.
However, though the moment was less than idea, you held it dear. Despite yourself, as Aegon found a sloppy rhtzhym, you reached for him and held him close. One hand lifted to his hair, clean and soft as he’d been in the presence of so many guests and needed to keep up with appearances, while the other pressed to his chest. You could feel the beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, rapid but steady - or, maybe it was your own, echoing in your ears - and the way his chest rose and fell in search of breath.
Pleasing you was not his objective, nor was it even remotely on his mind, so you distracted yourself with watching him seek his own release.
Though you hated it, you still felt your heart beat a touch faster at the sight of him.
There was plenty of Targaryen beauty evident in Aegon - his fair hair, his violet eyes, his beautiful features - but there was something else that captivated you. Aemond was angular, fierce, serious; Helaena, soft and bright, with mournful moments of melancholy interspersed; Daeron, a mixture of both, blessed with a lingering, youthful ignorance his siblings were not granted.
Aegon, however, was something else entirely.
Even at his happiest, there was something so sad about him. His eyes, perhaps, where the smile never quite reached - holding a depth you were not privy to understanding - or the frown he wore so often when he thought no one was looking. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, more so now than ever, but you’d long ago given up the hope that he might someday allow you to cary some of his burden.
Though the entire world had been placed at his feet, he wanted for something. If only he would tell you, you knew that you would provide it without a second thought.
In the pursuit of his own pleasure, Aegon still did not look entirely happy. There was a pinch to his brows that never quite left, a faraway look in his eyes that made your chest ache in the most unpleasant way, and a seemingly never-ending war waging in his mind as to whether he should touch you or not.
Hands, calloused from years of dragon riding - and the occasional session with a sword, though he’d long since given lose up - hovered near your skin. His violet eyes were conflicted, uncertain, and you could see his hands fluttering about before he settled on placing them near you. When he moved, his skin brushed yours and that seemed to be enough for him in his altered state. The weight of your own touch against his skin was something he leaned into, something he accepted eagerly, and you felt as if you could cry as he decided against returning the gesture.
However, you weren’t given long to dwell as his thrusts grew erratic after only a few short moments.
The time you spent together grew less and less frequent, as did the time it took him to ‘do his duty’ as your husband. With only a few thrusts, he buried himself deep and spilled inside of you, pressing himself close enough to steal the air from your lungs.
Disheveled blonde curls filled your vision as he leaned forward. Aegon stared at you, violet eyes clearly and blinking, and, for a brief moment, you felt a sliver of hope that he might kiss you.
It stung only a little when he did not.
“Gods,” he sighed,” leaning forward to press his face into the crook of your neck as he attempted to catch his breath. “You really look just like her,” he mumbled, voice slurring with sleep and wine. “Sound like her, too. And smell like her.”
Aegon breathed in deep, inhaling the scent of your hair and skin - perfumed oil doubtlessly dulled to barely any scent after a long day - as your heart began to beat even faster and your stomach clenched. A part of you had no desire to know who he imagined you were, who he pictured beneath him as he pressed his nose into your skin, but you couldn’t help yourself.
“Like who?” If he noticed the shake to your voice, the way your hand trembled in his hair, Aegon said nothing as he hummed.
“My wife,” he answered, lifting his head and blinking bleary eyes at you once more, “the queen. Must be paid well.”
It was a wonder he couldn’t hear the beat of your heart as it threatened to hammer right through the wall of your chest. A thousand conflicting feelings ran through your head all at once. It was you he’d thought of, you he saw, and that was something of a balm for the ache in your heart. However, he thought you were a whore who merely looked like his wife, a whore he’d rather allow warm his bed. 
A question lingered on the tip of your tongue - did he seek out one who looked like you or did he merely find your presence so improbable that he chose the most logical explanation.
Either way, he pulled out and moved away, rolling onto his back beside you. He allowed his head to fall against the pillow and muss his hair. “‘M sure there’re more than I care to imagine that want to fuck her,” he began. “That Tyrell cunt couldn’t take his eyes off her at dinner,” he huffed, eyes closing as he brought a hand up to scrub at his face. “Can’t fault him, though,” he sighed, “she’s beautiful.”
“Then why don’t you lay with her?”
The question escaped before you could consider it, before you could wonder if it was appropriate to ask, but Aegon seemed unbothered.
“Would you fuck me if I didn’t pay you?” Though the question was spoken blandly, meant to prove a point, it made your heart ache. Aegon thought so little of himself and you wondered how much a part you played in his self-doubt.
“I would, my king,” you whispered - you did, you would, if only he wanted you. “Gladly.”
“Don’t deserve it,” he declared, lips parting with a heavy sigh as he reached for the sheets to cover himself. “Leave me,” he ordered, not bothering to open his eyes and spare you another glance. “I want to sleep.”
The question of who he meant, of what he meant - who was undeserving of what? - lingered on the tip of your tongue, but rather than face his ire as he would doubtlessly turn his infamous temper upon you in the moment as he did not recognize you, you climbed out of the bed and pulled your dress on as best as you were able without the help of your handmaidens and slipped out of Aegon’s chambers.
Criston was the only guard lingering in your path - a calculated move, no doubt, to spare you further humiliation - and he dutifully cast his gaze aside as you approached your door. Any other night, he might’ve bid you goodnight, but thankfully, he remained silent as he held the door for you. You were uncomfortable and exhausted and grateful as the door shut with a soft click, plunging you into silence once more.
After bathing - alone, unwilling to allow anyone to see you after spending time with Aegon, too lost in your own thoughts and questioning your own feelings to care about propriety - you climbed into bed and waited for sleep you knew would not come.
The next morning, however,  you awoke with a certain resolve. Following the night you spent with him, the questions that now lingered, you took greater care to keep yourself out of his reach.
Keeping away from him wasn’t all that difficult. Aegon had distanced himself enough that your routines were entirely different, living almost wholly separate lives despite sharing the same home. The only times your paths seemed to cross was in the middle of the day and at dinner.
Though, with the entirety of the realm now watching as you were supposed to be together for appearance sake, you were meticulous with your excuses.
The beginning of the tourney was a joyous affair, celebrated loudly by all in attendance.
With any number of events happening simultaneously, you made it known that you wanted simply to experience it all. Northern tourneys were different, you explained to anyone who asked - though all tourneys paled in comparison to those hosted by the king. This was simply an experience you wanted to remember, and Aegon encouraged your wandering.
There were but a handful of Northerners present - a few minor lords and ladies, two knights, and a handful of cavalrymen - and, while you were disappointed that your family was not among them, you were still glad to see familiar sigils. And, instead of sitting with Aegon in the royal box and watching as the tourney began, you made it a point to visit with those you knew, offering your greetings and welcome, and even a favor to the one knight who boldly asked.
Throughout the day, you wandered.
With your sister by your side, you watched the mummers and the archers, the puppets and the poets. You nursed a cup of wine and, when asked why you were not sitting with Aegon, confessed - feigning sheepishness, an emotion that earned you soft coos of delight - that you did not much care for the sport, that you worried for the knights and took no pleasure in watching them be carted off, injured.
In reality, it was Aegon’s act you did not much care for.
Without the attention of the realm placed solely on the pair of you, he might not’ve noticed your absence. It had taken him days, after all, to find you before the guests began to arrive.
However, this time, it took him only hours.
As the day crawled to an end and you found yourself stepping through the crowd to settle into your seat beside Aegon at dinner.
“Where have you been?” He frowned, paying no mind to the lord he cut off in the midst of a story. “I stopped by your chambers to escort you to dinner. You weren’t there,” he added, almost an afterthought - the words softening what he realized could’ve made you defensive, what could’ve made others suspicious.
“The bay,” you admitted, smiling your thanks at the cupbearer before sipping your wine.
Confusion wrinkled Aegon’s brow as he leaned in to get a better look at you - searching your face for any hint of a joke. “The bay,” he wondered, “why? Was the tourney not entertaining enough?”
“Lady Mormont wished to see it,” you answered, smile patient though you wished to roll your eyes. “It reminds us both a little of home.”
“There is water in the North? I thought it all miserable and frozen.”
When you frowned, incensed by the lord’s quip and the laughter that followed, Aegon sighed and reached for your hand. “It was a jest, my queen,” he soothed you. “I’ve heard stories of the beauty of White Harbor. Grandsire suggested a progress - perhaps we can go to the North and you can show it to me.”
“The Conqueror held court at New Castle three times,” you recalled, a fact you read in a book long before you married Aegon. “I’m sure my father would welcome you as my ancestors welcomed your namesake.”
“Alysanne held court there, I believe,” he declared, almost uncertainly as he glanced to you for confirmation. When you nodded, he hummed - pleased to have remembered his own history, something Aemond could have recounted with startling ease.
“A women’s court,” you confirmed, reaching for your cup with the hand Aegon left free. “I grew up hearing stories of how kind she was and how much the women enjoyed the opportunity to speak and have the queen hear them.”
Daeron, who had taken the spot occupied by Lord Tyrell the previous night, turned to you with a smile. “Perhaps it might be worthwhile to use this gathering to your advantage,” he interjected. “I know some women do not much care for tourneys. Perhaps you could hold court with them, afford them an opportunity to speak directly with the queen.”
“A marvelous idea,” Aegon agreed, squeezing your hand and smiling as he tipped his cup in his brother’s direction. “You’ve sat with me, listening to petitions before. You’re well trained,” he teased. 
“Oh, how wonderful that would be,” Lady Baratheon declared, offering you a knowing smile - easily detecting the discomfort your husband so eagerly ignored. “All of the ladies could gather and share, so that you might know more about the concerns around the realm, Your Grace.”
“It’s settled, then,” Aegon concluded, smiling brightly as he nodded. “A women’s court; a perfect opportunity for my queen to become better acquainted with the women of the realm.”
Of the group, only Daeron seemed to sense your discomfort and you could see the pang of regret in his eyes as you spared him a glance. Regardless, you nodded your agreement and offered a smile to the new sets of eyes now turned to you.
“Of course. Tomorrow, then,” you confirmed, “I shall begin holding court for the women who do not wish to watch the tourney.”
In hindsight, the women’s court was, truly, a marvelous idea.
Though it was not something you wished to be put upon you without notice, there was a desire in you to take a more active role as queen. You grew bored easily, tired of needlework and idle gossip. The books you read were a nice distraction, as were the infrequent High Valyrian lessons your husband’s siblings spared you, but you needed something more.
Spending your time learning more about the plight of the women of the realm made you feel as if you were accomplishing something.
The women’s court also gave you a reason to disappear throughout the day, a reason to avoid Aegon entirely without having to explain yourself to anyone. As your mornings were spent working through the previous day’s findings and dinner was eaten alone - exhausted by the very valid concerns shared by so many women - you never needed to flounder for a reason to seek solitude.
However, that did little to stop the whispers.
From your sister - and your cousin - you heard the few whispers, those who correctly deduced your dedication as an excuse to hide from your husband. But you had little reason to believe that Aegon heard, or cared, about the whispers himself. 
Until he sought you out.
On the third day of the tournament, late into the night - after the feast ended and the lords and ladies had retired for the evening - the door to your chambers flew open at the hour of ghosts.
Aegon, doublet undone and hair mussed, stormed in. His eyes were wild, violet darkened by an emotion you found yourself too exhausted to attempt to read, and his cheeks tinted pink as he stared at you for a long moment. “What have I done?”
The door to your chambers had barely swung shut when the demanding question echoed through the room.
Aegon looked less the part of king and more the part of upset husband as he began pacing before you, only pausing to glance at you incredulously when you flipped a page.
“The offense very likely depends on who is chastising you,” you declared, tone detached, uninterested - despite the unsteady beat of your heart and the sharp inhale you took great care to conceal, “your mother, your brother, or the hand. Perhaps you should ask one of them.” Your exhaustion kept you from standing yourself, from reading too deeply into the situation as you knew there would not be a satisfactory answer, but that seemed to only fuel his upset.
“The offense is yours,” he clarified, resuming his pacing as he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “What have I done to offend you?”
With a sigh, you finally placed the book onto the table and leaned into the couch - just as you’d done only a few days earlier. It was clear that he had no plan to leave without an answer, though you found yourself at a loss for why he thought he’d offended you or why he cared. “I take it Alicent chastised you, then,” you deduced, the only logical answer as you finally lifted your gaze to watch as he stepped evenly - without the drunken sway you so often spotted. “Order the Guard to keep your trips to the streets of silk quieter and she might leave you be.”
Violet eyes narrowed as his brows furrowed in frustration - he seemed more upset that you weren’t listening than by the thought of causing offense. 
“This has nothing to do with my mother,” he insisted, stopping to take a seat in the same chair he’d occupied only days earlier. Now, instead of waiting in silence for you to acknowledge him, his intense stare was accompanied by a frustrated frown. “I’ve done something to offend you but I don’t know what. Tell me, so I can fix it and apologize.”
For a moment, you simply stared at him, attempting to make sense of his sudden line of questioning, his sudden interest in you - in whether he’d offended you, when you both knew he’d spent nearly a year doing little else. If Alicent had not chastised him, if Aemond or Otto or even Criston hadn’t pressed upon him the importance of soothing your aching heart, why did he seem so rattled?
“If your no one has reproached you,” you finally began, words slow and deliberate, your confusion evident, “what makes you think you’ve done something to offend me?”
Aegon huffed a frustrated sigh as he gestured to where you sat, glass of wine, a stack of papers, and a book on the table. “You’ve been avoiding me. This is the first I’ve seen of you in days.”
With a sweeping glance around your chambers - at the papers and the book, at the gown waiting to be worn for the next day of court - you blinked at him. “I’ve been entertaining the ladies of the realm,” you reminded him, words still  escaping slowly, evenly, even as you raised a brow at the way his knee bounced. “We decided to hold women’s court, like Good Queen Alysanne. I believe you called it a ‘marvelous idea’.” Aegon huffed at the reminder, incensed by your response, and you sighed. “The ladies are glad to spend the day unburdening themselves. I’ve been working through their concerns,” you explained, gesturing to the stack of papers, “discerning which are in need of further attention and which can be solved without the crown’s intervention.”
A moment of silence passed in which Aegon scrutinized the papers before he huffed once more and stood, resuming his pacing. “You’ve been avoiding me long before guests began to arrive,” he declared, nearly startling you as you hadn’t realized he’d noticed. As you blinked, surprised, he shot you a look, something angry - wounded, almost - and shook his head. “Don’t deny what we both know to be true."
“You’ve been busy.” Deflecting blame to him was not how you intended the conversation to go, not when you could see him bristle at the acknowledgement you had, indeed, been avoiding him. So, you added, “I did not wish to add more of a burden.”
Aegon sighed, a defeated sound that you’d never heard, and sat once more. He seemed to consider reaching for the flagon of wine, perhaps even stealing your cup, but thought better of it as he settled into the chair.
Silence enveloped you both for a long moment, thick and unbroken by even the faintest of sounds outside your chambers - by design, you assumed, as Aegon seemed intent on understanding why you’d been avoiding him, for reasons you could not fathom - and you nearly allowed yourself to ask why he seemed so desperate for an answer, when it was he who began the whole ordeal.
Violet eyes studied you, settled on your face and searched for something - anything - in lieu of an answer to an unspoken question, a question even he couldn’t seem to form. You nearly shrank beneath the intensity as Aegon finally uttered, “You are my wife. Nothing about you is burdensome.”
Though the words were soft, sincere in a way you did not expect, you found yourself unable to stop the bubble of laughter that erupted from your throat. “A relief.” The comment was biting, sarcastic in a way you’d never been with Aegon, and he frowned - wounded, violet eyes sad - as he regarded you.
“You do not believe me.” It was not a question and the realization seemed to do little to settle him.
Aegon was not someone you spoke openly with, not someone you shared your feelings with, but you couldn’t help yourself. Exhaustion set in and your desire for propriety was long gone. Instead of feigning acceptance, you simply reached for your wine and offered him a sad smile. “I often feel my presence is little more than a burden your family insists you bear.”
“That’s not true.” A near whisper, though the declaration held far more conviction than you ever imagined Aegon capable of. The hurt was no longer prominent in his sad eyes, replaced, instead, by disbelief - anguish, nearly, that you believed your words to be true. “Surely, you don’t believe that.”
Eager to move on, to keep from sharing your innermost feelings with Aegon in a way that you would surely come to regret when he drunkenly spilled them to the entirety of the realm, you shook your head. “It does not matter what I believe,” you declared, waving a hand to rid yourself of the conversation. “I fear there are more pressing matters at hand than my feelings. Court has been… enlightening.”
For a moment, you feared Aegon may not allow you to move on - that he may dwell on the subject until you broke, shed the tears that stung at the backs of your eyes. He seemed eager to push, to argue, but after a nearly uncomfortable stretch of silence, he finally asked, “What have you learned?”
The question was hollow, detached, and you nearly apologized. Instead, you turned your attention to the stack of notes on the table.
“Every solution the crown offers only seems to create a dozen more problems,” you related, sighing as you poured more wine before nudging the cup across the table toward him. “For every petition answered, a dozen more appear in its place.”
Aegon sighed, momentarily redirected, and reached for the cup with a nod of thanks. “We’re learning the same things, then,” he announced, rubbing at his eyes. “There is not enough grain or land or livestock. The winters are too cold, the summers too harsh, boundary stones are being moved and duels are breaking out over cows grazing on the wrong grass.”
The complaints were similar to the ones you heard, though yours were more nuanced - filled with heartbreaking accounts of cruelty and anger.
“The men are cruel, taxes too high, inheritance laws unfair; I’m sure we’re hearing similar stories.”
“The men are cruel?” Aegon frowned, hand pausing midway to his mouth as he blinked, uncertain as to what you meant.
“Mm. The men share the complaints about taxes, I’m sure, and maybe inheritance laws, but the women have unique concerns,” you explained, brushing a hand across your nightgown in an effort to distract yourself. “Alysanne decreed an end to the First Night but it seems the decree only held for royal or highborn women. Lesser ladies only escape the ritual if they have a kind husband. And inheritance laws mean second or third or even fourth wives are left with nothing if a husband dies, unless she or her husband has kind relatives.” Aegon frowned as he returned the cup to the table and shifted in his seat to get a better look at you. “Marriage is a political alliance for most,” you informed him, though you assumed he already knew. “But, for others, it’s a means of survival.”
“Gods,” Aegon sighed, “what did my father do all those years? Nothing seems to have changed. It’s all fucking miserable.” He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands for a brief moment, before he returned his gaze to you. “They told you all of this?”
“They did,” you confirmed, sighing as you clasped your hands together to keep from reaching for him. “I believe they just wanted someone to listen.” For a moment, you simply studied him - your gaze sweeping across his face, eagerly drinking in the soft look in his eyes - before you laughed, a soft sound lacking mirth. “I suppose I am lucky,” you confessed, standing to begin your journey to Alicent’s chambers for your nightly tea with her, Helaena, and the children.
“You’re married to the king,” Aegon surmised, standing to follow - to head for his own chambers, or perhaps out of the Keep.
“No.” With a shake of your head, you paused to meet his eyes. “I would be just as happy as a lady,” you confessed, watching as he frowned. “I am lucky because, even though you do not love me, you are at least kind to me. That is more than I could have asked for, more than most women hope for.” Aegon blinked, violet eyes going wide as his lips parted in preparation to respond, but you gave him a tight smile. “It’s alright,” you assured him, straightening your robe. “I’ve accepted my fate and am grateful for your kindness. I would not ask more. Goodnight, Your Grace.”
With quick steps and a racing heart, you left Aegon standing in the middle of your chambers with blinking eyes and parted lips. There would be time later to dwell on how much you said, how awful you felt for confessing such a thing, but you did not imagine it would be before the tourney ended.
However, you were surprised to find a request from Aegon the next morning - the king wished for you to join him in his chambers to break fast, as early as you were ready.
The request itself was odd - in the eleven moons you’d been married, you’d only broken fast together once or twice, and always after Aegon woke. Part of you feared you’d offended him, that you might finally become acquainted with his infamous temper, while the other part feared the rats shared your conversation with Alicent and this was her doing. There was little you could do to calm your racing heart as you considered both possibilities, neither pleasant and neither comforting.
Either way, you hurried through your morning routine. A part of you wanted to make him wait, to take your time or even send your regrets with the excuse that you had other plans. The greater part, however, knew it was better to get the whole ordeal over with and pushed you to your way to Aegon’s chambers - skin alight with an unfamiliar warmth as you did so.
Though you half expected to find Aegon still asleep, he was stood - pacing, silver hair clean and brushed - waiting.
As you entered, heart thundering in your chest, Aegon stopped in his tracks. “Good morrow, my queen,” he greeted with a tentative smile and an outstretched hand. “How did you sleep?”
Without thought, you accepted Aegon’s outstretched hand and allowed him to guide you to the table. He pulled out the chair beside his own, one you’d never before occupied, and gestured for you to sit. As you did, you noticed that the table held most of your favorite foods - items you normally requested for your own morning meal - and you nearly forgot the question as you turned to meet Aegon’s gaze.
With a great effort, you attempted to mask the confusion you felt. “Fine,” you assured him, offering a smile you hope he believed real. “And you?”
Undeterred by the obvious concern in your tone, Aegon nodded. “Fine,” he parroted, reaching for the tea to pour you a cup. “No wandering in the night for you?”
A confused curiosity filled you, settling into the pit of your stomach alongside a sinking feeling you couldn’t quite make sense of. There was no reason for Aegon to care - none that made sense to you, anyway - but being at the center of his attention, if only for a moment, sent your heart soaring.
So, with a rueful laugh, you shook your head and decided to humor him. “No, not last night.” Aegon hummed as he offered you a piece of fruit - your favorite, though you weren’t sure if he remembered it from the early days of your marriage or if a servant simply filled the table with things you liked - as you continued. “It seems some of the lords and ladies wished to see the riverwalk after I spoke so highly of it. They are curious what it is that calls to me.”
Aegon winced, his violet eyes flashing with regret as he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he declared, eyes cast down and lips curved into a frown. “I did not mean to…”
With a tight smile, you nodded. “I know,” you assured him. He’d been drunk, caught up in conversation with Lord Tyrell - who seemed to bring out the worst in him - and you did not blame him. Not entirely. “It’s for the best, anyway,” you continued, shrugging. “Alicent has chided me relentlessly for wandering about alone so late. I do not wish to face another of her lectures. I suppose I’ll just read, instead.”
The pair of you shared an understanding laugh - though your lectures were, doubtlessly, far kinder than any Aegon had ever received - before his thoughtful frown returned.
For a moment, Aegon allowed his searching gaze to sweep across your skin. There was a question written on his face, one he seemed unable to articulate, that he sought an answer to. Finally, he asked, “The reason you wander, is because you can’t sleep?” When you sighed, sipping your tea instead of denying what he now realized to be true, Aegon’s frowned deepened. “Is it the sound of the water or the cool air you seek, on the riverwalk?”
When he affixed you with wide eyes, a look that begged for the truth, you sighed. “The sound is soothing, but I wish for the cool air, more than anything. I leave my windows open when I can but as the air grows colder, someone will catch a glimpse and I am scolded - reminded by the maesters again and again that I could fall ill any time a breeze blows. It’s as if they forget I’m from the North.”
At your indignant huff, Aegon laughed - a soft sound that you’d missed dearly - before his thoughtful frown returned. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
Aegon’s concern left you mildly unsettled, confused, as you searched for an appropriate answer.
“We married in winter,” you finally reminded him, shrugging lightly. “I slept well enough then and we haven’t spoken about it since.” We haven’t spoken much at all since went unsaid but Aegon’s wince assured you he heard it, just the same. “It does not matter anyway,” you continued, “as there’s nothing to do but wait for cooler weather. I’m growing used to the heat. I wander a bit, cool off, and return to my chambers. Ser Cole was the only one to notice my absence. If he hadn’t said anything, no one would’ve known.”
“I’m sorry.”
The apology caught you entirely off guard and you found yourself turning to face Aegon with a frown. “What for?” With a laugh, you reached for your cup once more. “You’re the king, but you cannot control the weather. I will just savor the cool air whenever it appears.”
“I did not even know you wandered until Cole told me,” he confessed, swirling the cup of tea in his hand. His brows furrowed in frustration - though, you could tell it was not directed at you as he huffed. “I should’ve known you were not sleeping.”
With a sigh, you shook your head. “Just as you cannot control the weather, you cannot expect to know my every waking move. There are more important things to concern yourself with.”
“I’m your husband. You are my most pressing concern,” he declared, words soft - guilty. “I should know all there is to know about you.” Before you could argue - something Aegon could see written clearly on your face - he continued. “The next time you find yourself unable to sleep, perhaps I could wander with you. I do not enjoy the cold but I will brave it with you,” he offered, a hopeful smile lifting the corner of his mouth as wide violet eyes met yours.
A spiteful comment lingered on the tip of your tongue - certainly, if you are in the Keep and not lost in the streets of silk - but you swallowed it with a sip of tea. “Of course,” you agreed easily, though you had no intention of seeking him out when sleep inevitably refused you once more.
Sleep would only be harder to find when coupled with disappointment.
Regardless of your intention, Aegon seemed settled by your easy agreement. Assured - of what, you were uncertain - he turned the conversation to the remaining days of the tourney and began to eat as you began to worry.
Though all you’d wanted for nearly a year was Aegon’s attention, having it in spades made you overwhelmingly suspicious. There was little about the situation that brought you joy or comfort. If anything, it set you more on edge than you’d been since stepping foot into the Keep.
There was a part of you - the rational, pragmatic part - that understood. Aegon wanted to keep up appearances. Alicent and Otto had spent much of his life instilling in him the importance of maintaining an image. What happened in the privacy of the Keep when the crowds departed did not matter, so long as they all believed the happy facade put on for their benefit.
It made sense, then, why he insisted on breaking fast with you - so the lords and ladies would see you depart from his chambers - and why he insisted on escorting you to dinner. It even made sense to you why his hand found yours when you were amongst the crowd of revelers at dinner.
The part that worried you, however, was the attention he paid you when no one was looking.
Just as he had in the beginning of your marriage, Aegon’s hand brushed yours in passing as he went his way while you went your own. Throughout the day, you felt his intense gaze on you - searing into your skin across a crowded room, across the field as you spoke with the ladies of the realm when he should’ve been watching the tourney. And when night fell, he escorted you back to your chambers after dinner and sat with you, sometimes without so much as a word shared, until you deemed it time for bed.
For two days, Aegon paid more attention to you than he had over the course of your entire marriage - all without drowning in his cups.
And by the final day of the tournament, you found yourself utterly exhausted.
Being surrounded by people - those who meant well and those who certainly did not - was enough of a discomfort. The sometimes curious, sometimes accusing, sometimes pitying gazes of the lords and ladies of the realm set you on edge. But attempting to make sense of Aegon’s sudden burst of attention was what kept you awake at night.
Every reason you considered made little sense. 
Initially, you assumed it was Alicent’s doing. However, the moment she expressed her surprise at Aegon’s sudden change of heart, you found yourself more perplexed. She seemed assured, however, certain that her eldest son was finally settling, and rejoiced at the sight of Aegon escorting you to the gathering of women two mornings in a row.
Aemond also seemed surprised, though his was better hidden than his mother’s as he watched Aegon offer you a hand to pull you into the fray of dancing bodies. And your assumption that it was he who’d spoken with his brother vanished into thin air the moment his violet eye met yours - a question of ‘what’s happening’ dancing curiously in it.
All logic failed you, each conclusion vanished as quickly as it arrived, and you found yourself confused and alone - away from the madness so that you might catch your breath and think.
However, you were not left alone for very long.
Without warning, no guard and no crowds of people vying for his attention, Aegon approached you as you sat far from the madness of the tourney.
The Conqueror’s crown glimmered atop his head, silver and ruby shimmering in the sunlight, and he looked the part of king. Royalty suited him, you decided - his features regal, his poise now unencumbered by drink as he’d done his best to remain sober in your presence - though you kept the thought to yourself as you bit back a sigh at his presence.
Aegon had taken to asking you what was wrong - a question he took seriously, as he attempted to remedy whatever it was that bothered you - but you turned to him before he could.
“What does it feel like?” The question was asked in desperation, a deep-seated desire to turn the conversation away from yourself - a need to return to some semblance of normalcy, despite his newfound attention - and Aegon’s brows furrowed. “Riding a dragon,” you elaborated, gesturing to Sunfyre in the distance. His prized dragon had been brought from the Dragonpit to be seen, marveled at; the most beautiful dragon in the realm, the king’s pride. “I’ve asked Aemond and Helaena, even Daeron,” you confessed. “They all say the feeling is indescribable.”
For a moment, Aegon regarded you with a smile - something bright and true, genuinely happy; something you saw little of in him - before he turned to glance at his golden dragon. “Do you want to try it,” he began, stepping closer and tipping his head to meet your eyes, “find out for yourself?”
With a hollow laugh, and a touch of fear at the prospect, you shook your head. “A beautiful thought, to be sure,” you acknowledged, “but if I stepped closer, I fear I would only learn what death by dragon fire feels like.”
Unbothered, Aegon stepped even closer - his arm now brushing yours. “If you stepped closer to Vhagar, surely, but Sunfyre is less inclined to violence,” he teased, sparing his dragon an admiring glance. “He listens well and will take to you, so long as you are with me.” When you frowned, uncertain, Aegon smiled softly and reached for your hand. “I should’ve introduced you sooner,” he hummed, apologetic as he squeezed your hand, “but we will just have to make up for lost time.”
Slowly, carefully - for your benefit, you realized, as Sunfyre seemed entirely aware of Aegon no matter how he moved - your husband guided you across the field to where Sunfyre rested. The keepers offered you both polite greetings before stepping aside to allow Aegon to interact with his dragon, unbothered.
Though his commands were nowhere near as sharp as the ones you’d heard from Aemond, nor as fluid as those you’d heard from Helaena, Aegon’s word still struck a chord with Sunfyre. His High Valyrian was clumsy, almost broken, but Sunfyre still responded just as eagerly as the others - if not more so - as the great beast made a rumbling noise and nudged Aegon in the chest.
Aegon cooed, returning the greeting happily as he offered the dragon a few soft strokes of his hand, and you felt a smile curve your lips - in spite of the thundering of your heart at your proximity to such a fearsome creature.
“Give me your hand,” Aegon urged, turning his head to glance at you when Sunfyre settled and turned a great eye upon you. “He trusts you because I do.”
With a tentative step, you moved closer to Aegon. He accepted your outstretched hand eagerly, tugging you closer, and placed a steady and on your waist. Every inch of your skin felt warm - from the great breaths Sunfyre took, warm air billowing around you; or from the heat of Aegon’s body pressed to yours, unfamiliar and easily stealing the breath from your lungs as his hand stroked your waist to calm you.
Aegon tipped his head to offer you a reassuring smile before turning his attention to Sunfyre once more. With a few quiet words - mostly in Valyrian, though a few words in the common tongue caught your ear - Sunfyre lifted his large head and repeated the affectionate gesture he’d shown Aegon.
A noise resembling a purr escaped the large beast and, with Aegon’s hand still clasping yours, your hand was pressed to his scales.
For a single, nerve wracking moment, you waited - half-afraid Sunfyre might turn on you, temper as unpredictable as his rider - but when he simply leaned into your touch, you exhaled slowly. “He’s beautiful,” you whispered, voice awed as your fingers trailed lightly across the warm patch of golden scales. “And so warm.”
The moment Aegon’s hand released yours, it fell to your waist as his chin rested atop your shoulder. Sunfyre rumbled another pleasant noise, as if he understood the compliment, and you laughed. “See? Nothing to fear.”
“You are well matched, I believe,” you nearly whispered, as if Aegon had not spoken at all. “The most beautiful dragons in all the realm.” The compliment escaped without your notice, unintentional, but Aegon’s hands squeezed your waist gently as he inhaled just a bit too sharp.
“He is beautiful,” Aegon agreed easily, reaching out to stroke the scales just above where your hand rested - thankfully sidestepping your compliment of him. “He’s also quick and loves to soar over the sea, something that reminds me of you.”
Sunfyre released another contented noise, happily basking in the attention, as you hummed thoughtfully. “The view must be incredible,” you whispered, still in awe of the beautiful creature before you. “I’m not sure how you find the strength to return to the ground.”
“It helps to have something worth returning for.” Aegon’s declaration was soft, as was his gaze as violet eyes fell to you. “Do you want to see for yourself? You’ll be safe, I promise. There is nowhere safer, in fact.”
The prospect of riding a dragon set your heart beating overtime once more and brought butterflies to your stomach. It was terrifying - and tantalizing - and you could not understand why Aegon offered. Still, you tipped your head and offered him a playful smile. “Do not let Vhagar hear you,” you teased, voice nowhere near as strong as you hoped it would be. “She might take offense.”
“The old beast is asleep in a field, she couldn’t hear me if I stood right next to her.” Aegon grinned at you - expression brightening considerably when you laughed - before he stepped away. His hands left your waist but grasped your own, fingers intertwining with your own, as he guided you to the rope connected to Sunfyre’s saddle. “Come, my queen. We won’t be missed.”
A lie - his absence would be noticed immediately - but you said nothing.
Conflicting feelings swirled in the pit of your stomach as you allowed Aegon to help you climb into the saddle. There was fear - a natural instinct, when faced with the prospect of riding a dragon - and doubt, uncertainty as to your safety. There was concern, an ever-present wonder as to why Aegon seemed so intent upon getting you to bond with his dragon. There was worry, a curiosity as to why Aegon was acting the part of husband you so desperately wanted.
But, above all else, there was an overwhelming happiness.
Excitement coursed through your veins as Aegon helped you situate yourself in the saddle, despite your dress not being appropriate riding gear. Warmth coursed through your veins as he settled in behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and offering you a bright smile as you turned your head to glance at him.
The reason why mattered so little when it felt so intoxicating in the moment.
Though the question danced on the tip of your tongue - more of a demand, a need to know what had changed - you kept quiet as Aegon spared a few words for Sunfyre.
With an eager rumble, the dragon began to stand.
“Ready?”
Before you could answer - nod your agreement or beg to be returned to the ground - Aegon shouted a command you couldn’t understand. The golden beast took a few steps forward before bolting toward the sky, clearly as eager to fly as his rider.
As you hurtled toward the sky, your heart leapt into your throat and making any noise at all seemed impossible.
Though you would’ve agonized over the decision any other time, there wasn’t a single thought in your mind as you reached for Aegon’s arm. You held - perhaps too tight, you realized, as your nails bit into the leather of his riding jacket - and held your breath as the burnt, fading colors of foliage began to give way to the white stone of the city and then the dark water of the bay.
Cool air rushed around you, growing cooler the higher you climbed, and you delighted in the contrast of it biting at your skin as Aegon’s warmth bled into your back.
Part of you wanted to close your eyes, to savor the feeling of weightlessness as Sunfyre began to level out and soar above the water, while the rational par demanded you keep them open and drink in the sight of King’s Landing from above.
There was no guarantee you would have another opportunity to witness the beauty below you.
The city you’d grown to early loathe - the streets of silk that claimed your husband, the stench that sometimes wafted through your open window - was undeniably beautiful atop Sunfyre’s back. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind, though none seemed to provide an adequate description of the beauty below you.
Rather than attempt to speak, you simply breathed deeply and reveled in the quiet.
Atop Sunfyre, everything you’d spent nearly a year agonizing over seemed to fade into nothing. It all seemed so trivial, so meaningless, when the world was so vast and beautiful.
For a moment, you understood what your husband’s siblings meant - there was certainly no other feeling in the world that could compare to the experience at hand.
As you caught your breath, lungs filling entirely for the first time since leaving White Harbor, Aegon remained quiet behind you. For the first time, his silence was entirely comfortable - not something to be wary of, not something for you remedy. It was blissful, a shared joy, and you appreciated it.
Aegon’s chin rested atop your shoulder once more, blonde curls brushing your skin, and as you glance out at the dark water, you were nearly convinced it was all just a beautiful dream.
Having Aegon so close, his affection flowing so freely - his attention so rapt, so complete - was al you’d wanted for longe than you cared to admit. However, now that you had it, you were uncertain of what to do with it. You remained suspicious, concerned there was some sort of string attached to his affection, but a he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, you felt your concern begin to melt away.
It had been so long since Aegon kissed you, so long since he offered any kind of affection, that you couldn’t help yourself.
With a turn of your head, your gaze met his. As Sunfyre soared, you felt your heart begin to beat just a touch faster when Aegon leaned to press his mouth to yours. The kiss was soft, nearly chaste, and you could feel the familiar ache in your chest at the gentle nature of it. There was something so intimate about the gesture, something that meant more than all the attention in the realm, and you struggled to blink back your tears as Aegon broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours.
Everything around you ceased to exist with those violet eyes trained on yours.
Sunfyre rumbled a pleased noise - something bright and joyful - and Aegon smiled as he tipped his head to glance at the golden dragon. With your husband distracted, you swallowed the emotion lingering in the back of your throat and held tight to the saddle as the flight continued.
Just as you’d imagined, there was little desire to return to the ground - to the life that awaited you both, the crowds of people seeking your company, the expectations that overruled your happiness - but with a single command from Aegon, Sunfyre began to descend all too soon.
Though the flight had been short, nothing more than a quick trip around King’s Landing, it meant the world to you.
And when you landed, your feet firmly on the ground and Sunfyre returned to the keepers, Aegon’s expectant gaze met yours. “Well,” he began, smile knowing, “what did it feel like?”
“I fear I owe your siblings an apology. It was truly indescribable,” you admitted, heart still pounding in your chest - though you weren’t certain if it was from the adrenaline or the way Aegon was looking at you, bright eyes so intent on your face. “King’s Landing is beautiful from above. And I believe Sunfyre is the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.”
“Dragon, certainly,” Aegon agreed easily, stepping closer and bringing his hand to your waist. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
The compliment was nothing more than flattery, almost certainly untrue - he’d spent his nights with Lyseni women whose beaut was famed - and shattered the moment entirely. Reality crept back in, startling you back into your own body, and drew the tears you’d been keeping at bay since the kiss.
With a shake of your head, you attempted to pull away from him as you lifted a hand to brush at your cheeks. “Aegon,” you whispered, voice cracking as you addressed him by name for the first time in several moons, “please, don’t.”
Like a strong wave, every emotion you’d felt over the course of your marriage crashed into you.
Each feeling was stronger than the last, shattering your resolve with astounding ease, and you could see the flash of panic in Aegon’s eyes as he stepped closer. The nudge you offered in response was weak, nowhere near strong enough to dissuade him, and Aegon ignored the gesture completely as he began to guide you back to the Keep.
Neither of you wanted the moment to be witnessed - Aegon did not wish for his mother’s ire, as she knew your tears were his fault, nor did he wish for more speculation on behalf of the realm; you did not wish for more pitying gazes - so you allowed him to steer you through the halls without complaint.
Aegon guided you through the halls of the Red Keep, stepping without thought in the direction of his chambers. However, before he could turn down the hall leading to his door, he seemed to think better of his destination. Instead, with a few retraced steps, he turned and guided you to your own chambers.
The moment the door shut behind you, effectively sealing you both away from the realm, Aegon did something he’d never before done - he wrapped both arms around your waist and held you tight to his chest.
It was a clumsy gesture, almost uncertain, and crushed your arms to your body, but you appreciated it, just the same. His proximity did little to stop the tears that spilled, though you pleaded with your body to offer you some sort of respite, and Aegon made a broken noise as his own eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“Please, don’t cry,” he whispered, voice quiet in the still of your room. “I’m sorry.”
Despite yourself - despite the truth you both saw plainly - you shook your head. “Not your fault,” you denied, reflexively.
Aegon scoffed, wholly disbelieving, as he shook his head. “It is,” he acknowledged, tipping his head to press his forehead to yours the moment you glanced at him. “I have not been the husband you deserve. I have been no husband at all.”
For a moment, he seemed to falter - uncertain, unused to such emotion - before he lifted a hand to cup your cheek.
“I wanted to spare you,” he admitted, so earnest it made your chest ache. “This place, this life; it seems to make everyone fucking miserable. My mother was happier before she was queen, Helaena is happier when she is far from King’s Landing. There is no joy to be found here. I didn’t want to subject you to the same misery.”
The sincerity with which Aegon spoke struck you. He truly seemed to believe it - truly believed that he was sparing you - and you couldn’t help the fresh wave of tears that fell.
“As noble as your intentions may have been, I am here,” you reminded him, voice thick with emotion. “There is no sparing me, not when our lives were intertwined in front of the realm and in the eyes of the gods. It might be enjoyable if we sought happiness in one another.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever made anyone happy,” he confessed, voice a pained whisper, “as a son, a king; certainly not as a husband.”
“You have made me happy,” you asserted, brows furrowing. When he frowned, disbelieving, you gestured to the embroidery of Sunfyre adorning his doublet. “Soaring over the city with you on Sunfyre was the most joy I’ve felt in all my time in King’s Landing and I felt it because of you. The first few moons of our marriage, you were kind - affectionate, present - and that made me happy. The past few days, you’ve been kind again, you’ve been with me, and my heart felt as if it might burst. Being with you made me happy, Aegon.”
Aegon’s eyes fell shut, his breath stuttering as he shook his head slightly. “I know less about being a husband than I do about being king,” he confessed, violet eyes glassy as they reopened. “I’m afraid I’ll only disappoint you.”
“You’ve never been a husband, nor have you been a king, just as I have never been a wife or a queen,” you reminded him, tone gentle. “I also know little of either role but I want to learn. With time, both will become easier, but learning together would make me happy. I don’t want perfection, Aegon. All I want, all I have wanted, is you.”
“And I you,” he agreed, quickly - easily, his hand squeezing your hip. “I am not too late, then?”
“I’ve spent the last few moons wishing to hate you,” you confessed, lifting a hand to caress his cheek - your heart aching in your chest as he flinched, expecting a blow instead. After a moment, he leaned into the caress and you struggled to keep yourself from crying once more. “I wanted nothing more than to feel indifferent, or even angry, in your presence. But all I’ve wanted is your love. I’ve taken what little of you you would give but I want all of you. I fear it will never be too late, not when my heart belongs entirely to you.”
“How can you love me, after all I’ve done?” Sad violet eyes met yours, downcast and filled with a self-loathing you understood all too well, as he leaned into your touch.
“Because love is irrational. It lives in the heart, not the mind, and my heart has been yours for a long while.”
“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”
The whisper sharpened the ache in your chest, made your heart hurt for Aegon, as you caressed his cheek. Your thumb brushed away a few errant tears, brushed the dark circles beneath his eyes, as you studied him. His drunken words, whispered in the dim of his chambers, returned to you and you sighed as you met his eyes. “You do. You deserve love, Aegon.”
The declaration hung in the air for a long moment, lingering between you in a silence that seemed to stretch endlessly, before Aegon moved. He surged forward, eager to press his mouth to yours in another kiss.
This kiss, unlike the soft display atop Sunfyre, was desperate. It brought forth every emotion you both struggled to make sense of and stole the breath from your lungs. It was searching, starving, and you allowed it to consume you completely  as Aegon’s grip on your waist grew tighter and you hand moved to tangle in his hair.
Nothing could’ve prepared you for the turn you day would take, for the onslaught of Aegon’s desperate affection, for the sheer force of his kiss, but you surrendered to it without thought.
Even as your lungs burned with the need for air, as your chest ached and your skin felt as if it were blistering, you refused to part from him. And, to your surprise, Aegon seemed just as reluctant.
Each breath was stolen with lips only inches apart, with violet eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.
Whereas affection had been nonexistent for so long, it seemed as if the dam had broken and you were both desperate for some semblance of the other’s love.
Despite Aegon’s emotional whispers, his open display of concern, you could feel the doubt lingering in the back of your mind as he walked you backward. While he navigated your room with an ease that should’ve surprised you, you wondered what might happen in the aftermath.
How long would Aegon’s affection last before you were left alone again?
As if sensing your hesitation, Aegon broke from the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours as you approached your bed. He took a moment to breathe - to allow you to breathe - before he whispered another apology. “I can’t change what I’ve done,” he acknowledged, “how I’ve treated you. But I can be better. I will be.”
Before you could speak - and say what, you did not know - Aegon recaptured your lips in another searing kiss.
With a practiced ease, he unlaced the ties of your gown - Hightower green, laced with the gold of his dragon - and brushed the fabric from your shoulders.
Unlike the night of the feast, Aegon took a long moment to study you as you stood before him in only your small clothes. And when you attempted to cover yourself - arms stretch across your chest, your stomach, your hips - Aegon gripped your wrists.
“Please, don’t hide from me. I want to see you.”
Wide violet eyes met yours, so sincere in their desire, and you found yourself unable to deny him. With a nod, you relaxed your arms - allowing them to fall to your sides when Aegon released you - and he hummed, a pleased sound that warmed you from within.
Though you only laid together a handful of times, and though Aegon had been attentive in the beginning, no experience compared to the one at hand.
There was a desperation in his touch, an eagerness you’d never before witnessed, and your breath grew harder to catch as Aegon crowded closer. His lips - chapped, but warm and not entirely unpleasant - pressed to every inch of skin he could find; your cheek, your chin, the column of your throat, your shoulder. He inhaled deeply and laughed, a surprised sound, as his gaze lifted to meet yours.
“You stink of dragon,” he teased, eyes glimmering with a mirth you’d missed - a lighthearted joy you hoped would remain - as his words recalled the words you leveled at him in the early days of your marriage. “It suits you, my queen.”
“A worthwhile exchange,” you assured him, hand returning to his hair as he nosed at the hinge of your jaw.
“We’ll ride again,” he promised you, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “Any time you want, all you need is to ask.”
Aegon pressed you back, then, allowing the backs of your knees to press against the footboard of the bed, and you squealed as he tipped you toward the soft bedding. When you rested on the bed, legs hanging over the end, Aegon followed you down.
“Look at you,” he hummed, voice low as he ghosted kisses across your skin, “my queen of ice, melting beneath your dragon’s touch.”
Without thought, you heard yourself ask, “Are you?” Doubt still lingered in the back of your mind.
Though his lips pressed to your skin, Aegon responded with a somewhat distracted, “Am I what?”
“My dragon?”
The possessive was clear, easy to hear, and the question was unmistakable. The doubt that lingered shined bright, obvious, and Aegon sighed as he continued to press kisses to your skin.
“I am yours,” he promised, fingers lacing with yours as his lips pressed to the warm column of your throat, “entirely.”
It was not a promise you could yet believe, not a promise that you would allow yourself to fall victim to, and he seemed to understand your reluctance as you whispered, “Aegon…”
“I know,” he confirmed, tone softening as he continued pressing kisses to your heated skin. He trailed down your chest, blazing a path down your stomach and over your hips, and the beat of your heart pounding in your ears nearly drowned out the words he spoke. “I’ve been a terrible husband,” he acknowledged, violet eyes lifting to meet yours. “Worst of all, I’ve not exposed you to the most incredible joy of marriage - pleasure,” he declared, sinking to his knees at the foot of the bed. “But, from now on, I devote myself to seeking pleasure with you.”
A breath caught in your throat. Though your thoughts were muddled, uncertain - rational thought disappearing with each kiss he pressed to your skin - your stomach flipped at the potential weight of his declaration. “Does that… are you…?” The question would not escape, mostly for fear of misunderstanding, but Aegon understood.
“No more streets of silk,” he whispered, lips pressing to the heated skin just above your knee, “no Flea Bottom. You are the only one I want, the only one I need.” There was a certainty in his voice, a desperate need for you to understand, but you were hesitant. And when you blinked, uncertain, Aegon pressed his forehead to your heated skin. “You have no reason to believe me, to trust me, but I will prove myself to you. I will be worthy of you.”
“Oh, Aegon,” you sighed, fingers carding through the silver strand of his hair as he busied himself with pressing eager kisses to every inch of skin he could reach - lighting a fire that burned bright within you. “You are worthy.”
Aegon hummed, acknowledging he’d heard you, before he returned his gaze to yours. He searched, for just a moment, before he confessed, “I’ve been drinking, waiting while the knights and squires enjoy themselves. I’ve not… The only whores I’ve bedded as of late are the ones that look like you and even that is not enough.”
“The night of the feast,” you whispered, nodding. “You marveled at how much I looked like your wife.”
“Gods,” he huffed with a shake of his head, “I hoped that was you. I wasn’t sure. It felt like a dream, seeing you in my bed. I… I’ve been frustrated, as of late. I thought you would not want me. When you told me you felt as if you were little more than a burden I must bear, I… All I’ve wanted is you. I’m sorry I allowed you to believe otherwise.”
“Then have me,” you encouraged, as an understanding began to creep into your mind. “Take what you need from me, my love.”
Aegon’s fingers dug into the plush of your thigh, grounding himself to the moment for fear it was all a dream - something pleasant he would wake from violently, with his mother ripping the sheets from his body or his grandsire yelling insults at him - before glassy violet eyes lifted to meet yours.
“You are kinder to me than you should be.”
“Love is meant to be kind,” you whispered, your heart aching as he clung to you. “I want to be kind to you.”
For a long moment, Aegon simply stared at you. Words seemed to fail him - all thought lost to the ether as your statement lingered in the silence - but you both knew he preferred action.
Without sparing another moment, he returned his attention to your body, splayed just for him.
In the beginning, though he was attentive - pressed kisses to your cheeks, your lips, your throat - Aegon offered little in the way of true pleasure. Sex was a duty, a chore you shared in an attempt to secure an heir for the throne, but this was something else entirely.
Little seemed to exist outside of the pair of you. All you could find the strength to focus on was the eager press of Aegon’s mouth to your heated skin. 
The warmth you felt was unfamiliar, indescribable, as he pressed his mouth to the plush of your inner thigh. He nipped at the sensitive skin, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh, and you could feel a fluttering in the pit of your stomach as his eyes began to darken. 
With each nip of his teeth, with each swipe of his tongue, you allowed quiet gasps to fall from your lips unbidden and each noise only spurred him on.
And as his fingers tugged at the fabric hiding you from his searching gaze, you resisted the urge to cover yourself and, instead, relaxed beneath his touch. Though you felt an overwhelming vulnerability, you were offering Aegon the opportunity to earn the trust he sought. 
“My beautiful wife,” he whispered, fingers digging into the plush of your thigh as he spared you a glance. “I intend to make up for lost time when our guests leave us. For now, I’ll settle for introducing you to pleasure.”
Before you could question him, Aegon leaned in and licked a stripe along the length of your slit with the flat of his tongue. Your fingers tugged at his hair as a gasp escaped your lips, and you could feel his mouth curve into a grin as he settled between your thighs. The sensation was new, odd but you hated the thought of losing it as he licked at you leisurely.
Though your absence had doubtlessly been noticed, Aegon was clearly in no rush.
Settled between your thighs, he seemed to struggle to decide whether to close his eyes and enjoy himself or keep them open and watch the bewildered look on your face morph into unabashed pleasure as his hand lifted and his thumb pressed to your clit. As your thighs jerked, fingers gripping his hair tighter, Aegon hummed against you.
“Better than the sweetest wine,” he mumbled, words muffled by your skin a he lapped at your leaking arousal.
Every swipe of his tongue, every press of his fingers, sent shockwaves down your spine. Your skin felt warm, feverish, and you suddenly found yourself understanding the few women who eagerly disappeared with husbands who lavished them with affection.
Pleasure was something foreign - a concept you’d only read about - but the experience was better than you could’ve imagined as Aegon eagerly sank into you. His fingers began searching, gathering the slick that coated his lips and chin, and pressed to your entrance. As you tensed, preparing for the uncomfortable intrusion, Aegon hummed.
“Relax for me,” he whispered, warm breath fanning over your skin and earning him a shiver. “This will feel good,” he promised. “Let me make it good for you.”
With a little effort, you attempted to relax beneath Aegon’s touch. It was difficult, when the only experience you had to call upon was the discomfort of your earlier encounters, but he seemed so earnest. And, as he waited, he continued lapping at the slick gathered between your thighs.
Throughly distracted by the press of his tongue to your aching cunt, the foreign sensation of warmth in the pit of your stomach, you managed to keep from tensing as Aegon pressed a finger to your entrance.
The ease of his touch was different than the quick, rough thrusts you’d grown used to and you found yourself sighing in a mixture of relief and pleasure as his thumb rubbed circles over the bundle of nerves. As foreign as the entire experience felt, you found yourself enjoying it more with every passing moment.
Until, however, a pressure began to build at the base of your spine.
When you tensed, gasping as you attempted to make sense of the new sensation, Aegon cooed. “Don’t fight it, my love,” he urged, fingers continuing to press into you - touch further igniting the spark blazing across your skin. “Let go for me.”
With a cry of pleasure, a noise you lifted a hand to cover, you felt the blaze swallow you whole. Aegon pressed forward, eagerly lapping up your release, and your vision began to white around the edges as he hummed.
For a moment, everything ceased to exist.
There was only the ragged sound of your breathing and the uneven thump of your heart as you attempted to make sense of the intense warmth you felt. 
All too suddenly, however, a pang of discomfort drew your attention back to Aegon whose teeth sank into the soft flesh of your hip. “That was your peak,” he explained, grinning as his thumb continued to rub soft circles over the bundle of nerves - eyes glimmering with an unrestrained joy with every twitch of your limbs. “How did it feel?”
Unable to make proper sense of your own thoughts, and unable to choose your words with your usual careful precision, you hummed. “Fine,” you whispered, though your twitching thighs and hips chasing his touch as he pulled away betrayed you. He met your lackluster review with a raised brow, waiting for elaboration. “I think I need another to truly understand the joy of it.”
A laugh, genuine and all too pleased, escaped Aegon as he stood. He made quick work of his own clothing, pushing the fabric to the ground without a care, as he shook his head. “I’m afraid you were meant to be my wife,” he teased, climbing onto the bed to join you with a look that only served to bring a reader warmth to your skin. “And I’m afraid I’ll have to spend the rest of my life between your thighs, making up for lost time.”
“You’ve a duty to the realm,” you reminded him, though it sounded weak in your own ears - a flimsy rebuff as he tipped his head to press his mouth to your throat once more.
“Mm, but my first duty is to my wife and I’ve neglected her long enough. The realm can wait,” he announced.
Aegon settled above you and, for the first time, there was no stench of wine - no fumbling hands, no unsteady swaying. He was present, eager, and overwhelmingly affectionate as his mouth pressed to your heated skin. 
Any lingering doubt, any fear that this time might be like the few others, dissipated as his hand explored your heated skin. His touch was light, almost teasing, as his fingers brushed your chest, your stomach, your thighs. You could feel his lips curve into a smirk with every soft noise you made and, as something of a reward, his touch grew steadier the louder your noises grew.
“I want to hear you,” he assured you, his hand dipping between your spread thighs to gather the slick pooling there. “Sound divine, moaning for me.”
As he babbled, words of praise escaping his lips in a near incoherent stream - never once falling quiet, though you found yourself unsurprised - he reached for the base of his cock. The head dragged through your folds, gathering slick, before it notched at your entrance.
Unlike previous encounters, Aegon took his time sinking into you.
With one hand pressed into the mattress near your head, the other gripping your hip so tight you feared it would bruise, he pressed forward slowly - deliberately. There was no rush, no frantic urge to reach the end, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as his forehead pressed to yours.
The noise Aegon made rivaled your own and you found yourself lost in him.
Soft silver curls, disheveled from your fingers raking through them; darkened violet eyes, torn between watching your face and eying the way you took his cock; parted lips, swollen and red from kissing you - he looked beautiful, and you wasted no time telling him so as you lifted a hand to cup his cheek.
“So beautiful,” you whispered, voice cracking with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Aegon paused - slow, deliberate thrusts stopping - as he blinked in surprise. His lips parted, however, before he could speak, you offered him a reassuring smile. “My beautiful king,” you continued, fingers brushing his flushed cheeks, “my beautiful husband.”
A strangled noise escaped his throat at your compliment and his cheeks and chest flushed a deep pink, a stark contrast to the fine silver of his hair. In lieu of response, however, he simply lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours.
The hand on your hip moved, thumb returning to the bundle of nerves that sent shockwaves down your spine, and for the first time, you found yourself enjoying the moment.
There was no worry as to whether this would provide the realm the heir they so desperately wanted, no worry as to whether Aegon may leave you wanting - there was no worry at all. Instead, all you felt was a pleasant warmth, the eager press of your husband’s lips to yours and the weight of him atop you, and you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling as the pressure you’d felt earlier began to return.
Aegon seemed to be near his own end, his thrusts gaining speed and force - though it was still far more pleasant than anything you’d ever experienced - and his lips parted from yours as he inhaled sharply.
Time seemed to slow and speed, all at once. Everything blurred into a searing warmth, all-encompassing and overwhelming. The edges of your vision turned white and you felt yourself plunge headfirst into the depths of pleasure as Aegon buried his face in the crook of your neck. His own release followed yours, the end sweeter than anything either of you had experienced thus far, and you couldn’t help but cling to him as he buried himself deep inside.
For several long moments, Aegon remained above you - more of his weight pressing you into the mattress with every second that passed. You both fought to catch your breath, chests heaving and ears ringing, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled in your throat as he lifted his head to glance at you.
“I’m dying, and you’re laughing?” He rolled his eyes, though there was a fond warmth in the question as he pulled away to lay beside you.
Rather than placing distance between you, Aegon tugged you into his side - wrapped an arm around your waist and nearly hauled your body atop his - and returned his face to the crook of your neck as you laughed a bit harder. “I just, I didn’t know it could feel like that,” you explained, still marveling at the lingering warmth you felt.
Aegon remained silent for a long moment, seeming to gather his thoughts, before he sighed and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’m sorry. It should’ve been like that all along,” he declared, hand returning to your hip as he attempted to pull you closer. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, or make you unhappy, but that seems to be all I’ve done,” he lamented. “But I promise, that will change.”
“So long as you’re with me, I think I’ll be happy enough,” you assured him, reaching out to cup his cheek once more - smiling as he leaned in to the touch. “I was happy to be betrothed to you, you know. I thought you were handsome and funny, charming.” Aegon leaned in, then, and stole a soft kiss - unable to part from you now, it seemed, now that something had shifted - and you laughed as you sank into him. “Perhaps there will be another tourney come summer,” you hummed, lips barely parting from his, “to celebrate the king’s heir.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed, nose brushing yours as violet eyes searched your face. “But heir or no, I’m glad to have you by my side.”
Though a small shred of doubt lingered in the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that made you nauseous, you swallowed it with a smile. Aegon’s attention was yours, his love was yours, and that was all you wanted. Certainty would come with time, with practice, and you were glad to spend as much time with him as he wanted.
The only thing you’d ever dreamt of - a husband that wanted you - was finally yours and, despite the rocky start to your marriage, you found yourself glad that it was Aegon.
_________________________________________________________
Author's Note: This may be fanon!Aegon but I just wanted something a little soft. He deserves some love. I was also a little nice to everyone but you know what, why not? It's fiction. Not sure how it got this long but here we are.
Taglist: @anaya-rhys, @holypeacecrown, @marvelously-flawed, @travelingmypassion, @letsgotothehop, @reynacrawford, @liannafae, @ffsg0jo
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unlosts · 2 days
Text
two slow dancers, last ones out
Summary: Unrequited love and a wedding are not a good match, but a luckily you have someone there to keep you company.
2k words
The wedding fell into place like a house of cards tumbling down, in a rush and without much fanfare. JJs dress was lovely, because of course it was, a sea of ivory white twinkling almost as bright as her smile against the placid night air. Everyone was able to make it and despite it being planned with just a few hours to spare the night was as beautiful as one would hope. Beginning of spring ushering a new chapter and all that nonsense. 
Not that you were bitter about it. 
At all. 
Or at the very least you were trying really hard not to be, because they were a lovely couple. Will loved JJ, and JJ loved Will. 
The issue was that Spencer also seemed to love JJ. 
Again, not that you were bitter about it. 
After months of quiet pinning and frustrated yet unreciprocated glances you had called it quits, because it seemed like no matter how many 18th century poetry readings you attended with him, no matter how many early morning car rides or late nights spent talking in hushed tones side by side on the plane, you were simply never going to be the one he wanted. 
And you had come to terms with it. 
Really. 
The fresh heartbreak had been ushered out and been replaced by humiliation a long time ago, looking back you were sure everyone could tell how stupidly in love you had been and how utterly un-reciprocated it was. Every time you remembered how optimistic and doe eyed you had been about the whole thing, something bright and hot burned in the back of your eyes. It was all just so painfully juvenile and you swore you had left the doe eyes behind alongside your cheer uniform and locker combination. 
The night had an air of finality to it, you knew that in one way or another nothing would be the same again, and you didn’t want to miss it. Even if it meant swallowing your pride and staying with the wallflowers until closing time. 
It would have been easier to do an irish goodbye to the italian planned wedding and slip quietly out the front door but you saw Emily sharing a last dance with Derek and even spied Rossi watching over his hard word with suspiciously misty eyes and you knew you had to stay. 
With one hand wrapped over your midriff and the other held aloft, nursing a now lukewarm aperol spritz by the side of the dance floor, looking at everyone swaying to some old jazz ballad, the singer's soft crooning voice setting your teeth on edge. The feel of a drop of condensation traveling from  your hand through your forearm sending a chill down your spine. 
The gentle weight of a black jacket being draped over your shoulders snaps you out of your pathetic melancholy, the wedding suddenly snapping into sharp focus as the heady scent of a woody cologne blankets you. Two big hands softly squeeze your shoulders in a silent apology before Aaron Hotchner appears next to you, leaning against one of the white columns with his hands in his pockets. 
He scrutinizes you with clever brown eyes, his gaze softly traveling from your pursed lips to your down-turned brows and you know he’s got your number when he gives you a soft sympathetic smile. Just a quick turn of his lips that few people would catch, but you did, and the knowledge that he knows exactly what’s going on through your head makes you feel exposed all of the sudden, you slip your arms into the jack and clutch it to you like it could keep you hidden. 
But Hotch is … Hotch simply put and you know above all he would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. So he remains quiet next to you, only moving to press his side against you in silent comradery, the comforting heat radiating off of him seeping into you.  
“Want me to get you another one?” He asks, gesturing to your long forgotten drink. “It’s not often we get to free reign of Dave’s stash” You know he’s trying to cheer you up and you both know it’s failing miserably but you still appreciate the effort nonetheless. 
An awkward sort of silence falls between you both until you decide to ruin it, apparently. 
“So, where’s Beth?” Your question catches him off guard, he clears his throat and looks down for a second before catching your eyes. 
“We broke up, last week actually” He states matter of fact. You nod understandingly and don’t ask but he clarifies anyhow. 
“It was mutual, she had a lot going on at work-”
“Huh, go figure”
“and I was” he hesitates “preoccupied” He doesn’t seem to be distraught, telling you like he would the details of a case, objective and to the point. 
“Ahh, so you decided to join the singles corner, welcome we meet every Thursday” You raise your glass in a mock toast before finally putting it down on a nearby table. 
Hotch raises his eyebrows and it’s all it takes for you to deflate. 
“Sorry, you were being nice and I was just bitchy” You sigh, frustrated and maybe a little bit tipsier than you’d like. 
“That’s okay, you’re sad, it happens to the best of us”
“Even you?” 
He just lets out a self deprecating laugh before handing you a glass of scotch from a passing waiter. 
“You saw me after the divorce, I distinctly remember going into a burning house so I would say a couple of drinks more than you’re used to at a wedding of all places isn’t the worst way to go about it” 
“That’s different, you were married this is just…pathetic” There was no point dancing around it anyway, you both knew he was fully aware of what you were talking about. 
“Well someone once told me that as much as we’d like to, sometimes we have to sit in those feelings before they can go away” 
“What a load of new age shit, whoever told you that was a quack” You smile at him anyway, pleased that even after all this time he remembered that. 
“Hmm, I happen to think it was useful,” Hotch replies, taking the scotch from your hand and finishing it off. 
“Any more pearls of wisdom this oh so sage one imparted upon you?”
“Yes, other times the only thing you can do is pretend that everything is alright for a couple of minutes” He says, extending his hand towards you and gesturing towards the dance floor “what do you say?” 
“You should stop listening to her” You reply but still accept, his hand engulfing yours as he expertly leads you through a sea of couples until you’re far enough that you can’t really see anyone else from your team. 
He takes you into his arms, one goes to your back and the other takes you hand into his ,you're still wearing his jacket so you just rest your head against his chest and close your eyes. 
“...so” You say softly, your words muffled against his shirt. With your eyes closed and your head resting against his chest, you’ve given up dancing and are just content to be cocooned in his arms while he gently sways you both to the tune of the music. Whatever is playing now has long faded to the edge of your conscience, sounding far away. 
“Have you ever considered doing all of this again?” 
“Getting married?” This close together his voice reverberates pleasantly through your whole body, it feels as if you’ve both stepped into someone else’s wedding and you know each other here. 
“Yeah”
“What, you had your turn in the hot seat and now it’s my turn?”
“Yeah” 
After a beat he says admits it so softly that you have to strain to hear him properly
“I would have wanted to”
He had long ago decided to settle for the life he had, being a father had to come first, the rest was something he no longer got to want. Or something he wouldn’t admit he still wanted anyway. 
You raise your head briefly to look up at him, his tone sobering you up, because you know him, know what he meant. If you had looked just behind Hotch towards the other edge of the dance floor you would have caught Spencer's inquisitive gaze or Penelopes’ delighted one. But you don’t, you’re laser focused on Hotch searching in his eyes for something you can’t quite grasp, a way to convey that he needs to stop atoning for something he shouldn’t fault himself for in the first place. 
You fist your hands on the front of his shirt briefly before smoothing out the wrinkles with your palms.
“I didn’t ask about before, I’m asking about you now” 
“It’s not that easy” 
“It’s a yes or no question, so yes it actually is” 
He tilts his head back in frustration, looking up at the night sky like he’ll find the exact words he wants to use spelled for him. 
“That’s not something I get to want anymore” “You can’t punish yourself forever” 
He begins to say something but you cut him off before he can, his hands tightening around your waist
“Nor should you try” He gulps and looks away giving in “think whatever you want to think but I know you and I think you deserve to be happy again” 
“I thought you said I shouldn’t listen to you” 
“Momentary lapse in judgment”  You reply with a teasing smile, not wanting to fully fuck up his night “so?” 
“...Yes”   Somehow the admission of desire feels like a betrayal and a confession at the same time. Both freeing and terrifying. 
 You go back to swaying together, in sync with one another and standing out against the livelier rhythm of the couples around you. 
From this vantage point you study his profile, from his strong nose to his thick lashes and back to his jaw. You never really paid attention to him but right now under the tea lights it dawns on you how handsome he is. 
“What about you?” 
“Oh I’m joining a convent” He chuckles and you feel it move through you. It’s a rare sound nowadays. 
“You’ll find someone” Hotch says with a certainty you wished you could have
“That’s just what you say to make people feel better, it’s up there with yes those bangs look great on you or like when you tell little kids that they can be astronauts or whatever” 
“I know you’ll find someone because I don’t think anyone could meet you and not realize how extraordinary you are” He says in an almost whisper. 
“There is someone who, categorically, doesn’t realize it, in this very same room” 
“Could be he didn’t know you as well as you’d think”
“Could be” You concede. 
Some time has passed now, although you can’t pinpoint exactly how long, it feels like the rest of the world went quiet and this is all that’s left. The sweet honeyed lilies, fresh jasmines and heady sweet daffodils of the garden are in full bloom. The night sweetly perfumed as the petals gently swayed to and fro.
From across the garden you can see JJ slow dance with Will, he’s saying something to her and she’s all smiles.  You let your humiliation melt into fondness, the warmth you felt for her pulling you out of your melancholy. New beginnings and all that. 
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imyourbratzdoll · 2 days
Text
𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆
part 7 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️
summary - time passes and you finally find your happiness, but does it last for long?
warning - smut, swearing, near death, angst, bad thoughts, doubt, dirty thoughts, slight violence, creampie.
18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6
Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.
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Time had passed since Steve had apologised, things were slowly getting better. You had found friends that you felt you could trust, you were currently standing with Nat and Wanda. You had stopped listening to the conversation a while ago when your eyes had found Steve’s, you didn’t mean to but everything seemed to disappear when you looked at him. 
You could see his expression was serious from where you were standing but as his head turned and his eyes connected with yours. You liked how it softened slightly, he looked at you differently from how he had looked at everyone else and you could feel yourself falling. 
“He looks at you differently.” Nat’s voice pierces your mind.
You hum, not daring to remove your eyes from his. “How does he look at me?” 
Wanda giggles, her eyes flickering between you two. “Like he never wants to look away.” You felt your heart flutter as those words leave her lips.
A similar conversation takes place with the men across from your group. 
“Damn, the way you look at her…” Sam whistles. “You got it bad.” 
Steve’s brows furrow, “How do I look?” 
Bucky smirks, patting his back. “Like you would kill for her.” And Steve would, he knew he would do anything for you. 
Steve felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest when you smiled at him. He had never seen someone with the prettiest smile, not until he met you. He could feel his lips lifting on their own, returning your sweet smile, feeling like he accomplished something when you shyly look away, bottom lip between your teeth holding back a grin. 
You deserved the world and Steve wanted to give it to you. 
“I’m going to do it.” He stated, causing Bucky and Sam to turn their heads his way. “I’m going to finally ask Y/n out.” He looks at them and grins. 
“That’s great, man! When are you gonna do it?” Sam pats his back, while Bucky looks at his best friend with a smile. 
“Now.” That’s all Steve says as he’s already heading towards you, not being able to wait any longer. When he stops in front of you, he swears that everyone can hear how loud his heart is beating. But he didn’t care, all of his attention was on you. “Hi.” Steve sounded like he had run a mile, but you just seemed to knock the breath out of him. 
You smile up at him, your eyes shining with affection. He looked so good in front of you. “Hi.” Why did you sound so out of breath?
Neither of you notice Nat and Wanda slowly moving next to Bucky and Sam who watch you guys with giant smiles. 
“Hi.” Your smile widens as Steve repeats himself and you raise a brow. How could someone be so cute and handsome at the same time? So rough but soft? Steve blinks, his cheeks turning pink as he realises he’s already said hi. “Go out with me?” His eyes widen when he blurts out. “I mean, would you like to go out with me?” 
“I would love to.” Your smile never left your lips and only he seemed to be able to do that. 
Steve nods with a smile before his mouth drops open. “Wait really?” You giggle, nodding. “Good, great! Yes.” He stumbles before clearing his throat. “Now?” 
It was your turn for your eyes to widen. “Now?” You nervously look down at your outfit. “I’ll need to change… I don’t think I should wear this for our first date.” 
Steve shakes his head. “You don’t have to, I mean… You can if you want, but I think you are beautiful in anything.” His eyes don’t leave yours and suddenly you no longer care about what clothes you are wearing.
You lick your lips and turn, beginning to walk off. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” You faintly hear your friends cheer as Steve follows like a lovesick puppy, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. You let out a startled gasp when he suddenly appears beside you, forgetting about his long legs and how he manages to move so fast with them. 
Your chest tightens when you feel his hand softly grasp yours, his fingers fitting so perfectly with yours. He squeezed your hand gently as though he knew how nervous you were. 
Steve had led you to his car, opening the door for you before walking around to the drivers side. You felt the need to ask him where he was taking you, it was right on the tip of your tongue but when you looked at him. You no longer cared, you just wanted to be anywhere he was.
You watched the scenery pass by as Steve drove before he turned into a parking lot. “I just have to grab a few things and then we will head to our date. Does that sound okay?” He looked at you and it felt nice that he wanted to make sure it was okay with you before he did it. You hadn’t experienced this before.
You nod but Steve shakes his head, cupping your cheek softly. “Words, Sweetheart.”
You don’t think you should be feeling what you’re feeling on a first date. Nope, definitely not. You couldn’t jump his bones on a first date, it’s not right. But it’s the only thing you could think about as you stared into his eyes. 
Steve chuckles, his thumb stroking your skin. “Unless you want to come with me?” 
You shake your head, you definitely wouldn’t be able to walk or think straight. You’d need a few seconds without him to be able to calm yourself. “N–no, I’m okay. That sounds okay to me.” Would it be so bad to ditch the date and have him fuck you into the backseat? 
Steve nods, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead before exiting the car with a promise he’ll be quick. The moment the door shuts, you lean back and let out a breath, watching him walk into the shop. Probably wasn’t the best idea as your eyes next left his back or arse.
“Fuck me, how am I going to last?” Your eyes squeeze shut as you try and divert your thoughts somewhere else. “He’s so sweet… I just want to pin him down and ride him.” You huff. “That’s definitely not helping. But he is sweet though…”
You probably looked insane to anyone outside of the car looking in. But you needed to have a small conversation with yourself or you’d end up going crazy. 
Steve rushed around the store, grabbing the things he needed to make this date worth it for you. He didn’t want to screw up his chance, you were what he wanted. He thought about you when he woke up and when he went to sleep, every little thing reminded him of you. Steve felt like the time was finally right. He headed towards the exit after paying but stopped as he came across a small flower stand that he swears wasn’t there when he came in but he doesn’t question it as he wasn’t exactly thinking much when he walked in, his hand skims over a few of them as he tries to find the perfect ones. 
“Not those ones.” His brows furrowed as he heard someone speak to him, causing him to look up. An old man smiles as he moves closer. “Those won’t do.” 
“Excuse me?” 
“The flowers. You’re getting them for someone special, yes?” Steve nods, an image of you appearing in his mind. “Then those are definitely not the ones. Here.” The old man begins to pick certain flowers from each bouquet and Steve opens his mouth to say that he probably isn’t allowed to do that but closes when he turns around. 
Steve’s mouth drops open, his arm reaching out and his hand softly grazes the flower. “They’re beautiful.” He pulls his hand back and reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet. “How much do I owe you?” 
The old man shakes his head, pushing the bouquet towards Steve gently. “It’s on the house, son. Now go, you don’t want to keep this special lady waiting any longer.” He smiles softly, a sparkle in his eyes as Steve grabs the flowers off of him. 
“Thank you, thank you so much. This means a lot.” Steve nods with appreciation before bidding the man a goodbye and walking away. Steve stops, feeling slightly bad. “Wait, I can’t take these for fr–” As he turns, he sees that the stall is gone. As though it was never there. His brows furrowed as he looked between the vacant space and the flowers. Surely it wasn’t all in his head, he had the bouquet in his hand. With a shake of his head, Steve walks out of the store and heads towards the car, questions filling his mind. 
You smile when you see Steve and all the thoughts that cloud his mind suddenly vanish as he looks at you. He smiles back, placing the basket neatly in the backseat before climbing into the front and handing you the bouquet. His hands shake slightly, hoping you’d like them. 
“Steve…” You stare at them with wide eyes, your hands slowly grabbing them and you lean in to smell them before you turn to him, your mouth opening and closing. “They’re beautiful… You didn’t have to…” You blink, feeling tears brim your eyes as you stare at him. “Thank you.” 
Steve reaches over, taking your hand softly. His thumb stroking your knuckles. “I would give you the whole world if I could.” He brings your hand up and places a soft kiss on it before he turns the car on, never letting go of your hand. “Now, are you ready to start our date officially?” You nod, no words able to escape you as you tighten your hold on his. 
You don’t think your mouth had closed since the beginning of this date with Steve, he had pulled moves that you weren’t expecting. Well, moves you didn’t think you deserved. 
You had finally arrived at your destination, which confused you a bit as he parked his car in a dirt parking lot in front of the woods. You looked at him and tilted your head. “If you brought me out here to kill me. I just want to let you know that you will probably get a one star review for first dates.”
Steve looks at you and chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t kill such a beautiful woman. I’d be incredibly stupid if I did.” He kisses your hand again before hopping out of the car and jogging around to your side before you even have a chance to turn around. Steve opens the door and helps you out before grabbing the basket in the back, his hand never leaving yours as he leads you through a short path. Your mouth drops open once again as you notice a beautiful field at the end of the path, it looks like something from a dream. “Do you like it?”
You squeeze his hand, not taking your eyes off of the field. “I love it.” You feel Steve let go before watching him walk out and find a spot, you watch him set the basket down and open it, pulling out a blanket. He lays the blanket flat on the ground before pulling food and drinks out of the basket. You walk over as he gestures for you, grabbing your hand softly as he helps you down. You stumble, falling into his chest gently. Your hands resting flat on the hardened muscle, his hands gripping your hips. 
Your eyes meet and you both notice how close you are to each other. You notice how well you seem to fit together. 
“Sorry…” Your cheeks heat up and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you continue to look into his eyes. 
“Don’t be.” Steve’s eyes dart between yours and your lips, his grip tightening slightly. “Are you hungry, Sweetheart?” 
You nod, teeth sinking harder into your lip because you aren’t thinking about food. Steve’s lips lift into a smirk, one hand moving to cup your cheek as his thumb pulls your lip from your mouth. 
“For food, Sweetheart. No matter how much I want to, I’m not going to sleep with you on the first date, nor the second or third. I want you to know I’m serious about being with you for you and not what’s between your legs.” He looked so serious and all you could think was–
Is it possible for hearts to have orgasms?
Steve sets you in a comfortable position on his lap, he liked the feeling of you close and when you didn’t protest, he took that as a good sign. He grabs the paper plates he bought and piles food onto them, listening to you ask for either more or a specific thing. You talked in a different light then how you guys talked when around your friends, it felt good, refreshing even. 
After you had finished eating, you and Steve lied onto your backs. You decided to play a small game that included the clouds and you couldn’t stop the laughs from escaping you. Steve couldn’t stop himself from staring at you. 
Your head falls to the side, the smile slowly falling off of your face as you notice Steve looking at you. “What?...” Was there something on your face? 
He hums, eyes fluttering as they dance across your face, taking in your features. “Just wondering how anyone could let you slip through their fingers. Must be blind or dumb… Or possibly both.” 
“You wouldn’t let me slip through yours?” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip again and it was driving Steve crazy. 
He shakes his head. “I’d choose you and I’ll choose you, over, and over, and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I will keep choosing you.” You suck in a breath at his confession. Steve moves closer and takes your face into his hands. “Don’t you know? I have been yours. You always had my heart from the beginning. I fell for you ages ago. I have always belonged to you and only you.” He leans closer and your lips part. “I am yours, Sweetheart. Even if you aren’t mine.” 
It felt like everything had finally fallen together as he uttered those words. You could finally see what you had in front of you, you could finally feel what you had been pushing away. You wanted to jump, you wanted him.
“I’m yours.” The moment those words fall from your lips, Steve’s lips crash into yours, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head while the other cups your cheek. You could have sworn there were sparks, fireworks… Everything that the books and movies said would happen. 
The void inside yours and Steve’s chest had finally been filled, causing an extreme amount of love and happiness to flow through you. 
You pull away, softly gasping for air. You didn’t want to stop, because his lips felt so fucking good against yours. But unfortunately you needed to breathe and it seemed as though Steve felt the same as your eyes connected with his dark gaze.
Steve’s thumb strokes your cheek, “God, your ex is such a fucking idiot.” You hum, blinking slowly as you continue to stare into his eyes, his words barely registering in your mind. “But if I ever run into him. I’m definitely going to thank him.” 
You blink, brows furrowing as you pull back. “Huh?”
Steve grins. “Don’t get me wrong, If I ever meet the guy. I’ll definitely kill him for hurting you. But if he didn’t hurt you like he did, you wouldn’t have left and we wouldn’t have bumped into each other again.” He moves closer, brushing his nose against yours before pulling back and smiling more. “So, before I kill him. I am going to thank him for leading you back to me.” 
You huff, glaring at him a bit before cracking a smile when Steve just grins back. Your eyes flicker down to your fingers that play with his beard, humming softly before looking back into his eyes. “You wouldn’t kill him… It’s not who you are.”
Steve leans forward, pressing a rough but tender kiss against your lips before he pulls back. “You don’t seem to understand the power you hold over me, Sweetheart. I would rip the world apart with my bare hands if anything ever happened to you.” Your heart jumped, but not in fear. “Hell, I’d do it if you simply asked me too. That’s how much power you hold over me, Sweetheart.” Your lips part as he takes your chin in his hand, gently caressing it as he looks at you. “I need you to understand before we go any further with this. That I am yours and only yours. There is no other person that I want, no one else crosses through my thoughts when I think of love. You are the only one I want to be with.”
“I understand.” 
Steve shakes his head. “No, no you don’t and that’s okay. I won’t go anywhere when you have doubts about me, or when you begin to worry that I may be cheating. I am going to stick through it all because I want you. Because I will prove to you that you are the only woman I will ever love, ever be intimate with. Even if it takes forever for you to fully trust and believe, I can do this all day.” His words were so gentle and filled with love that you felt like crying. 
You cupped his face into your hands, pulling him back in for a deep kiss. Your eyes closing as you savor this feeling, enjoying how complete you feel when his lips touch yours. 
After your first date, everything else seemed to finally fall into place. Steve kept his word on not sleeping with you on your second and third date, which was driving you insane because he treated you so well while looking so god damn hot doing it. It was like he knew that you were seconds away from jumping him because he’d tease you and smirk while doing it but he would never let it go any further. It was like he was doing everything in his power to make you understand he was in this for more than just sex. 
You stared at yourself in the mirror, taking deep breaths as you prepared for another date Steve had planned. The other dates you didn’t react like this but this one he was taking you to a carnival. You were scared that what you had with Steve would change after this. You knew it was silly, it was just a carnival but what if this was a sign? What if things went downhill because things reminded you of him?
You blink out of your daze when you feel arms wrapping around you, your back hitting a thick body. Your eyes meet Steve’s worried gaze, your mouth opens but Steve beats you to it. 
“If you’re thinking you aren’t beautiful again. I swear I will put you over my knee.” He watches as your thighs squeeze together at the thought. “Maybe not, you seem to be into that idea.” Steve spins you around, pushing you softly against the counter while gripping your chin between his fingers. “Do you want to tell me what you are feeling?” 
You begin to chew on your bottom lip, staring up at him as you think. Steve tuts gently, pulling your lip from your teeth as he glares down at them before his eyes dart up to your eyes, raising a brow. “Johnny took me to the carnival…” 
He sucks in a breath at the mention of your ex, wishing he could give that man a piece of his mind. Possibly dumping his body into the ocean also but that could wait. “We don’t have to go if it’s making you uncomfortable, Sweetheart. I am happy as long as you are happy.” 
Your brows furrow as you hate this feeling, your ex hurt you and now you are acting like a child because a man who actually loves you wants to take you somewhere special. “No, I’m being stupid. I want to go.” 
You let out a soft gasp when he pushes you into the counter more, squeezing your chin slightly. “Sweetheart. Don’t you dare call yourself fucking stupid again. You are not stupid for feeling like this, do you understand?” 
You pout slightly, squeezing your thighs together softly as Steve moves your head up and down. “Good girl. I knew you would.” He leans down, pecking your lips gently. “Where do you want to go, Sweetheart?” 
“The carnival.” You let out a small whimper, wishing he would just fuck you right here and right now. 
You arrive, hand gripping Steve’s. He thinks it’s due to anxiety and bad memories but you really just want to sink to your knees and worship him. 
Steve lets you pull him along, going from game to game. You play a game of each before he takes a turn, winning you every prize you have your eye on. You couldn’t be happier, the other memories now forgotten as they are replaced with the happiness Steve brings. 
“I’m going to get us some food. Will you be okay here?” Steve asks, cupping your cheek as he peers down at you. You nod, smiling up at him as he leans down and pecks your lips. “Call out if you need me, Sweetheart. I’d drop everything to make sure you’re safe.” 
You let out a sigh of happiness as he walks away, your eyes falling to his arse. You were slightly jealous at how glorious it was compared to yours. But then again, if you asked Steve, he would say yours was a work of art. 
“Y/n?” You are pulled out of your thoughts as a familiar voice calls out to you. Your eyes drift and lock onto your ex-husband’s, he walks over with a giant smile. “Damn, you’re looking good! How have you been? Who was that guy?” 
You blink, confused. “Uh, I’ve been fine. That’s Steve.” You began to look around, hoping to catch Steve’s eye but you couldn’t see him anywhere. How far had he gone for food? Did he really go for food or was he pulling a Johnny? Your heart squeezed at the thought of being played again, you were stupid to think that you could get your happy ending. 
Johnny reaches out and touches your arm, moving closer. “I’ve missed you, Baby Girl.” You feel like you are going to throw up as the nickname slips from his lips. “Why don’t you give me another chance, hmm? I promise I won’t do it again.” 
“What happened to Sarah?” 
Johnny scoffs, his thumb stroking your arm. “She didn’t want to come. Don’t worry about her, so. What do you say we get out of here and I can make up for all of that time we missed?” 
You try to pull away while looking at him disgusted. “What the fuck, Johnny. You haven’t fucking changed at all. I loved you!” 
Johnny scoffs, “I know.” 
“And you broke my heart.” 
He nods. “I know that, too.” 
Your mouth opens as you go to say something but a dark shadow looms over the two of you. You turn your head and sigh as you realise it’s Steve, his eyes dark as he glares down at Johnny. Without realising, Johnny loosens his grip allowing Steve to pull you closer to him, tucking you into his side. 
“This is the guy you replaced me with?” He laughs, pointing. “This guy? He couldn’t even make you fucking scream if he tried.” He looks between you and Steve before settling back on you. “Come back to me, Baby Girl and I promise I’ll make you forget this guy.” Johnny reaches for you only for Steve to reach forward and grip his neck. 
You looked around with wide eyes, thankfully Steve chose a more secluded area because he wanted to spend some time with you without others intervening. 
“Touch her again and I’ll break your neck.” 
That was not supposed to turn you on. You were sick, yep. Definitely sick. 
Johnny tries to scoff the best he can while his neck is currently being squeezed. “Please, the slut wants me back. She’s so fucking pathetic I bet she spread her legs the moment you gave her the smallest bit of attention.” 
You watch with wide eyes and a wet cunt as Steve’s grip becomes tighter, he leans closer and whispers words low enough you can barely hear. 
“I’m going to kill you.” Steve’s voice becomes threatening, a slight growl escaping as he glares into Johnny’s eyes. “If you say another word about the woman I love, if you look at her, if you even think about her. I am going to fucking kill you.” 
“Dud–” Johnny tries to speak, his face turning red as he struggles to breathe.
“Actually, I think I will kill you now.” 
You realised Steve wasn’t kidding. He would follow through with everything he had told you on your first date, your eyes widened even more when you realised he had claimed you were the woman he loved. Loved. 
He, Steve Rogers, loved you?
Your chest tightens, “Steve…”
“Don’t you dare argue with me, Sweetheart. You’re mine.” The growl that slips from his lips is so feral, you felt like falling to your knees. “You don’t belong to this piece of shit anymore.” Steve turns his attention away from the man he’s currently choking to you. A darkness swirls deep inside of him, blinding him from being able to think rationally at this point. “You belong to me. Understand?” 
Fuck. 
Without much thought, you launch forward, capturing his lips in a deep, love-filled kiss. Pouring everything you felt into him, your arms moved, cupping his face as you did your best to pull him closer to you. Steve’s grip loosens, dropping Johnny. The both of you ignore as he falls, holding his throat as he coughs, trying to breathe again. 
You sigh happily as Steve’s body turns fully towards you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his other moves to cup the back of your head. Your lips moving so beautifully together, a squeal escapes you as Steve suddenly lifts you, your legs wrapping around him. You moan against his lips as his hand moves from your back to your arse, squeezing and slapping it. 
You pushed through the lust clouding your mind, finally realising you were still very much in public while your ex husband was still rubbing his throat on the ground. But the feel of Steve’s hands and lips against you was like heaven, you didn’t want this to stop ever. Maybe you should thank Johnny, it seemed his arseholeness was the final push for Steve to give into both of your desires. 
A moan slipped from your lips as Steve pulled you even closer to him, nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip as he devoured you. “Fuck. I don’t want our first time to be here, Sweetheart but you’re making this so fucking impossible.” Steve groans, squeezing your arse harder and bringing you into an even deeper kiss. 
“Take me home, Steve.” You breathe into the kiss, tugging slightly on his hair as you pull back to look at him with hooded eyes. “Please. Claim me as yours completely.” 
You watch his eyes darken even more if that was even possible. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.” Without letting go of you, Steve bends down and stares at Johnny. “If you even think about trying anything. I will end you.” Your grip on him tightens at the threat, causing Steve to smirk. “You lost an incredible woman because of how pathetic you are. But I would like to thank you for leading her to me. If it weren’t for you being such a screw up, I wouldn’t have this wonderful woman in my arms and soon in my bed where you will be the last thing on her mind.” 
With one last look of disgust, Steve carries you throughout the carnival and to the car, hurriedly placing you inside before rushing in himself and driving you back to his place, you squirm the whole way as he leaves his hand on the inside of your thigh. 
You barely have time to breathe as Steve stops the car and instantly rushes to your side. Your arms wrapping around him as he picks you up, you had never seen Steve so… Impatient before, he was always the type to be calm and collected. Your eyes scan his face, noting the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. He was so beautiful, how did you become so lucky? You reach Steve’s door but you barely notice, your eyes are stuck on him. Admiring his thick beard and his hair that he had begun growing out. 
Steve looks down at you. “Are you okay? We don’t have to–” 
You press your lips against his gently. “Shh. I want you.” Your hand cups his cheek, smiling softly as he leans into your touch. “I am better than okay. No one has ever done what you did, Steve and I love you for it.” 
A squeal leaves you as Steve launches forward, capturing your lips with his. He manages to open the door before pressing you against the back of it, his hands moving all over your body, not wanting to miss anything. You moan into the kiss, it was like everything was finally falling into place. Your hands fly up, cupping his face and tugging on his hair. You pull him even closer, not wanting there to be any space between the two of you. 
Steve pulls back and you whimper, “God. I want you so bad.” Your breath gets caught in your throat at his confession. His hands grip your hips, looking you deep in your eyes. “You seriously don’t understand the effect you have on me. I can’t even be in the same room as you because I just want to touch you every chance I get.” Your mouth falls open, legs squeezing together.
“Steve…”
He hums, eyes focused on your lips. “Yeah, Sweetheart?” 
“Fuck me.” 
A grin makes its way onto his face as your eyes connect. “As you wish.” 
Next thing you know, you’re on your back staring up at the ceiling as Steve pulls your thighs onto his shoulders. You don’t remember when your clothes had come off but you can barely think as Steve begins to feast on you, your hands curl into the sheets below. “Oh god!” He groans deep into you, tongue swirling and flicking before his lips wrap around your swollen clit, sucking it hard into his mouth as your back arches off of the bed. 
Steve pulls away as you’re about to cum, causing you to look at him with furrowed brows. “I want to feel you cum around me. Then I’m going to take you apart over and over again until you can barely remember your name. Understand, Sweetheart?” 
Your mouth falls open as you stare at him. Brain feeling so fuzzy that you can’t even respond to him now. Steve leans closer, pressing his body against yours. A moan fills the room as you feel his length resting against your cunt. “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. Save your voice, you’ll need it to scream my name out later.” Steve grips your hips, rubbing his thick member against your slick folds before he begins to push in. “Fuck. You feel so good.” 
Your hands fly up, gripping onto him as he thrusts deeper inside of you. “Steve!”
“You’re being so good for me, Sweetheart. My good girl.” He rests his forehead against yours as his hips move, thrusting in and out of you at a steady but rough pace. His hands move all over you, gripping every part of your body before he rests on your neck, cupping it. Your arms wrap around him, crying out as he fucks you.
You clench around him, feeling your end approaching. “Steve! So close!” You moan as his lips connect with yours, bringing you into a deep kiss. His thrusts pick up, slamming into a spot deep inside of you that causes you to see stars. Your back arches, pressing your body closer against his as you cum hard around him. “STEVE!” You scream out, blacking out for a slight moment.
Steve groans into the kiss, biting down gently on your bottom lip as his cock twitches, pumping you full of his cum. You hold onto him tightly as he continues to coat your walls, hips moving softly against you. He pulls back and looks at you with darkened eyes. “You’ve got me hooked, Sweetheart. There’s no way I’m letting go of you now.” You gasp as you feel him harden inside of you, fully aware that you’re in for a long night.
Steve flops down beside you, huffing slightly as he tries to catch his breath. You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. “Wow.” 
He smiles, pulling you close to him. You snuggle into him, your sore body relaxing as he begins to caress your shoulders and back. Steve leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead before resting his chin on top of your head. “I love you. I want you to know that this isn’t a one time thing for me. You are it for me, okay? You are the woman I want to spend every waking moment with.” You smile happily into his chest. 
So this is love? You could get used to this kind of love. 
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gravegroves · 2 days
Text
Cleaning up my google docs and posting the stuff I think isn't entirely terrible. Enjoy.
Tags & warnings: horror themes, Karen is the Mindflayer, Karen is a warning all on her own, non-graphic references to injury, Billy and Heather friendship, blink and you'll miss it reference to possible future Steve/Billy and Robin/Heather
Rating: M for horror
There's something wrong with Karen Wheeler
*****
He fucked up.
Billy knows this.
Inviting her to the motel for private swimming lessons had been really fucking stupid in retrospect. Still, he'd sat there on that musty motel bed all dolled up and waited for a woman he knew he wouldn't be able to stay hard for and had gotten panicky because of it.
Not that she had shown up in the end. Thank god.
Barely five seconds past the arranged meeting time and Billy had slammed out of the room like the devil was on his ass. He'd sprinted to the Camaro and hightailed it out of there with the windows rolled down low and the night air drying the nervous sweat on his brow, bringing with it a little bit of clarity. He'd laughed around the unlit cigarette pinched between his lips and let the relief wash over him like a potent high. As the rush of adrenalin slowly drained from his system, it had left his hands shaky and clammy on the wheel but his foot heavy on the gas, eager to get home for once.
A bullet dodged.
Or so he had thought.
*****
The next morning Billy saunters out into the pool area in his usual red board shorts and immediately notices Mrs Wheeler lounging in her customary spot, nestled in amongst the row of other preening moms desperate for a scrap of his attention. The hungry stares usually fill him with a great sense of confidence — there's nothing quite as intoxicating as feeling wanted — but now they only make him feel nauseous.
Mrs. Wheeler is clothed from head to toe, making her stick out like a sore thumb next to her peers and situated in such a way that the umbrella above her is keeping her fully in the shade. Her gaze snaps to him the second his bare feet connect with the hot concrete and Billy feels a chill running up his spine out of fucking nowhere. His swagger stutters for a second, all the confidence lost in a moment of surprise. He catches himself easily enough, compliments Mrs Groyer on her new hat and power walks over to his chair, eager to pass by Mrs Wheeler without any kind of contact. He swears he can feel her eyes on his back the entire way over. Confirms it when he climbs up into his seat and looks back over to find her gaze still fixed on him, unblinking.
What the fuck has he gotten himself into?
*****
Morning passes into afternoon uneventfully, though Billy finds himself increasingly distracted. It's hard not to with Mrs Wheeler openly staring at him every time his gaze flits to her end of the pool and by the end of the day it's gone from weird and bewildering to downright creepy. He fully expects the woman to get up and walk up to the guard station at any second, so Billy spends his entire shift at the edge of his seat, waiting.
But she never moves.
All she does is stare.
*****
The rush of relief from the previous night has all but evaporated by closing time. A few stragglers are still hanging around and trying to squeeze in a few extra minutes in the water before Billy or Heather decide to kick them out. At the end of the pool, all alone, still as a statue, Karen Wheeler continues to lounge and watch him just as she has been all goddamn day.
Billy doesn't know what to do. He's had girls all over him for the past couple of years, but it's never been like this. He doesn't even know what this is.
Heather had caught on to his situation a few hours ago and while at first she had laughed at him from the shade of the front desk, now she shoots him worried looks between scooping pool noodles out of the water, trying to ask him without words what the hell is going on. Not that Mrs Wheeler ever seems to take her eyes off Billy long enough to notice Heather at all. Billy wouldn't even know how to answer the question anyway, so he just shrugs in response and ignores the prickling on his neck as he goes about checking the pool filter.
Half past eight and Billy kicks out the last two idiots he finds hiding behind the supply shed. He sneaks a last peak around the pool and feels a wave of relief wash over him when Mrs Wheeler's lounge chair is empty for the first time all day. A more thorough sweep of the area and Billy still doesn't catch sight of the woman.
Rushed by this sudden window of being unobserved, Billy quickly wipes down the guard chair and heads directly for the changing rooms, determined to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. He thinks he hears Heather calling out to him as the door swings shut, but Billy has tunnel-visioned in on his objective:
Get changed. Get out of there. Fuck the shower, he'll take one at home.
Except there's a Karen-sized problem standing between Billy and his locker and he freezes mid-step upon entering the changing room.
Under the fluorescent light Mrs Wheeler almost looks blue, her unusually pale skin taking to the light in an odd way. Her clothes are soaked and Billy notices a trail of water leading from the puddle at her feet and out into the showers. In her hand is a bottle of something that looks like the bleach they use for cleaning the floors.
Her eyes are dark and empty and so intently fixed on Billy that his skin begins to crawl as if a thousand spiders have suddenly made a home of his body. She takes a step forward and Billy feels absolutely pinned under her gaze, fight or flight abandoning his brain and leaving him absolutely petrified for some unknown reason.
The door swings open behind him and Heather barges through the door, looking wide-eyed but with a wide smile already plastered onto her face.
"Mrs Wheeler!" Heather's bright, fake-cheerful voice cuts through the silence of the locker room, almost making a mockery out of Billy's panicked state. God, what is wrong with him? "I'm so sorry to do this, but Billy and I really need to close the pool down now. If you wouldn't mind…" Heather steps back and gestures at the door with her whole hand, the same way they've been told to do by their boss time and time again. It's inviting, apparently. Billy never really got the memo, his pointer finger works just fine. But even with a gun to his head, Billy doesn't think he could have worked his muscles to point the way out in that moment, rooted to the spot as he is.
The woman's entire demeanour changes before their eyes. Her gaze fills somehow, feels less like a mannequin staring at you from a Sears storefront and more like somebody's at home in there somewhere.
"Oh, of course!" Mrs Wheeler places the bottle on the bench with the hollow thunk of an empty plastic container. "I just wanted to ask if Billy was still up for those private swimming lessons."
She says it without a hint of innuendo, but from the way Heather's brows climb her forehead she reads the meaning loud and clear. Not exactly Billy's best work.
"All booked out, sorry Mrs W," Billy grins, regaining some of the swagger he seems to have lost along with his balls.
"Well, you let me know if that changes." Mrs Wheeler smiles politely and moves towards the door.
"Sure thing," Billy promises, already sure he's never going to approach Karen Wheeler for anything ever again if he can help it. She walks past them, bringing with her a stinging odour of chemicals and something sickly sweet, like rotting meat.
The changing room door finally slams closed. Heather turns to him.
"For real?"
Billy smirks a little, despite himself.
"She stayed for your entire shift to ask about private swimming lessons?"
"Guess I'm just worth the wait," Billy licks his bottom lip and bites it suggestively.
She shoots him an unimpressed look with a muttered, "Sure, sure," and drops her duffle onto the bench, "You gonna drive me home for saving your ass, or what? Mrs Wheeler is probably hiding in a bush somewhere waiting to jump me for interrupting your little moment." 
He rolls his eyes, "In your wildest dreams, loser."
Heather gives him a pitying look. "Private. Swimming. lessons."
Billy chokes, "God, I fucking hate you."
She grins and wiggles her fingers at him mockingly, "No you don't."
He doesn't. Heather is the closest thing to a real friend Billy's ever had, truth be told, the only good thing about this shit-stinking, two-horse town in Billy's not so humble opinion.
"I'm getting changed in here. Whatever that was–" she waves her hand at the door, "–creeps me the hell out. Turn around so I don't scar you for life."
"Why? Still padding your bra with socks?"
She makes an insistent spinning gesture with her hand and Billy turns around and drops his pants without a second thought. "I've got bigger tits than you, doll. It's nothing I haven't seen before."
"But if I see your cock I'll never forgive you, dickhead."
"Better not look at my head then."
Heather snorts.
When Billy leaves this awful place behind he's going to do his best to convince her to come with him, he'll miss the hell out of her if she decides to stay.
In the end Billy does drive her home, if only because the image of Karen Wheeler crouched in the bushes out along the road somewhere pops into his head and won't leave him alone.
Figures Billy would cross the craziest bitch in all of Hawkins.
Just his luck.
*****
Karen is right back in her lounge chair by the time Billy arrives for his shift the next day. Her clothes are the same ones from the day before and Billy briefly imagines the woman laid out on the chair all night, motionless, waiting for Billy to return.
But she doesn't approach him, she never even says a word. She lies in her lounge, covered from head to toe, tucked into the shade of her umbrella and stares and stares and stares.
*****
Heather arrives at noon to take over for Adam and immediately zeroes in on Mrs Wheeler.
"Your biggest fan is back," she says in lieu of a greeting, as if Billy isn't very fucking aware of the fact and doing his best to ignore it. "She really can't take her eyes off of you, huh?"
Billy can't even muster the energy to find something to say to that. He'd slept like shit the night before, nightmares of Karen hunting him through the woods and hiding in bushes waking him up in a cold sweat. Every time he'd tried to fall back asleep he'd sworn he could hear something scuttling around outside his window, keeping him wide awake way into the early hours of the morning.
All of this because of private swimming lessons? Billy can't help but feel like he dodged a bullet, only to take a dive into a pool of quicksand.
"Look what I made," Heather singsongs and pulls out two cardboard squares chequered into a five by five grid and wiggles them under his nose, "Maybe this will cheer you up."
Billy grins at her and accepts his square. It's become a bit of a tradition on Friday shifts to play this game of theirs. Billy already has his pen out and ready to go, desperately grateful for the distraction.
For the rest of the afternoon they sit on opposite sides of the pool, Billy in the chair, Heather at the hole-in-the-wall front desk and play Hawkins Community Pool Bingo. Billy almost inhales his whistle when he reads the square written in Heather's neat, precise handwriting that says: 'Mr Klaufeld's balls slip out of his speedo again', grimaces at the 'kid vomits in the pool' square, hoping that one doesn't get crossed today even if it means winning. He outright scowls when, instead of a free space in the centre, it says 'Mrs Wheeler creeps on Billy'. Billy immediately crosses that one off the board and flips the bird across the pool, only to receive a jolly wave in return.
By closing time not a single kid has drowned, which is a miracle in and of itself with Billy distracted on two fronts not related to his job. This time, however, as Billy and Heather herd out the last of the stragglers, there is no sign of Mrs Wheeler inside the community pool centre or outside of it.
Billy doesn't know when she left, but a quick peek out into the parking lot confirms that the only car left is his own.
"Maybe she gave up," Heather says and spins the bundle of keys around her finger. Billy is about to open his mouth to answer her when he catches sight of movement out among the trees past the fence and freezes.
The last light of the day may be fading fast, but there's enough of it for Billy to see half of Karen Wheeler's face poking out from behind a tree and staring right at him.
Billy doesn't know why — it's an almost hilariously absurd situation to find himself in; a fully grown woman playing hide and seek with him like a toddler — but the sight of her face slowly disappearing back behind the trunk of the tree immediately has all the hairs on his body standing on end and tears springing to his eyes.
Something is wrong with this picture.
Something is very wrong with Karen Wheeler.
"Heather," he whispers, and the terror in his voice must be so clearly audible, because she immediately snaps around to look at him and then off in the direction he's facing.
"What is it?" She whispers back, "What did you see?"
"There's someone behind that tree."
Someone. 
They stand there, frozen, like two deer catching the scent of a predator on the wind and waiting to hear the snap of a twig.
A full minute ticks by. Only the faint sound of wind rustling the treetops and the occasional gurgle from the pool filter disrupts the absolute silence that falls over them.
Heather shifts on the spot.
"Just wait," he begs, voice shaky. Eyes watering from trying not to blink, still fixated on that tree, "I swear I'm not fucking around."
It's too much. This is too much.
Eventually Heather takes a step away from him and makes a shushing motion when he opens his mouth to protest. He tenses his body, thinking that she's going to leave him there all alone, but she keeps her eyes fixed on the tree Billy keeps looking at while she moves away, trying to get a view from a different angle.
That turns out to be a huge mistake.
Heather reaches the other end of the fence and just as she does, she chokes on a sudden inhale of surprise just as Mrs Wheeler comes sprinting out from behind the tree, heading straight for Billy.
She eats up the distance in a matter of seconds, but her face is so dreadfully blank that for a moment Billy doesn't react at all, the absolute absurdity of what he's witnessing freezing him to the spot once again.
She's so fast, is all he can think as she nears the patch of grass leading up to the pool area, but before she reaches it Heather grabs onto his hand and yanks him toward the gate.
"Come ON!" She screams, just as Mrs Wheeler reaches the fence. And starts scaling it like a goddamn spider.
With the image of that burned into his mind, the pair of them sprint to the gate and reach it just as a sickening crunch of meat and bones landing on concrete rings out across the pool area. Billy barely has time to process the image of Mrs Wheeler snapping her ankles back into place as Heather frantically flicks through the keys to lock the gate behind them, her hands shaking too violently to guide it once she finds it.
"C'mon, c'mon, come, ON!" she says between gritted teeth and lets out a cry of frustration before Billy takes over and jams the key in to the tiny opening and locks the gate with a click.
"Run!" Billy calls out and this time he's the one to pull Heather along into the parking lot.
The clinking of chain link fence straining under added weight sounds out for the second time, but Billy doesn't dare waste any time witnessing that unnatural spider scrawl again, just puts all of his focus into getting to the Camaro and locking the doors with a decisive thunk once they're both safely inside.
Billy doesn't hesitate, jamming the key into the ignition and revving the engine with a roar before he backs the car out of the space with a screech of tires. There is a blur of a body rushing past the passenger side window, landing with another sickening thud and Heather presses herself back over the centre console, keening in terror as Mrs Wheeler slowly gets back up, hair wild, skin bruised and bloody, her face still a blank slate as she turns to look in through the window at them both.
"Billy, GO!" Heather pleads and Billy steps on the gas and speeds the Camaro out of the parking lot.
In the rearview mirror, Billy watches as a human form steps out onto the road to watch them speed away for just a moment before slinking to the edge of the forest and melting back into the darkness.
Heather is slumped in the passenger seat, shivering and panting. Billy's own hands are steady only because they're white knuckling the steering wheel. After a moment of silence, she turns to look at him with an uncertain smile, voice just this side of shrill.
"I think maybe it's time to find a job at the mall."
"Yeah," Billy laughs shakily, "I heard Scoops Ahoy is hiring."
.
.
.
40 notes · View notes
dragoncopper · 3 days
Text
The Apparition - Continued.
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A/N: Please read The Apparition first, if you haven’t already, or this won’t really make sense. 
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x female Reader
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 5475
Warnings: Major character death, crying, sadness, suicide, smut, fluff
Link to The Apparition
Read the whole thing on A03 here.
 You
The diagnosis was unexpected. 
You sat in the doctor’s office while she was telling you about it, and you felt shaky and like your breath was not reaching your lungs and that you were kind of floating near your body, but not inhabiting it.  You heard what she was saying, and yet it was not sinking in.
You felt nervous and afraid.  You did not know how you were supposed to feel.  How you were supposed to process the information?  How were you going to explain it to him?
Driving back home you took it slow, no music.  You needed the silence to be able to not feel overwhelmed and overstimulated.  You dreaded seeing his face now.  His reaction scared you more than any of the realities of the situation ever could.  You wanted to protect him from this more than you wanted to save yourself. 
You were sitting on the couch staring off into the distance for a while, you don’t really know how long, before you felt him appear.  He smiled at you and came closer and soon he realised that you were not yourself and he sat down next to you.  You felt the familiar dip next to you. 
‘What happened?’ he asked his voice immediately worried.
You were quiet trying to decide which words to use.  He placed his large hand on your lower back in a gesture of comfort and you felt the heat of it through your shirt. 
‘I am… I have cancer,’ you say, your voice flat, but you needed it all out as quickly as possible.  ‘It already started spreading.  I…,’
‘You just had some neck pain,’ he whispers after being quiet for very long. 
‘Yeah,’ you nod.  ‘It’s in my spine.’
‘How,’ he started a sentence he did not know how to finish.  ‘It doesn’t….’
‘I’m sorry,’ you say to him. 
‘What?  Why are you sorry?’  he asked with the deepest frown on his face.
‘I know this is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me,’ you say.  Looking in his eyes the emotion hits you finally. 
He shakes his head and leans in to you and holds you.  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he whispers.  ‘What do we do?  How do we fix this?’
‘There’s not much to be done.  It has already spread all over,’ you reply into his shoulder.
‘But surely, they gave you some advice?  Some options?’
‘I can try chemotherapy.  It can slow the spread.  Maybe give me more time, but by the sounds of things there is no fixing this anymore,’ you explain.
‘But you didn’t have symptoms,’ he is trying to make sense.  ‘How, I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t either, Noah.  I am so sorry.’
‘Stop apologizing,’ he says.  He holds you quietly.  After a while you feel his breathing start to pick up and you feel it begin to shake, and hitch.  You hold him back tighter and for the first time since you have gotten the news, you feel the tears prick at your own eyes. 
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ you say your voice small.
‘Baby,’ his voice cracking.  ‘I don’t want you to hurt.’
 Noah
It took me some time to convince her to do the chemotherapy.  She didn’t want to, arguing that it was pointless.  I argued that it gave her some more time.  Gave her more opportunities to do things and live.  I am sure that she is doing it purely for me.  But I feel we have to try. 
So, we are in the car where Nick is driving her to the hospital.
We moved a few years ago.  She made the amazing and selfless decision to move closer to Nick for my sake.  That way I could have my two people near me.  The move felt like a new beginning for us, we picked a new flat together and moved in and I had an input, and for a while we could both imagine that we were just a normal couple moving in together.
While our lives have so many strange things about it, we were so normal and everyday that I often forgot the fact that I was dead.  She loved me so fully and completely despite the fact that I couldn’t be real for her.  We were happy and delusional and had started to live in our own little world where everything was what we wanted.  This news cracked open that illusion.  Reality caught up with us.
‘You say you have snacks and something to drink?’ Nick asked ad he pulled into the parking area of the hospital.
‘Yes, Noah packed me a whole little goody bag,’ she answered him.
‘I will be here to pick you up,’ he says with small, reassuring smile.  ‘You sure you don’t want me to come?’
‘Noah is with me,’ she says.  That’s all the explanation she needed to give. 
‘I got it,’ I say to Nick.  ‘Thank you, brother.’
‘Good luck,’ Nick said somberly.
She grips my hand to the point of pain as we walk inside.  They take her to a chair with so much shit set up around it.  I stand back and watch as they connect her to all the medical equipment.  Then they slide the thick needle into her arm where the chemicals that is supposed to help her live longer will enter her body.  She doesn’t flinch.  She watches as it slides into her skin and they place a bandage over to keep it in place.  The people at the hospital were being so nice and sweet and told her to not hesitate to call them if she needed anything.  But my sweet girl seemed numb, she nodded along but her eyes were empty.  That upset me so deeply. 
When we are alone, I approach and cup her cheek.  ‘You okay?’ I whisper.
She nods.  ‘I think so,’ she gives me a small smile.  It’s barely there. 
We have to be discreet.  She cannot have a full-blown conversation with a ghost in the hospital.  So, she has a book to keep her entertained.  I sit down in front of her on the floor, she hooks one leg over my shoulder and I roll up her pant leg, and I start massaging her calf and ankles and feet.  She touches my hair every now and then, hugs me with her leg by squeezing me closer to her.  Later we swop her legs. She falls asleep at some point. 
Six hours later, Nick is waiting, smoking a cigarette by his car.  He seemed anxious.  Relief flooded his face when he sees us.  She seemed okay at this time, but I know we are in for a rough night. 
‘How was it?’  Nick asked.
‘It was great,’ she answered sarcastically. 
‘Sorry, that was a stupid question,’ he scrunches his face. 
‘No, I’m sorry.   It was okay.  It’s just really long, that was the most annoying bit,’ she slips into the car and leans back into the seat. 
Nick squeezed my shoulder.  ‘And you?’
I nod in determination.  ‘She took it like a champ.’
‘How did you take it?’  he asked.
‘It broke my heart,’ I admit quietly.
 You
‘Hey, Noah,’ you call to him.
‘Baby?’ he answers.
‘I need your help please,’ you approach him and he looks at you warily.  You take out the clippers from behind your back.  ‘It’s time.’
You can see the moment he realizes and you see the pain in his eyes.   He gets up without a word and walks closer to you and takes the clippers from your hand and then kisses you solidly on the lips.  ‘It’s not that bad yet,’ he says softly.
‘No, but a few clumps came loose in the shower and I just cannot handle it.  I need it to be over with,’ you explain.
‘Okay,’ he nods and takes your hand and he starts for the bathroom. 
‘No, can you do it in the kitchen?  I don’t want to see it in the mirror,’ you say and you feel shy about admitting that.
‘Whatever you want,’ he smiles.  When you’re in the kitchen he drags a chair closer.  You sit down and take a deep breath.  ‘You have a hair tie?’ 
‘Yeah,’ you dig the one you had out of your pocket.  ‘Why?’
‘So can keep the hair I cut together,’ he says and he gently and with so much care gathers your hair together and ties it at the back of your head. 
‘I thought I would feel sadder about this,’ you admit something to him again.
‘It’s just hair,’ he says simply.  ‘You ready?’
‘Mmm,’ and you feel him cut the hair with a scissor, you feel the weight of the hair disappear.  It takes him a moment before he holds the ponytail out to you.  You take it and hold it, run your fingers through it.  He leans over your shoulder and kisses your neck affectionately. 
‘Let me know when I should continue,’ he whispers. 
‘Now, please.’  You say, beginning to feel very anxious.  ‘Let’s get it over with.’
You hear the harsh sound of the clippers being turned on and then he starts running it over your head.  Whisps of hair fall down your back, over your shoulders, past your face and you hold your breath to not get any of it in your mouth.  It also helps to keep the tears back.  He takes his time; you feel him go over some spots to make sure its even.  When he switches the clippers off, the silence is deafening.
He runs his hand over your scalp.  ‘All done,’ he says. 
‘How does it look?’ you ask, brushing across your body to get the hair off you. 
‘It looks like you,’ you hear his voice is thick.  Both of you keep quiet for a moment, both trying to keep composure for the other one.  You busy yourselves with gathering the hair on the floor together and picking it up, using a dustpan to get the finer hairs.  When it’s all clean, he grabs your hand and pulls you to him and he wraps his arms around you.  With your face buried in his chest, you feel safe and like it will all be okay.  His tall frame is concave so he can hold you with as much of his body as he can.
‘Let’s go look,’ you say after a while and you drag him to the bathroom.  Even though you knew what you were going to see it shocks you.  ‘Jesus,’ you say immediately touching where your hair used to be. 
He is behind you nervously. 
‘I don’t hate it,’ you say after a while with a smile.  ‘It looks bad ass.’
He smiles with relief.  ‘It does,’ he agrees.  He steps closer and also touches your head.  ‘You are the most beautiful human,’ he kisses your bald head a few times and then buries his face in your neck.  You feel the wetness of his kisses and tears and pretend not to notice. 
You turn in his embrace and kiss his amazing lips.  God you will miss these lips.  You make the first move and slide your hands under his shirt and lift it up until he lets go for a moment to lift his arms so you can pull the shirt off.  You press yourself against his bare chest, immediately back to kissing him again.  He leads the way to the bed without losing contact with each other.
He lays you down and starts by climbing over you.  He kisses your stomach where the sliver of skin shows and moves your shirt up with his nose and he kisses every inch he can find.  He slides the shirt off with practiced ease and then kisses your chest, between your breasts and removes the bra you had on.  He lavishes attention on you with kisses and gentle bites. 
You grab his head and bring his mouth to yours and then you change your positions, so that he is on his back.  You undo his button, move the zipper down and then shimmy his trousers and boxers down at the same time.  All the way down, you nearly fall off the bed to get his long legs free.  He laughs for a moment.  ‘Do you want me to take your socks off?’ you ask.
‘No, it’s okay.  The pants were almost too much,’ he jokes.
You huff a laugh, ‘It’s not my fault your legs are that long.  Scoot up, please.  You are too tall.’
He moves up against the pillows, and lays diagonally across the bed.  This was really the only way his frame fits on the bed.  You have even taken to sleeping next to the each other stretched diagonally across the bed.  You settle down between his legs that he spreads for you. 
He was already halfway to being hard.  Before you touch him at all, you just look for a moment.  You have been feeling the strong need to memorize some things.  You find yourself staring at all kinds of things about life thinking that you must file it away.  But mostly it happened with Noah, who was worth remembering the most.  Every single inch of his being was being recorded in your mind.  His cock was slowly standing up, his balls contracting every now and again.  He was pale just like the rest of his body, his head slightly darker.  When he flexes again, you wrap your hand around him at the base where your hand almost rests on his balls.  You hear him let out a sigh.  You lick at his frenulum and he immediately bucks his hips. 
‘Sorry,’ he breathes out.  ‘I’ll keep still.’
‘It’s okay, baby.’  You lick again, pushing your tongue against him, before taking the head into your mouth.  You stay there for a while, until he was fully hard in your hand.  You start to take more of him in your mouth.  You go slow, going slightly lower. 
‘Oh fuck,’ he breathes repeatedly.  ‘Baby.’  He is struggling to keep his hips down on the bed and it gives you a thrill to see the impact you can have on him.  Even now.
‘Keep still for me, for a moment,’ you say, looking him in the eye.  He nods.  You sink down on him as far as you can go.
‘Fffffff, I…….  B…baby.’
You smile.  You love it when he couldn’t get a word out.  You keep at him, following the thick veins with your tongue, paying a lot of attention to his glans.  You lose yourself in your task.  You memorize the weight of him on your tongue, the slightly salty taste of his skin.  How his skin is so impossibly soft.  How he reacts to your actions.  How you feel his balls clench every now and then. 
Before Noah, you never understood why women would willingly do this.  Now you felt privileged to get to taste him and see him be so vulnerable with you. 
Eventually he stops you, and sits up to kiss you.  Your jaw hurts a little, but you kiss him back.  ‘Goddammit, I love you,’ he says into your mouth.  ‘Please take off your pants.’
You lay back to wrestle your pants off, he grabs the ends by your ankles and yanks.  ‘Lay back, like you were,’ you tell him.  He complies quickly and without argument.
You straddle his hips, and he moves the pillows so he is sitting up.  With you in his lap, you were closer to a similar height.  Your faces close to each other’s.  He grabs himself and guides himself to your entrance and then you lower yourself onto him.  ‘I love you,’ you breathe out.  You take it slow and just grind into his hips.  His hands moving all over your body, even lovingly over your head.  You breathe each other’s breath, skin to skin, whispering words of love into the other’s mouth, throat, ear.
After you both come, you fall forward onto him and he holds you.  He pulls the blankets over you both and you lay there like this is where you want to be for eternity – him still inside.  ‘I will always love you,’ you try to explain to him what has been battling through your mind.  ‘Nothing is going to stop me.’
He hugs you tighter.  ‘Death has already tried, my love.  It has no power over us.’ 
Noah
Nick drops us off after the final chemo session with bags of food and drinks and I hug the man before he leaves.  ‘I cannot thank you enough,’ I say gripping onto his jacket.
‘My guy,’ he says.  ‘I wish I could have done more.  I am so sorry for you both.’
‘You have done so much for us,’ I say pulling back.
‘Let me know if you need anything else,’ he smiles sadly.
Inside, she is eating food straight from the container.  I leave her, and go the bathroom, where I unroll the old sponge mattress and put a sheet over it, bring blankets and pillows.  I make sure there’s tissue, ice water a washcloth.  Then I join her for dinner and I have nice time.  She is making jokes and smiling at me. 
We shower together, we wash each other’s backs and I can tell she is trying to enjoy feeling human before the side effects hit. 
We sleep together on the tiny mattress, I keep holding her because she is cold.  She is always cold after.   We fall asleep peacefully.  But soon, I am woken by her ripping herself from my arms and she leans over the toilet on her knees and she throws up all her dinner.  It comes in waves, I kneel behind her and rub her back, keeping my body close to hers for heat.  She starts sweating, but her skin is ice cold.  I feel all the muscles in her back contract as she keeps vomiting.  She is shivering.  Eventually she sits back and I wipe her mouth with the wash cloth.  She blows her nose and takes a few sips of water.  I open my arms and she climbs into me as close as she can get.  I lay us down and cover her with the blankets. 
‘I am not doing it again,’ she says.  I thought she had fallen asleep.  I keep quiet.  I know what she is saying.  I suspected this was coming.  ‘I’m sorry, but I just can’t.’
‘It’s okay, love.’ I rub my hand along her arm to warm her up.  ‘I understand.’
‘I would rather just enjoy what I have left,’ she whispers.
I start crying, but I try to hide it from her.  But she knows.  She grabs my hand, and weave our fingers together.  ‘I’m sorry, Noah.’
‘Don’t be,’ I sob. 
‘You know,’ she sighs.  ‘The part that scares me?  I don’t want to leave you.  I am not scared of anything else.  Everything else is nothing.  I am terrified of not being with you.’
This makes me cry even harder.  I am shaking by the time I get a reply out.  ‘I am scared of a lot of things.’
‘Like what?’
‘This.  Watching you suffer is tearing me apart.  I am scared of you being in pain.  But, yeah.  I don’t know what will happen when…’  I cannot say it. 
‘When I die,’ she finishes for me.
I nod. 
‘Well, if my soul lives on,’ she says.  ‘What if I don’t remember you?  You know how you couldn’t remember anything.’
My heart clenches in pain.  ‘I will remember for us.  I will remind you of everything you need to know.’
‘I am trying to commit things to my memory.  Trying to burn it into my being, so that I will remember.’
‘Things like what?’  I ask, curious.
‘Mostly you,’ she answers.  ‘Running my fingers through your hair, how soft your lips are.  How cold your feet are in bed.  How your hand makes mine look ridiculously small when our fingers are together like this.  Your kindness, and your laugh and how utterly loved and safe I feel in your arms.’
I ugly cry into the skin of her bald head and squeeze our fingers together and pull her body even closer to mine.  I feel her start to hiccup too.  She reaches back with her free hand and cups my head.  ‘I will find you, love.  I found you once, I can find you again.  Just look out for me, I’ll be there.’
When we calm down, we make up scenarios of what our souls will do together.  She is exhausted, but she keeps going.  We fall asleep with wishes hanging on our tongues.
You
After all the bad side effects of the chemo were gone, I started feeling normal again.  My hair was growing back out, I gained a little of the weight I had lost to all the vomiting back and my body felt like mine gain.  It was a dangerous thing.  I could so easily fool myself that everything was fine.
I decided to fill my days with as many good things as possible.  Which meant spending time with Noah.  For months we made a point to just do all the things we wanted.
We have game nights with Nick, where we would play video games or board games, order loads of food, listen to music and waste hours and hours laughing and having fun.  It was so good to see the two friends together.  To see the friendship they had after all the years.  To see a different side of Noah when the two of them were heated in their discussions or arguments about game rules.  I memorized the carefree way he plays.  The freedom is his reactions.
You go on road trips together often.  You pick famous places you’ve never been and also pick obscure spots to go see if there’s anything worth seeing.  Noah always packs bags of travel accessories, he has gotten very good at it.  He remembers all your medicine, your favorite sweets, drinks, tissues and extra jackets for when it gets cold.  He knows how you will react better than you do yourself.  He knows what you will need.  While driving, you guys play the same games you started on the trip to see Nick for the first time.  You hold hands while walking around.  You cuddle and watch countless sunsets from the hood of the car.  Each trip was immeasurably special – not because of where you went, but because of the opportunities you had to burn memories into your soul. 
You spend hours cooking together in the kitchen, picking things you have both wanted to try.  This does not always end in success.  But it does end with dances in the kitchen, or kisses in the kitchen, laughing in the kitchen.  It ends with meals enjoyed together, feeding each other, cleaning up together.  Memories.
Lazy days laying about, reading books or watching movies – as long as the two of you were tangled up in some way, it didn’t really matter.  During this time, you learned by accident that he gets full body chills when you play with his ears.  You realised he falls asleep within minutes if you run your fingers through his hair.  You craved the feeling of his weight on you – his head resting on your stomach, his legs thrown over yours, his whole body on you with his lips against your neck.  You paid attention to all the details.
You and Noah had a lot of sex.  You both always took your time with it, savoring every moment you had to bring each other comfort and pleasure.  Even when you were being rough and harsh there was so much love.  It was a way to show each other the anger, disappointment, heartbreak that you both felt.  And at the same time, it was a chance to be close and pour affection and love into the other one.  Each time had a lot of ‘I love you’s whispered.  Each time had a rush of overwhelming emotion that caused at least one of you to cry.   
When you start to realise that the medicine was not really taking away your pain anymore, you knew it was time to have a conversation with Noah.
While you were in bed, his head resting on your shoulder while your fingers ran up and down his bare back, you take a deep breath before you begin.  ‘Noah?’
‘Mmmm,’ his face squished against you. 
‘I think the time is getting near,’ you say.
‘What time?’ he mumbles.
‘My time.  I don’t think we have very long left,’ you keep your voice low, like it would soften the words.
He lifts his head and looks at you with sadness.  ‘Why?’
‘The pain is getting worse,’ you say with a grimace.  ‘But, the reason I bring it up is because I have a terrible thing to ask of you.’
He closes his eyes.  Like he knows.  Maybe he does.  He knows you better than you know yourself.  This hurts your heart so much. 
‘I don’t want to suffer through it, baby,’ your voice cracks. 
He nods against you.  ‘I don’t want you to either, love.’  You run your finger over the frown on his forehead, wanting to smooth out his worry.
‘Will you help me?’ you ask.  ‘When it’s time?’
He shakes his head with small movement.  ‘I don’t want to,’ his face crumples in pain.  ‘I want to do anything you need, but how am I supposed to do that to you?’
‘I hate that I am even asking,’ you sniff.  ‘I will do it myself.  But I need you there.  I need your face to be the last thing I see.  I want you in my brain when it dies.’
Tears stream down both your faces.  It has been happening so often lately and yet it still broke you to see his nose turn red, his lashes clumped together.  He was still so fucking beautiful.  After a while of contemplation, he says, ‘Alright.’
Noah
Today was the day. 
When it started getting bad, it went downhill very quickly.  Her pain became worse, she had no energy, no appetite.  The life was draining out of her before my very eyes and it was infuriating.  I had rage in me that it had to be like this.  She deserved so much better. 
While I understand her decision completely, it didn’t make it easy for me.  The emotions warring inside me made me nauseous all the time.  But I wanted her to get what she wants. 
I made her her favorite breakfast that she nibbled on a little.  We spoke at length about out favorite memories of our time together.  We tried to make love, but I couldn’t get hard, so I made her come with my tongue and fingers instead.  We cried a lot.  She fell asleep on my chest, even though she said she wouldn’t, she didn’t want to waste any time with me.  But she was tired.  She was tired in more than one way. 
I had to get into contact with Nick to hook me up, because we didn’t know the area like he did.  He asked friends, that asked friends and eventually we got a lethal dose of prescription pain medication that we would use tonight.  She made sure that it was more than enough. 
So that evening, I crushed up the pills in the kitchen, while she was hugging me from behind.  I placed the powder in a glass and filled another one with water.  I placed it on our bedside table.  After a hot bath and a cup of tea she dressed in her most comfortable pajamas and we sat together on the bed. 
‘What will happen to you?’ she asks, leaning into me, her head on my shoulder. 
‘I really don’t know,’ I answer back.
‘What if you are not okay?’ she sobs. 
‘Don’t worry about me,’ I counter. 
‘I only worry about you,’ she cries.  ‘I’ll stay longer if it means you will be okay.’
‘It won’t, love,’ I put my arm around her and hug her into my side. 
‘Here’s what I think you should do,’ she says through the tears.  ‘If you can’t find me, I think you should go to Nick.  You two will take care of each other.’
I laughed.  ‘I did think of that.’
‘I am so sorry,’ she starts.
‘No,’ I stop her. 
‘I am sorry for so many things,’ she carries on.
‘Please, don’t be sorry for one single thing.  Please don’t think that even one single minute with you was not the best moments of my existence.’
‘You can’t remember your whole existence,’ she counters. 
‘I know.  But I know,’ I sigh.
‘You were definitely the best part of mine.  I can never express how much I have loved you since I have known you.  I owe my soul to you.’
I try to find words, but they won’t come to me.  There isn’t really anything I can say to her that I haven’t said already.  ‘You are my soul.’
She calls Nick to tell him she is about to do it.  He is supposed to notify authorities.  They have a brief conversation.  And then I thank him and tell him I love him.
She pours the powder into her mouth, makes a face at the bitterness and then swallows it down with a few gulps of water. 
She kisses me quickly.  ‘I love you.’  Then she lays down and cuddles into me and I hold onto her for all I am worth. 
I grip her while I cry and cry and hope to whatever god is listening that she will feel no pain.  That she will be okay wherever she will go.  I pray that I will find her again.  I feel her breathing stop after a while, her grip on my shirt goes slack, but I keep holding on.  The warmth of her body lingers and it comforts me, until I start to fade away.  I can feel myself slip.  Her peaceful face is the last thing I see before I, too, am gone.
 You
The fog around you is thick to the point where you find it difficult to tell what time of day it is.  Through the wisps of white you see tall trees all around you.  The temperature around you is comfortable, even though it seems like it should be cold, it isn’t. 
You have no idea why you are here or where you are going, and the fact that you cannot remember does not upset you.  You walk slowly through the trees and the almost complete silence until you see a path.  You follow the path as it winds between the trees and the further you go, the fog seems to lift little by little.  Then a warm light becomes visible and as you get closer you see a cabin.  Warm, yellow light glows from the windows, smoke curls out of a chimney, it is calling you closer.
Then when you have almost reached it, the door opens and a tall man steps outside.  Your heart beats faster at the sight of him.  He is wearing all white, beautiful tattoos showing on his skin, his dark hair frames his face.  He smiles at you.  Like he knows you. 
He takes light steps down to you.  ‘Hi,’ he beams. 
‘Hi,’ you say, unsure of what was happening.
‘Are you lost?’ he asks you.
‘No,’ you say.  ‘I don’t really know.’
‘It’s alright,’ he says.  ‘I can help you if you need it.’
You look into those eyes that are so dark they are almost black and you know that he is safe.  He feels familiar.  ‘Do I know you?’
‘Come inside for some tea?’ he says reaching out his hand.  You take it without a thought and your fingers twine like you have done it a thousand times before.  ‘I have a lot to tell you.’
Inside is warmth and comfort and home.  You sit near the fireplace and he hands you a cup and you drink it.  It is just like you like it.  ‘Who are you?’
‘More importantly, who are you?’ he counters.
You frown, not knowing the answer.  ‘Do you know me?’
He nods.
A/N: This part was never supposed to happen, but a comment from someone on A03 put my mind to work.  I’m sorry that this part was also sad, but in my mind, there was no other way to do this.  Thank you to everyone who took actual time out of their day to read my story. 
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Note
This is also me shamelessly submitting another request alongside my very NSFW one: could we get Raphael being there while Tav gives birth?
Tav paced back and forth, hands resting on her swollen belly. Each time a contraction tore through her she would grimace, bend forward as much as possible, and bear it with whatever dignity she scrounged up. When the pain passed, she’d resume pacing.
“Mistress,” said the Infernal physician, “perhaps you should lay down -”
“No,” barked Tav. “I don’t want to lay down.”
“So you intend to wear a trench into my floors instead?” Drawled Raphael.
“Yes,” replied Tav, glaring daggers at him.
“Mistress,” the physician tried again, “it would be easier for both you and the child if you -”
“I’m not bloody laying down,” growled Tav. “I’ve been laying down for the last three months of pregnancy. I need to move around or I’m going to cut this baby out of my stomach myself.”
“You won’t change her mind,” Raphael said lightly, “she’s a stubborn creature. She’ll do things her way until she simply cannot any longer.”
The physician sighed, rubbing her eyes.
Tav’s waters had broken several hours ago – much to poor Haarlep’s horror. Raphael was away on business at the time, but as soon as word reached him that his first offspring was about to be born, he’d burst back into the house, physician in tow. The birthing room had been ready for a few days, Tav slightly exceeding her due date, so the three had sequestered inside. Now it was simply a waiting game. The physician hovered nearby. Raphael sat in a plush, comfy chair, seeming to all the world as indifferent and relaxed as usual. Only the occasional twitch of his tail gave away his potential anxiety.
It felt like the entire House of Hope, even every wailing soul within the walls, were holding their breaths. Teetering on the edge of anticipation for the ushering in of a new era: the birth of a prince.
“Ah…!” Tav stopped in her tracks. Hissed as fresh, furious pain wracked her. Different, sharper than before. It didn’t fade. “I think…argh, I think he’s coming…!”
The physician touched Tav’s belly, felt lower, between her thighs. “Yes. You’re open enough. I feel his head. You need to get into the water.”
The physician helped Tav out of her sweat-soaked nightdress and in to the bathing pool of hot water. Raphael watched intently, his onyx and ember eyes never blinking, as Tav – teeth gritted – eased herself into a sitting position, knees up and apart. The water and its soothing magic helped, but the baby wanted out, now. Demanding, just like his father, and damn was she feeling it.
“Gods…he finally decides he’s ready and he’s just going to…to rip right through me…” Tav panted. Curled her fists. Cried out as a violent contraction signalled the end, and the beginning.
“Start pushing,” instructed the physician. Tav groaned, a sound that morphed into a dull scream. Raphael stood up, crossed the room, standing close. His tail thrashed wildly but his expression remained neutral. Tav gave him a foul, pained look.
“This is your fault,” she snarled, slapping her palms on the sides of the bath. “I’ll kill you for this, I swear it.”
“Of course you will, darling,” purred Raphael.
He was not indifferent to her suffering, she knew. Part of him enjoyed it. That she was agonising to bring their – his – son into life only made her pain taste sweeter. It was the simple truth of Raphael’s nature. Something Tav had accepted long ago. Birthing this baby was the scariest thing she’d ever done, scarier than coming to terms with how she felt for a diabolical devil, that she was willing to give him her soul and her heart. Even facing down the Netherbrain didn’t compare. She was hurting and she was frightened, but Raphael was there, strong and assured and steady, and Tav knew she could get through it.
Not without one Hell of a fuss, however.
“GET THIS DAMN THING OUT OF ME!” She bellowed between screams.
“Keep pushing!” Yelled the physician.
“What do you think I’m doing?!” Tav roared back.
“Push, Tav,” Raphael intoned. Commanded. “Let our son’s life begin.”
Eventually, amidst the blood and pain and chaos, it did. A wrinkled, wet and wailing infant was placed on Tav’s chest and she, exhausted and delirious, loved him instantly and irrevocably.
“Healthy,” declared the physician, “and strong. Very strong.”
Tav tiredly adjusted her baby, who latched onto her nipple and began to suckle. His thin, ropey little tail curled. Raphael looked down at them, smug and preening with pride. He would never be the type to offer her his hand to squeeze for comfort, or become overly emotional and adoring of his new son, but he was there. He stayed. And those things mattered more to Tav than her pride would ever let her admit.
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iamnotoriginalphil · 3 days
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Middle of the Night Conversations (Lydia Deetz x Reader)
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Synopsis: After the wedding that wasn't, Lydia finds you in the kitchen, unable to sleep.
Words: 3.4k
Warnings: Praise kink if you squint real hard, mentions of toxic relationships
“You’re awake.”
You glanced up from your cold mug of tea. Perched on a stool in the kitchen, you’d been staring down into the mug in the darkened house. Everything had gone quiet a few hours ago, but left to your own devices you hadn’t been able to fall asleep. So you’d gotten up to make yourself some chamomile tea, your mother’s voice echoing in your mind from your childhood. The trouble was, you’d lost yourself in thought before you’d had even a sip of the calming drink.
Lydia stepped through the shadows, into the moonlight streaming through the window. Your thundering heart calmed, the regular level of anxiety returning just from seeing her. Something about being in the original ghost house was making you jumpy, especially after everything that had already happened.
“So are you,” you said.
“I’m always awake in the middle of the night,” she said.
“I know.”
You shared a small smile with her, her night time habits intimate to you. You’d been her assistant for a while now, hired by Rory when he decided she was a big enough star to not be bogged down with the minutiae of human life. When you’d been hired, you’d expected something more in line with your previous jobs. Demanding and egotistical, and yet what you’d been met with was a woman who seemed as unsure about your presence as you were. Rory, at least, had managed to fulfil your expectations, at times seemingly forgetting you weren’t his assistant.
Over many long hours and middle of the night conversations, it had become clear that both of you were more alike than different, letting you settle more comfortably in as her assistant. A slow friendship was built over insomnia filled nights. She’d call you to talk, or she’d keep you in the studio late. Sharing take out on the floor of her living room had become one of your favourite things to do, usually because Rory would be off schmoozing in fancy restaurants while she was left alone. You were her go to when she couldn’t sleep.
“Do you want me to make you some tea?” you asked, already rising to stool to put the kettle back on the stove. At the very least, you could do with actually drinking some of the tea yourself.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, unapologetically taking your stool.
“It’s quite literally my job,” you said.
You lit the stove and placed the kettle on the hob. Turning, you rested against the counter, leaning on it with your arms curled around your waist. She was looking down at her own hands, wringing together where they rested on the bench in front of her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked.
It had been slow going, getting her to open up to you. Over many hours, you’d wandered towards one another on shaky legs, both unsure of what the other would do in the face of vulnerability. And while she had such a presence about her when the lights were on and the cameras were rolling, it was so different from the anxious woman you’d come to know behind the scenes. The one who spoke to people who weren’t there and at times seemed as if she’d be engulfed with a greif you couldn’t place. The woman who curled into herself and grew quiet, staring into space.
But once the floodgates had opened, they hadn’t closed. You always wondered if it was because you wanted to listen to her talk about ghosts without demanding for anything more from her. Just an enthusiastic ear who liked the stories for what they were. You thought she liked talking without anyone pushing in with their opinion or listening in with judgement.
“I didn’t realise what it would be like seeing him again,” she said, “I thought I’d moved past it.”
“The ghost?” you asked.
“I can still feel him.” She shivered, “I know he’s not actually here but it’s like he’s watching me.”
“He’s fixated on you,” you said.
She looked up at you with those wide eyes that had grown familiar over the many days and hours and months you’d spent with her. You swallowed past the lump in your throat. You’d seen her when it had all grown too much but this was something different. It was like she was haunted. Ironic, given her job, and yet…
“Maybe he is,” you said, “you saw him before he was here, didn’t you?”
You could still remember the fear on her face during the taping. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to see again.
“What will it take for him to leave me alone?” she asked.
“Dying?” you suggested, “moving on like the Maitlands did?”
“He’ll just follow me then too,” she groaned.
“Maybe all you can do is ignore him and live your life the way you want to,” you said, “who cares if he’s watching? There’s only one way to bring him here and you’re not about to do that again. So don’t give him this power over you.”
The way she was looking at you was like you were too naive to understand properly. It made your skin itch in ways that had grown familiar to you. Hugging yourself tighter, you tried not to fidget under her scrutiny.
The kettle began to whistle and you jumped, having forgotten you were in the middle of making her a cup of chamomile tea. You turned away from her, pouring the boiling water into a clean mug for her. Her fingers were cold where they brushed against yours as you passed her the mug. You drew back again, pushing up onto the counter you’d been leaning against, bare feet swinging, not wanting to think about that touch.
“I’m not saying it will be easy, but do you want to be beholden to him for the rest of your life?” you asked, pouring your own cup.
“I want him to leave me alone,” she said.
“We could summon him. Demand he get out of your life and your head,” you said.
“NO!”
You offered her a small smile over the rim of your mug. She stared back at you, eyes wide, almost wild, cheeks flushing.
“Alright, then if you won’t summon him, what can you do?” you asked.
It took a moment before her shoulders slumped. Her hands curled around the mug in front of her, as if seeking out warmth she couldn’t generate herself. Taking a sip of your own tea, you waited for her to say it.
“Ignore him,” she said, so tired.
“There ya go,” you said, keeping your voice gentle.
“I can feel his presence,” she said, looking up at you, “he’s still here.”
“And you’re going to…?” you prompted him.
“Ignore him,” she replied.
“Good girl.”
She took a long drink from her mug, not quite meeting your eye. You followed suit, looking away to look out the window on the moonlight drenched night. Sometimes, when you were talking to her in the middle of the night, words slipped out that you wouldn’t say in the light of day. The thoughts in your brain didn’t go through the usual filter before they made it to your mouth. This was one of those times.
“Why are you awake?” she asked, breaking the silence you’d caused.
“It’s been a weird few days,” you said, still staring out the window.
You hadn’t expected her to bring you with her when her father died. You knew she didn’t have many people around her, Rory the only one that had been propping her up as far as you could tell, but you weren’t part of her family. There hadn’t been a reason for you to be there. It made no sense.
But she’d asked and you couldn’t say no to her.
“I suppose that’s one way to describe it,” she said.
“I guess I’m just processing,” you said, looking back at her.
She was watching you, a carefully neutral expression on her face. You shrugged, taking another sip of tea, not feeling the need to say more than that. It was obvious enough what you’d be processing.
“Did you believe me?” she asked, her eyes skittering away from you.
“About what?” you asked, but you thought you knew.
“About the ghosts,” she said.
“Well, I didn’t think you were lying, and I didn’t think you were hallucinating, so yeah. I believed you,” you said, “if I hadn’t I would have told you straight to your face.”
“Would you?” she asked.
“Just because Rory didn’t that doesn’t mean everyone he hired is awful. I would have told you and then accepted whatever decision you made about my future as your assistant. I wasn’t trying to make money off you. I just wanted to help you,” you said, “if you hadn’t wanted me around I would have been sad but I would have moved on without my life being ruined. It was about what you wanted and what would make you most comfortable.”
“Why didn’t I see it in him?” she asked.
“He lied. You saw what you needed to see to survive. It happens,” you said.
She looked sharply at you before her shoulders relaxed when she saw you watching her with an open expression.
“There’s nothing wrong with you for believing it when someone told you they loved you. That’s being human,” you said.
“I should have noticed it,” she said, rather than agreeing with you.
“Did you even like him?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Did you like him? Did you respect him? If the answer is no, then his opinion isn’t worth anything,” you said, “Astrid’s opinion matters. Your opinion matters. His doesn’t.”
She stared at you a moment. You shifted on the counter, fingers tightening on your cooling mug, looking away into the shadows of the house. You might always want her attention on you, but any time you got it, there was always a sense of self consciousness from you. Like you were worried about her seeing too much.
“Your opinion matters too.”
Your eyes found hers again. There was such an intense expression on her face, fierce in a way you only saw occasionally, usually when she was fighting for Astrid. You’d seen it plenty over the last few days. This was the first time you’d found it directed in your direction.
“You don’t have to say that to spare my feelings,” you said.
“I’m not.” Her voice had hardened.
She stood, the stool screeching against the kitchen floor. You winced, a shiver going down your spine. Her bare feet were silent as she approached you but still, it was like a tremor went through the building as she drew closer.
“I’m not saying it to make you feel better about yourself. I’m saying it because it’s true,” she said, “your opinion matters to me.”
“Well, that’s just… that’s… thank you,” you said, not having the words for what it meant to you.
“Did you like him?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Rory.” The eye roll was implied.
“He disrespected you. Of course I didn’t like him,” you said.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, shaking her head.
“He dressed you up like a knock off Elvira when it’s clear that’s not how you want to present yourself,” you said, eyes gliding over her body before meeting her eyes, “he made everything about himself. Just look at how he acted the entire time he was here. It was all about him, and not you or Astrid or Delia when it was your father who died. He was sleazy and self serving, and you can do so much better than him.”
“Can I?” You hated the undercurrent of vulnerability in her question.
“Lydia.” You reached out, grasping her hands in both of yours, bridging the gap she’d first breached, “if you wanted the world you could have it. Whatever else happens, please believe that.”
Her fingers tangled with yours, tightening as she stepped closer. The silk of her pyjamas brushed your bare knees, sending electricity over your skin. Your breath caught and any words you might have had left died on your lips.
“Sometimes it feels like you are the only one I feel like my old self around,” she said, a whispered confession that rocketed through your body.
She came closer, her body now pressed against your legs, hands holding yours, dark eyes searching your face for something you’d gladly give her if she’d only ask. You held your breath, waiting to see what she would do.
“You’d give me the world if I asked for it, wouldn’t you?” she asked, whisper soft and broken open, wonder painting every syllable.
“I would,” you breathed out.
Her gaze slid over your face before slipping down to your lips. Your tongue darted out, dragging over them, watching as her eyes followed it. Her own tongue followed suit, an unconscious mirroring as she focused on you. Your knees fell open and you tugged on her hands, pulling her closer until she was nestled between your thighs.
“Lydia,” you groaned, almost pained, feeling as if you’d ended up in a dream.
“I don’t need the world,” she said, her fingers untangling from yours before resting her palms against your legs, “you can keep the world.”
“Okay,” you said.
“But I do need you,” she said.
You didn’t have an answer for her. You didn’t know how you’d gotten from talking about the demon that had been haunting her since a teenager to this but you didn’t want to ruin it. It felt fragile, a moment made from spun glass that could shatter if you mishandled it even slightly.
“Oh,” you finally managed to get out.
“I need you,” she said, her grip on your thighs tightening, almost painfully.
“Okay,” you said.
“I need you,” she said again, head tipping forward until her forehead came to rest against your chest.
You were hesitant as you curled your arms around her. She pressed closer, hands sliding from your legs to your hips to wrap her arms around your waist. You lent forward, pressing your face to the top of her head.
“You have me,” you whispered.
She drew back just far enough to look up into your face. Your lips parted and her eyes slipped down to them. You fell forward, sure she would draw back, but not able to stop yourself. The first brush of lips was so soft, tentative, as if waiting to be pushed away and told off. She made a small noise, practically a whimper.
Your hands cupped her cheeks, kissing her again and again and again, each time just a little deeper. You were trying to be so careful but then her teeth nipped at your lower lip and you groaned into her mouth. Her hands were pushing up your shirt, bare skin on bare skin, making you haul her even closer.
“Sorry,” you said, panting, when you drew back, reminding yourself that you’d both just gone through something intense and she’d just lost her fiancee and her father and her step mother in the last three days, “I’m so sorry.”
“No, don’t,” she said.
She pushed up onto her toes, kissing you again. There was nothing you could do but kiss her back. You were so utterly smitten with her you’d do anything she asked.
“Don’t apologise,” she demanded, her lips still brushing yours, “not for this.”
“Are you…” You gently pushed her back, still caught between your legs but giving you the space to think again, “what are we doing?”
“Something I’ve wanted for a while now,” she said, “do you not…?”
“Lydia, I’ve been half in love with you since the moment I began working for you,” you said, “but is now really the time? You’ve just lost so many people. You can’t be thinking clearly.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking,” she said, pushing away from you.
“Sorry,” you said again.
You pressed your knees together again, curling your arms around your waist, suddenly ice cold. You watched her pace the kitchen, that feeling of being in a dream shifting into a nightmare. You’d shattered the moment, shards of glass stuck in your skin.
“Do you think this is easy for me? That I go around doing this with everyone? That I trust people the way I trust you?” she asked, no, demanded, from you.
“Of course not,” you said, growing smaller.
“Then don’t tell me what I’m fucking thinking. I’m more me with you than I ever was with Rory. So don’t tell me I’m not thinking clearly right after telling me you have feelings for me,” she said.
“I just meant-“
“I know what you meant,” she snapped, “you were the one just telling me to live my life the way I want to and that I can do better and have the world. I don’t want the world. What I want is you.”
“You have me. You’ll always have me,” you said.
“Then why are we arguing about this?” she asked.
“Maybe because I’m worried this is all because of everything you’ve just gone through and in a few weeks you’ll realise this isn’t what you want and I’ll be left heartbroken,” you said, “maybe getting something I’ve wanted for so long is scary because I’m not sure I’ll survive if it’s taken from me. Maybe I’m scared.”
That seemed to give her pause for thought. Freezing, she stared at you with wide eyes. Admitting it, spilling out your feelings for her to see, was also scary. To be vulnerable would never sit comfortably to you.
“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” she said.
“It’s not you I’m scared of. You’re wonderful. But if I let myself have this, I’m giving you the means to seriously hurt me and it worries me because this is coming out of nowhere from my perspective,” you said, looking down at the fingers twisting together in your lap.
“It’s not coming from nowhere,” she said, stepping towards you again, looking grim, “it’s easy to pretend something is one thing when it’s actually something else because you think you have that thing in someone else.”
“What?”
She sighed, stepping forward until she was brushing against your knees again. Her hands hovered over yours before they landed, skin against skin, cool fingers almost icy against your warmth. You shivered but flipped your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers again, looking at the sight of them wound together.
“I could pretend my feelings for you were platonic because I thought I was in love with Rory. But I wasn’t. Not really. He never made me feel the way you did. Why do you think you were the one I always spoke to when I couldn’t sleep?” she said, her grip on you tightening, “you’re the person I feel safest with.”
“Oh,” you said, not sure what to say, putting those words into the context of everything else that you’d experienced with her.
“You understand what I’m saying, right?” she asked.
“I think so,” you replied.
“After everything we’ve just been through, I can’t lose you too,” she said.
You tugged on her hands, drawing her closer until you could trap her between your thighs, pinning her in place. Something in her seemed to relax as your fingertips brushed over the apple of her cheek.
“You won’t,” you said, “but I can’t lose you either.”
“You’ll never lose me,” she said.
Her lips landed on yours again, sighing into your mouth as she sunk into you. Her arms were back around your waist and your fingers were under her chin, tilting it upwards to kiss her like she was something precious, soft and sweet and lingering. Proof you were going to stay, that she meant something to you, that this was the first moment of many more.
Sleep was overrated and Lydia Deetz was worth being awake in the middle of the night for. Especially when she was kissing you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. That you meant something to her. That you were more than just her assistant.
That you mattered to her.
45 notes · View notes
verfound · 3 days
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FIC: "The Dorm" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)
@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?
Read on Ao3
Prompt 22: Dorm
Luka wasn’t sure who was banging on his door at…seven o’clock on a Sunday morning, but he had Words for whoever the hell it was.  Colorful words he had learned at entirely too young an age from the Captain that he probably shouldn’t use in polite company, but it was seven o-fucking-clock in the fucking morning on a fucking Sunday, and he wasn’t feeling very polite.
The banging continued, and Luka groaned as he scrubbed at his face.  He finally reached the door and yanked it open, ready to chew out whoever the hell was on the other side.
He swore to God, if it was Dingo…
Except it wasn’t.
It was Tom.
Still wearing a flour-dusted apron and looking…kind of desperate.
What the fuck…?
“Luka!” he cried, his smile as wide as ever but filled with too much nervous energy.  He looked like…well, Marinette stressing the night before a big project was due.  “So glad you’re up!  Can I come in?”
“…I was not up,” Luka said, numbly, as he blinked at the man.  “Just because I’m ‘up’ now doesn’t mean I was ‘up’ when you…Tom.  Tom.  Do you realize what time it is?”
“I would have come earlier, but Sabine seemed to think you’d still be asleep,” Tom said, and a strangled laugh was startled out of Luka.  And Tom HADN’T?  Hadn’t he known him long enough to know better?  On a SUNDAY?  “Please, son.  It’s important.  I have a huge favor to ask you.  It’s about Marinette.”
Luka was suddenly very ‘up’.
…awake!
Alert!
Not…God-fucking-dammit he needed some coffee…
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing.  “Is Marinette all right?”
“Luka.  Son,” Tom started, wringing his hands anxiously in front of him, “have you seen her dorm???”
– V –
The problem had started about a month ago, when Marinette was first looking into student housing.  Technically she lived close enough to ESMOD that she could commute from her home at the bakery, but it had been important to her to live away from home while she was studying.  After so many years fighting Hawkmoth, she had wanted that freedom.  That independence.
Luka could understand that.
Her mother could understand that.
Her father, on the other hand…Tom had always been protective of his little girl.  And that was fine, usually.  He just loved her fiercely and unapologetically.  It was one of the things Luka loved about him.
It was also one of the things Marinette was finding particularly…well.  Smothering.  At the moment.  And she desperately wanted the chance to live on her own.
Student housing was usually reserved for international students or special cases, so she had had to start looking for nearby flats to share with fellow students.  Juleka and Rose were moving in together and would have offered a spare room, but their own respective universities were far enough away that it made commuting just a bit trickier, and Marinette hadn’t been willing to risk exposing the Miracle Box using Kaalki for transport every day.
“You could portal your scooter,” Luka had suggested, shrugging, but she had just rolled her eyes and nudged his ribs with her elbow.
“Kaalki would throw a fit,” she insisted, “and it’s still too risky.  Yeah, Hawkmoth…Gabriel’s in prison now, but the city is still tense.  Gabriel had his Miraculous too long for Paris to not be.  Ladybug is still needed, at least for now, and I can’t just go tossing portals all over the place.  You know better, Luka.”
He did, and he usually respected and supported her decisions when it came to the Miracle Box  - she was the Guardian, after all – but he was still…concerned.  The places she had been looking at weren’t…well.  He would rather her risk a portal and live with his sister, where he knew she’d be safe, than stay at half the places she’d looked at.
He had never really thought Paris was so…dangerous.  Before.
She had eventually found a place, although it wasn’t…it didn’t…they all had concerns.  To put it nicely.
“…why don’cha have her move in with you?” Dingo had asked him when she had first brought them over.  Well.  She had invited him, but he had been with Dingo when he’d gotten her call, and Dingo had refused to buzz off.  Something about how he ‘hadn’t seen his baby girl in months, Lulu – stop hogging her!’  Or something.
“I can’t do that, Ding,” he had sighed.  “She’s not…we’re not…”
He wasn’t quite sure what they were anymore.  Less than what he wanted but more than what he’d ever hoped for.  Asking her to move in felt like it would tip that delicate balance, but he wasn’t sure in which direction.  He wasn’t sure he could live with it, if she said no.
“You barely live here,” Dingo had sniffed.  “She could keep your bed warm for you while you’re on the road.”
He had said it with an impressive waggle of his eyebrows.  It was almost a shame Luka had had to shove him into an alley (and a pile of overripe garbage bags tossed next to a dumpster) as they passed.
(He had resumed the argument the day before, when they’d helped Marinette move in, and had kept it up well into the night – which was part of why Luka was so cranky that Sunday morning.)
Still.  The place was…fine.  It was fine.  For a first flat.  A ‘dorm’.  Her roommates were…all right.  He was trusting her, and she had looked so happy as she’d showed off her room with the kinda-sorta-maybe broken window (it was just the lock, not the glass, and Luka wasn’t sure how he felt about that) that he couldn’t just…declare it a shithole and insist she find somewhere else.  Somewhere like his flat, with its locking windows and running water.
“It’s a work in progress,” she had conceded when she’d seen their expressions, “but it’s home!  I’ll make it work!”
Which is what led him to Sunday morning, barely awake after staying out with Dingo until entirely too late (early) Saturday Night and listening to Marinette’s father rant in his living room.
“Make it work?” Tom parroted, staring at Luka with wide eyes.  Apparently he had tried to surprise her with a ‘First Day Breakfast’ – but she had still been asleep, still wiped from the day before, and he had left her coffee soaking into the welcome mat when one of her neighbors had come out of his own door and asked if Tom was the new dealer.  “She’s going to make it work?!  Luka, you’ve seen the place – she’s going to get herself murdered!”
“She can handle herself,” Luka had offered, even though he very much had the same concerns.  Still.  It was Marinette’s choice, and he was trying to respect that.  “She’s going to pick up some pepper spray.  She knows how to hold her keys.”
“Oh, yes, because that will make it all right when some ruffian mugs her on her way home from the library!” Tom scoffed, still fuming.  He stalked over to the couch and sat down on the crates Luka used a coffee table directly across from Luka.  “Luka.  Son.  I need you to do something for me.  For Marinette.”
“Anything,” Luka said automatically, without hesitation, because of course he would.  If it was for Marinette.
“I need you to ask her to move in with you,” Tom said, and Luka froze.
Well.
He almost froze.
He was pretty sure his eyes bugged out and his mouth dropped open.  Then he froze.
“She will, Luka.  If you ask.  I’ve already tried to convince her – Dingo’s already tried,” Tom said, shaking his head.  And Luka was surprised by that, because Dingo hadn’t said anything and…he actually hadn’t realized Tom knew who Dingo was.  He hadn’t thought they’d met.  There must have been some kind of look on his face, because Tom rolled his eyes and smiled at him.  “It was adorable that he thought letting his hair down and removing the shades would fool us.  I give him points for trying, though.”
“…I don’t think I want to know,” Luka sighed, shaking his head.  “Look.  Tom.  I can’t –”
“You can, Luka,” Tom said, frowning.  “She’ll say yes.  If it’s you.  If you ask.  She won’t ask you herself – believe me, I’ve tried to convince her to – but if you ask her…”
“…you told her to ask me?” he asked, sitting up a bit straighter and blinking at him.  “You…you’d be ok with it?  Her living here?  Us living…together?”
“Luka,” Tom said, giving him a Look that Luka was ninety percent sure was supposed to mean something, but he was still a little too caught up on Tom’s fine with us living together to pick up on it.  “Son.  Please.”
He pushed something into Luka’s hand, and he looked down to see it was his phone.  He had forgotten he had left it on the coffee table the night…earlier that morning.  There were a few notifications on the screen – from Marinette, he saw, from the night before.  Quickly reading through them, he noted they all sounded too…falsely cheerful to be really convincing.
“She hasn’t even unpacked yet, Luka,” Tom said.  “We could have her settled in by this afternoon.  I’ll close the bakery, and we’ll use the van.”
…his building didn’t have rats.
It would be nice to spend more time with Sass again.
It would be really nice, having all that extra time with Marinette…
Juleka had never complained about having him as a bunkmate, either – well.  Nothing too serious, at least, and he didn’t loiter in the stairwell selling questionable substances.  Most of her complaints stemmed from being his sister.
“…go get the van,” he sighed, massaging his temples.  “I’ll call her.”
When he showed up at her door fifteen minutes later – without calling, because it had gone straight to voicemail (like his would have, if she had tried calling him at seven o’clock on a fucking Sunday morning) – she was already up.  He had an entire speech about how he had a spare room within a reasonable walking distance to her school and the bakery and how important things like dependable plumbing and pest control are and the dangers of questionable doo-wop groups prepared, but when she flung the door open and stood there, panting, with…a kitchen knife held in her hand like she was ready to attack someone?
What the shit?
But she stood there, knife in hand and a look of terrified panic on her face, and he’d barely gotten her name out – never mind his speech – before she threw the knife behind her and flung her arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly as she started sobbing.
“Please, Luka, I can’t stay here there are rats bigger than Sass please let me live with you,” she gasped in a rush.  Her ‘roommate’ – the stoner with the septum piercing that had called Marinette by a different name every time he’d been over – was sitting on the couch behind them, and she rolled her eyes before turning back to the television and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘pussy’ in their direction.  “I swear the unit the landlord showed me wasn’t this bad, and it was so cheap, but I never thought…I didn’t want to overstep, but I hate this place, and I haven’t even been here a whole day but the shower was brown, Luka, and I didn’t sleep because of the screaming and the rat –”
“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” he said, rubbing her back.  “Mari.  It’s ok.  I wanted to ask, but you…it’s ok.  Tom’s getting the van.  We’ll have you out before noon.  It’s ok.”
She was still crying when she looked up at him, but there was a hesitant smile on her face that was enough to break his heart.  He brushed her bangs back and kissed her forehead, and when she sucked in a breath and her hand fisted in his shirt…it was a little too easy, when he started to pull away and saw how wide and blue her eyes were, staring up at him like that…her hand twisted in his shirt to pull him closer, and he wasn’t kissing her forehead that time.
“…come on,” he said, his voice soft and low when the finally separated.  He swallowed, his eyes flicking back down to her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes.  Her smile felt easier, and it was too easy to steal another quick kiss.  “Let’s get you home.”
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problems-exe · 1 day
Text
The Poem
The story of how Prim and Lu got together in the printerjamau
Wrote this a bit ago and decided it was about time I posted it. This is incredibly long, so I apologize for that, but for those interested in their story, I think it's worth the read.
Begins after the cut :]
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The sound of the wind breezing through the desolate building rooftop does nothing to drown out the rapid beating of their soul.
Prim finds themselves sitting, not alone, but with a close friend. Listening to her ramble about the latest au she visited and the small bakery from which she had bought treats. The bag sitting at her side was long emptied, its contents having been eaten hours ago. Prim has found themselves a lot less alone lately.
Despite their best efforts, it's hard for them to focus on Lu’s rambles, distracted by the intense feeling of something in the air. Something about today felt distantly off. It wasn't unusual for the two to meet like this, a gift cradled in one of the skeleton's hands. But Lu had seemed so.. anxious when she asked them to meet. It was odd. She had seemed… flustered? Almost? But that wouldn't make any sense-
“Prim?” Lu pulled them out of their daze with the utterance of their name, a concerned and nervous expression on her face.
“Sorry, that wasn't that interesting, was it? I got a bit carried away…” She states, averting Prim's eyelights as a deep blush settles on her face, accentuated by the deep orangish-pinkish hues of the sun setting before them.
‘She looks so beautiful like this,’ Prim shoves that thought as soon as it crosses their mind, nervous glitches appearing up their body as they force themselves to refocus on the conversation again.
“Nah. Long day. Just zoned out.” Prim replies after a pause. A lie. And they know it's one. Their day had been fine, a typical day as any. They're always honest with her; why are they being like this now?
“Oh,” She sounded surprised, as if she had been expecting Prim to call her boring.
“I'm sorry, do you want to talk about it? I've been rambling on for a while…” She continues, looking back at Prim with a crooked smile. The usual squint of her eye sockets not present. Something was wrong. She'd been acting noticeably off all evening; they should have picked up on the pieces sooner. Prim was the worst person for something like this.
“Are- are you feeling alright? You seem.. upset.” Prim slowly gets out, thinking through the words before settling on them. Lu looks a bit startled at the question.
“I'm, um, yeah! Yeah, I'm alright, just-” She fumbles with her words for a moment, blush on her face darkening, and Prim's expression turns into a concerned frown.
“I wrote you something.” She continues, digging around in her bag for a split second before retrieving a clean, white envelope. Clasped shut with a cat sticker, the words “For Prim” written in cursive on the back. She bashfully presents the letter to Prim, and they momentarily gawk at it, carefully taking it from her hand. Careful to not get ink on it.
“You mentioned wanting to read one of my poems sometime, so..” *She adverts her gaze, voice trailing off at the end as Prim looks over the parchment presented to them. Their soul pounds in their chest, and they scramble to find balance in its weight. They stare at the small envelope, feeling deeply touched by the gesture. They reach to carefully remove the cat sticker before Lu's hands stop them.
“Don't, um, don't read it here. Read it when you get home. It'd feel embarrassing to watch you read it in front of me.” She states, with a nervous laugh, gently pulling her hands away. Prim nods carefully after a moment, slowly and delicately moving to place the parchment in their bag, careful not to bend it.
“I better get going now,” Lu interjects after watching Prim's bag close. They look up at her, surprised.
“Already?” They respond, concern still evident in their face.
“Yeah, I've got a long day tomorrow. I'll see you in a few days?” She responds, sounding hopeful, pleading almost.
“Obviously,” Prim responds immediately, worry still swirling in their chest.
“Right. Of course.” She states, as if reassuring herself.
“I'll see you then.” She continues, a tight smile on her face. She gives a wave of goodbye before disappearing into a portal, leaving Prim sitting alone. Surprised by the abruptness of it all.
They clutch at the strap to their bag, the featherlight weight of the envelope feeling heavy at their side. They're worried about what they'll find written in there. It's hard to fathom Lu acting so.. afraid over one of her poems. She'd sounded excited at the idea of sharing some with them when Prim had brought it up. Maybe she got cold feet? Even then…
Well, no point in speculating. They'll find out when they get home.
Prim sits for a moment longer, taking in the sunset one last time, attempting to calm their racing thoughts. After feeling more composed, they reluctantly rise to their feet, a tinge of anxiety gnawing at their chest.
Navigating through the usual motions of leaving a get-together like this, they slide one of their feet along the asphalt, leaving a trail of ink behind. They place their foot back next to the other, standing in place as the ink pools around them.
They begin to sink into the puddle, dragged into darkness for a split second before emerging in the cozy living room of their apartment, ink swiftly vanishing beneath them.
Taking a cautious step toward the nearby couch, they gingerly take a seat, pausing to take a deep breath. They turn their attention to the coffee table before them, using their hand to slide a few objects to the side, making room for the letter nestled in their bag.
Pausing once more to collect themselves, they carefully unfasten their bag, delicately reaching inside to withdraw the envelope. They stare at it pensively, toying with the small sticker that sealed it, a tiny yet almost taunting obstacle. They smooth the envelope with a thumb, using one hand to slowly and meticulously peel off the sticker, careful not to rip the parchment
They feel lost in their own little world, with nothing but themselves and the letter existing within the tranquil room. Unfurling the page from the envelope, they place the latter on the couch alongside them before setting the sheet down on the cleared space of the coffee table.
Their eyelights graze over the page, reading its contents carefully. It reads,
Prim,
I've written this poem for you to convey the words I've struggled to say aloud. I’m sorry for not finding the courage to tell you in person. As an artist yourself, I'm sure you understand that sometimes it's easier to express our emotions through our work.
I understand if my feelings aren't mutual; I know this must have come as a shock to you.
I just hope this doesn't change anything between us.
Yours Always,
Lu
Below this, begins the poem,
On a canvas brimming with vibrant dreams,
Where colors mix and blend with gentle grace,
I've etched our story, yours and mine,
In shades, that time will embrace.
Your smile, a brush of vibrant hue,
Turns every moment into radiant light,
And in your eyes, I find the clues,
To ignite my soul with a beautiful sight.
Each day with you, a masterstroke,
A blend of joy and true elation,
Your laughter dispels the shadows,
Bestowing me a profound sensation.
From twilight’s glow to dawn’s first rays,
My love’s a spectrum rich and rare,
In every shade, in every phase,
You're a masterpiece beyond compare.
With every brush and every stroke,
I craft a world where we could be,
A place where dreams and hearts intertwine,
A canvas created for you and me.
So I ask now, with hopeful heart,
To step inside this vivid scene,
To share a life, to play a part,
Will you be my love, my dream?
Prim sits in stunned silence, reading and rereading the words, page blurring as they attempt to process what they've just read. Lu likes them. Actually likes them. It's hard to comprehend. Why would Lu choose someone like them when she could have anyone she wanted? Lu's affection felt like a dream, too surreal to grasp.
The confession weighs heavily on Prim's chest, butterflies fluttering in their stomach. They're at a loss for words, mind racing with questions and uncertainty, but also a strong feeling of excitement that they can't push down. Their face turns a deep shade of cyan, magenta, and yellow as the realization sinks in. Lu likes them, and they like her. The words of the poem echo in their mind, evoking a soft smile. Despite being alone they start to feel embarrassed by their reaction, prompting them to pull their scarf up to cover their blushing cheeks as they read through the page once again.
A panic settles in as Prim suddenly realizes that they need to respond to Lu's confession. What do they say to her? Nothing they could say would come even close to matching what she had written for them. They never had been the best at expressing their emotions. But… Lu needed that right now. She deserved a proper response from Prim.
No wonder she had been so nervous earlier, she had poured her heart out to the inky skeleton. She's probably feeling as anxious as Prim does right now, waiting for their response.
Well, better not keep her waiting any longer.
They cast a final gaze at the poem before rising to their feet, letting their scarf fall from their face. They secure their bag firmly over their shoulder, one of their hands clasped around its strap. With unwavering determination, they proceed, ignoring their nerves.
They begin the familiar routine of creating a portal, their foot swiping across the ground with a trail of ink following in its wake. The ink gathers at their feet, pulling them into the encompassing darkness.
Upon emerging, they find themselves standing outside The Star Sanses’ base, as well as Lu's home. The Omega Timeline bathes everything in the glow of starlight, casting the surrounding area in a celestial glow. After countless visits, the building's layout is etched into their memory, allowing them to easily locate Lu's room from the outside, even in the darkness.
After a brief walk, they arrive at Lu's window, gazing up to get a glance at it. They can see her curtains partially drawn, revealing a few of her plants resting on the windowsill. Their nerves intensify as they turn their attention to the tall tree adjacent to her window. Taking a deep nervous breath, they begin the familiar climb. Despite having done this many times before, the weight of the moment makes their movements feel awkward and slow, taking longer than usual to ascend the tree.
Eventually, they settle on a sturdy branch, close enough to reach Lu's window. They pause for a moment, trying to calm their anxiety before tentatively tapping on the window and leaning back, waiting for Lu to open it.
Moments later, they catch a glimpse of Lu's face peeking through the curtains, her eyelights meeting theirs. Despite the dim lighting, her deep blush is unmistakable. With a soft click, the window unlocks and slides open, revealing Lu's head as she peeks through to see them clearly.
“What are you doing out here?” She asks, her voice filled with unease, a nervous expression on her face.
“Me too,” Prim responds quickly, their cheeks darkening as the words leave their mouth, realizing that their statement didn't quite make sense.
“...What?” Lu asks after a pause, her head tilted slightly in confusion, a slight laugh heard in her tone.
"I mean— I read the poem. Me too. I, um, I feel the same,” Prim stammers, avoiding Lu's gaze, turning their face away and tugging their scarf over their cheeks once more.
“Oh,” She breathes, surprise evident in her voice. There's another moment of silence, broken only by the chirping of the crickets and the rustle of the wind.
The air feels tight as the silence sits between them, Prim's soul pounding anxiously in their chest. They're starting to wonder if it was a bad idea coming here. What if they misunderstood the situation? What if they just messed everything up?
Gently, Lu's hand takes hold of Prim's arm, snapping them out of their thoughts; they timidly look up, finding Lu's gentle smile waiting for them. Prim feels the blush on their face deepen and forces themselves to not look away. It's hard to gauge her expression as Prim searches her face, but she doesn't appear to be upset. Lu tugs on their arm, and Prim understands the unspoken message. With Lu's help, they slowly make their way through the window and into her bedroom, landing softly on her carpet.
The silence doesn't last much longer once Prim is inside. Lu's expression is soft and adoring as she delicately takes Prim's hands, their eyelights meeting in a moment of quiet connection.
“...Really?” She asks, her voice gentle and hopeful. The look on her face leaves Prim feeling flustered, wondering how they had gotten so lucky. Prim nods, struggling to find the words, their throat tightening. Lu's smile widens.
“I want to hear you say it out loud, though,” Lu playfully pouts, her affectionate expression coaxing the words out of Prim. They feel like they'd do anything, as long as she continued to look at them like that.
“Yeah. Yeah, I, uhm…I like you. I have for a while now,” Prim responds, their voice slightly shaky. Lu's smile grows impossibly wider, her eyelights fuzzy at the edges, glistening with tears of joy.
“Will you be my partner, Prim?” Lu asks, her voice filled with hope and excitement.
“I'd like that,” Prim replies easily, their face flushed, gazing back at Lu with the same adoration.
“Cool,” She responds with a wet giggle, using one hand to wipe happy tears from her eye sockets.
“Cool,” Prim repeats, with a similarly elated expression. They gently replace Lu's hand with theirs, wiping the tears from her face. The two of them stay like that for a moment, silent, until Lu speaks again.
“May I..?” She asks, face flushed, eyelights flicking down to their mouth. Prim nods, and Lu leans in.
Yeah, coming here had been the right decision after all.
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Rowaelin Month Day Twenty-Four: Family @rowaelinscourt
Month Masterlist // Hey Neighbor Masterlist // Ao3 Link
Three years later and she's done. Thanks for sticking with me on this one! Thanks for all the comments and reblogs. All your love and appreciation have meant so much over the years <3<3<3
Hey, Lover
Five Months Later
The late spring sun was bright and vibrant in the sky.  Even though it was nearly June, Rowan was still surprised over the blue sky and warm heat already encroaching on the day.  Not that he minded, really.  He had missed being out in these mountains.  The same mountains that had nearly done him in a few months ago.
Tilting his head up, Rowan took another deep breath of air.  It felt good being outside like this.  He’d missed the scent of pine and fresh dirt.  The feel of a surprising cool breeze coming down the mountain.  Most of his workouts and exercise had been conducted on a treadmill or with a physical therapist.  Even with doctors clearing him for more heavy-duty work, his family and friends had encouraged him to take it easy.  He’d broken his leg in an avalanche after all.  His bone had been snapped and reassembled with titanium screws; it was alright to make sure he was ready to come back.
Five months was too long if you asked him.
But he had promised to take this first hike easy.  Even if it was one of his favorite trails.  And one he had spent hours on over the years.
He adjusted the strap of his backpack and kept moving up the incline. 
Given how rough and late winter had been, there were parts of this trail that were still muddy and wet.  Some places of the trail had washed out with spring rain and rapidly melting snow once may hit.  But the feel of the forest was still the same.
Sometimes when he moved, Rowan still felt a phantom pain in his chest from the broken ribs.  Turned out, they’d broken in the worst possible places and had taken a little extra monitoring to make sure nothing happened with said breaks.  His wrist and concussion had been a breeze to work through and he’d tried to levy that into an early return to work.  Gavriel laughed at him and assigned him administrative work.  A glorified duty to scan documents and catch up on paperwork the captain himself had been putting off for ages.
Once summer hit, however, Rowan had been cleared three times over to return to duty.  Good.  He’d had enough of Fenrys’s prickish attitude.
Though, not that he’d admit to it, he was already feeling a little tired.  He’d only gone on a shorter hike that day, a quick four-mile loop around the lower lake.  It irked him to no end.  He’d never taken so much time off from training.  Not even when he was first starting out as an athlete.  He could feel that five months of recovery running through his body and vowed he’d get back into decent shape as soon as possible.
He paused at a bend in the trail and snagged his water bottle from the lightweight backpack he usually brought with him on trips.  The parking lot was only a few yards off and then he’d head back in the city.  Most certainly to stop at the ice cream parlor because—
A loud, long howl echoed through the trees.  Rowan cursed and turned to face the trail he’d just walked down.  Shaking his head he rested his hands on his hips and waited.
One minute later there came another howl and the desperate scatter of paws on earth.  Coming down the mountain was a dog utterly covered in mud.  There wasn’t an inch of fur free from the pup as it came barreling towards him; pink tongue flopping, tail wagging.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
The dog flew past him before circling back, barking again.  She was far too pleased with herself.  For finding him, for being covered in mud.  She sat, tail still wagging through the dirt.  Her bright brown eyes looked up at him happily.
“Did your mother fall down another cliff?”
“It was a ravine!” A voice called out.
Rowan only shook his head and watched as Aelin rounded the trail.  Her blonde hair swung in a ponytail, her (his) long sleeved flannel tied around her waist.
“And!” she added as she drew closer. “I didn’t break anything.”
“Avalanche,” he reminded her, frowning.
“Whatever you say old man,” she replied.  She looked back to Fleetfoot. “C’mon baby!  Let’s go find the truck.”
“Is there a reason she is covered in mud?” Rowan asked, following as Aelin and the dog set the pace.
“Well, when she ran off it was to find the lake, which of course meant mud puddle, which of course meant impromptu bath time…mud time,” Aelin explained.  Fleetfoot bounded on oblivious to anything other than her successful romp in the trees. “Really, that dogs got a nose for it.”
“I just gave her a bath.”
“I know, maybe you just did such a good job she wanted another,” Aelin shrugged.
Rowan rolled his eyes.  “Sure.  But she’s a mess.  I’m not letting her in my truck, I just got it cleaned.”
“Well what’s she supposed to do, sit in the bed?” Aelin asked.  They reached the parking lot, which was blissfully empty.  Fleetfoot still kept close, her good training coming into play.
“Yes,” Rowan said. 
They reached the truck and Aelin sidestepped, cutting him off from opening the bed door.
“It’s too dangerous back there.”
“She’ll be fine,” he insisted.
“Rowan she’s your daughter you can’t treat her like this.”
“She’s acting out because you kept her up ‘til two o’clock reading.”
“Reading is good for her.”
Rowan sighed heavily and reached out to pull Aelin close against him. “Are we really having this discussion right now?”
“It’s just mud, I know for a fact you don’t mind things a little dirty.”
He dipped his head for a kiss, long and deep.  That at least left her lost for words.  For once.
“Demon,” he said, swatting her rear.
“You like it.” Aelin grinned up at him, utterly pleased with herself.
The best response he could come up with was another kiss.  He only pulled away when Fleetfoot whined loudly and knocked her muddy head against his leg.
Sighing, Rowan looked down at the dog. “Alright, traitor, let’s go.”
He opened open the back door of the truck and Fleetfoot, flinging mud and twigs, scrambled up.  Rowan then opened the passenger door for Aelin.
“That dog is an angel,” she told him as she jumped up into her seat.
“Monster,” he corrected.
Aelin only rolled her eyes. “When we get home, can you please fix the garbage disposal in the kitchen?  I’m not sticking my hand down there and Final Destination-ing it.”
Home. 
Aelin’s lease had ended two months ago and in a spur of the moment, random, potentially stupid decision—he’d invited her to move in.  She was already over at his place more than hers, truth be told.  She helped him through the worst of his physical therapy and Fleetfoot decided she liked him quite a bit as well.  It seemed right.  And it had been.
Rowan pulled out onto the main road. “Yeah, I’ll look at it.  After we stop for ice cream.”
Aelin gasped. “You do love me.”
In the backseat, Fleetfoot let out a little whine.  Rowan rolled down one of the windows and the dog immediately stuck her head out.  In the side mirror he could see the dog’s happy grin and flopping ears. 
Aelin hummed happily and checked her phone.  Her content smile flattened a little.
“My parents want to have another dinner party and invited yours,” she told him. “Mom says it’s a nice event. You need a new tie.”
“Too bad,” he said, glancing over at her. “I think we’ll be in Peru.”
Grinning, Aelin reached across the center console and took his hand in hers.
.end.
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swampgallows · 2 days
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complaining here because i dont want to burden my friends but still want to collect validation in the form of little pixel hearts
my moms mental state has gotten so much worse and as a result her hoarding is becoming even worse and even more impossible to tolerate. i have tried to have more sympathy about it and to help her with it, sitting with her while she sorts "a box a day" or even just "one thing a day". ive gently recommended she get a new therapist but all she did was change her horse on the SSRI carousel and start smoking weed. i've linked her articles and books and videos, and when she doesnt look at any of them i try to relay to her in conversation what i learned from them when she bemoans "why am i like this?". none of it matters. she just complains that it's "too overwhelming" and she "can't help it" even though she refuses any help at all.
i know it is a mental disorder. i know it is overwhelming. i know it causes her physical pain to get rid of things and at the same time cripples her with guilt to keep it all. but as of right now all we're trying to get her to do is just rearrange the things so that they aren't turning our house into a fucking obstacle course, and she pushes back on that too. like she doesn't want to even organize the piles AS THEY ARE and condense them because she'd rather be "actually throwing things away and putting things away like a human being!"—the thing that she very specifically CANNOT do.
and if we consolidate it on our own? hooooly christ. she goes on a fucking rampage, slamming doors, screaming/sobbing, throwing shit (her shit. it's all her shit). because it's HER stuff and WE touched it and she feels guilty about all her stuff. she STILL talks about when my sister tidied the spice cabinet, convinced that "she threw everything away!" and that was years ago. (my sister is a different kind of insane and probably DID throw a bunch of shit away, but either way all it did was give my mom ammunition for the rest of her life to never do anything.)
this is long enough already so all i can say is that im disappointed in myself for losing more of my tolerance and sympathy. like at this point the only reason i care is because i have to fucking live here since i havent been able to stay employed or move out yet and my mental health is also incredibly bad. but also my mom's becoming much more intolerant and hateful as a human being, which makes me less inclined to keep trying. like she deliberately brings up incendiary topics (usually politics), whips herself up into a cyclone of hatred (every '-ism' you can think of) while preemptively apologizing for things that she thinks that we think about the politics that she "doesn't like talking about" despite blatantly shifting the conversation to bring them up, then devolves into histrionic crying or yelling at us for something she has imagined. this is almost every day. i know she's my mom so im trying but christ alive
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imthesilentwriter · 3 days
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The Stars
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Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader
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Summary: With a little help from the mistletoe, you and Harry share your first kiss under the stary night sky.
Warnings: first kiss, light teasing
Authors Note: I'm currently in the process of planning out a couple of oneshot ideas I've had in my head - so, as to prepare for the no time I will have over the next couple of weeks. These fics should be posted about a week or so apart, then I should be done with my final exams, and well... I'll be back. I hope you can understand, enjoy this fic!
Word Count: 2250
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You stand in the doorway to the boy’s dormitory, leaning against the frame as you watch Harry rummage through his trunk. The room is mostly empty, with only a few belongings left scattered about from students still ready to pack.
“Are you all set to go?” you ask, crossing your arms with a playful smirk, catching his attention.
Harry straightens up, turning to face you with that familiar messy hair of his falling over his glasses. “Almost,” he replies, his voice warm but a bit distracted as he shoves a book into his trunk. “Just making sure I didn’t forget anything.”
You raise an eyebrow, stepping into the room a bit more. “You’re not leaving behind any homework, are you? You did hand in that Potions assignment, right?” Your tone is teasing, but there’s a genuine question behind it. You’ve known Harry long enough to recognise that sometimes he forgets things when he’s too busy thinking about other stuff.
He grins, leaning casually against the trunk now. “Yes, Mum,” he teases back, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he crosses his arms in response. “Everything’s done. Handed in my Potions essay two days ago. Thought you’d be proud of me.”
You laugh softly, rolling your eyes but feeling a warmth in your chest as he steps closer. “I am proud. I’d hate for Snape to ruin your holiday with some snarky comment about missing work.”
Harry’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling as he takes another step toward you. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let anything ruin our holiday. Especially not Snape.”
You tilt your head at him, smiling, and there’s a moment of quiet tension between you. It’s the kind that has become increasingly familiar lately, and you can feel your heart speeding up just a little. His eyes linger on yours for a second longer than usual, before he shakes his head with a laugh.
“Anyway,” he says, breaking the moment, “we should head down for dinner before Ron eats everything.” He gives you a playful nudge as he moves past you toward the door.
You chuckle, following him out of the room. “Knowing Ron, we’re probably already too late.”
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You and Harry step into the Great Hall, the warm glow of the candles overhead flickering against the enchanted ceiling. You spot Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, sitting close together with a half-empty platter of food in front of them.
As you approach, Ron looks up, his cheeks bulging with a mouthful of what appears to be roast chicken. He says something muffled, completely incomprehensible as bits of food fly onto his plate.
Hermione rolls her eyes, giving him a pointed look before turning to you at Harry. “He said, ‘It took you both long enough.’” She offers a small, knowing smile that makes your stomach flip. There’s a teasing glint in her eyes, as if she’s noticed how close you and Harry are walking together.
You feel your cheeks heat up, but you quickly sit down next to Harry, trying to act normal. “We didn’t take that long,” you reply, though your voice sounds more defensive than you intended.
Ron, now finally managing to swallow his food, grins. “Yeah, sure. You’re only the last ones here. Hermione thought you two got lost or something.” 
You scoff lightly, shooting him a playful glare. “We were just making sure Harry packed everything, unlike someone who nearly forgot their Charms homework last week.”
Ron shrugs, completely unbothered. “That was one time.”
Hermione looks exasperated but doesn’t press the point, instead glancing between you and Harry. “You two seem… close tonight,” she says, her voice casual but with a hint of teasing. “Sitting awfully close, aren’t you?”
Your heart skips a beat, and you realise that, yes, you and Harry are sitting closer than usual – your knees brushing under the table, shoulders almost touching. Harry shifts beside you, and when you glance at him, you notice the light pink tint spreading across his cheeks.
“Oh, uh-” Harry stammers, trying to play it off, “there’s just, you know, less space at the table tonight.” He sounds unconvincing, and you can feel your own face growing warmer.
Ron snickers, biting into a piece of bread. “Right. ‘Less space.’”
You kick Ron lightly under the table, earning a chuckle from him, while Hermione hides her grin behind her glass of pumpkin juice. Harry, still a bit flustered, reaches for a roll, but his hand brushes yours as you both go for it at the same time.
“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down at his plate quickly. You pull your hand back, feeling the butterflies in your stomach flutter more intensely.
Dinner goes on with light conversation, mostly centred around Ron’s enthusiastic retelling of his plans for Christmas and Hermione’s exasperation over his lack of preparation for the upcoming exams. All the while, you’re hyper-aware of how close Harry is, and how his arm occasionally grazes yours.
Once you’ve finished eating, the plates magically clear themselves, and Harry glances at you, an almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “We’ve got some time before bed… do you want to do something?” His voice is soft, hopeful.
You bite your lip, thinking for a moment, before the answer comes to you. “I’d like to go to the Astronomy Tower,” you say, your voice quiet but certain. “To look at the stars.”
His eyes light up, and he nods. “That sounds perfect.”
Ron lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Of course, the Astronomy Tower…”
Hermione gives him a look. “Oh, hush, Ron. Let them go look at the stars.” There’s a sly smile on her lips, and you have a feeling she knows exactly what’s going on between you and Harry, even if neither of you has fully admitted it yet.
Blushing, you get up from the table, feeling Harry’s eyes on you as he stands as well. You glance over at Hermione and Ron, who are both trying their hardest not to look too amused.
“Well, we’ll see you later,” Harry says awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he waits for you to join him.
You give Hermione a quick wave, and she winks back, as you and Harry head out of the Great Hall together, making your way toward the Astronomy Tower.
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The cold night air bites at your cheeks as you stand atop the Astronomy Tower with Harry, the sky above a sea of stars. They glitter against the black canvas, so clear and sharp that it feels like you could reach out and grab them. You pull your cloak tighter around you, sneaking a glance at Harry beside you. His breath forms soft clouds in the crisp winter air, his eyes trained on the sky, but you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are.
For a while, it’s quiet – almost awkward – as you both gaze up at the stars, your fingers brushing his for a split second before you quickly pull your hand away. The cold is a convenient excuse for the shiver that runs down your spine, but deep down, you know it’s not just the temperature making you feel this way.
Harry clears his throat, breaking the silence. “The stars are… really bright tonight.”
You nod, unsure what to say, your heart racing just being next to him. The space between you feels charged with something unsaid. “Yeah, they’re beautiful.”
Another stretch of silence follows, and you sense Harry shifting on his feet beside you, as though he’s gathering the courage to say something more. You’re at a loss for words, the nervous flutter in your chest making it hard to think straight.
Then, after a moment, Harry speaks again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “You know… the stars, they kind of remind me of you.”
Your breath catches at his words, and you turn to look at him, your heart pounding in your ears. “Remind you of me?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.
He glances down, shuffling his feet before meeting your gaze again. His green eyes are bright, reflecting the light of the stars above, and there’s something vulnerable in his expression, like he’s afraid of saying too much but wants too anyway.
“Yeah,” he continues, his cheeks flushing pink from more than just the cold. “They’re beautiful, obviously, but it’s more than that. They’re always there, constant, even when everything else feels uncertain. Like no matter what’s going on, you can always look up and find them.” His voice drops, a little shy as he adds, “You’re like that for me.”
His confession is so simple, but it makes your heart feel too big for your chest. You can’t tear your eyes away from him, and suddenly, the awkwardness disappears, replaced by a quiet tension that hums between you. There’s something in his gaze, something tender and full of hope, and you realize you’ve been waiting for this moment just as much as he has.
As you stand there, words hovering on the tip of your tongue, your eyes are drawn upward – and that’s when you see it. A sprig of mistletoe, its little white berries gleaming in the dim light, hanging just above your heads. It’s almost laughably convenient, but it’s there, and you know Harry’s seen it too.
Your eyes meet, and for a moment, you both just stand there, the realization hanging in the air. He glances at the mistletoe, then back at you, his breath coming out shaky, lips slightly parted as if he’s waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.
Instead, slowly, carefully, Harry leans in, his movements tentative, giving you time to pull away if you want. But you find yourself drawn to him, your heart racing as you close the distance between you. Your eyes flutter shut, and then, finally, his lips meet yours.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like you’re both testing the waters, but it sends warmth flooding through you, chasing away the cold of the night. His lips are gentle, and the hand that’s been brushing against yours squeezes lightly, grounding you in the moment.
When you finally pull back, the world feels different, like everything has shifted into place. You open your eyes to find Harry staring at you with a soft, almost awestruck expression, his cheeks flushed and his breath shaky. You know you must look the same, a blush creeping across your skin despite the cold.
The silence between you is thick with emotions that have been building for longer than either of you realized. You’re both standing there, frozen in place, still processing what just happened.
Without thinking, your hand moves up, trembling slightly as you cup the back of his neck. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and you can feel him shiver – not from the cold this time, but from the same nervous anticipation that’s thrumming through you.
You pull him down toward you, closing the space between you once more, and kiss him again. This time, the kiss is more certain, a little bolder, your lips pressing against his with quiet intensity. Harry responds instantly, kissing you back with the same urgency.
But just as you’re getting lost in the moment, Harry pulls back, his breath shaky as he rests his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing lightly over your hand. For a second, neither of you moves, standing there with your foreheads pressed together, the stars twinkling above, the cold night air forgotten.
You let out a breathy laugh, something soft and uncontrollable that bubbles up before you can stop it. Harry pulls back slightly, his lips quirking into a curious smile.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, his voice quiet but warm.
You bite your lip, still smiling. “I don’t know… I guess it’s just – this. Us.” You pause, your heart racing as you search for the right words. “I’ve wanted this for so long... I didn’t think it would actually happen.”
Harry’s expression softens, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek now. “Me too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to say it... but I’ve liked you for ages. I just... I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”
Your heart swells at his confession, and you realize just how long you’ve both been waiting, dancing around this moment. You take a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly as you speak. “I like you too, Harry. A lot. I’ve been so nervous around you lately, and I-”
Harry smiles softly, his forehead still resting against yours. “You don’t have to be nervous anymore. We’re okay. Better than okay.”
You smile back, the relief washing over you, a weight lifting off your shoulders. There’s nothing left to say; you both know now.
Without second-guessing yourself, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss – this one slow and sweet, like a promise. His hands settle gently on your waist as he pulls you closer. The world fades away, and all you can feel is him – his warmth, his steady presence, the way everything just feels right in this moment.
When you finally break apart, the stars are still shining above you, but all you can think about is how bright everything feels now that the truth is out in the open. Harry looks at you with a soft smile, his hand lingering on your cheek as he whispers, “I think the stars were always meant to lead me to you.”
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