#is that they NO LONGER have to stay in the darkness of the night and they can BE birdmen even out in broad daylight

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter fourteen ⭐︎ Somewhere in these eyes, I'm on your side.

Warnings: fluff, lots and lots fluff, just a teeny tiny bit of angst, just a bunch of tooth rooting sweetness

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: On a rainy Thursday, something shifts between you and Steve, something you can not see yet, while Steve gets lost in a glimpse of the future he could feel on this day.

Word count: 9k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me as always, roe. especially with the last bit, you're the bestest ♡ Steve's shower scene was fully written by her so give her some loveeee

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

The rain paddles against your windows softly, the sun is hidden behind the heavy dark clouds, and the light wind rustles the trees outside. You didn’t close the blinds last night, but it doesn’t matter anyways, it’s dark and gloomy outside. 

The soft covers touch your bare skin, the smell of cologne is heavy in the air, along with the smell of sex that still lingers after the previous night. 

The weight of his arm keeps you in place, keeps you close, he is making your heart flutter in this early morning hour already. 

He is facing you, just as you are facing him. His palm rests on your lower back, his legs tangled with yours underneath the sheets. He pulls you closer when you try to move, tightening his hold on you, but he is still so fast asleep. His lashes look so much longer when his eyes are closed, his features are completely relaxed, he is breathing softly, his heart beats against your palm as you keep your hand close to it. 

You eye the moles on his skin and the scars on his body. 

Your hands always itch to touch him, to graze his skin with the tips of your fingers, and you can do so when he’s fast asleep and unaware of your loving touches. 

You raise your hand up to his face, pushing away the curl that hangs loosely over his forehead. Your touch is light as a feather as you trace the bridge of his nose, and his cheek, before you return your hand back to his chest, freezing when a sigh falls from his lips and he stirs in his sleep, pulling you tighter against him in the process before he sinks deeper into the pillows, eyes still shut and heart still beating softly. 

You breathe out and relax when he continues sleeping deeply. 

You don’t want to get caught admiring him, and touching him like this, when only a few days ago, you feared that you would lose him after Eddie confronted you both. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. 

His words cut deep, and the fear of losing him added to the hurt. You weren’t ready to lose this, you weren’t ready to lose him, and you thought that you were so very close to it until he showed up the next morning, and asked if things would stay the same between you and him now that someone found out.

The weight that stayed on your shoulders nearly crushed you, but he took it off you, and without realizing that he did, he took some of your worries too, just not the pain, and the mark he left on your heart with a few simple words. But it didn’t matter, because kissing him and feeling his touch again, was all that mattered, to know that it wasn’t over just yet… that mattered. 

You can hide the sadness and the pain when he holds you like this, you can even forget about it… momentarily. 

You forgot about it last night, when he kissed your neck and he marked your skin, when he unraveled you with his tongue and the touch of his hands, when he split you open and kissed you like you were his, when he looked into your eyes and he held your wrist as the tips of his fingers touched your palm, like he wanted to entwine them with yours and feel you closer and closer as you were chest to chest and his lips moved with yours like none have ever did before. 

Shivers run down your spine, and butterflies dance in your stomach when the sound of his voice calling out your name echoes in your mind. 

You might not be the one for him. And you know that there might be others, but you don’t even want to let your mind go there, just the mere thought of it, fills you with nausea. He keeps coming back to you, that’s what matters the most to you. You know that you can give him so much more than anyone else ever could. If only he let you. If only there was a chance. 

You nearly jump from the bed when the ringing of the doorbell pulls you out of your thoughts, and it echoes through the quiet house. 

Your eyes widen, and your heart starts pounding as panic settles deep in your chest. You stare at Steve, who is peacefully asleep, still. 

You flinch at the second ringing. 

“Fuck,” you whisper when you remember the burgundy car in your driveway. There is no reason for Steve to be at your place so early in the morning. There is no believable explanation either, what will you say to whoever it is on the other side of the door?

If this is one of your friends, you are screwed, so screwed. 

You know, as a matter of fact, that it isn’t Eddie – he wouldn’t show up this early unless it was an emergency, and even then, he’d be in your room by now. 

“Steve,” you whisper, trying to shake him awake, but he only grumbles in his sleep and hides his face further into the pillows. 

You sigh. 

You push his arm off and escape his embrace. You throw the covers off, and jump up from your bed, standing in only your underwear for a moment as you search for your clothes, you reach for his shirt instead and throw it on, before you rush out of the room, trying to fix your messy hair as you run down the stairs. 

You don’t have much time to come up with lies and excuses as to why Steve’s car is in your driveway, whoever it is on the other side of the door, is getting a little impatient. 

“I’m coming,” you grumble and unlock the front door before you rip it open, holding your breath. 

“Finally!” 

You sigh out in relief, rolling your eyes at your own panic. You step aside and open the door a little wider. 

“What took you so long?” Your sister murmurs as she steps inside and brushes past you. She is carrying a bag in one hand and the bright pink baby carrier your baby niece is currently sleeping in. 

All your annoyance leaves your body right this second, your eyes soften and a smile appears on your face. 

“Hello to you too, Twinkie.” 

She rolls her eyes at your nickname but pulls you in for a side hug after dropping the bag on the ground. 

“Give me her,” you smile as you take the carrier from her arm, and carry it into the living room, smiling as you eye the little features of the baby girl. You put the carrier down on the couch. “Hi Francine,” you whisper, gently tapping her tiny nose. “She’s so big already!” 

Your sister laughs as she follows you into the living room after kicking off her shoes, “you’ve seen her last week, I don’t think she grew much.” 

“She kind of did,” you whisper, taking Francine’s tiny hand. “They grow so fast.”

Your sister walks over to the window, peeking outside, she clears her throat, “do I wanna know whose car that is?” 

You glance over your shoulder and swallow nervously. 

You’re glad that her memory is awful. 

Everyone knows who is driving the burgundy BMW, and your sister still lived in Hawkins when he got it. She should know who it belongs to.

Her lips curl into a smirk, and she wiggles her brows, “casual hook up, or… is it something serious?” 

You know that she has been waiting for this day. 

It is something serious, to you. 

It is something serious when he holds you closely and kisses you softly, when his eyes soften and his lips curl into a smile at the sight of you. 

It is something serious when your heart flutters every time his knuckles brush against yours. 

It is something serious when you fall asleep in his arms and wake up in the very same spot. 

It is something serious when you keep falling and falling with no end in sight. 

Will you ever stop falling in love with him? 

Will there ever be a moment where your feelings and your love will stop at one level, or will you continue falling harder every passing moment? 

Your sister raises her eyebrows, lips curling into an even bigger smile, when she notices the flustered look on your face, the dreamy look in your eyes. 

“Something serious, huh?” 

You blink. 

Staring at her, with your cheeks now feeling warm… way too warm, you shake your head quickly. 

“N-No.” 

You curse inwardly, for giving yourself away so easily with your stuttering and your blushing. That’s not how you ever reacted before when she mentioned any of your hookups. 

She grins at you, wiggling her eyebrows, “mhm sure, Daisy.” 

You roll your eyes at her teasing glances, but the nickname makes you smile. 

Out of all the flowers, your mom loved Daisies the most, she would put the dainty flowers in your braids, and behind your ear whenever you were out in the garden. You would pick them for her and make little bouquets to surprise her with. 

She always called you her little Daisy. 

Your sister picked up on that nickname, though she used it to mock you at first when she went through a weird phase of hating flowers – which is really ironic considering the flower shop she ended up working at when she moved to the city.

She could’ve given you another nickname, something silly – something like the name you gave to her, but she spared you, luckily. 

“Shut up, Twinkie,” you mumble, as you look back at your niece, who is beginning to stir in her sleep, her long lashes fluttering as small noises escape her mouth. “As happy as I am to see this little bean, why are you here at uh,” you pause, turning your head to look at the clock on the wall, “ten in the morning?” You ask. 

She makes her way over to you, a sweet smile appearing on her face, as she gives you her best puppy eyes. 

“I was hoping that you could look after Francine?” She asks, still smiling. “Lisa is getting married soon, and she asked me to go wedding dress shopping with her, I can’t take her, we’ll probably be out all day, and I can’t wait for Ethan to get home, his shift won’t end before–”

“It’s fine, I’ll look after her,” you interrupt her, despite the slight nervousness that rises up in you. 

You have no experience with babies at all, you have given her the bottle, you even changed her diaper, but your sister was around, and you didn’t spend the whole day alone with her. 

She sighs in relief, she puts her hand on your shoulder, “oh thank you!”

“Don’t mention it, I’d never say no to hanging out with my favorite girl.” 

“You need to spend more time with her anyways, you coming once a week isn’t enough!” 

You frown at your sister, “you’re the one who moved away!” 

She waves her hand at you, walking around the couch, she walks over to the carrier, “she always does that little scrunch with her nose before she wakes up.” 

You smile, watching as she leans in to place a gentle kiss to her daughter’s cheek. 

“Okay,” she whispers, pulling back to look at you, “I put everything into the bag, diapers, bottles, formula, a change of clothes in case her diapers leak, and uh… pacifiers. And uh, you know if she cries just lie down with her and put her on your chest, she loves cuddles.” 

You nod, “yeah, I know, I haven’t forgotten. I got this.”

“Yeah you do, Daisy. And if you need help, just call Eddie–”

“Are you kidding?” You laugh, shaking your head as amusement flashes in your eyes. 

Eddie and Max were there, the last time your sister showed up with her husband and little Francine. 

While the redhead was rather excited to hold the little girl, Eddie felt too afraid to even touch her, and he nearly gagged when Max chased him with a dirty diaper. 

“He looked at her like he was scared of her!” 

Your sister laughs, “yeah, right. Okay, so not Eddie then, I’m sure Max would love to help though, or maybe someone else – but I’ll get going now, I promise, I’ll make it up to you, you got this, Daisy.” She smiles, ruffling your hair, she leans down to look at her daughter one more time, “bye bug, I’ll see you soon,” she whispers and squeezes her tiny foot before she steps away. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you later, Twinkie.” 

The moment the front door is slammed shut, you let out a long sigh, and throw your head back against the pillows on your couch. You bring your hand up to your face and pinch the bridge of your nose. 

You are still tired, and it seems as though Steve is still sleeping soundly. 

You want nothing more than to return back to bed and sink into your pillows again. 

You definitely won’t get any sleep now, but you still get up and slowly lift the baby carrier, hoping that the movement won’t wake her up. You try to be careful as you make your way out of the living room and up the stairs. 

When you walk into your room, you find Steve now laying on his stomach, his face buried in your pillow. The sheets are low on his body, his whole back is exposed. 

The tiny cooing sounds from inside the carrier, cause your lips to curl into a big smile. You place it down on your carpet, and kneel down, giggling when you’re met by her big eyes. She starts wiggling around when she sees you. 

“Hi little angel,” you whisper, and lean closer to unfasten the safety belts, before you lift her up from the carrier, placing your right hand behind her head, you pull her into your chest, her hand instantly reaches for your hair, clasping her tiny fingers around it, she makes you laugh when she starts pulling it, making happy noises while she does so. 

You sit down on your bed, and lift your legs up, scooting back until you’re resting against the pillows behind you. You pull the covers over your lower body. 

A small squeal leaves her mouth.

“Shh, someone’s sleeping,” you whisper, tapping her little nose, glancing at Steve who is starting to stir in his sleep. 

You place her on your lap, and giggle at the cuteness as she stretches her little legs out. “That’s a cute onesie,” you whisper, rubbing her belly, “I bet you picked that yourself didn’t you? Pink is a pretty color on you, princess.” 

She babbles and wiggles around as she stares at you with her big eyes. 

Your voice, and the small coos pull Steve out of his deep sleep, his mind is still in a haze, his eyes still closed. 

“Da da da.” 

Your giggle follows the tiny voice. 

Steve scrunches his brows together, gripping the pillow underneath him, he slowly opens his eyes and looks at your side of the bed, his lips part and his eyes widen completely, something in his chest stirs strongly as he stares at the sight in front of him. 

He is still sleeping. 

He is still dreaming. 

A smile is resting on your face, eyes lightened up as you entertain the little baby girl on your lap, a pink bow around her head, big eyes resembling your own as she stares at you with a smile on her face, her hair color is the same as yours. 

Steve swallows the lump that grew in his throat, warmth settles in his chest, surrounding his heart and filling it with something, with adoration. 

His eyes soften when you lean down to kiss her forehead, squishing her tiny cheeks. 

“You’re the prettiest girl, Francis,” you whisper, using her nickname. 

His lips curl into a smile, despite the confusion that still lingers in his features. 

This is surely one of his dreams, he is convinced of it, why else would he wake up beside you, and a baby who looks like you?

But when you turn to face him, and the little girl follows your movement, looking at him with wide eyes, he isn’t so sure anymore. 

He blinks, watching as you reach for Francis’s little arm, waving her tiny hand at him, “say hi Steve.” 

The little girl babbles even louder, making a grabby hand at him. 

Steve smiles at her, raising his hand up, he waves at her.

You can’t help but laugh at the lost and confused look on his face, his brows are pulled together, his lips parted as he looks between you and your niece. 

He turns around on his back, and pushes himself so he’s leaning against your headboard, adjusting the cover, he pulls it up higher. He looks around the room, before his eyes return to the two of you, he runs his fingers through his messy hair, eyes flickering back and forth.

Your lips tug into a smirk, you can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing right now. 

You look at him, as you pull your niece closer, holding her up, you press her against your chest, “can you believe that we made a baby overnight?” 

You almost burst into laughter when his brown eyes widened with pure shock, and he choked a little. 

He blinks, shaking his head, “I know I just woke up, and I’m still sleepy… but… I still kind of remember biology.” 

Francine makes another grabby hand at him, “ma ma.”

“I dunno, but I’m pretty sure she just called you mama.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, and he turns away from you, looking around your room again before his eyes catch the picture on your nightstand, the one of you and your sister. Oh. 

“Ah… Your niece,” Steve murmurs as he looks back at the two of you. 

“Good morning, Harrington,” you giggle. Francine copies your giggle, and Steve can’t help but smile. “Oh you like that name, huh? It’s funny isn’t it? Harrington.” Her little eyes crinkle, and she starts babbling with a laugh. Steve keeps her eyes on her, smiling at the little girl.

“That’s Francine,” you smile, introducing your niece to him. 

Steve lifts his hand up, waving his fingers at her, “hi Francine, I’m Steve.” 

She squirms in your arms, making happy noises as she blinks at him. Steve chuckles, he scoots closer to you, and he lifts his hand, and touches her tiny one. Francine wraps her hand around his finger, gripping it tightly, making his smile even bigger. 

“Is your sister here?” He asks, without looking away from the little girl. 

You shake your head, “no, she asked me to babysit today. So uh… I’ll be busy with my girl here today.” 

The urge to stay here with you, and this cute little mini you, feels so strong. 

“Want me to help?” Steve asks. 

You’re a little stunned by his question, and can only stare in surprise. 

“Huh?” 

“I mean, I don’t mind staying to help,” Steve shrugs, glancing at you for a second before he gives his attention back to Francine, who stares at him in awe.

The thought of spending a whole day with Steve, taking care of a baby with him, sounds like heaven. 

The only reason why he’s ever even around you without the group is because of sex, and that only. You don’t meet up just to watch movies, cook together or anything else, you only meet up for one thing, that’s all. 

The fact that he is willing to just spend time with you, without expecting anything to happen baffles you a little. 

“I-I… Do you really want to stay?” 

He nods. 

“Not much of a choice, to be honest,” he murmurs with a fond smile on his face as he gestures to your niece who is still holding his finger tightly. 

“O-Okay,” you whisper, shakily as nervousness and excitement rise up in you. 

“She’s so adorable,” Steve whispers, chuckling when Francine babbles at him, “she looks like you.” 

You smile before you realize what he just said, and heat rushes to your cheeks. 

She’s so adorable, she looks like you.

“I-I uh,” you stutter, trying to keep your cool, “so you’re gonna stay then?”

“Yeah, I’d love to hang out with Blondie and mini Blondie over here,” he chuckles as he taps her nose. 

Your heart could burst right then and there, your cheeks feeling incredibly hot the longer you sit here and stare at him. 

“Cool,” you say with a small voice as you suddenly feel the need to escape for a moment, “would you mind looking after her for a moment then? I wanna take a quick shower or else I’ll walk around looking like a bum all day.” 

Steve turns to look at you, he takes in the sight of your messy hair, and the shirt on your body, only now noticing that it’s his. His insides tingle, and his lips curl into a smile. 

You look like a cute bum. He almost blurts out, but bites his tongue. 

“Sure, go ahead, me and Francine are just gonna hang out, right?” 

She squeals in response, making jumpy movements. 

You both laugh at her. 

You lay her down beside him, and tickle her belly, giggling when she starts kicking her feet, “alright, I’ll be right back, angel.” 

Steve doesn’t even notice how big his smile is, how soft his eyes are as he stares at you, how warm the feeling in his chest is. 

“She might roll over on her belly, and if she gets a little fuzzy just pick her up, she loves snuggles. I’m gonna be quick.” 

Steve scoots closer to Francine, leaning his elbow on the pillow, he rests his head against his palm, and glances at you, “it’s fine, take your time, I’m just gonna chat with her.” 

Francine is still kicking her feet and waving around with her little arms.

“Oh yeah, she’s very talkative,” you giggle, and get up from the bed, you walk over to your dresser and pick out some clothes to change into. As much as you would love to wear his shirt all day, he needs it himself – although, you wouldn’t mind him walking around shirtless. 

Once you get everything you need, you turn back to take a look at them, and you nearly melt into a puddle when you see the way she is still clutching his finger, kicking her legs and babbling something to him, while he watches her with a smile on his face. 

“O-Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

You leave the room in a haste, but Steve doesn’t even notice, too busy staring at little Francine. He adores the resemblance of you, and the color of her eyes that matches yours, she truly looks like you. 

Steve can’t remember the last time he saw or even held a baby, he’s not sure if he ever even held one. He was ten when one of his cousins was born, but he didn’t care to hold him back then. 

Francine keeps making a grabby hand at him, while she tugs at his finger, starting to get fuzzy after a few minutes pass without your presence in the room. 

He sits up straighter and pulls the blanket up higher, he reaches for one of your throw pillows and places it on his lap. 

“Alright Francine,” Steve whispers, he takes a deep breath and furrows his brows in concentration as he carefully lifts her up, supporting her head with his palm, he pulls her closer and lays her down on the soft pillow. 

She coos and starts blowing bubbles, making Steve laugh. 

“Oh, you’re so adorable,” he smiles, pulling her a little closer, “did you pick that bow today?” He asks, eying the headband around her little head. 

She makes a few grunting noises, though looking at him with a happy look on her face. 

“Your auntie loves those bows too, she puts some in her ponytails sometimes,” Steve says, talking to her as though he will get more than just a few babbles from her. “I bet you’re gonna steal them from her someday–”

Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

Steve’s face pales at the sound, his eyes widen. 

The noise that came from her diapers sounded more than just air. 

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles before his eyes widen further at the curse word that just left his lips, “I shouldn’t have said that, shit– I mean, I’m sorry, please forget what I just said,” he rambles, as though she understood a single thing that he said. 

Francine babbles, kicking her feet into his stomach with a happy squeal. 

“Um,” he panics, looking around the room, “Blondie!?”

“What Steve!?” You call from the bathroom, “it’s been five minutes!” 

“I uh–” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he furrows his brows, “code red…?” 

You nearly laugh at his choice of words, you only ever used code red in the upside down, for the real emergencies. 

You can already guess what happened, and it only makes your amusement grow bigger. You quickly put your clothes on, and brush your hair before you make your way out of the bathroom and back to them. 

“Okay, I’m here,” you announce, placing his shirt that you stole earlier on your bed, you walk over to his side, and take a seat beside him, “that was the quickest shower of my life.” 

He gets a whiff of your vanilla body wash, of the mint from your toothpaste, and the smell of perfume that lingers in your hair, making his chest flutter. 

“She uh– I think she needs a diaper change.” 

“Oh,” you laugh, “that’s what you’re panicking about?” 

Steve glares at you.

“You wanted to help,” you shrug as you get up again, making your way out of the room again to get the bag with Francine’s stuff. “You gotta learn how to change diapers, Harrington!” 

Steve huffs nervously, “no big deal right?” He whispers to Francine. 

“Da da da.” 

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, “right.”

You come back into the room, and put the bag on the ground, picking out new diapers, wet wipes, baby powder and the spare onesie, along with the thin baby towel that you spread out on your mattress. 

“Alright, Lego head,” you raise your eyebrows at him, “do you wanna practice for your future nuggets or are you scared of baby poop?” 

He snorts, shaking his head at you.

“No, I’m not scared of baby poop.” 

You walk over to them both and lean down before him, you pick Francine up, and scrunch your face up, “yeah, you really need a diaper change, angel.”

Steve watches as you carry her over to the other side, placing her down on the towel you spread out. You undo the buttons of her onesie, smiling at the little girl. 

“Well, come on,” you giggle at him, “it’s an experience you gotta make, Steve.” 

Steve takes a deep breath, he throws the pillow off his lap and removes the cover. He gets up from the bed, standing there in his boxers for a moment, until his eyes find the sweatpants he discarded last night, he quickly throws them on, along with the shirt you wore earlier. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, he walks up beside you, “just tell me what to do.” 

You chuckle at his nervousness, you place your hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry, if Max was able to do it, you can do it too.” 

A breathy laugh falls from his lips. 

You guide him, giving him a little step by step of what to do. 

You watch the way his brows knit together, and the way he is nodding to himself as he follows your words. 

He doesn’t even look disgusted when the smell hits him, he only chuckles at the way Francine continues babbling happily. 

“She’s a happy baby, isn’t she?” 

You nod, smiling down at your niece, “yes she is.”

You hand him the new diapers and the baby powder, before you put the used wipes into the dirty diaper, roll it up carefully and throw it into the trash in your bathroom before you return to your room. 

“How old is she?” 

“She’s gonna be three months old tomorrow,” you say, smiling as you step up beside him again. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at Francine, “oh, you’re gonna be a big girl tomorrow?” He jokes as he tickles her belly, making her laugh. 

The smile on your face widens, the feeling in your chest growing stronger and brighter. 

Her small giggles, and the fond smile that rests in his tired features spark something deep inside of you, a warming and comforting feeling appears as you watch him take care of her with careful and slow movements. 

“Is that okay?” He asks you, gesturing to the diapers he put on her, “or is it too tight?”

You lean closer to him and check the pressure, “no, that’s perfect, Steve.”

“It is?” He asks, surprised. 

You nod, and start to put her onesie back on, “yeah, I don’t even know what you panicked about, you’ve done a better job than me, I didn’t know what I was doing the first time,” you laugh. “You did good, Lego head.” 

A dimpled grin appears on his face, despite the redness in his cheeks. 

“I-I think caring for a bunch of kids that turned into teens turned me into a natural, even babies. I mean, Dustin counts as a baby, doesn’t he?” He jokes, watching the way your eyes crinkle and your lips spread before you burst into giggles. 

Francine watches you with big eyes before she copies your giggles like before. 

Steve’s eyes light up, as he watches you both. 

The warmth in his chest spreads, as happiness rises up in him. 

After adjusting her clothes and the bow on her head, you pick her up into your arms, leaning down to kiss her cheek. 

You don’t even notice just how soft the look in his eyes, how the ghost of a smile now lingers on his lips, as he stares at the both of you in awe, watching the way Francine buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you keep a gentle hand on the back of her head. 

“Do you want some breakfast? I can make you something after I give this princess her bottle, I think she’s getting tired again.”

Steve’s heart thumps strongly in his chest, he can’t deny the emotions of adoration in him as he looks at you with the baby on your arm. 

“I can make you a breakfast sandwich or anything else you want.” 

Steve blinks. 

“Uh, you don’t have to make anything for me, Blondie. I can make you something though.”

You shake your head, “no, you’re my guest, I’ll make you breakfast, and you can feed her if you want.” 

“Okay,” he says with a sigh, nodding his head, “I’ll make you lunch or dinner though.”

“Oh, are you gonna woo me with your cooking skills now?” You giggle. 

He looks down with a smile, “I promised I would, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, you did.” 

Francine clasps her fingers around your hair again, pulling it stronger than before, making you wince a little. 

“Okay, okay, someone’s getting a little grumpy now. I’m gonna go make her the bottle.” 

“I’ll be right there with you, I’m just gonna go brush my teeth real quick,” Steve gestures to your bathroom, “do you need me to carry the bag down?”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not heavy,” you say as you step towards him, “but can you help me put it on my shoulder?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He grabs the bag and steps towards you, putting the strap around your shoulder. His eyes soften yet again, when he sees you looking down at your niece, smiling as she blinks at you with her big eyes. 

Steve doesn’t even notice that his hand still lingers on your shoulder, or that he’s rubbing your back, he is too in awe of the two of you, and that feeling stays with him, even when you leave the room and go downstairs, even when he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, he stares at his reflection in the mirror, and he can’t even unsee the happiness and the relaxation in his features, but he decides to pay no mind to it. 

When he joins you downstairs, he finds you in the kitchen, finishing up on Francine’s bottle, you’re shaking it, while whispering something to her as you’re still holding her in your arm, still. 

Steve doesn’t know what it is, but the sight before him, makes him freeze in his spot. 

As you stand there in your kitchen, with a smile on your lips, and a look of adoration in your eyes, you’re cooing at your niece, giggling every time she babbles something at you, he realizes something. 

You are comfortable, right now. 

You’re in your home, away from the eyes of strangers, hidden from the world that you have only shown one side of yourself to, your walls are down, you are just yourself, and there is no shame behind your eyes, because all your attention goes to someone you adore and love, and don’t feel the need to hide from. 

Your eyes shine brightly, your features are relaxed in a way they have never been before, and your smile is so genuine, so real. 

You’re talking to her with a small and gentle voice, you hold her tightly against your chest – and you… god you look so beautiful like this. 

You look so beautiful with a baby in your arms. 

Warmth spreads across his whole body, he likes the sight in front of him, he likes it so much that it should scare him, but it doesn’t. 

“There he is, Francis,” you smile, glancing at Steve, you don’t even notice how frozen in place he is, how heaven struck he looks, “are you ready to give her the bottle?” 

Steve blinks, snapping out of his mind, he nods at you with a blush on his cheeks. 

You brush past him, and gesture for him to follow you into the living room, after you grab the cloth from the counter. 

You place the bottle on the coffee table, and wait for him to take a seat on the couch. 

“Alright, you gotta tell me what to do,” Steve says nervously, as he sits down, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Don’t be nervous, you got this,” you assure him. 

You step between his legs, and lean down to place Francine into his arms. 

Without needing to be told, he cradles the back of her head, as he gently pulls her into his arms, a smile spreading on his lips when her big eyes look into his. 

“Okay,” you whisper and put the cloth under her chin, adjusting it over her clothes in case a little accident might happen. 

“Am I holding her correctly?” Steve asks, looking up at you. 

The side of her face is nuzzled into his chest, the back of her head resting in the crook of his arm. You didn’t even need to guide him, he truly is a natural. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “you’re doing great.”

You hand him the bottle, and sit down beside him. 

“Did you test the temperature?” Steve asks, and you almost want to laugh at his question. 

“Yeah Steve, I did.” 

He nods at you. 

With a chuckle, you pull your feet up onto the sofa and sit on your knees, turning your body towards them. 

“Okay, now gently place the teat into her mouth and slowly tilt the bottle, she will do the rest.” 

He furrows his brows, poking his tongue through his lips, he focuses on your niece as he follows your words. 

You watch him closely, how soft and concentrated his eyes are, how careful his movements are, how small she looks in his arms, how sweet the sight of them is. 

Francine raises her little arm, and places her tiny hand on the bottle as she starts sucking on the teat, small noises falling from her. 

“Oh my god,” Steve whispers, the biggest smile you have ever seen, now glowing in his features as he looks at her in awe, “she’s the cutest little bean.” 

“Yeah, she is,” you smile and tilt your head as you watch them, the fluttering feeling in your chest sparking.

Her eyelashes flutter, her big eyes still staring into his. 

“I’m gonna cry, Blondie,” Steve murmurs, adoring the little human in his arms. “She's so tiny and adorable.” 

You move closer and reach for the corner of the cloth, wiping away the bit of milk that rolls down her chin. 

“You’re gonna have one of those someday too.”

Steve smiles at your words, nodding as he whispers “hopefully.” 

But he doesn’t notice the way your own smile falls, the way your eyes sadden for a moment, the way you look down and blink away the feelings you don’t want him to see. And he doesn’t realize how quiet you get, he is too distracted by Francine and the thoughts in his head, the pictures of a future he longs for so badly. 

Only when the bottle is empty and he removes it, does he turn back to you, but still too blinded by his mind to see the look in your eyes. You take the bottle from his hand, and place it back on the coffee table. 

“You gotta hold her against your chest now,” you tell him and remove the cloth from her body, you place it on his chest instead, “and gently pat her back so she can burp.” 

You guide him again, helping him hold her correctly as he places her against his chest, he puts his hand on her back, and starts patting gently. 

“Is that good?”

“Yeah,” you whisper and scoot closer to him, you reach for her tiny hand, caressing it as you watch her with a smile on your face, “she’s tired.” 

“Yeah, pooping must’ve been really exhausting,” Steve jokes, making you giggle. 

“Yeah, totally–”

A loud burp falls from her mouth. 

“Oh that was a big one,” Steve chuckles as he stops patting her, “you did good, bug.”

“She didn’t even spit, she usually does a little, wow you really do have magical hands,” you chuckle, and remove the cloth from his shoulder. 

“Told you, I’m a natural,” he smiles proudly. 

You roll your eyes playfully. 

“Do you want me to take her now?” You ask. 

He shakes his head at you, “can I hold her for a while?” 

Confusion flashes in your eyes. You know how badly he needs his coffee in the mornings, it’s one of the first things he does after he wakes up, going into the kitchen to brew his beloved morning coffee. He didn’t even take a single sip yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind, he is too in awe of the baby on his chest. 

Realization replaces the look in your eyes – he is entering a baby fever trance, with your niece nonetheless. It makes your smile reappear, that’s how you feel too, every time you get to spend time with her. 

“Of course,” you whisper, as your gaze softens. 

Francine’s eyelashes flutter, her blinking getting slower and lesser. 

“She’s gonna pass out though, you should sit back a little so she can lay on you.” 

He nods at your words, placing one hand on her back and the other under her bum, he lays back slowly, his lips twitching into a small smile when he sees her already falling asleep. She scrunches up her nose as she nuzzles her face into his chest, making you both laugh when she suddenly throws her hand up, managing to catch onto a strand of his hair. 

She wiggles around for a moment, before her eyes start falling shut. 

“And she’s out,” Steve whispers, chuckling to himself. “I wish I could fall asleep this fast.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Her cheek is squished against him, she’s breathing softly now, her hand falling from his hair and onto his shoulder, her little headband beginning to slip off. 

You reach out to take it off her head slowly, and lean in to place a soft kiss on her forehead, unaware of the fond smile on Steve’s lips, or the feelings that rush through him because of you. 

“I’m gonna go make some coffee and breakfast now,” you mumble as you pull away, and get up from the couch, grabbing the bottle and the cloth. 

Steve’s eyes follow you as you walk over to the TV stand, and grab the remote, handing it to him, “you can watch something if you want, it won’t disturb her, she’s a heavy sleeper.”

“I’m good, I’ll watch her for now,” he whispers. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you say, and give him a smile before you leave the room. 

A genuine smile. 

You smiled at him before, countless of times actually, but he could never tell what was real and what wasn’t, what was genuine and what was forced or just sarcastic. But this, this was a real smile, and there was no second meaning behind it. You just smiled at him, naturally. It makes him feel… happy, and as he looks down at the little girl that has your features, he realizes something. 

The feeling in his chest was never for nothing, it was never false or misleading. 

It was just as real as the smile you blessed him with. 

Suddenly, everything before him doesn't seem as dull and colorless as it did all these past months and even years, something sparks before his eyes and he can see again, he can feel something besides the never ending gnawing in his chest and the restlessness in his bones, the fears that nestled deep into his soul. He finally sees something other than the darkened clouds and the red lights that keep flashing before his eyes. 

A light that keeps peeking through every once in a while is on the verge of breaking through, making the walls around him rattle as the foundation starts to crumble, one brick at a time starts falling into an abyss. 

A future lays before his eyes, calling out to him and waiting to be grasped, an echo, a whisper, a glimpse of what could be if things were only different. 

For the rest of the day, Steve feels as though he had fallen into a pleasant dream, a world where it’s only you and him, a little girl that made him realize just how badly he wants to have a family of his own – he already knew that he wanted it, but he pictured the wrong person by his side, a person he no longer even wanted. 

He was blinded by old feelings, and the wish to have something real again, when it never even was to begin with. 

The feelings that are sparking in him now, feel so different from anything that he had ever felt before, and he only opens his eyes to them more and more as the day passes, and he sees a side of you that he had never seen before. 

He sees with how much love and gentleness you treat your niece, he sees the way your eyes hold nothing but adoration for the girl that you would do anything for. 

He hears how soft your voice can get. 

He feels how soft your touch can be when you once again hand her to him. 

And his heart beats so strongly, so fastly in his chest when a giggle falls from your lips after Francine pouts when you take her away from him again, only to be forced to place her back into his arms when she almost starts crying. 

Steve adores her, and he adores you – a little more as every second of this day passes. 

The thing that pushes him nearer towards the finish line of realization, is this very moment in front of him. 

Your niece fell asleep on his chest yet again, you are sitting right next to him, with your head on his shoulder and your eyes glued on her, your finger tracing her little features. The urge to pull you closer and hold you feels so strong to the point that his fingers start itching. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t cook dinner for you,” he whispers. 

You look at him through your lashes, the corner of your lip twitching as your eyes flicker to his lips for a brief moment. 

The only light in the room now coming from the TV, the volume set on the lowest. The rain is still falling, even as the night nears. 

“It’s okay, Francis didn’t let you,” you giggle softly, not knowing that the sound makes his heart flutter. “Besides, the pizza was really good.” 

“Yeah, it was,” he whispers. 

He notices how tired you look, how the sleepiness is beginning to set into your features now too. 

“Look at her tiny nose,” you whisper as you look back at her, “and those little hands.”

Something in the way you hold her hand and whisper so adoringly about her, makes him long for you even more – but not in a way he had felt before, no, this is different, this is so very serious. 

Steve lifts his arm as a blush creeps up to his cheeks, he wraps his arm around you, and pulls you closer, “come here,” he whispers into your hair, “there’s space for two Blondies on my chest.”

He doesn’t know what kind of emotions he can trigger in you, with such simple words. 

He doesn’t know that you have been dying to feel this. 

You lay your head on his chest, and he can’t help but smile at the sigh that falls from your lips. You put your arm around Francine, and snuggle against him, and you stay like that, for a while at least, until Steve allows his feelings to take the lead. 

He adjusts the blanket over Francine before he pulls you even closer, and he buries his fingers in your hair, allowing himself to play with it like he only ever does when you’re fast asleep and unaware of his soft touches or the glances that fall upon your skin. 

He would feel joy if he knew about the emotions that linger inside of you. 

“You will be an amazing dad to your little nuggets someday, Steve,” you say in a whisper, it’s almost too quiet for him to hear, “and a good husband too.” 

The shakiness in your voice and the sadness goes by unnoticed by him, he is too stunned by your words. 

If he could see inside your head, he would know how much sadness there is, how the dark clouds always reside, how you don’t see a future for yourself because you know that he won’t be in it, and without him, what will you have? What will you be? A wilting rose, left behind to die. You are barely holding on now, but you are still here, because he is still keeping you alive. Your life is in his hands. 

Steve takes a deep breath, he opens his mouth to whisper to you, only to see you fast asleep now too, your cheek squished against his chest just like Francine’s is. 

He breathes out, lips curling into a smile as he stops playing with your hair. 

“You will be amazing too, Blondie,” he whispers. 

A girlfriend. A wife. A mother. 

Whatever you choose to be, whoever you will bless with your love, they are going to be so lucky to have you. 

And before he can even realize where his thoughts are taking him, a frown nestles into his features. The thought that he will become a memory to you, makes him feel uneasy. The thought that someone will step into your life, and take away what you both have, fills him with gray-ish sadness once again. The image of someone putting a ring on your finger and getting to be the one to lift the veil and kiss you on the altar openly, in front of everybody, and without needing to hide, spreads the darkness in him, yet again. 

He looks down at you, at the way you look so comfortable in his embrace, while your soft hand stays on the girl’s back, he admires you, and he feels no shame to do so, not even when he lifts his hand to brush your hair out of your face. 

But his time with you is cut short when the front door unlocks and opens, and footsteps echo in the hallway, a moment later. 

He turns his face away from you, when your sister steps into the living room, freezing in her steps when she sees him. 

Steve swallows the lump in his throat, giving her a tight lipped smile, he raises his hand to wave at her, “hi…”

She furrows her brows as she takes in the sight of you three, her lips pulling into a confused smile. She takes her denim jacket off and walks further into the room, her lips curling into a big smile when she takes a look at her girl. 

But then her eyes fall back on him, and suddenly, her lips part in surprise. 

“Hi…Oh– you, hang on,” she mumbles, tilting her head before her eyes widen, “Steve Harrington?”

Steve doesn’t know what to think of the look on her face, or the stunned tone in her voice. 

He met her before, at the hospital when she came to visit you, but he didn’t talk to her, and her reaction makes him wonder if you have mentioned him before. 

“Yeah… that’s uh… that’s me.”

The silence that follows is almost too loud, he can see the way she looks between you both, back and forth, as her brows stay furrowed. 

She points a finger between you both, “so uh… you’re her boyfriend?”

Steve hesitates, and he glances down at you, bitterness lays on his tongue when he utters the next words, “uh… no… no, I’m not.” Sadly, he thinks.

And when he registers the words that popped into his head out of nowhere, he suddenly wants nothing more than to escape this situation, fearing his own feelings again. 

“I-I should go now.” 

“Oh, you’re not staying another night?” She asks, a somewhat smug tone in her voice as she looks at you. 

He would love to, but it’s better to go now. It’s not safe to stay, not for his heart.

“No, I have to work tomorrow.”

“Ah,” she nods and walks over to the three of you, “I’ll take her now,” she whispers, and carefully picks her daughter up. The little girl stirs in her sleep, grunting quietly but not opening her eyes just yet. 

“She’s a heavy sleeper,” Steve chuckles as he watches the way Francine relaxes into her mother’s arms. 

“She really is,” your sister laughs, and walks over to the armchair, taking a seat before she looks back up at Steve, “kind of like Daisy when she’s relaxed,” she nudges her chin towards you. 

A smile appears on his face, and he looks down at you, his arm is still wrapped around you, and he already dreads the feeling of having to let you go. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, taking a long look at you, before he decides to get up. 

A sigh leaves his lips, and he slowly slips away from you, replacing his chest with a pillow for your head, his eyes soften when you scrunch your nose up just the way your niece did earlier. He adjusts the blanket over you, fighting the urge to leave a kiss on your forehead before he steps away. 

Your sister eyes him closely, watching how he treats you with so much care. 

When Steve steps away, and looks away from you, glancing at your sister, heat rushes to his cheeks when he sees the way she looks between you both, a smug look lingering in her eyes, a small but teasing smile on her face. 

He wants to run. 

“Okay uh,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck before he points his finger at the hallway, “I’m gonna go.” 

“Okay,” she nods, “thanks for helping with Francine.”

He waves his hand, a smile now reappearing on his face as he looks at the baby girl, already missing the feeling of holding her. 

“No need to thank me, I loved spending time with these two,” he chuckles, pointing between you and your niece. “But uh, I’m gonna head out.”

“Alright,” she smiles at him.

He takes one last look at you before he turns around and makes his way out of the living room, he puts his Nike’s on, and grabs the car keys he threw on the counter, last night. 

“Bye, Twinkie.”

“Bye…” She mumbles with furrowed brows, confused at the name he just called her by. 

The front door shuts quietly, yet loud enough to wake you up. With a flinch, you open your eyes, and look around the room, feeling a little disoriented. You look to your side, the empty spot beside you, making you frown. 

“Your boyfriend left,” your sister's voice sounds through the room. 

You turn to her, finding her in the armchair she always loved so much. A smug look is resting on her lips. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, glaring at her. 

She laughs at you, and leans back, getting comfortable in her seat. 

“Spill. Now.” 

-

The hot water rolls down Steve’s skin, the smell of shampoo surrounds him as he washes his hair. 

His eyes are closed, but a smile rests on his lips, as images of all the things that happened today replay in his mind. 

The fluttering in his chest hasn’t stopped at all, everything you did, everything you said, every single touch of yours has seemingly turned him into a hopeless teenager again – only, he isn’t one anymore, and the feelings inside of him, go much deeper than the ones of a seventeen year old boy. 

And no matter how much he tries to deny them, he just can’t, because it becomes less and less possible to pretend that they aren’t there.

Today, they shined through so brightly, when he saw how soft and gentle you could be, when he saw the sides of you that you never wanted to show. He saw something he never thought was even there. And it causes awful feelings to rise up in him, when he comes to the realization that all these years, you were only protecting yourself from the hurt in this world, and you did so by putting up a front and giving people the wrong pictures of yourself.

You were mean and rough to those you didn’t trust, and he was one of them, maybe he still is, but he saw you today. 

When you greeted him this morning, with your niece in your arms. 

When you kissed her little forehead, and held her in your sweet embrace. 

When you taught him to bottle feed her. 

When you admired her with him, and traced her little features with your finger and a loving smile on your face. 

When you told him how great of a husband he would be someday, and an amazing dad to his nuggets.

Wait… you said nuggets, plural. He never told you he wanted kids, so how did you know? How did you even know he would love to call his children that particular word? Was it intuition? Was it a coincidence? 

His eyebrows knit together with complete and utter confusion as the water just keeps running over his head, and the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. 

The RV. His conversation with Nancy. Him telling Nancy he wants to be someone’s husband and have six nuggets. Him pouring his desires out, thinking that everyone else in the vehicle was sound asleep.

But you weren’t.

Fuck, you weren’t asleep. You heard him. You heard him talking to Nancy, and you– you think that he wants those things with her still. He should clarify it, shouldn’t he? He wants to tell you that it was the dread of the world ending talking for him. He wants to explain himself to you–

Explain himself? Why? You probably wouldn’t care who he has kids with, or who he marries. You would simply give him a thumbs up and a confused look on your face. But– He feels his stomach contracting with nerves, nerves he knows all too well. He doesn’t need to explain anything to you. He doesn’t need to clarify anything. 

But, he doesn’t want you to think he wants that family with Nancy Wheeler.

He really doesn’t.

And he is terrified that he doesn’t want you to misunderstand.

Absolutely fucking terrified.

And then, the realization, the surprise and the nerves turn into absolute guilt. He had also said a few things about you. Nancy told him that it’s sad you had to be included this way into the party, into their problems, but that you looked strong and determined after going into the upside down just one time.

And he replied with how much he desired you wouldn’t have gotten involved at all. It sounded harsh, it sounded vile and venomous… And it was intended that way, or at least that’s what he thought. 

Now, he realizes that he didn’t want you involved so you wouldn’t go through danger, but you did, you went through so much pain and suffering. Nancy was right, you were strong, and you didn’t second guess your actions when it meant saving someone. 

“Shit–” He jumped a bit when he felt the water turn cold, not realizing for how long he had been in his head, thinking, running through his thoughts and memories. He turned the water off and shook his head to get the excess of it out of his hair. 

He got out of the shower and grabbed a towel, a white one that had the smudge of a lipstick stain that never got off. Your lipstick. 

And just that mere stain made his heart jump and miss one beat, two beats, maybe three. Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He really wants you to know he doesn’t mean what he said in the RV.

To both of those things.

Especially the one about Nancy.

“Fuck me.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @sherrylyn628 @munson-mjstan @maroon-cardigan @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @ibellcipem @corrodedcorpses @agirlwholovesrockstars

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: friday, my day, am i right?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You turn your legs over the bench, feet dangling over the floor as you look at the king, dumbfounded and dozy. He sits in the chair by the table, toying with a grab between his fingers as he watches you. Your heart hammers behind your ears as your breath licks like flames in your lungs. You daren’t ask it aloud but what is he doing there? 

“I only meant to look in upon you,” King Geralt says as if he can hear your thoughts. “I fathomed the night was long tending to my wife and I would make sure you are well-rested.” 

“Your highness,” you stand and smooth the front of your shift, realising you wear nothing more. No dress, no apron. You feel vulnerable to his golden eyes as they follow your hands. The fabric pulls taut on your chest before you can right yourself. “I... Apologies, I am unkempt.” 

You search around and go to take your cap from where you hung it. You cover your shorn locks and tie it tight above your nape. The king’s eyes narrow at you. 

“What is the purpose of keeping your hair short?” He wonders as he drops the grape back to the plate. 

You look at him, shuddering, “I do not... it is only as I’ve been bid, your highness. In Debray, all the maids do so.” 

“You are not in Debray now,” he muses. 

You’re quiet. You’re not sure how to answer that. You gulp and grab the clean dress from the pile and throw it over your head. It hangs loose, not like Jazlene’s carefully cut and laced gowns. You reach for your apron and the king clears his throat. You stop and look at him. 

“Your highness?” You blink, still dazed by his unexpected appearance. 

“I did go to see the lady of Debray,” he intones, “she was in a poor state. She would not permit me in her chambers for her condition.” 

“Oh my, your highness, I am sorry to hear. Shall I go look in--” 

“She has maids a plenty,” he insists, “I hoped...” he leans forward and reaches to his belt. You notice the top of his slate grey tunic is untied and shows the trim of his chest hair, “to share a pastime with her. I hoped perhaps we might see past our differences at last and start our progress towards the kingdom. Alas, despite my warnings, she overindulged and has left herself incapacitated.” 

You stare at him, clutching the apron. He flicks his fingers dismissively as his other hand brings forth a pouch, “leave that. Come, sit.” 

You can only obey. You put the apron down and cross the chamber. As you near the table, he pushes the tray of dishes out of the way. You lower yourself onto a stool as he opens the mouth of the pouch. He pours out the rattling contents. Carved diced in varying shapes, symbols painted on each side, and man longer pieces that look like bone. 

“It is a game,” he explains as the contents roll out, “I’d like to teach you.” 

You look down as he sorts out the many pieces into sets. He is lithe in his arrangement. When he is down, he presses his hands flat to frame the assortment. 

“You don’t mind?” He wonders, “if you are tired still...” 

“Your highness, I am awake,” you rub your eyes and drop your hands to your lap. “A game? How do you play it?” 

You lean forward and he seems pleased by your intent. He curls his fingers and takes a breath. 

“It is like bartering at a market, or the like,” he begins, “you see how the pieces differ,” he points to the longer ones, “there are tick marks here,” he shows you how one has an ex, another a line this way and the next that way, and a circle in another. “We each have our dice,” he divides those up and pushes a set towards you, “it is a matter of trade and cost.” 

“Hmm,” you push your lip out, concentrating. 

He continues to explain the balancing and leveraging of each roll. How once you have collected all the pieces with a particular mark, you may wield a greater demand. You tilt your head thoughtfully, your own fingers drawing lines in the air as you make sense of his instruction. You think you understand but remain uncertain. 

“We may begin simple,” he intones. 

So suddenly are you swept up in the intricacy of the game, that your shock at his appearance dissipates. You can only think of the pieces as he rolls a die. Then the next. You follow his lead and when at last the first trade comes, you hear his offer but have no response. 

“You have a question?” He prompts. 

“I am thinking, your highness,” you squint as your forehead lines. 

“I can tell,” he says brightly. 

You peer up at him and smooth your expression. His cheek twitches as he leans back. You counter his offer and he clucks. 

“Mm, I see,” he rests his chin on his knuckles. 

He hands over his pieces and you bite the inside of your lip. You gather them to your side of the table and frown. You toy with the dice and wait. 

“Your turn,” he urges, “unless you are not having fun.” 

“It is an interesting game but I don’t want to be let to win,” you mutter. 

“I am not letting you win. It is the first turn and it is a long game,” he chides. 

“Mm, yes,” you pick through the dice, “your highness.” 

He exhales and leans on the armrest, “take your time. I am no hurry to be away.” 

You peer up at him and find his gaze set on you. You return your attention to the dice and toss them. He’s a king, should he have better things to do? 

⚔️

“It appears you have bested me,” King Geralt sighs and puts his dice down, pressing his hand flat over them, “you have the mind of a councilour.” 

“Your highness,” you bring your hands back to wring in your lap.  

“Truly, you’ve taken well to it,” he remarks, “it has been some time since I had harrying competition.” 

You offer a slight curve of your lips and look away. The window is dulled as the sunlight descends. You blanch and slip forward on the chair. 

“Your highness,” you stand, “it is late. I should--” 

“You may remain,” he assures you as he shows his palm kindly, “no hurry, little maid.” 

“But... shouldn’t you--” you keep yourself from asking after his duty. That is not for you to mind, “the queen will need dinner.” 

“As I said before, this place is ripe with servants,” he says coolly, “you should sit and bask in the time you have off your feet.” 

You face him and slowly sit. He drags his fingers along the wooden armrest as his expression tightens. He watches you as his square jaw clenches, “unless you would rather be away from me?” 

You twist around to look at the door, then to him. 

“I will go wherever you command, your highness.” 

“Yes, yes,” his hand balls to a fist, “that is not what I...” he sighs with exasperation, “I want to know what you desire. What do you want? What do you need?” 

There’s a stirring in your chest as he leans slightly forward, his eyes alight. You peer into the golden pools and your lips part. He is a king and yet speaks as if he would serve you. 

“I...” you wisp and clamp your lips tight, measuring your words, “I want to serve you and the queen, your highness. I want to serve the realm.” 

He huffs again and grimaces, “for yourself. Not the queen, not me, not the people.” 

“Hmmm,” you look down and shrug. You shake your head. You can’t think of anything. “I have a new dress and a hot bath and good food. I can think of nothing. What of you, your highness? What do you want?” You lift your chin slowly, “just for you?” 

Your question seems to startle him. He winces and for a moment, seems breathless. He stands suddenly and takes a step forward. He’s close and you think he might lunge at you. You shy away, expecting the same wrath you inspire in the queen. He falters and backs away. 

“I want...” he grits and turns his back to you. 

He walks to the window and looks out onto the lawns. He hangs his head and grips the window’s edge. He lets out a gravelly sigh. 

“I want you...” he utters, “...to come walk with me in the gardens. I would like to do so before we must depart.” 

You rise again, “yes, your highness, I will put my shoes on then.” 

He puffs out into the deepening dusk. You can feel his frustration roiling from his figure. You grab the stockings and the shoes and return to the chair. You roll the stocking onto your foot and pull it up your leg, rumpling up one side of the skirt as you do. As you hike up the next, the king faces you, surprising you before you can drop the fabric back down to your toes. You sheepishly bend to put your shoes on, embarrassed. 

“Thank you, little maid,” he approaches and offers his hand, “for keeping a miserable king company.” 

You look at his hand. It’s big and calloused and lined like a map. The invitation seems overly friendly. You accept it, not so bold as to turn him away. 

“Your highness,” You murmur as he squeezes your hand then lets his arm fall straight, tugging you away from the table. 

Silently, he lets his grip brush from your hand and instead hooks his arm through yours. It is an overly familiar gesture but you allow it. What more can a maid do? As you near the door, he stops and untangles from you completely, stepping away as if struck by the oddity of his actions. He reaches for the door handle and inhales. 

He opens the door and steps into the corridor, you follow him, just a pace back. He looks over his shoulder at you then turns ahead. You scurry to keep up with his long strides. He stops at the end of the hallway and you nearly collide with his elbow. 

“I am not miserable because of you,” he angles his head towards you as he keeps his voice low, “if you worried...” he shakes his head at himself, “come, little maid.” 

You do as he says and trail him through the corridors. It is late and while soldiers remain on watch, most of the lords and ladies have tucked away for their evening meals. The king continues his unstoppable advance with you at his heels. Down a flight of stairs and across the great hall. 

Outside, several soldiers bow their heads at his passing and another nears. He dismisses them without a word. You carry on, sensing how his mood darkens with the sky. You’re uncertain of his demeanour, so suddenly shifting from affable to affronted. You didn’t say what he wanted and now he is unhappy. He can be rather like his wife. 

He stalks onward to the archway that marks the green gardens of the capital castle. He passes between the leafy pillars and stops to look this way then that, then opts to walk along the middle row. You flit between the hedges behind him as the sky ripples with the looming night and a cool breeze stirs around your skirts. 

He is silent as he walks, almost as if he’s forgotten you. You wonder if you fall out of step, if you are lost behind him, would he even notice? Finally, he slows before a pond dug into the center of the gardens, amid lilies and daisies and blue bells. The moon shines down and reflects off the tepid pool. 

He treads around the edge of the pond as you stand by the bushes. He circles around to a wooden bench and sits. His shoulders slouch and he leans his head back. The silver light limns his strong features. When he opens his eyes, they glow as they did in your dream. 

“I have come this far, I have conquered as I vowed to, I have vanquished the old king,” he speaks to the sky, “I have done all I sought to and yet I am wanting.” 

You dip your head, sad for him. You might assume a king would be happy for all his gold and power. That a crown would bring delight as much as glory. All you see is a man in mourning. For all he’s won, he’s lost just as much. Loyal men and many months. 

“I have a wife who is petulant, I have an ally who is cowardice, and I have nothing left here to claim,” he continues, “should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.” 

He hangs his head and leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench. He sits in silence as he watches the water. A frog hops onto a large stone protruding from the shallows and steals your attention. You watch it leap again and again until it meets the other side. 

“Little maid...” the sultry purr crawls over you and you glance over to find the king observing you, “sit with me.” 

You shiver and cautiously make your way around the pond. You near him and sit at the end of the bench opposite him. You fixate on the moonlit water. He leans to grab your wrist and hauls you closer. You sidle down until you are almost against him. He slips his hand around yours, covering it in his grasp. He pulls it onto his thigh and rests it there. 

He clings to you just like that. You feel a pluck in your chest for him. He has a wife who should share in his troubles but she is too buried in the anguish she made for herself. Yet, she is not there, and you are; a paltry substitute for what he truly needs. 

Silence pervades the night but for the chirping of insects and the sweet singing of birds. The king’s grasp on you tightens, then lessens, and tightens again. He eases his hold entirely and pets your hand. 

“Will you play another game with me?” His timbre is silty as he looks over at you. 

“A game, your highness?” You babble. 

He hums and nods, “a child’s game,” he explains, “it is simple.” He sits straight and pushes back his hair, “you will run and I will catch you.” 

Your heart lurches. Your lashes flutter. You played the game before, when you were young, with the queen even. But that was years ago and you were smaller and faster. You look at the king. 

“Your highness,” you utter. 

“It’s my command,” he says, “run.” 

[heich0e]

there's an east wind blowing beyond your bedroom window.

you know it's from the east because the rain falling outside is hitting the windowpane in a soft tap-tap-tap that occasionally intensifies on a particularly strong gust. you know your bedroom window faces east because every morning you can see the sun cresting in the distance, diffusing—soft and pink and warm on your favourite days—through the gauzy panels of your curtains.

"you up yet?"

it's not morning now. far from it, in fact. the night's still only new, though it's already fully-dark outside—and has been for most of the day thanks to the dreary weather. it's late enough in the evening that most businesses have closed their doors for the day and people have returned to their homes, but not quite late enough to justify the fact that you're already curled up tightly underneath the covers of your bed.

you roll over in your comfortable cocoon and spy touya in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watches you.

he's got his coat on.

"are you going out?" you ask him, your voice a little thicker than it usually is. you've been awake for a while, but your afternoon nap (that ran longer than you expected) has left it hoarse from disuse.

touya makes a quiet sound of agreement. not quite a grunt, nor a hum, but something somewhere in-between the two.

you push yourself up slightly in bed, propping your body upright on your elbows. "but it's raining."

touya hates the rain, and has for as long as you've known him. he's the first one to complain when dark clouds roll in, to curse as his teeth chatter and he shakes droplets from his hair when he steps through the door after getting caught in an unexpected downpour, to go out of his way to avoid making plans that require him to leave the house at the slightest mention of inclement weather.

"'s letting up a bit, i think," he answers from the doorway with a little shrug. "i just need to run to the convenience store, anyway."

he shuffles a little further into the room as you lift your hand and reach out for him, approaching the edge of the bed wordlessly and slipping his hand into your own. he peers down at you from your bedside as you lift his hand and press it to your cheek.

"what do you need at the store?" you ask him, your lips pursed slightly. it's not that late, and the weather really isn't that bad, but you'd still prefer he stay here with you.

"ran outta patches today," he replies, though there's something almost a little resentful in the statement. even his expression is a bit more annoyed than it had been a moment prior, in a way that almost makes you giggle—but you suppose the nicotine withdrawal could be playing a part in that.

"just patches, right? not patches and a pack—"

"not patches and a pack of cigarettes to tie me over on the walk home," he finishes the sentence for you before you get the chance, rolling his eyes a bit. "i know, i know."

he frees his hand from your grip and pokes your cheek lightly, earning him a little laugh you can't help but let slip through your lips.

"i'm 24 days in, you know. not about to throw it all away now," he reminds you pointedly.

"good," you reply with an encouraging nod and a somewhat cheeky smile. you never doubted him anyway. "make sure you take an umbrella."

he nods, his touch still lingering against your cheek. his fingertips skirt down, tracing along your jaw, until he reaches your mouth. he presses his thumb lightly against your chin, seemingly just to watch your lips part.

"d'ya want anything?"

you shake your head in dissent, but then pause, your eyes lighting up.

"can you get pickled ginger?"

"pickled ginger?" he asks you, a bit incredulously. "again? thought we just got some of that."

"i finished the jar earlier," you reply with a shrug.

"that can't be good for you," touya remarks dryly, letting his hand drop from your face. "you're gonna start pickling yourself from the inside out if you keep eating so much of that stuff."

"it's not my fault that pickling is the superior form of food preparation." you flop back lazily against your pillows, meeting his gaze resolutely. you lift your fingers as you list out the various accolades. "cold, crunchy, sour, kinda sweet, sometimes spicy—what's not to love?"

touya's nose wrinkles. he's never been a huge fan of pickles, but especially not in the volume you've been consuming them lately.

"whatever you say," he answers, knowing now after all this time when he ought to bow out of an argument before it starts. "mom texted me earlier and said she was sending yumi over with side dishes tomorrow, and there'll probably be pickled vegetables in there. so you can wait until then."

"fine," you sniff, and you may pout a little, but touya knows your excitement at his little sister coming to visit outweighs any annoyance you may feel about having to wait a whole twelve hours to get your fix.

outside, the wind picks up again, and the tapping against the windowpane gets a little bit louder.

"sounds like it's getting worse," you murmur, your face turned in the direction of the window. you glance up at him again, blinking from where you're sprawled out across your pillows. "you sure you wanna go out in that?"

touya nods, kneeling at the edge of the bed and dipping down so he can press a kiss to your forehead. you're still warm from sleep, and soft in all the ways he's come to depend on. you smell like your shampoo and your sheets—and a little bit like him too, since the floral-printed bedlinen is as much his own now as it is yours.

"be back soon," he speaks quietly into your skin before pulling away.

you wave him off tiredly, and as he leaves the room, touya wonders if you'll be asleep again before he returns.

he pulls his shoes off the rack in the genkan, tucked away next to yours, and leaves his slippers there as he stuffs his feet into footwear better suited for the elements. he grabs his keys off the little table in the entryway, the keychain you bought for him at the aquarium glinting in the light as he tucks them into his coat pocket. last, he grabs the umbrella from just beside the door—he doubts he'll even use it, but you told him to take it, so he does.

there's an unexpected break in the rain as touya steps out into the spring night, and he blinks up at the sky overhead a bit incredulously when he realizes his luck. he doesn't linger to appreciate it for long, knowing that at any moment his fortune could change, shuffling off in the direction of the convenience store at the other end of the street.

he sidesteps puddles along the sidewalk on his way, admiring how the streetlights ripple in the surface as he passes.

touya used to hate the rain, but he can't help but think that it's not so bad when he knows that he has somewhere—and someone—warm waiting to welcome him home.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (27)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: fingering, masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, dirty talk, kissing without consent, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When her uncle decided that they would spend the night in Dragonstone for a moment she thought she had overheard herself − she was unable to contain her delight and outburst of joy at his words, feeling that he had somehow rewarded her for her efforts.

Or at least she thought he had.

His sudden change of plans was unlike him, and she was aware of that, knowing his nature.

He detested deviating from the plans he had previously made for himself.

However, she recognised that perhaps he wanted to show her and her family his sincere intentions, to prove that she was not just a prisoner in his eyes and that he, as her husband, could also sleep under their roof without being one.

She wasn't sure if she had ever been as happy in her life as she had been the moment she flew through the sky next to Vhagar, Caraxes and Syrax; her heart was filled with heat and hope, her uncle's words echoing in her mind like a sweet whisper.

I am proud of you.

Those words meant more to her than any of his other confessions.

Of course, his confession of love was a wonderful thing, but she had always been waiting for him to appreciate her as a person, not just a woman he saw by his side.

With this, she finally felt equal to him.

Her optimism extinguished as quickly as it had appeared as soon as she crossed the walls of the family fortress. Although her heart screamed with joy at the sight of familiar rooms, smells and sights, the faces of her brothers left her with no illusions.

She swallowed loudly as she saw the hateful look on Jace's face; she knew him and she knew that he was hurt.

He was disappointed and heartbroken, he felt humiliated and, deep down, betrayed by her, even though she never meant it.

Luke clearly didn't know what he felt himself, because he just lowered his head, unable to look into her eyes.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the sight, a discomfort in her stomach that told her that perhaps this wasn't her home at all anymore.

She was no longer welcome here.

She was snapped out of her reverie by Rhaena − her step-sister was the first to approach her, warmth and longing in her gaze, some kind of understanding from which she felt tears under her eyelids. They hugged each other tightly, though they had never done so before − her words made her feel a tightening in her stomach.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice, and she smiled involuntarily at her words.

"Me too."

As Baela approached them, also enclosing her in the tight embrace of her arms, she thought with a shrug that even though she hadn't let them into the depths of her heart for so many years, they truly cared and worried about her.

At the very end Joffrey ran up to her, sobbing loudly.

"− why have you been so long in King's Landing? − why did you leave us? − Jace wouldn't read me my favourite book −" He mumbled cuddled into her belly, her hands combing through his dark curls with the calm motion of her fingers.

"− forgive me − I'm here −" She said softly, looking at her older brother and swallowed hard, seeing the murderous glances they exchanged over the table with her husband.

She looked at her mother, who nodded, understanding what she wanted to convey to her.

"You are certainly exhausted. Take up your old quarters, daughter, I will immediately command them to be brought to order and prepared for you." Rheanyra said calmly, and she bowed before her.

"Thank you, my Queen." She said softly, looking into her eyes. Her mother swallowed hard and nodded, allowing them to leave.

As they stepped inside her chamber, she felt a squeeze in her heart and some kind of elation; all her belongings were in their places exactly as she had left them, as if no one had been allowed in here since she had been forcibly held in the Red Keep.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when her uncle moved ahead of her, strolling around the room with his hands folded behind his back, intrigued.

It seemed to her that some part of him wanted to understand what her life had been like and who she had been for the eight years during which they had been separated.

She saw him walk over to her old oak desk and run his fingers over its top, thoughtful.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually.

She felt heat in her lower abdomen at the thought that he meant the place where she had written letters to him.

"− yes −"

She swallowed quietly as he hummed at her words, watching as he sat in the chair where she sat many times leaning over the parchment, scribbling words on it meant only for his eyes. He tapped his finger on the armrest, turning to face her in profile as he gazed out of the window, apparently absorbed in memories.

She thought that although her return home had proved more uncomfortable than she had thought, she was grateful to him.

Whatever decision he had made that morning had led them here and was proof of his intentions.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said quietly, smiling at him, wanting him to know she wouldn't force him to sit at the same table with her family.

She thought she would spend the evening with him, give him the feeling that she was not speaking with anyone behind his back, and perhaps in the morning, before they flew away, she would ask him so that she could speak to her mother at last in peace and solitude.

Comforted by this thought and the fact that it looked like all was not lost, she began to tell him about her life in Dragonstone, to show him the books she had written to him about in her letters, the places she had flown to on Larax.

It seemed to her that her husband was only partially listening to her; his gaze was thoughtful, his face expressed weariness and discouragement. She knew that something was making him uncomfortable and she suspected that it was about the place they were in; however, she did not know how to help him, to give him the feeling that neither he nor she was in danger here.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −" She finally made an attempt to find out what had been on his mind since the morning. He shuddered at her words and looked at her with a horror as if he was about to faint.

"I'm tired." He replied quickly, without thinking, as if he wanted to answer her anything just to end the subject. She sighed quietly, recognising that she couldn't push him too hard.

Not after what they had managed to accomplish.

"Let's go to bed."

She felt a squeeze in her throat as, already lying on the bedding, she watched as he took out his dagger and tucked it under his pillow; she looked at him and met his calm, impassive gaze.

She decided not to say anything, understanding where his caution came from, not wanting to discourage or frustrate him.

She smiled involuntarily, content as his body clung to hers as soon as he lay at her side. She heard him murmur as she snuggled his face between her breasts, felt his arms embrace her waist and tighten around the material of her nightgown on her back.

She loved it when her mother sang lullabies to her when she was a child; it always calmed and soothed her. She had never dared to sing to him when they were children, fearing that her voice was too squeaky and unpleasant, but now she decided that maybe that was just what he needed.

So she sang, humming softly, once in a while placing a warm, lingering kiss on the top of his head − she felt his embrace slowly growing weaker, his muscles relaxing, his breathing quiet and even.

She sighed quietly feeling him fall asleep.

Someone's jerking and growling roused her from a deep sleep; when she opened her eyes for a moment she didn't know where she was or what was happening.

She recognised her chamber but did not know what her uncle was doing in it, convinced that he still had not answered her letters, as he had not done so for eight years.

After a moment, however, her mind seemed to regain focus and she remembered that she was his wife after all, and that his silhouette lying beside her was not a figment of her imagination.

She raised herself up on her elbow seeing that his body convulsed once in a while, as if he was trying to break free of something, whimpers and grunts came out of his throat, however, his mouth did not open, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes one by one.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!" She called out, grabbing his arm, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

She was frightened and jumped back as his eye opened suddenly, his figure rose to sit up, and he began to pant like a wild animal, quivering all over. She looked at him in disbelief, horrified to hear that he was struggling to catch his breath.

Was he having nightmares again?

Was he dreaming again of the night he lost his eye?

"− easy, my love − breathe −" She whispered tenderly, gently touching his back; he flinched all over and looked at her as if he didn't recognise her − his eye was wide open, his nostrils twitched in accelerated, heavy breaths.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled like a small, terrified child and fell into her arms, bursting into a sob so loud that the voice stuck in her throat.

She embraced him immediately, letting him find protection and comfort in her arms, stroking affectionately his hair and back, placing warm, soft kisses on the top of his head in an attempt to reassure him.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She mumbled, feeling that the fabric of her nightgown was all wet with his tears, his hot, broken breath enveloping her skin.

She felt like he wanted to melt into one with her, to hide deep inside her from whatever it was that scared him.

He was silent for a long moment, trying to calm himself; she hushed him tenderly, whispering that he was safe, that she was by his side, that all was well. She finally heard him swallow hard, his voice trembling and uncertain.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −" He muttered. She blinked, twisting comfortably in her seat, feeling her heart begin to beat faster.

"− I'm listening to you, my love −" She whispered, stroking his hair. She released him from her arms when she felt him wanting to rise.

He sat on the bedding with his side facing her, running his shaking hand over his face, his healthy eye closed as if afraid of what was about to leave his mouth.

"− I − fuck −" He began, swallowing hard − her hand rose to his back, stroking it reassuringly.

"− easy − take your time − start from the beginning −" She encouraged him softly, not wanting him to fall silent again, seeing that he wanted to throw off whatever had been weighing on his shoulders since they had left Harrenhal.

"− you may remember − Lord Strong wanted to speak with me soon after we arrived in Harrenhal −" He said uncertainly, and she nodded, reminding herself that this was indeed what had happened.

"− yes −"

Her uncle swallowed hard, drawing in air loudly.

"− he told me at the time − that my grandfather had no intention of letting your mother and Daemon leave the Eyrie alive if it turned out they wouldn't accept our terms − but now I think they wouldn't have left alive anyway − Larys had his spies there −" He muttered and fell silent, freezing completely as she did, her heart beginning to pound like mad.

My grandfather had no intention of letting them leave the Eyrie alive.

"Will you be by my side even when all is lost? Even if there is nothing left but darkness? Is that what you had in mind then?" She mumbled out in pain, feeling that there was a complete void in her mind. "Will I be there for you even if your grandfather kills my mother?"

"− n-no −" He began quickly. "− will you be there for me even if I fail to prevent it knowing that I didn't tell you −"

She felt a constriction in her throat and lower abdomen, felt tears of disappointment and sadness flowing into her eyelids − now it was her body that trembled in convulsions, his gaze full of shame and horror directed at her.

She sucked his cock, she let him take her, and he knew that the next day her father and her mother could be murdered.

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head and laughed low.

"− you will betray me − you will run away − those are your words, aren't they? − you were always the first to accuse me − was it because you were trying to cover up your own conscience? − you wanted me to let you down so that you wouldn't feel guilty about doing it over and over again? −" She asked with a cold mockery, from which he bowed his head in embarrassment, in a subconscious reflex he had inherited from his mother plucking the cuticles around his fingernails.

He did not answer.

"− what should I do now? − divorce you? − say I won't come back to King's Landing with you? − not speak to you for eight years? − tell me, uncle, what do you think you deserve? −" She asked dispassionately, feeling the tears of rage and grief one by one run down her cheeks.

She saw him tremble at her words and curl into himself, as if he were again the same little boy who had cried in her arms when his mother had reprimanded him for inappropriate behaviour.

She pressed her lips into a thin line as he hid his face in his hands and wept helplessly, as if his whole person, everything he had built around himself was just falling apart in front of her eyes, showing him his insides, what was left of him.

He was vulnerable.

"− fuck − I − I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd change your mind − that if you warned them they'd see it as a betrayal and wouldn't want to pact − that's why I didn't let any of us stay in the Eyrie − I −"

"− because my mother agreed − but what would you have done if things had turned out differently? −" She asked coldly, and he swallowed hard, covering his eyes with his hand, as if he could not bear what he felt or this conversation.

"− I don't know − I don't know how I could have protected both you and my family then − what decision of mine would have saved you from death −" He muttered and she pulled herself up from the bed, recognising that she didn't feel like listening to this, that she had had enough of him and his guilt when it was always him, him, him disappointing her.

From the first night she had returned to him, when he had closed her cheeks in the brutal grip of his fingers she had seen in his eye what had now become clear to her.

He was weak, and when he was afraid, he resorted to violence.

She heard him stand up behind her, panting heavily, wiping his tear-wet face with his hand.

"− no − don't leave − I told you because −"

"− because your conscience didn't give you peace − because you didn't want to carry your guilt alone −" She hissed, turning towards him with furrowed brows.

She felt that fury, not blood, was flowing through her veins now.

He swallowed loudly at her words, looking at her wide-eyed.

"− if you've never hidden anything from me − you've never concealed anything from me for fear that I might react impulsively, leave − but if you did, come back to bed − I won't touch you −"

She pressed her lips together in fury, recognising that he must have been mocking her, but then she felt an unpleasant sting in her heart that proved she had doubts.

She heard again the words of one of her servants in King's Landing whispering in her ear that when the time came, Prince Daemon would help her escape; she heard again the words of Alys speaking of the prophecy she had not shared with him for fear of his reaction.

Had she really never hidden anything from him?

Her whole body screamed for her to leave; she wanted to do it, but felt that if she did, she would be lying to herself and to him, creating an image in which she was without flaw.

She could say that she had the right to do it, that she had good intentions, but didn't her uncle think the same about his decisions?

She glared at him and let out a loud breath, returning to the bed without a word, sinking into the soft sheets, turning her face away from him. She heard him breathe heavily, and after a moment, the bed creaked under the weight of his body settling against her back.

"− tell me −" He whispered.

She sighed heavily and grunted, recognising that her faults were less than his anyway.

So why did she still feel shame and a squeeze in her gut?

"− after I tried to take my life I was told that my father could help me escape − don't ask how − I also didn't tell you about the prophecy I heard from Alys −"

"− that fucking witch is a liar −" He growled, and she let out a loud breath, impatient.

"− it is possible − but I also heard this prophecy from your sister's mouth − both of them spoke of two rivers of blood merging into one, taking the shape of a dragon's crowned head −" She choked out finally, her husband stirring beside her in his place, surprised.

"− what could this mean? −"

"− I don't know − I was afraid that when you heard it, you would want to give up on the negotiations and return to King's Landing − Alys warned me, so she probably knew what your grandfather was planning to do −" She said regretfully, thinking that strange woman was more concerned for her safety and her family than her husband.

She heard him swallow hard, letting the air out loudly.

"− forgive me −"

She lay in silence for some time, feeling anger that he expected her to simply forget everything, understand his reasons and forgive him as always.

No.

"− I will forgive you, but I have my conditions − we will stay here longer − for a week or two, I will decide in the morning −" She said coldly.

"− but − my mother will be convinced that they are holding us by force −" He began, but she would not let him finish.

"− you will write a letter to your brother informing him that my mother has accepted his terms, but is also setting her own − that we will stay here to discuss all the details, show our goodwill − if your mother wishes, she can travel here in her own person − you can leave Dragonstone when you wish, but I will stay here as long as I desire, and you will show no opposition −" She said impatiently, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her hands clenched into fists.

Her husband swallowed loudly at her words, tense.

"− I − very well −" He muttered finally, knowing that any other words would forever cross him out in her eyes.

She hummed under her breath, covering herself tightly with the bedding and closed her eyes, figuring she wouldn't turn towards him for the rest of the night.

"− don't try to take me or embrace me −" She commanded and he sighed quietly.

She swallowed hard when she felt him place his large hand on her head and begin to stroke her hair exactly as he had when they were children.

She felt furious that it was so pleasant, so soothing, that he knew she loved it.

"− my Rheanys −" He whispered tenderly. She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

The next morning she was awakened by a rustling noise and the sound of a quill scratching on parchment; she lifted her sleepy eyelids and saw his silhouette sitting behind her desk, bent over a letter he had apparently just written.

She felt strange at the thought that he was sitting in the exact place where she had spent years writing him messages that had never received a response.

She knew, however, that she now had the upper hand over him and that her word was an order to him.

She was not going to imitate his cold nature and not speak to him − they had to maintain a semblance of at least a warm relationship so that the image of their marriage, on which the whole agreement between the two parties was supposed to be based, did not begin to crack.

He lifted his gaze to her when she stood up, but they did not exchange a word between each other.

He did not know what to say.

Her maidservant walked in at her summons and bowed before her, bending her head humbly.

"− my Lady, will you have your morning meal before your travel? − your mother would like to speak with you before you leave for King's Landing −"

"− we will have a meal, but convey to my mother that there is no rush − my husband and I have decided to stay here for a few weeks as an expression of our sincere intentions − my husband is in the process of conveying this message to his brother − my uncle is in need of new garments, provide them for him without delay and bring them to my chamber −" She said calmly; her servant blinked, shocked and nodded, immediately disappearing behind the door.

Despite what she had learned and the rage she felt, she was pleased − the roles had been reversed and although her husband was not her prisoner, he was attached to her and was forced to stay in a place that disgusted him.

Good, she thought.

She wanted him to feel what she had felt during the month she had spent in King's Landing, imprisoned by his mother and grandfather.

"− I wish to spend this afternoon with my mother − if you so desire, I can show you in which chamber the library is located −" She said lightly, without looking at him however, taking a bite of bread spread with confiture. Her husband rolled his eyes, displeased.

"I have no intention of leaving your quarters." He replied indifferently.

She raised her eyebrows in amusement at his words.

"You are not my prisoner, uncle. You can walk and fly wherever you please. Holding someone by force is not in my nature." She murmured softly − her husband gave her one tired look.

She smiled at him in a way from which he swallowed hard and looked away, sighing heavily.

He knew she was enraged and he wasn't going to get in her way.

One of the aspects she enjoyed upon returning home was that she had finally retrieved all her robes; her uncle looked at her from the side, watching as her servants helped her put on a golden gown with long black sleeves that reached the ground.

"− make braids around my head − my husband adores it when I wear this hairstyle, is he not? −" She sneered, glancing at him over her shoulder. She only saw him roll his eyes, running his hand over his face, not saying a word.

He knew he had to endure everything she was throwing at him with humility if he didn't want to make his already bad situation worse.

She had no idea what he could do to regain her favour, her trust, the respect she had for him.

"− have a pleasant day, husband −" She threw over her shoulder, leaving him alone in the chamber, recognising that she did not care what he did.

As she stepped into her mother's quarters, Rhaenyra rose from her seat, putting down the quill she held in her hand, approaching her with surprise and uncertainty written on her face.

"− is it true? − are you planning to stay in Dragonstone? −" She asked in a trembling voice − she smiled and nodded. Her mother sighed in relief and walked over to her, embracing her tightly with her arms, snuggling her head into her neck.

They pulled away from each other after a moment, her hands gripping her cheeks, her thumbs stroking her skin as if she remembered a time when she was still a small child.

"− let's sit down −"

Being in her chamber again was like a dream to her − she couldn't believe she was sitting at the same table again, surrounded by the same furniture and bed with a red curtain, with the windows open to a view of the great sea.

"− does he treat you well? −" She asked suddenly, taking her hand in her own.

Her mother's question surprised her, but it also filled her heart with warmth and emotion.

"− I − yes − despite his harsh, difficult nature −"

"− so how did he let this happen? −" She asked, exposing a part of her wrist with her thumb, where her pale scar was clearly visible. She swallowed loudly, not knowing what to answer her.

She wanted to tell her about the moon tea, but hesitated.

She didn't want her to think that her husband knew about it, that he was a worse person than she assumed.

It devastated her to think that she still had to tell half-truths.

"− I did it as an act of desperation − when he found out he wouldn't leave my side for weeks − he wouldn't let anyone but himself, Helaena and the maester cross the threshold of my quarters − he let me see Luke −" She muttered, looking at her at last. Her mother lowered her gaze, sighing quietly, tired and pale.

"− when Daemon passed on your words to me, I was furious − I didn't understand how you could do this to me −" She began and fell silent, closing her eyelids for a moment.

She felt an all-consuming shame at the thought that she had failed and disappointed her as a daughter.

"− forgive me − I would never question your rights if it were only about you − but you know very well that it is not −" She said cautiously − her mother lifted her gaze to her and nodded.

"− I know −"

They fell silent for a moment.

"− can I trust him? − your husband − and my brother −" Her mother asked coldly; she raised her gaze to her, surprised to feel that her lips involuntarily parted.

I don't know.

"− yes −" She muttered. "− he refused Maris Baratheon to take her as his wife − he himself proposed a form of compromise, and his elder brother supported him − Aegon is not a good man, but he cares about his children − he knows he will not leave them a secure, safe throne − just as you would not leave it to your sons −"

They said no more.

She spent some more time with her, just holding her hand, wordlessly trying to comfort her, thinking with weariness that she had to give up everything that was rightfully hers.

She finally decided to take pity on her husband and return to her chamber, not wanting to leave him alone for so long in a state of anxiety and uncertainty.

She felt her heart stop as she stepped into her quarters and saw no one inside − a cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought of him leaving her.

He had returned to King's Landing without her.

She pressed her lips together, involuntarily feeling her heart begin to pound like mad with pain and sadness, her eyes glazed over with tears that she was ashamed of, thinking it shouldn't hurt so much, and yet it did.

She looked around the room quickly, looking for a letter or anything else that might say he had left her some word, but found nothing of the sort; she shuddered when she heard someone's dim voices in the distance and walked over to the window.

Her father and her uncle stood facing each other on the beach with their hands folded behind their backs, discussing something animatedly, a clear tension between them.

She felt regret towards herself, her body filled with an overwhelming relief that he had not left her, that he had not betrayed her again.

She thought the gods had been cruel, allowing her to love this man so deeply.

She blinked, startled, when she heard the door from her chamber open; she turned and saw the figure of her eldest brother, who only spoke up when they heard a loud clatter of wood behind them.

"− how could you do this? − choose him over us? −" He growled with regret, resentment and disappointment, his big brown eyes filled with anger and pain from which she felt a tightening in her throat. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.

"− we both know what the truth is − you can't rule with lies −" She replied, shrugging her shoulders; Jace moved towards her and she flinched all over, surprised at how pale he was, his lips tightened into a thin line − she had the impression he was trembling all over.

"− this was my inheritance − my throne − my crown − and you chose him, a man who did not write back to your letters for eight years, who humiliated you by calling you a bastard, and you shared a bed with him the first night you saw him, like some... −" He didn't finish and fell silent, the word he wanted to say stuck deep in his throat. She felt her lower lip tremble at his accusation, her eyebrows arching in pain and anger, her eyes red from tears of shame and humiliation.

"− say it − you've already spoken the word in your mind −" She sneered, lifting her chin higher, challenging him.

"− I won't call you an unworthy name −" He muttered lowly, and she laughed involuntarily at his words, shaking her head.

"− you think that makes you a better man? − look at this −" She hissed, lifting her hand up, exposing her wrist tugging impatiently at the material of her black sleeve. "− here is what I have done for you and for your crown − should I do it again? −"

She swallowed loudly, surprised when she noticed that something in her brother's expression had changed − Jace had grabbed her wrist and locked it between his fingers, but there was no aggression in the gesture, his thumb stroking her smooth, bare skin.

They stared at each other for a moment, breathing loudly; she felt that there was a kind of tension between them from which her heart was pounding like mad, but she wasn't sure what it was caused by; something in his gaze, in his brown, misty eyes and parted lips, made her feel hot.

"− do you love him more than our mother? − than Luke, than Joffrey? − than me? −" He asked in a trembling voice and she shook her head, not understanding what he meant.

"− Jace − it's a different kind of love − I −"

"− what kind? −" He hissed. "− the kind where you're constantly betrayed? − in which someone mocks your parentage? − locks you up like some prisoner? −"

Gods.

"− Jace −" She gasped, feeling that something in his questions, in his gaze, in what he wanted to hear from her had broken her down, her whole body began to quiver.

She shuddered as he approached her suddenly, as his free hand cupped her warm cheeks, as his forehead pressed against hers, his voice trembling as the words left his throat like a river.

"− I am your oldest brother − you were born to be mine − I would be good to you − you know I would −"

"− brother, what are you saying? − you had no objections when my mother decided to marry me to Ronnel −" She said disapprovingly, furrowing her brow in anger.

"− it was our mother's decision − how could I oppose her? −" He asked with a frown, as if he really believed what he was saying, a cold shiver ran through her body as his thumb ran over the soft skin of her cheek, hot with emotion.

"− you have never loved me − not in this way, we both know it well − you have always preferred to lie to yourself rather than face the truth − you do not look at me as the woman you desire, but as an inheritance that was taken from you −" She said with pain, feeling that what he was saying was not due to any deep feeling he had for her, but to his anger that she was not waiting for him docilely like his throne and his crown.

Her brother swallowed hard at her words, his hot, ragged breath enveloping the skin of her face.

"− when you were born, our mother told me that you might be my future wife − and I always, always saw you this way −"

"− you mocked me with Aegon −"

"− I craved his attention − he was older and impressed me − didn't you do anything you regretted as a child? −" He muttered wearily; she felt her heart stop at his words, a drop of cold sweat run down the back of her neck.

What was she supposed to answer him?

"− brother − I am married to another man − of my own free will −"

"− you are a traitor −"

"− how dare you −"

"− you are a traitor, but I still am unable to hate you −"

A squeal of terror stuck in her throat, her body froze completely as his lips pressed against hers in a greedy, hot, sticky kiss, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, refusing to let her move away.

She cried out and pushed him away − before he could make any move her hand slapped him in the face so hard that he took a few steps back, clutching his red cheek, panting heavily.

"− get out −" She muttered, placing her hand over her heart, feeling as if it was about to burst out of her chest. "− get out of my chamber, brother − I'll forget this...conversation ever took place −"

Jace swallowed hard, horrified and ashamed, as if it had only now occurred to him what he had actually done.

What would Baela say if she saw this?

It seemed to him that they both couldn't believe he had done it − Jace had turned and walked out, leaving behind an open door and a complete blank in her mind.

She thought he wanted to take it out on their uncle, to take away something that belonged to him.

That she was just an object for him on which he had decided to vent.

She thought with pain that he, unlike her husband, had never tried to truly understand her.

When her uncle returned to her chamber they did not exchange a word − he seemed distracted and frustrated to her. He took one of the books from the bookshelf and sat by the fireplace, pretending to read. She lowered her gaze, playing with her fingers, thinking only of the fact that if she hid it from him, she would be just like him.

She didn't know for a long time how she should put it into words, but she figured he'd be furious either way.

"− Jace kissed me − on the lips −" She muttered, glancing at him fearfully − his eye opened wide, looking at her in disbelief, his jaw clenched in such a way that a shudder went through her.

He was silent for a moment, as if he had run out of words, which frightened her even more.

"− he did WHAT? −" He growled, closing the book with a loud slam, pulling himself up from his seat like an enraged bear.

"− he kissed me − grief and humiliation took his mind away − I − wait − gods −" She muttered, standing up as soon as he headed towards the door, which he opened with a loud clatter, running out into the corridor after him.

"− Aemond − no, no, no − stop! −" She hissed, grabbing his arm, but he pulled away from her, opening door after door until he found himself in the right room − Jace and Beala were sitting together at a table, apparently discussing something.

Her older brother rose from his seat and turned pale at the sight of them, horrified.

Her husband walked into his quarters with a wide, menacing smile, exactly the same one he bestowed on him and Luke when they saw him duelling with Criston Cole in King's Landing. He put his hands behind his back, shifting his body weight to one leg, cocking his head.

"− haven't you learned yet not to take what's not yours? − hm? −"

"− Aemond −" She said warningly, but her uncle didn't listen to her, his healthy eye wide open, as if he was just waiting for this.

An opportunity for confrontation.

"− your sister when we were children told me that she never desired you as a man − she knew even then that you were a cunt −" He sneered amused, revealing his teeth in a wide grin full of feigned recognition.

"− Aemond, that's enough −"

"− how dare you? − you are a guest under our roof − get out −" Baela thundered.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she knew nothing.

She moved ahead and stood in front of her husband, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"− we are leaving −"

"− no − I'm speaking with my nephew −"

"− we are leaving, uncle, or I swear I will never return with you to King's Landing −"

"− so I'll stay here with you − Jace as ruler of Dragonstone will surely be delighted to host us, won't he? − he seems to have a weakness for you, sweet wife −" He murmured in a voice filled with poison, from which a strong shiver ran along her back.

"− Jace, say something at last! −" Baela hissed, furious that her betrothed simply looked at their uncle and remained silent, unable to get a word out.

"− I made a mistake − I shouldn't have done it, forgive me − I −" He directed his words to her, to his sister, sadness and regret in his gaze, from which she involuntarily felt sympathy.

"− you made a mistake? − I seem to be able to understand the feeling − I have made a similar one many times, as well as others, even worse ones −" Her husband hissed, gripping her cheeks in his hand − her voice stuck in her throat as his fleshy lips clung to hers in an aggressive, loud kiss, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat.

She sighed as he turned her back to him, pressing her brutally against his chest and grabbed her neck − she grasped his wrist as his free hand slid down her lower abdomen, his fingers dug into the material of her gown beneath which her womanhood lay, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.

"− so beautiful, isn't she, nephew? − I couldn't help myself either − I can't count how many times I took her − how many times I have filled her with my seed − right here −" He breathed out into her ear and she closed her eyes, feeling with horror and disbelief that her nipples had hardened, that her walls had clenched around nothing at his embarrassing words, feeling his finger tease what lay between her thighs despite her resistance.

"− u-uncle − stop −" She muttered, a moan stuck in her throat as she felt his erection behind her throb hard at her words, pushing against her buttocks, his fingertips dug deep into her folds hidden beneath the fabric.

Gods, he wanted her brother to watch this.

Baela looked at Jace as if she suddenly understood everything, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief.

"− what did you do? −" She asked quietly, her older brother shook his head, all red, turning his face away, unable to look at it.

"− I −" He didn't finish; her uncle let her go immediately, panting loudly as she did when Daemon walked into the chamber, looking at them, then at Jace and his daughter.

He grinned.

"− what is the meaning of this...commotion? − hm? −" He asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement and mockery; she looked away and glanced at her uncle, shaking her head with furrowed brows, letting him know that he was to remain silent.

Her husband pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not utter a word.

They stood in awkward silence, with only the quiet fizzle of the blazing fire in the fireplace around them.

"Mmm." Her husband hummed and turned away, heading for the door. Not knowing what to do, she simply moved after him, casting only one apologetic glance at Baela.

When they finally returned to her chamber she let out a loud breath.

"− what was that supposed to mean? −" She asked in frustration, wondering what had possessed him.

She tried not to think about how embarrassingly wet she was now.

"− I don't know what you're referring to, wife − I've merely shown my nephew the depth of my understanding as to his desire −" He grinned, grabbing a jug full of wine, pouring himself a full cup of it.

She licked her lower lip in impatience, standing still and watching him − their gazes met as he raised the goblet to his lips and took a deep sip from it.

"− what − are you wet now? −" He sneered and she felt a hot wave of shame surge through her body − she felt like her cheeks had turned scarlet.

"− don't mock me − this was humiliating −" She growled, furrowing her brow, a smirk on his face that she didn't like.

"− if you say so, wife −" He muttered, approaching her lazily, playing with his cup in his hand, raising it to his lips again "− I, however, think you'd rather I did something else −"

He said and took another sip of wine, swallowing it loudly, towering over her with a look from which a pleasant shiver ran through her core.

"− I think you'd rather I fucked you good in front of him − for me to slip my fingers under your skirt and sink them into your leaking cunt −" He murmured, leaning over her so that the tips of their noses were almost touching, her walls swelling all over at his words − she felt a drop of her own wetness run down her thigh.

"− am I wrong? −" He asked, cocking his head curiously, taking another sip of wine from his goblet without taking his eyes off her.

She drew in a loud breath as he set his cup down on the table standing beside them with a loud clang of steel, taking a step towards her, his lips parted in desire.

Gods, no.

"− don't touch me −"

She saw him squint his eyes as he hesitated, his nostrils flaring in accelerated breath.

She knew he was hard.

She knew he wanted to soften her up.

"Mmm."

She immediately summoned her servant wishing that she would help her pull off her gown and let her hair down. After this, she lay down in bed, covering herself with thick furs, not looking at him or speaking a word to him. She swallowed hard when she heard him lie down right next to her and closed her eyelids when she felt his hot breath on her neck.

She thought he would try to touch her, embrace her and give her a reason to push him away, but he just lay behind her back, driving her crazy.

She waited for some time, listening to his quiet breathing, and decided that he was surely asleep by now; her hand slipped silently into the material of her nightgown, lifting it up. She swallowed quietly, tightening her lips as her fingers sank into her leaking, soft, hot womanhood begging to be fulfilled, teasing and squeezing the bud between its fleshy folds.

She felt herself grow hot, her heart began to pound like mad at the indecent idea that these was his hand touching her in front of Jace, making him watch, wanting him to see what her fulfilment looked like.

She felt her walls clench greedily around nothing at the thought, her fingers teasing the spot between her puffy folds with circular, intense strokes.

Involuntarily, her hips began to rock softly to the rhythm of the flicks of her own fingers, she felt that she was wonderfully close to fulfilment.

"− what are you doing? −" She heard his low, cool voice and froze completely. She swallowed hard, sliding her hand, sticky with her own moisture from between her thighs, and remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

"− go on −" He said in a hoarse, deep voice from which a shiver went down her spine. She heard a rustling behind her and then the sticky sound of skin slapping against skin − his hot breathing quickened, heavy and ragged. "− come on −"

She couldn't help herself; his fingers dug into her swollen folds again causing a wave of heat to pass through her body − she felt pleasant tickling sensations in her lips, fingertips and nipples. She moaned quietly when she felt his nose pressed against her hair, her hips involuntarily began to rock when she heard him begin to pant, the splats behind her getting louder, louder and louder.

"− fuck − you know I'd lick you good there − hm? −" He sighed and she felt her whole body quiver, her fingers teasing her puffy pearl all sticky from her own wetness.

"− mhgm −" She whined, tilting her head back, feeling his hot, uneven breath on her ear, his swollen, wet lips run down her neck.

"− are you leaking? − are you leaking at the thought of how good I would make you feel? − at the thought of your brother watching me fuck his little sister? −" He breathed out, and she moaned loudly as she felt a wonderful, relieved sensation at his words, her fulfilment shaking her like a hot, tickling wave.

Her slit pulsed all under her fingers as her own moisture leaked out of her, she shuddered when she felt his warm, rough tongue run across the bare skin of her neck, leaving a slick, wet mark on it.

"− fuck, Rheanys −" He muttered and after a moment he gasped − she felt something sticky and warm spurt out onto the back of her nightgown.

His seed.

Gods.

She closed her eyelids, trying to calm her breathing, furious at herself and her weakness.

"− let me embrace you −"

"− no −"

She heard him huff, sighing heavily, his face still sunk into her neck.

"− move away, uncle −"

"− I inhale the wonderful scent of vanilla after having experienced fulfilment with my wife −"

"− your wife does not wish for this −"

"− sleep −"

She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, thinking with frustration that she hated him with all her heart.

[acaaai-t]

3 months and counting

[modern au! scaramouche x gn! reader]

cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, hints at suicide, probably unhealthy coping methods idk

The taste of bitter coffee and overly sweetened scent of dandelion tea lingered, lingered for a little longer than he liked.

Wilted flowers lay by a small vase of fresh ones. The pile of dead flowers seemed to grow bigger with each passing day.

The house was dim, with the only source of light being a weakly lit candle surrounded by empty dishes and untouched cutlery on the dining table. For a place that had felt so big not too long ago, it suddenly seemed to be so small.

Scaramouche hummed quietly to himself as he gently dusted at the debris that clung onto the picture frames. His touch was delicate as his fingers brush against the cold glass. The tune he has been singing echoed off the walls, traveling down the silent hallway.

How long has it been? He wonders.

Three days? A week? Two weeks? Scaramouche had long lost count.

Once he was sure that the picture frame was clean, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. In this empty house, the only thing that stood out most was the wall of what Scaramouche called ‘memories’. Golden frames surrounded photos of all kind, taken by you and hung by him.

He misses you.

On most days, Scaramouche would stay huddle in what once was a shared bedroom, buried deep beneath the blankets, scrolling through past messages. Dark circles heavily marked his under eyes, a stark contrast to his porcelain pale skin.

For the first month, he was a utter mess. Unable to process the tragic news of your sudden death.

It had just felt like yesterday, when the two of you were just out on a date, laughing and giggling.

The world was mocking him, taunting and laughing, watching the hallow shell of the man he once was as he stood there alone in the cemetery. Flowers previously placed by your grave was removed and tossed away, replaced by a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers.

The night you were buried under the willow tree, was the only night he had ever worked up the courage to sit by your grave, and wallow in the despair.

“I miss you,” the three words etched into his mind, quietly spoken into the empty void.

What about the plans you’ve made with him? The promises of a happy ending, a beautiful future.

Gone… all gone, far too soon.

“Will we get a cat too?” your voice was eager, full of hope.

Scaramouche smiled and pressed a small kiss to your temple. “Whatever you want.”

You giggled. “Let’s get a black cat then. I can see the resemblance between you and them.”

“Hey,” he whined.

You beamed up at him. “I love you.”

How he wished time could’ve stopped right there and then, allowing that precious moment to last for an eternity.

“I love you too.”

God, it was so fucking unfair. Why did you have to be the one to die?

It could’ve been anyone else, but you just had to be there at the wrong time.

He slumped down on the empty couch, cushions and throw blankets sitting in the same spot as before. Scaramouche didn’t dare touch anything. He was scared— terrified that if he even so as much move anything a centimeter away, he’ll lose the remaining parts of you that he had so desperately been trying to cling onto.

Scaramouche had already lost you once, he couldn’t lose you for a second time.

The soft golden glow of the ceiling lights flickered in and out for a brief moment, a sign that the electrical bill was long overdue. It was fortunate enough that the landlord took pity upon him and gave Scaramouche an extension to pay his bills.

3 months.

It’s been three whole months since the accident. Three months since he’s shut himself off from the outside world. Three months he spend crying and grieving, fantasizing scenarios of you and him. He knows it’ll never come true, but he can only hope.

Head barely above water, the bits of hope he has is all that’s supporting his weight, preventing him from drowning. Yet as the clock moves, he finds himself sinking lower and lower.

Two hollow knocks to his door startled him out of his trancelike state. “Who,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

When the answer was delivered with another two knocks, he spoke louder. “What.”

“Scaramouche,” the muffled voice of Childe floated through the thick wood. “Open the door.”

He scowled, body already moving before his mind had even processed Childe’s words. The door cracked open with a soft creak, a silver of the sunlight spilling into the dark house. Scaramouche squeezed his eyes closed, momentarily blinded by the light. It’s been so long since he’s seen the sun.

Childe’s shadow stepped in and blocked out the light. He gave Scaramouche a tired smile. “Archons you look like shit.”

Scaramouche said nothing and kept his silent gaze on him.

The ginger sighed. “I was hoping you’d come visit… them, with us.”

There were no names mentioned, yet Scaramouche almost instantly knew who Childe was referring to. He felt his body tense up.

“Look, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but we all miss them, and you too, ‘mouche… you haven’t talked with any of us in three month now.”

Guilt gnawed at his heart, eating away yet another piece.

He hadn’t meant to neglect his friends. None of the things he was doing was intentional.

“… I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering his gaze, unable to keep eye contact with Childe. He fear that if he continued, tears would begin to formulate, and there’d be nothing to stop them from flowing.

“Mind if I come in?” Childe’s voice softened.

Scaramouche felt tears prickling at his eyes. Childe placed one hand on his shoulder, gently giving a pat— and that was what finally broke him. The water droplets fell uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks. A pitiful sight to behold.

Childe pulled him into a hug and remained quiet. There wasn’t much he could say to comfort Scaramouche’s pain. Everyone was still grieving, him included.

His quiet sniffles slowly died down. Just this one time, he thought to himself, wiping away at a tear. It’s the least he can do.

“Let me get my things,” Scaramouche’s voice was hoarse. A pain-like expression was scrawled across his features as he pulled away from Childe and step back into the shadows of his home.

There wasn’t much he needed to do to get ready. He’d given up on life the moment he was given the news that you didn’t make it. Why he had been fighting for so long, he didn’t understand.

He threw on a simple black cardigan, it was a handmade gift from you to him. In your words, it took you a week and a half to make it— “i hope you’ll like it,” you said sheepishly.

Of course he’ll love it. Cherish it even till death.

He took in a deep breath and went to look for Childe. The medications stored in his pockets jangled against the hard plastic with each step he took.

The last strands of hope snapped, and he sunk. Bubbles floating to the surface as his darkened silhouette slowly disappeared under the void of water.

Tonight, he decided. Tonight, he’ll be able to see you again.

The lights sputtered out as Scaramouche flipped the switch. With the last bits of power it has, the lights illuminated the series of letter sprawled across the glass coffee table— each one address to someone dear to him.

Then it all went dark.

✩ ·┆ masterlist

notes—

— this was fun to write

© acaaai-t — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate

[faerunsbest]

"Do you regret marrying me?"

-Rolan

imagine rolan getting married and being who he is he's still very work focused. He gradually increases his own workload without meaning to, falls asleep in his study. His partner always going to try and call him to bed, but just one more thing... just one more minute.

He has an idea so wakes up skips breakfast and hurries to work and when he gets back to his desk, there's a cold cup of tea and breakfast.

When he does make it to bed, he just passes out and when he wakes he hurries out if bed without a thought. And the store is flourishing.

The tower is brilliant but

Something isnt right...

This time, he lays down in bed and realizes his partner is sleeping close the edge with their back to him. He makes a face but assumes it must have been a long day.

When he wakes the bed is empty, he looks across the blankets not sure why it bothers him. Are they always up so early? He gets up and looks around the room, smiling when he sees them brushing their hard in the bathroom. What are they getting ready for?

When he asks, he's surprised to them look him suspiciously before just leaving the room. No good morning, no teasing, nothing. The silence is heavy as they just pass by, leaving for the day.

In his office that day, he sits down and finds himself staring at an empty teacup that had just become part of the decor. The longer he stared at the cup, the more he wondered how long it had sat there untouched.

Guilt formed in his stomach as he picked it up and turned over, looking the dry tea stained rings inside it. They used to come in here every day and take the cup away and bring him something warm.

When was the last time they came in here? He stood, taking the teacup and it's saucer. His reflection glinting in a mirror.

He stared and for a moment, didn't recognize himself. Longer hair, down to his shoulder blades with streaks of grey. Crows feet and dark under his eyes, his chest tightened as he suddenly thought about his spouses bizarre expression this morning.

Later on, when dinner is set at the table for his spouse and siblings, he finds Cal leaving a plate for him at his desk.

When was the last time he was down there? He isn't sure what to do. Suddenly, his world feels like water and desperately trying to hold on. It's just pouring through his fingers.

That night, he made a point of going to bed at a decent hour. His partner had been laying tossed across the bed comfortably. At the sound of the door opening, he watches them roll to the edge and curl up.

They were staying away from him on purpose.

The first urge is to leave them alone and let them have that space. But he misses them and wonders if he can fix whatever he's done, or not done. So he lay in bed, looking at their back.

He's cautious as he reaches out to touch their shoulder.

"Hey"

"...?"

"Where were you today?"

They looked over their shoulder at him, confused. For a moment they just stare at him and he can't read that look. He doesn't know what's going in their like he did before...he doesn't know them.

They lay back down without answering and his heart sank. Rolan couldn't remember falling asleep, though he woke up in a cold sweat damn near screaming when the first night terror in years reared its head.

They shook him til he woke and pressed him to their chest, gripping him tight. Rolan thrashed for a moment before his ear was pressed over their heart. The sound felt like home and it had been so long since he heard it. His strung his arms around their middle and held on as if they might just disappear if he let go.

When he woke up again the bed was empty, he placed his hands over his face and tried not to feel the way it ached. Had they left already?

Beside him, something was set against the nightstand with a soft 'thup'. They set down a glass of water and didn't look at him. The words fell out before he could think about it.

"Are you leaving?"

They looked at him, again unreadable.

"I gotta to work, you'll be fine without me. You always are."

When the door shut behind them, panic set in again and was lost. He didn't go to his office, instead he pulled on a robe and went downstairs. His siblings were chatting, Lia froze when she saw him standing there looking haggard and exhausted.

"What happened?"

"I don't know what to do..."

The day passed again, his love nowhere in the tower until late at night he found them trudging in from the docks and going to sit on a balcony with a lump of cheese bread and wine bottle from somewhere else. They didn't eat here?

Rolan stepped out, finding them looking at him from the corner of their eye.

"You were at the docks?"

"Yea, I work there."

"Why? Is there something you want? I'm sure I can-"

"I don't want your damn money Rolan."

His name was said with bite, when has it sat on them like that? Since when they stop smiling when they looked at him.

"I just..."

"What's this about? You're acting weird as hell the last few days. What's going on?"

They turned in place to look at him with a pointed glare, wiping wipe from the corner of their.

"I just...was worried I..."

That hard stare was cold and heavy and... something he couldn't place.

"Do you regret me?"

They looked at him, frozen. Eyes searching him though they stayed quiet so he asked again.

"Do you regret, marrying me?"

"Why would you ask that?"

His partner suddenly stood, brow set in a deep frown. They huffed and shifted their weight back and forth from one leg to the other. He couldn't tell if it was anger or anxiety or both.

"You seem so angry... I was"

"What the fuck do care!? YOU DONT EVEN LIKE ME ANYMORE ROLAN!"

His eyes went wide and he realized it was hurt that he didn't see before. They moved to push past him, terrified he grabbed their sleeve to stop them before they could run away.

" I love you. Please, please do you still love me?"

They stood there, paused in midstep...letting him hang on to their arm.

"I'm still here aren't I? I'm so stupid that I stay. I don't want to anymore, I don't wanna love you anymore. I could die you wouldn't notice for a week."

Such hateful words cut deep, rolan feels his eyes sting and tries to pull them close but they won't budge.

"Why would you say that?"

"Rolan... what happened? Why are you doing this now?"

" I just, I miss you."

They turned around to look at him furious, angry tears welling up.

"You didn't care when I missed you. I told you all the time and you didn't even hear me, you didn't listen to a man thing and now, and NOW YOU MISS ME!?"

"I'm sorry i-"

This time, they yanked their arm from his grip to face him. He didn't know what part her hurt more, knowing all this bottled up outrage was his fault or that he may not get a chance to fix it.

"You what, Rolan, WHAT."

"You didn't answer...do you still love me?"

He watched them take a deep breath, a refreshed wave of tears spilling down their face.

"YES! YOU ASSHOLE! I STILL FUCKING LOVE YOU! IM SUCH A FUCKING IDIOT EVERY DAMN DAY."

Their hands curled up into fists shaking at their sides as they glared at him,

"I'm so stupid, that I stay. I stay and I used to try every day, try to just ...be near you and you kept pushing me out. Telling me you're busy. And when I tried to kiss you I couldn't becautheres people around and when were alone you're too tired for me because you just work and work until THERES NONE OF YOU LEFT FOR ME!"

Rolan felt a lump forming in his throat while they screamed at him, sobbing and wiping at their face.

" I'm so stupid I stay, I stay hoping for crumbs of you like a fucking rat."

He reached out slowly, putting his hand in theirs, just listening.

"Now, when you look at me, I don't know what to do. I don't know what you want cause I know it's not me."

"I love you."

He was sure what to do or say but all he knows is that he hasn't said it enough, he hasn't shown it. Or felt it or anything. He closes the space between them, pressing a kiss to their forhead.

"I'm sorry I've let this happen... but I love you. And...you still love me? So can I try again?"

[yandere-daydreams]

Yess I knew I wasn't the only thinking of yandere liaos! I can certainly see him obsessing over a sentient humanoid monster (I imagined a nymph kinda thing) like having notebooks about their anatomy from their hair and joints to the qualities of their blood or spit and even eating the fruits and flowers that grow from their head

ohhh actually you're so right for this. i can see the party at-large picking up one of the more human-like monsters (most likely a siren or harpy-adjacent creature) and who just,,, lacks the monstrous instinct to attack on sight or bite off the hand of a man who is very much feeling them up for science. you get along well enough with the other members of his party, and you just don't know enough about human customs to be wary of the way laios runs his hands over your scales/fur/features, to think it's strange when he asks for sample of your hair or saliva, to mention just how often you find him loitering over your bed mat at night when the rest of the party is asleep. maybe, when he starts asking about the courting rituals of your species, you'll be able to tell, but for now, it's better for everyone that you stay in the dark for a little longer <3

[happy74827]

The Demon With A Heart

[Crowley x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Crowley saves your life, you can't help but think it was a little more than self-interest.

WC: 1858

Category: 99.9% Sexual Tension (lmfao), 0.01% Fluff + Angst? {TW: Mentions of Demons (obvi), Murder}

Crowley is too iconic not to have fics. I said what I said.

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react. It was as if your tongue was taken away, and you couldn’t talk, no matter how much you wanted to thank the man.

No, the demon.

You stood there with wide eyes, staring at the King of Hell, Crowley. He looked the same as before: a clean suit, a snarky comment, and a look of disgust on his face. But, instead of being on the opposite side, he was wiping the blood off of the angel blade he used to kill the angel that jumped you.

He just saved you—The King of Hell.

The very man who told Sam and Dean countless times that he doesn't do anything for free and doesn’t help people without getting something out of it. Yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not asking for a single thing.

The thought was a bit unsettling.

"Purely out of self-interest, darling," He says, breaking the silence and putting the stolen blade into his jacket. "Call it a favor that I plan to collect in the future."

He was about to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. Not without a thank you, at least. You didn't want him to think you didn’t appreciate what he did.

"Crowley."

The man turns back around, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you"

The corner of his mouth turned upward, forming a small smirk. He didn’t say anything but rather kept his eyes on you for a second longer. He then disappeared, leaving you in the dark.

And it did leave you in the dark. For days, weeks, months. He never came for that favor, and he never brought up what happened. In fact, he barely talked to you at all. It was always towards the Winchesters.

You began to believe it was nothing but a dream. That Crowley somehow didn't save you. The angel was a fake, and this was all some sick joke. It felt like gaslighting.

But you knew what happened was real. You remembered the blood splatter and the dead corpse. The way his face contorted when he pierced the angel's heart.

It was all too real.

So, why was he ignoring you? Why did he pretend that it never happened? Was he going to hold it over your head? Or was it just the fact that the King of Hell did something nice for a human?

Was it because he… cared?

One night, you got your answer. It was a quiet night filled with books, tea, and soft music. At least, it was before those idiotic brothers decided to tear down the bunker in search of some book.

You couldn’t remember the exact reason they needed it, but you were too tired to argue. So, you stayed in your room and tried to fall asleep.

That is until the lights went out and the emergency lights kicked on. Okay, now you were annoyed. You got up, slipped on your shoes and a coat, and walked out of your room.

"Alright, what did you two-"

You paused mid-sentence, eyes falling onto the figure in the library. The man was facing the opposite way, but you knew exactly who it was. The familiar black suit and hair gave it away.

"Crowley…"

"Hello, Darling,” he replied, turning around and smiling at you. It was almost unnerving. He didn’t have a malicious aura or even an evil one. Just... a smile.

You looked behind him and noticed… well, nothing. You were expecting the Winchesters to be with him, and yet, it was just him.

"Where are the boys?"

"Moose and Squirrel? Ah, they're off somewhere, doing... well, you know. Something heroic, I suppose. Figured I’d stick around… enjoy the scenery."

That’s when you looked up and understood what he meant. He was stuck, quite literally. Those devil traps they put everywhere finally did something good.

You half-expected him to bring up that 'favor' he was talking about or maybe even just demand to get out of there, but he did neither. Instead, he looked at the ground and sighed.

At the moment, the King of Hell looked just like a caged puppy, sad and alone. If he wasn’t such a… demon, you might have even felt bad for him.

But, you left him in there, strolling along to the kitchen to find some kind of light. You were not giving up your two hours of reading due to power loss.

As you shuffled through the cabinets, looking for any form of match or lighter, the lights flickered back on.

So that’s where the Winchesters were.

You shrugged and turned back to your room but stopped at the entrance to the library. Crowley was still there, but this time, his face was twisted. He was clearly pissed.

"Why did you do it?" The burning question you wanted answered for months finally came out. Crowley stopped his little fit and turned towards you, a confused expression on his face.

He looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

"I do a lot of things, Chipmunk. You'll have to be more specific."

You walked towards him, resting down the candles and book on a nearby table. You didn’t know why, but the need to confront him was growing.

"Save me all those months ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You were getting closer, now only a few feet from him. Crowley, however, didn’t back away. Instead, he watched as you moved, his expression unchanging.

"That angel could’ve killed me, yet you came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I know you don't do anything out of kindness, so why did you do it? What do I offer that no one else does?"

Crowley stayed silent for a while, not giving any indication of answering your questions.

You thought it was just a lost cause until his expression changed. It was subtle, but you caught it. The corner of his mouth turned down, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.

He almost looked ashamed.

"It's just like I said. Self-interest." He spat out, his voice sounding like venom. You almost took a step back. It still sounded like the same old Crowley, but his tone was different.

You decided to call his bluff.

"I don't believe you."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming across his face. He was amused by the sudden attitude, but it didn’t last long.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I saw the way you looked at me after you saved me. Hesitancy, almost. Like you were unsure. As if..."

The King of Hell stared at you, waiting for the last part of your statement. He was eager but not for the answer. No, he knew what you were going to say.

He was just waiting to hear it come out of your mouth.

"You care."

Those words hung in the air, both of you processing it. Crowley continued to stare at you, the smirk disappearing, leaving his face neutral. He had a blank expression.

A silence grew, the atmosphere turning awkward. It wasn't until the demon let out a loud sigh and looked to the side that it was broken.

"You’re really pulling on the heartstrings, Chipmunk,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If I had one, I'd say it was aching."

"Do you?"

You knew what you were implying. Crowley was the King of Hell, the ruler of the damned. He was the furthest thing from human, yet he could walk among them and, sometimes, be mistaken for one.

Was it possible for him to be human or even have emotions?

Crowley looked at you and frowned, clearly not liking the topic. But he didn't deny it. It was a strange sight—the King of Hell, frowning and silent.

It was almost adorable.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just… want an honest answer."

"Well, I am a demon, love,” He stated, his tone changing to a more playful one. “Honesty isn’t quite in the job description."

"Crowley"

You were starting to get impatient, and it showed. Your voice was firm, and your posture was tense. You wanted an answer, and you were determined to get it.

The demon in question let out another sigh and looked at the ceiling as if praying for a quick escape.

"You're a pain, you know that? It's exhausting." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But, I suppose, since you asked nicely..."

The man looked at you, his lips pursed. He was still hesitating, which only made you more curious.

"Yes, I care. About you. Happy?"

You blinked a few times, processing the information. Did the King of Hell, the person known for not giving a shit, just admit he cares?

"I-" You started, not knowing what to say. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. Crowley wasn't exactly a bad guy, well, a demon.

"Do you actually mean that?"

"Now that…" Crowley started, his voice low and deep. He leaned towards you, making you back up, but the wall soon prevented you from going any further.

He was inches away, his breath hitting your face. You could see his eyes staring into yours—a pretty brown, like a mocha latte.

"…Is the kind of question that will get you in trouble, love."

You weren’t sure what he was planning, but you didn't care. The way his eyes were looking at you, the smirk on his face, the closeness...

He was probably expecting you to back away, but he was wrong. You were an avid reader, obsessive even. This scene wasn't new, nor was it shocking.

The only shocking part was the fact that you were the one in it. And, well, the fact that you didn’t mind it.

"Unlike you,” you whispered, a small smirk on your face. "I don’t care."

Your response made him pause for a moment, squinting his eyes and giving you a confused look. It only lasted a few seconds, though. Soon, he understood, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Touché"

You truly believed you were about to lose your chance with the man upstairs, but loud footsteps interrupted you.

"Crowley, you slimy son of a bitch! If you’re not here, we are going to-"

Dean stopped talking as he rounded the corner, seeing you and Crowley close. His expression was shocked, almost comical.

"The hell is going on here?"

You and Crowley both turned to look at Dean, a look of annoyance on the King of Hell's face. Sam came around the corner as well, sharing the same look of confusion.

Crowley gave you one last glance, a bit of disappointment in his eyes, before taking a step back. His attention moved on to the two hunters, his usual smile returning.

And despite the annoyance in the air and the confusion, the only thing that came across your mind was another question that you were sure would take control of your sleep schedule once again.

"Hello, boys," He purred, his arms moving to his side. He was back to his old self, not showing a single sign of what happened moments ago.

Had the beauty thawed the beast?

[ohtobealady]

Love your cobert drabbles and fanfics!! Please write more!! Hope you are doing well 😘🥰😉

So I had a very, very old request for a long-lost prompt list. They requested #18 which was an angsty “All you had to do was stay.” I do not know where that request went, so I am answering this more open-ended one from 2020 instead. Thank you Anon of Bygone Times. I am doing well! And I hope you are, too.

Just felt like doing a little something! Hurt/Comfort really. Post ANE. Please forgive the clunkiness xoxox

—//—//—//—//—//—//—

Angst #18 - All You Had to Do Was Stay

Her mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton and her tongue felt dry and thick. It was over, but the taste remained: mineraly and sharp, a bitter tang. It filled up her entire mouth and nose, the taste and smell indistinguishable from each other. She needed water.

Cora opened her eyes and immediately blinked. She worked for a moment to adjust her vision, pressing her eyelids softly and then peering into the afternoon rays of sun coming in at an odd angle to the room. Oh, her head pounded and throbbed. Water; where was the water?

She closed her eyes again and rested her head back against the thin pillow. She’d prayed it wouldn’t be like this. The first few times she’d done the treatment, as Doctor Clarkson had called it, she’d gagged, of course. But she managed the small measured portions of raw liver she’d been prescribed to eat over the course of the day. She could have the injections just as soon as they were shipped from London; this would get easier—less frequent. But after a week, and with the shipment still missing, she found she could no longer stomach it. She managed her portion at luncheon, just barely finding the strength to swallow the gelatinous mush in her mouth that had once been neat cubes upon her plate. But then the vomiting began at tea. And it didn’t stop. The smell of it, the vomit a dark red in the basin, set her mouth to watering and nose burning as a precursor to even more retching.

So Robert had taken her here the next morning—this morning—, in spite of her protesting, to the hospital.

Cora groaned. Whatever strength and newfound energy she’d enjoyed before was completely depleted now and what remained were aches and fatigue. She wouldn’t think of what it may mean—that the incessant vomiting of the last day and night had undone all of her progress—but instead tried her best to look at the bright side. The injections would be in soon, and there’d be less liver. Not no liver, she knew. But less. She could stomach less.

With this, she opened her eyes again. Late afternoon, she could tell. The hospital bed beneath her felt stiff and narrow. The quilt was rough. She attempted to ease herself up slowly, the blood in her head thumping and her stomach sore from its terrible labor.

But then the small creak of a wooden chair to her right, and the warm weight of his hand upon her blanketed shin stilled her.

“Lie back.”

“Robert,” her voice croaked softly, her protest pitiful and weak. “I’m alright.”

“You aren’t. You need rest.”

Despite her scoff, Cora did lie back. She hadn’t even the energy to roll her eyes. “I’m alright. Really.”

“So you said.” His voice was gentler in his contradiction than before, and even though her eyes were closed, Cora could feel the way he shifted in the wooden chair. She could feel the way he leaned closer to her, and she felt his hand move from her leg and to her arm. His fingers encircled it, and she felt him draw a soft line along the thin and fragile bone of the inside of her wrist. She sighed; her head hurt a little less. “We were pleased to see you’ve kept down the last portion.”

She hummed a reply. “Best not to speak too soon.”

“Doctor Clarkson says if you can keep down the next, he’ll send us home to bed.”

She swallowed down what she wanted to respond: She didn’t want another portion. The very thought of it prickled up beads of cold sweat upon her hairline. She did groan, but took in a long breath to steady herself. “I’ve been resting all day.”

“Yes. And he has given you direction to rest as much as possible tomorrow. That is, if you’re well enough to leave.”

“Oh, Robert,” she opened her eyes. “I don’t wish to take up a bed for anyone who may really need it.”

She felt the way his fingers moved upon her wrist. “I suppose you think you don’t?”

“I don’t need it. I’ve been ill, yes, but not ill enough for constant monitoring.” She shook her head, closed her eyes, and swallowed down the dry burn of her throat. Her voice was hoarse from the vomiting. “Besides, I’d like to see you try keeping all that liver down.”

His fingers tightened. The chair creaked. And in the absence of what she thought would be a low chuckle, Cora slowly opened her eyes to find him looking down at her.

“I wish I could do this for you.”

She sighed. “Do what?” she asked, even though she knew.

“All of it.”

She knew. Her chest ached when he looked away from her, his chin trembling. Yes, she knew. For she felt the same when he was lying in this bed a few short years ago and she was the one on the creaking chair praying that somehow they could exchange places. She’d suffer it for him, she knew. And he would suffer this for her. “Oh, darling.“

“I hate seeing you so ill. Last night. I’m so terribly sorry you must endure this.”

It took more energy than she thought she had to slip her wrist from his grasp and for her fingers to find his hand instead. She squeezed, quickly and firmly, and smiled when he at last met her eye.

“No. I don’t want that. No apologies or pity. Hmm?” She smiled wider for his sake, and she tried her best to level her voice, to not sound quite so weak. “All I want is this. For you to stay beside me. Holding my hand.”

He chuckled, softly and sadly. “You’ll have some of my pity. It can’t be helped.” At this, he brought her fingers to his lips and pressed them. They felt warm against her skin. “But I will hold your hand.”

[ssnggf]

live for me — sunghoon

I LOOKED UPON THE MOON that shone bright, casting a soft glow into the room. i watched, wondering what were to have happened if it were me instead. his words rang through my ears like a lost, broken melody. that sad strumming of my heart, twisting at each thought. ‘it should’ve been me.’

my tears streamed my face, drawing dried streaks down my flushed cheeks. i couldn’t help but cry, because i knew it was just me now.

i wanted to sob, to really let the pain seep in and consume me, even if just for a moment. to let out a raw, painful scream at the cruel world who took him from me. my park sunghoon. gone quicker than eyes could blink. that instant where my rose colored glasses shattered into dark despair.

my head spiraled, insanity laced itself up in the back of my mind. my desperate cries as i sat next to his limp, cold body. his pale skin, his eyes gently closed. that sickness that took him from me. 

i never expected to lose him, not so soon, not like this. i didn’t even want to imagine the pain. the way he weakly stood, his lungs basically collapsing in on themselves. seeing the way he coughed up that deep, dark blood. his breaths short and hasty. 

i did everything i could, even the doctors said he’d be back to normal after a few treatments. his condition deteriorated and they still said he’d be okay. 

that image of him weakly stumbling towards me even after i’d told him to stay in bed and rest. those eyes no longer glistening with that bright light of joy. his usually red painted lips, drained of their color and chapped as he spoke those words. those words that broke my entire existence. those words that sing haunting melodies in my ears at night.

“live for me.”

[intoanotherworld23]

Take My Heart

Summary: Working as a waitress in one of the most popular night clubs in the city seemed like a breeze. Then you’re asked to work the infamous dark rooms where you meet the owners, and you catch the eye of one of them, Joel Miller, whose one of the most feared men and rules the city

Pairings: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: cursing, mention of sex, mention of sex toys, drinking, and mention of drugs

A/N: If anyone wishes to create a banner for me for this series I would greatly appreciate it, and of course you will be given full credit for it! Message me if you are able to do so! Thank you so much everyone and enjoy! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"Your late." The bartender Eric nagged as soon as you walked over to the register to clock in for the night. "Again."

"Yeah yeah I know." Waving him off as he laughed at you.

"How do you manage to be late all the time when you live just down the block?" Raising an eyebrow at you.

"You think this makes a lot of tips looking like one of the undead?" Motioning your pointer finger around your face.

"I don't think the guys are really looking at your face babe."

"Well this helps too." Pushing your boobs up for emphasis.

"How you are still single is baffling to me." His words holding more meaning than what you realized.

Dressing provocatively was a part of the job. Hiring pretty girls showing off their bodies to a bunch of drunk and horny men was how the club stayed so successful. Granted a lot of clubs were like that, but there was something about this club that was different. Something this club offered to their guests that kept them flocking in.

It was called the dark rooms. Watching as different girls were pulled into one of the rooms men leaving with satisfied looks on their faces. All you were told was that their VIP's hung out there, but you had a very good idea as to what happened behind those black curtains.

Throwing your purse behind the bar where you usually kept it knowing it would be well looked after. Not that you had much money or anything for anyone to steal. None the less it still was money to you.

The club was incredibly packed tonight, and you knew the tips were going to be amazing. It wasn't just exactly an ideal job, but being a bottle service girl was about as good as you were going to get. You didn't have any family or friends so you didn't have anyone to turn to.

"You don't think she'll be pissed do you?" Now actually starting to worry this time she wouldn't be nice.

"Nah I think you'll be fine."

"God I hope so my rent is due this week so I need the money."

Even though you didn't have the best apartment it was better than nothing, and unfortunately it was also an expensive one. It was better than nothing at this point.

"You're lucky she likes you."

"Ya know when you're perfect." Sending a cocky wink over to him as he shook the mixer over his shoulder.

"Oh yeah what would we do without you." He sarcastically spoke.

"Oh shut the fuck up Eric you wish you were like me." Flipping your hair back over your shoulder with a grin.

"Get to work before you actually get in trouble this time." Throwing a dirty rag at you causing you to burst into laughter.

Walking by the crowded tables as you headed into your bosses office to let her know you were finally here. Hoping that this time she wouldn't be actually mad at you since you really needed the money.

"Beth." Knocking lightly on the cracked door to see her sitting there typing away on the computer. "Hiya."

"Don't even try it." Looking up from the computer with a straight face.

Bowing your head as you awkwardly stood there with your hands behind your back. It was like your parent had just caught you doing something you shouldn't have, and you didn't know what was about to happen.

"I'm sorry."

"Of all nights you had to be late again." Standing up from her chair walking over to you.

"I'm sorry I took longer than what I thought." Apologizing again more sincere this time.

"You know how important tonight is for me."

"What's happening tonight?" Scrunching your brows.

"The owners are coming here." Answering bewildered that you didn't know. "So everything has to be perfect."

That explains her behavior the past couple of weeks, and why she had been frantically running around the club stressing over small things that she never did before.

"The owners?"

"Yes the owners. The ones who own this fucking club." Running a hand through her hair frantically. "The Miller Brothers. Tommy and Joel Miller."

"Never heard of em."

"They're powerful men in this city. Nobody fucks with them." It sounded more like a warning to you.

"They don't sound that scary to me." Crossing your arms across your chest.

"God you're so lucky you're pretty." She scoffed as she walked back over to her desk.

As she sat back down you took that as he way of dismissing you. Turning back to the door about to head out when her words stopped you in your tracks.

"Oh you'll be working the dark rooms tonight. One of the girls called in sick so I need you to cover for her."

"What?" Eyes wide open now. "But I've never worked the dark rooms before. I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." She reassured you as you took a sigh of relief. "Just know that men pay very good money to have a pretty thing to wrap their arm around."

You knew exactly what kinds of sinful acts took place in the dark rooms, and the thought of some sleazy businessman paying you for sexual favors made your skin crawl. That wasn't the kind of thing you did or would put yourself through.

"What if they force me?"

"That's why we have security and cameras to make sure the girls stay safe."

"Why can't you ask one of the other girls?" Asking her in hopes she might ask someone else.

"Because they aren't as attractive as you."

"What if I don't want to work the dark rooms?"

"Then you better start looking for another job." Her tone serious and her eyes scowling at you that she wasn't playing around.

The two of you staring at each other as you contemplated whether this job was worth it or not. You could use some extra cash, but the thought of one of those men touching you against your will made your stomach churn. She did tell you that you didn't have to do anything you didn't want to, but then you'd be missing out on a lot of money.

It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Having an angel on one shoulder, and the devil on the other. This would just be a one time thing though. So maybe it wouldn't be as horrible as you thought.

"Okay I'll do it." She smiled upon hearing that.

"Good. Go find Kara and she'll give you the rundown of everything."

Not saying anything else you simply nodded and took your leave. Your heart was racing and your palm was sweating already feeling nervous about what could happen tonight. Things could go smoothly or they could be a nightmare. Either way you just wanted this night to be over.

Looking around the club for Kara. Trying to spot her wild curly red hair through the sea of people. Finally spotting her talking to a group of men at a table. Flashing her pretty smile and placing a hand on their arms clearly trying to get a bigger tip.

Kara had been here longer than anyone else, and knew how to work her charm on the customers. She had also worked the dark room more than anyone else either. So you knew that she was making good money.

You'd exchanged conversation with her from time to time, but never really got close with her. She was friendly enough, but you knew she wasn't in this job to make friends, but make a shit load of money.

"Hey Kara." Shouting her name as she turned around to see who called her name. "I'm working the dark rooms tonight and Beth said you'd help me."

"Perfect follow me." Showing off her whitened teeth as she headed up the stairs you following right behind her.

"So you're working the dark rooms tonight huh?" She sounded almost amused when she asked.

"Yeah I guess so."

"Do you even know what happens in the dark rooms?" Stopping at the top to face you.

"I have a pretty good idea what happens." Your response making her grin.

She could tell just by looking at you that you were like a scared little bunny. Just the thought of going into one of these rooms petrified you. Let alone a man requesting you to stay in the rooms.

"There are different kind of rooms." Stating as you now stood in the hallway noticing some had curtains for doors. "Some rooms have dance poles. Some rooms just have large couches for relaxing, and some rooms have toys in them."

"Toys?"

"Yeah ya know sex toys and all that." Jesus Christ this place was much darker than what you thought.

"Then there's the VIP room." Standing in front of a deep and dark red double door. "Only the owners can access this room. They have it locked at all times, and they each have a key."

"What kind of men are these guys?" Asking her but not really asking her.

"The kind of men women want to be with and the type that men are scared of."

"Have you ever met them?"

"Yeah I did once." Reminiscing about the time they came in and you could practically see the drool coming out of her mouth. "Joel doesn't ever request any of the girls."

"Why not?"

"It's not really his thing." The two of you heading back down to the stairs. "Besides that man never has had to pay for sex."

"Right."

"So what exactly all do I need to do?" Asking her as you started to walk back down the hall.

"All you gotta do is smile and look pretty." That didn't sound too hard to do. "Bigger tips if you sit on their lap and let them touch you by the way."

Never mind.

You didn't know whether to take her words as a warning or not. The way she said it made it sound like that man always gets what he wants no matter what. The thought of meeting this man had your stomach churning.

Staring at yourself in the mirror trying to compose yourself as time was getting closer. Taking a shot of tequila to calm your nerves just a little bit. For all you know these could be incredible dangerous men, and your about to walk right into the lions den.

Maybe they wouldn't take a second look at you and leave you all alone. That was wishful thinking though considering these men were powerful and some of them were owners. It would be in your best interest to not say no to these men.

"Y/N let's go, there here."

Your stomach was doing somersaults now. Palms were starting to sweat, and your heart was beating so fast you could hear it in your ears. There wasn't any chance you'd be able to slip out of there. You were just gonna have to suck it up, and get the night over with.

Maybe it would be a piece of cake, and the night would be over before you know it.

"Here bring them this bottle." Eric handing you a tray that had shot glasses and a bottle of very expensive tequila as you walked past the bar.

"I didn't even know we had this here." Examining the chic looking bottle like you were holding diamonds.

"Nobody else can order that except them." Pouring liquor into a martini glass. "You better get moving they don't like to be kept waiting."

"Which room are they in?"

"First room on your left." Nodding as he gave you an encouraging smile.

Trying your best to not trip or drop the glass as you cautiously walked up the stairs to the rooms. Not knowing exactly how many men were going to be in this room.

As you approached the room you could already hear deep voices talking. Sounding like there were multiple men in there. Noticing there was four shot glasses which suggested to you that there was four men. Which wasn't too bad you've dealt with almost triple the amount of men before.

"There she is." A voice boomed as soon as you stood in the doorway.

"Where's the other girl?" Not knowing who said that as your eyes were focused on the ground.

"She called in today so Beth has me working." Answering quickly your voice quivering.

"Remind me to thank Beth." The same unknown person said making your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

Finally looking up to look at them as the red and blue lights illuminating their bodies as they sat around a table. All of them were wearing very nice suits, and their hair was styled back. They were all very good looking men, but there was one who immediately caught your eye.

He was incredibly handsome in almost a he didn't seem real. Like he was hand crafted by the gods himself, and he wasn't actually a human being. He was too perfect for words. Trying not to drool being in the same room as him.

His honey brown eyes had been staring at you since you walked in the room. Following you as you placed the glasses in front of them, and pouring them each a shot. Trying your best not to shake under his intense gaze.

The other three continued to talk as if they couldn't care less about you being in here. Which oddly made you feel relieved that they weren't trying to harass you or anything like that.

"Cheers to a good night boys." One of them toasted as they downed the first shot.

"Hell of a day." A man with tattoos on his neck continued.

"I can still see the look on their faces as we fooled them." The one that toasted said. "We totally had them by the balls they were so scared."

"Fucking idiots." The attractive one chuckled.

"Did they really just think we were going to just take the money, and not keep the g-." His voice cut off by an elbow being jabbed into his side.

"Shut the fuck up Don."

Okay that was a little weird. Obviously didn't want you to hear whatever he was about to say. Not that you would have really remembered anyway, since your mind was just focusing on getting the night over with.

Now you were feeling awkward not knowing if you had to stay in here. It wasn't clarified if you could come and go as you pleased. Not wanting to upset anyone by leaving, and they needed something. Two of these men were the owners you just didn't know who.

"Now for even more fun." Watching as the one who had tattoos on his neck pull out a bag with white stuff in it.

"Jesus fuck Andrew." The super attractive one groaned angrily.

"What?" Shrugging his shoulders as he continued to dump some on the table, pulling out a razor blade messing with the powder.

"What did I say about doing that here?" His voice stern in a warning tone.

"I mean you've said it but that doesn't mean I'm gonna listen." Cutting up some lines ignoring Joel's warning.

"I said not here." Raising his voice slightly.

"This is your club Joel." Ah so he was one of the owners. "Are you telling me I can't do this here? Or do you just not want the lady to see?"

Suddenly all four pair of eyes turned to your figure hiding in the corner. It felt as if now you were under some type of spot light. This was exactly what you were hoping to avoid, and now you were the topic.

"Andy knock it off." The fourth man spoke up. Noticing he had curly hair, and looked like he could be related to Joel. Maybe he was the brother.

"She doesn't need to see that shit." It was surprising that he was almost trying to shield you from the drugs.

"Like you don't snort this every other day Joel." He argued sarcastically back, and you could see Joel seething. "Or you either Tommy."

"I said not here." He didn't back down a vein popping out of his neck. "That's my final warning."

You could tell there was so much tension between the two of them. It was clear Joel was the man in charge, and this Andy guy was a trouble maker. The other two guys looked like they wanted to stay out of it.

Maybe Joel didn't want you seeing this cause you are new. Or maybe in a sense he was trying to impress you. It was probably because he didn't want you telling the cops on them or anything like that.

"What's your name sweetheart?" Andy smirking over at you ignoring Joel now.

Looking between the two men wondering if you should answer or just stay silent. Joel nodding his head signaling it was okay. Not sure why you were looking to him for approval anyway.

"Y/N." Sheepishly responding back to him.

"That's such a sexy name." Andrew smiled but his words just made you cringe.

"Thank you." Responding not wanting to make him angry.

That's when Andrew leaned forward more towards you giving Joel an evil look before turning his attention back to you. You could feel like things were just going to get worse.

"How would you feel about giving me a lap dance?"

Soon as the question left his lips Joel didn't hesitate to stand up, and stomp over to him ready to fight. The other two men standing up as well ready to hold him back from killing the man. Backing yourself up against the wall scared of what was about to happen.

Joel standing face to face with the man who just stood there smirking like he was winning. He acted like he wasn't terrified, but on the inside he was shitting his pants.

"What the fuck did you just say to her?"

[yanderes-galore]

Eee, prompt number 5, 8, 15 for Cassidy

p.s I'm so normal about that cowboy

🍀 anon

Of course! I hope you like this :) Sorry it took so long! I managed to get plot help from ♠️ Anon, so I hope you like what we both came up with.

Yandere! Cole Cassidy Prompts 5, 8, 15

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!"

"I could look into those eyes forever...."

"Please smile for me... don't make me force you...."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Isolation, Kidnapping (Technically), Possessive behavior, Toxic relationship, Consensual turned Forced relationship.

"Come on, darlin'... you look like you could need a few days to rest."

That's how this started, isn't it? Cole Cassidy, your charming cowboy boyfriend, had offered to take you on an isolated vacation to his cabin. The offer was thoughtful enough... The cowboy had seen how hard you've been working since Overwatch began its recall.

Not liking the idea of his dearest overworking themselves he wanted to make sure you could relax and smile for once. Seeing the offer as nothing sinister... you accepted. Completely unaware of any ulterior motives your boyfriend could've had.

Honestly, at first your vacation is wonderful. You promised your boyfriend you'd take a few days off from work and enjoy nature instead of the bustling city. Cole loved to see the smile on your face as he took you on walks and sat beside you at the lake.

The cowboy couldn't imagine a better date... watching in awe as your eye sprung to life and glittered in joy.

The vacation contained flirting, relaxing nights, and just the two of you. However, the looming thought of work always managed to creep into your mind. Something that annoyed your boyfriend to no end.

Cole never liked the idea of you going back to Overwatch. Perhaps it's because he's had... bad experiences... but he just wished you'd sit back and let him care for you. That was one of the reasons for the vacation.

To convince you to get away from it all... you rely on him from now on....

But you never listened to his thoughts on the matter.

No matter how much Cole showered you in gifts and attention, you always said you needed to work. As the vacation time trickled down... Cole was determined to change your mind. Can't you see working for Overwatch makes you unhappy?

"Why not stay a bit longer, darlin'? The city's just so... loud, isn't it? Do you really have to go back?" Cole continues, stepping closer to your packing form.

"Working for Overwatch pays well, Cole. The vacation was lovely though...." You sigh, the cowboy staring for a moment as he clenches his fist in silence.

"Baby... you're miserable there. Just call in sick..." Cole hums, strolling closer to hold your waist and put his head on your shoulder. "Or even better, quit and stay here with me... I can provide for you and you can be happy."

Cole's words drip with saccharine, a sweet and honeyed feeling bubbles within you but you know better. He wants to trap you with him using his words. Treating you as if you're a fly stuck in a sweet but sticky trap....

"Don't try to bribe and manipulate me, Cole." You hiss, prying his arms off you the best you can. "You know I have to work, like it or not."

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!" Cole hums, turning you so he can cup your face gently. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't want to see you happy...?"

You stare at Cole for a moment, his eyes are sharp and dark. He waits for you to object and you sigh. For now... you'll play along.

"Fine... one more night, okay?" You admit, causing Cole to smile.

"Of course, darlin'." Cole whispers, kissing your lips softly.

"Just one more night."

----

One more night was long enough for him to make sure things were perfect. By the time you woke up in the morning, Cole had prepared breakfast. It was only after that when you realized something was... wrong.

When you went to put your stuff in the truck, you noticed the door was locked. Not just that but the windows were too. Upon further inspection through said windows, the truck was gone... and Cole acted as though this was fine.

Everything was locked tight... the truck Cole had was gone... and you were stuck. Cole eventually forced a grin as he stalked closer. To him... your vacation was still going smoothly.

"You care about that job more than me, honey... I had to do something, didn't I?" Cole hums, eyes never leaving yours as he leans in front of you. He sighs in a happy tone as he reaches out to touch your face. "I could look into those eyes forever... y'know that?"

You respond by smacking his hand away, breathing picking up as though you were a cornered rabbit. Cole looks annoyed, but doesn't make any sudden movements as of yet. Why won't you just enjoy yourself?

"You locked me in here!?" You panic, the cowboy frowning as you glare at him. You're pressed against the locked door as Cole traps you in place. He gave up on hiding his true nature.

"It's for your own good, can't you see that?" Cole hisses, keeping you in place. "With me, you're happy. With me, you're safe. Out in Overwatch you have to deal with Talon. Look...I want my domestic little darlin' to listen to me and let me provide for you. Let us enjoy a vacation where there's no one else!"

"That isn't for you to decide!" You shout back, only for Cole to cover your mouth with his bionic hand.

"Yet I did it anyway, hm~?" Cole purrs, moving his hand to tilt your chin up. "Look at us... bickering like we're married."

You merely glare at him as Cole plays with your lips. His gaze holds a possessive kind of adoration... grinning to himself as if he's won a petty argument. This was when you learned your boyfriend was sick.

"Now... let's not let out little argument ruin our vacation." Cole whispers, a subtle hint of a threat in his tone. "Won't you please smile for me... don't make me force you...."

You feel his grip tighten on your chin and decide it's best to play his game until an opportunity presents itself. Reluctantly, you smile for your twisted boyfriend. The cowboy smiles back happily... leaning and kissing your lips quickly.

"My little darlin' deserves to be spoiled, don't you~?" Cole hums, holding your hands

You nod once again...

Internally plotting how to escape this wooden prison.

[cloudlessly-light]

The darkest parts of me (5/5)

A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s encouraged and read this little story of mine! I’ll be back to posting pure filth soon!

Title: The darkest parts of me (5/5) Summary: They find each other in a dark world where they do twisted things. The only way things could have become more dangerous, is if they were together. Funny how life turns out.

Unsub!Hotchniss AU.   Word count: 2,2k Rating: Explicit Warnings (for most or all chapters): smut, descriptions of violence, descriptions of murder, gore (nothing too explicit), mentions of weapons

David Rossi stands in a parking lot looking at the ground where only hours before a man’s body had been lying. A body that knew was a from the murders he’s spent the better part of a year hunting. They had gotten the call early, a quick description of the scene, but witnesses in the diner had described a couple, and he knew they had to go to California to see it for themselves. They had never been so close to catching them.

His phone rings, sounding loud even though there’s people everywhere and he looks down to see Jason’s name flash on the screen.

“Hey.”

“I’m leaving the ME’s now. It looks like a snapped neck, the man was an ex-marine.” Jason speaks as he walks to the car. “Wife and kids at home.”

“This wasn’t premeditated.” Dave says as he looks around and realizes that in the dead of night there was no way no one would be able to see the murder take place. “He had recognized the unsubs from the news and went to confront the woman while the man was in the bathroom. He was on with 911 when it happened.”

“So they’re close by.” Jason concluded for him.

“They have to be.” Dave walks around the crime scene as he holds the phone to his ear. “The roadblocks are up, every cop in the state knows to be on the lookout. They won’t get away. Not this time.”

There’s a beat of silence and Dave waits for Jason to say what they both were thinking.

“Let’s hope so.”

*

“We can’t stay here.” Aaron told her, surprisingly calm considering the circumstances.

“I know.” She says, her bag already packed, her gun cold against the small of her back where it rests in the lining of her jeans. “I think we need to get out of the country. It’s time”

“Where do you want to go?” He cups the back of her neck, the hand that only a couple of hours before had snapped a guy’s neck, was now so gentle as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Anywhere we want.” She smiles when she hands him the passports that Clyde had made for them. “As long as we go fast.”

He nods, because they had planned for this, had planned for what they would do if something went wrong. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. But they had a plan, actually had multiple ways to leave and somewhere in the back of his mind he thanks whatever lucky star for Emily’s funds.

She watches as he carries their bags to the car with a small smile. She knew she should be worried, that she should be scared because at any moment they could be found. But she isn’t, she’s excited, a familiar rush running through her at the thought of a chase. It’s a new kind of adrenaline, and she wonders if she’s found another way to get the high she’s always chasing.

They drive on backroads, not caring that the drive would take much longer, because they knew that any highway was a road to getting caught. His hand rests on her thighs as they drive, her smaller one on top of his and when she squeezes it he looks at her.

“Do you feel bad?” She asks and he knows what she means without her having to elaborate.

“We don’t know if that man deserved to die, but he put us in danger. It was worth it.” He offers her a small smile and she squeezes his hand again, a smirk on her face.

“It was sexy.” She says, dark eyes gleaming and he chuckles.

“My dirty girl.” He always loved how much his killing turned her on and it took every ounce of willpower not to put the car in park to have his way with her. But they needed to get to Arizona, from there they’d be able to get on a flight. It was a long drive, hours on the road, and they didn’t have time to stop.

“Once we’re safe, I’ll show you just how dirty I can be.” She feels his fingers dig into her thigh and she grins.

“You think you haven’t shown me exactly how filthy you can be yet, sweetheart?” He chuckles, but there’s an uncomfortable ache in the pit of his stomach, want quickly settling between his legs.

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.” She leans over the center console and licks his neck, her teeth grazing the skin there slowly before he urges her back into her seat.

 “You’re sure we can trust Clyde with this right?” He asks, needing to think about something else, anything else, than how much he wanted her.

“Yes. He’s already made arrangements, we’re flying early tomorrow morning.” She knew that Aaron didn’t fully trust Clyde, but he had been the only one to help her when she decided to get away from her old life, had helped her again after she killed Ian. If there was anybody she trusted except for Aaron, it was him.

“How did you meet him?” He realized he had never asked her.

“His dad worked for my dad, and when he got older, he just like me, wanted another life. When I decided to leave, when I decided to become someone else, I reached out to him and he lived in the Netherlands, I went there and he helped me become Lauren Reynolds. We didn’t speak again until Ian, but he has connections everywhere, can make anyone disappear and he helped me again.” She didn’t talk much about life with Ian, much less about her time with her parents and she knew Aaron was hanging onto every word.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to still be in contact with him? If he has ties to your parents and your old life?” He knew that Emily was intelligent, that she wouldn’t take unnecessary risks with her life.

“He, just like me, changed everything about himself, he technically doesn’t exist. He made it look like he died in a plane crash years ago.” She took his hand again. “Trust me, we don’t have to worry about him.”

“Okay sweetheart.” He pulls her into a kiss, a quick thing stamped onto her lips that she smiles into. “We better hope we don’t get caught before we get to the plane.” He winks at her, and she knows that he’s finding this just as thrilling as she did.

*

They had been looking for hours, had every cop in the city out patrolling the streets. But still, the unsubs were gone.

“It’s like catching smoke.” Dave grunts as he sits in the precinct with Jason, a cup of bad coffee in front of him on the table.

“No killer is unstoppable, but maybe we simply got here  too late.” He says, his own cup untouched in front of him. “They know we’re after them, they had a head start.”

“What are you thinking Jason?” He looks at the look of sadness on his friend’s face.

“We know that they have money, that they’ve travelled the country for a long time, the woman seems like a ghost, she doesn’t exist anywhere. They’re getting ready to leave the country. And we might not be able to stop them.”

“I’m calling the airports.” The detective that’s seated with them says and Jason nods, but as he looks at Dave he knows that he’s thinking the same thing he is. The unsubs had an escape plan, and now they’re stuck playing catchup.

*

Emily yawns as she drives on the deserted roads, it was late, they had been driving for most of the day and night. She looks over to Aaron who’s sleeping beside her, his usually intense face as relaxed as it’ll ever be and she smiles. They were getting close to the private airport, they were close to escaping. She wondered what their new life was going to be like.

As she sits there, lost in her own thoughts her phone rings and Aaron grunts beside her as he wakes up.

“Yeah?” She already knew who it was, he was the only one who had her number.

“One of my men saw you passing him about a minute ago. Ditch the car, I’ll have him pick you up.” Clyde’s low voice sounds through the phone.

“Why?” She asks but still pulls off to the side of the road while keeping him on speakerphone so Aaron can hear.

“Because your rental is more noticeable than one of my cars.” She can hear his smirk through the phone. “Leave it where you are, about a mile down there’s a gas station, we’re waiting for you there.”

“What about the car we’re driving now?” She puts the car in park while Aaron rubs his eyes and stretches.

“We’ll make it disappear, it won’t be traced back to either of you. Come on darlin’, no need to be difficult about this.”

She looks to Aaron who nods, seemingly agreeing to the plan and they both get out of the car.

“Okay, see you soon.” She throws the phone to the ground and smashed it. She wouldn’t be needing it anymore.

*

It was almost 3AM when a young cop comes running into the small conference room they’re sitting in.

“They’re in Arizona! We got a call from a detective, they saw the suspects getting into a car at a gas station.”

“They have help.” Jason stands up at the same time as Dave.

“But they won’t be able to board a plane. Everyone knows to be on the lookout.” The cops says, his voice hopeful.

“They have money, connections. They’re probably flying out from a smaller airport, one that won’t be stopping them if given enough money.” Dave explains as they start to walk through the precinct, they didn’t have a lot of time.

“Like a bribe? But that’s illegal.”

Dave smiles at the other man’s innocence and squeezes his shoulder.

“Money will get you anywhere, kid.”

“Come on, we need to get there, we’re calling the team in Arizona on the way.” Jason is already holding the phone to his ear as he urges Dave to follow him. “We’ve got them.”

*

“The cops are coming, the whole fucking cavaliere.” Clyde says with a grin on his face, clearly enjoying the situation.

“How do you know?” Aaron asks as he sits on the small private plane next to Emily who’s leaning into his side, his arm around her shoulders.

“I have men everywhere, and I’ve gotten three calls already.” The British man looks at them with something close to glee. “You did always know how to make things interesting, darlin’”

Emily rolls her eyes but still smiles at his words. She feels Aaron’s hand tightening on her upper arm and she looks at him in amusement. She found his jealousy sexy, she always had, and he always wanted to put his claim on her, always wanted her to feel like his.

“Thank you for helping us out.” She says to the man across from her.

“I’ll always like helping an old friend out. For a fee that is.” He winks at her and she shakes her head at the way all Clyde always wanted was money. She takes the suitcase beside her and slides it over the table, her eyebrow arched as she waits for him to open it.

“That should be more than enough.” She swears she sees his eyes light up at the sight of the bills in neat stacks in the suitcase. “Now, get us out of here.” Her gun rests on the table and she picks it up casually and she feels Aaron tense against her side, always ready to back her up if needed.

“No need to get violent Em. You’ll be in the air in less than thirty.”

“We’ll have to be quicker than that.” Aaron says as he looks out the window where he sees blue lights in the distance. “We have to go now.”

*

Dave doesn’t think the devastation of making it only minutes too late would be something he’ll ever get over. He will never forget seeing the small plane take off, a shadow of a man looking back at him from the air.

He wouldn’t give up on finding them, but realistically he knew that he might never do. There was no trail where they had gone, no transactions to look into, no bank accounts, not even the people helping their unsubs had their real identeties. It wouldn’t have mattered if they did though, they were gone. All of them.

*

Aaron smiles his thanks at the bartender as he grabs their drinks. The sun was hot on his skin, the sand soft as he walked in his flipflops towards the sunbeds where Emily was laying. She looks up at him from behind her glasses, her skin shining from the lotion and sweat and he licks his lips at the sight.

When he hands her the colorful drink she had asked for, she sits up in her chair. She clinks her glass with his, a smile on her face. “We made it.”

[khaire-traveler]

🌊 Subtle Charybdis Worship 🕳️

Visit the beach or a body of water

Learn to sail, kayak, or paddle board

Go swimming; go to hot springs

Get a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Keep a picture of him in your wallet

Collect seashells, dried coral, shark teeth, fish bones, sea glass, etc.

Try to learn how to dive; go diving in the ocean or a nearby body of water

Explore sea caves; explore nearby caves (on land); do this SAFELY!!!!

Have imagery of the ocean, the deep sea, deep sea creatures, ocean creatures, sea storms, sailing boats (especially ancient Greek boats), or massive aquatic animals/dinosaurs around

Have a stuffed animal of him (if you can find one) or a sea creature (deep sea or not)

Engaging in healthy self -reflection; do not dissect your every weakness, focus on your strengths as well

Taking a shower/bath in darkness or lit by candles (SAFELY!!!)

Pick up trash on the beach, in the ocean, or near a body of water

Support environmental or ocean preservation organizations

Learn about the ocean; learn about the deep sea and its creatures

Get comfortable with the concept of uncertainty; learn to release control of the things you cannot control

Face your fears; do something you've been wanting/needing to but have out off due to fear

Drink water regularly; stay hydrated

Play a deep sea exploration video game (Subnautica comes to mind)

Assert your boundaries; make it clear when someone has overstepped them

Release that which no longer serves you, people included

Make a list of all the times you've overcome adversity in your life, big or small; remind yourself of your strength (alternatively, make a list of your strengths)

Make a paper list of all the people or things you wish to overcome; soak the paper, let it crumble; dispose of the remains

Place a cup, jar, bowl, etc. of ocean/salt water on your windowsill at night, especially on a new moon

Once every month (not too often), wash your face and hands with ocean/salt water

Think of outside the box solutions to problems

Work on forgiving yourself of past mistakes; learn from them rather than hold them against yourself

Learn to accept both the dark and light parts of yourself; everyone has strengths and weaknesses, and that's not inherently bad

Keep a diary; express your emotions in it, both positive and negative; keep track of how you're feeling, be sure to take care of yourself

Get some hard work done; things you've been putting off, strenuous tasks you need to do, a hobby that requires some elbow grease, etc.

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This one was pretty challenging, I won't lie. Charybdis represents adversity - an obstacle Odysseus must face in order to return home to Ithaca. Due to this, I feel worshipping him would involve overcoming adversities and taking pride in how far you've come. I'll likely add more to this list later on as more ideas come to me, but for now, this will be my list of discreet ways to worship the monster Charybdis. Take care, everyone, and may you always find the strength within yourself to keep moving forward. 💜

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[langernameohnebedeutung]

Narrator: “And then he was not.”