#keeping an eye on her level of tiredness ...
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- You’re Not Good Enough | e.w.
you keep on coming back,
i keep letting you in
pairing: college player!ellie x fem college!reader
warnings/themes: angst, ellie is v emotionally unavailable (my type <3), she's a teensy bit manipulative, reader mentions past toxic relationship, slight smut, heavy making out (in public), fingering r! receiving, mentions of oral sex r! receiving
word count: 3.8k
synopsis: ellie ends things with you and quickly finds that the hold you have on her is much stronger than she thought. when she sees you a month later at a house party she tries to change things.
a/n: hello!!! i'm pretty proud of this so I hope you guys enjoy :) also this is based off of one of my favorite songs so I recommend listening to it while you read
PART TWO
“I think we should call it” she said as your eyes were glued to your phone, aimlessly scrolling while laying on her beat up couch. you switched off your phone directing your attention to her, confused by her question. you noticed then she was sitting with her head in her hands, gripping the roots of her short auburn hair.
“what?” you asked meekly, sitting up now. you already knew what she meant but you needed to make sure anyway.
“I just think we should probably stop whatever this is, it’s too much for right now,” she mumbled to the floor, still not making eye contact with you. you felt your heart drop suddenly and the familiar prickle hitting your eyes. you had felt so secure just moments ago, so comfortable, now you just felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. you were embarrassed over the fact that this was all a shock to you.
earlier in the night as you laid naked in her bed you realized you were probably falling in love with her. you thought in that moment as you breathed heavily next to each other that she was feeling the same way. now come to find out that she was probably already planning on ending it then. the sex that you thought was the start of something deeper was just her final goodbye to you, that’s why it felt so fucking good.
looking at her now with her body slumped over in tiredness you thought back to the way she phrased it. “we should call it” as if it was a group effort. as if she wasn’t the one dumping you. you had been dumped once before and they had used the same phrasing that she did. that first time you begged and pleaded with them to reconsider. you cried at their feet begging for one more chance, willing them to change their mind and stay. as you stared at ellie’s slouched over frame you remembered the painful embarrassment you felt begging for someone who didn’t want you back.
that bitter memory is what stopped the tears from falling out of your eyes. you let out a hardened sigh and stood up from the couch. “okay, if that’s what you want,”
ellie looked up suddenly, shocked by the casualty of your tone. she was bracing herself for the screaming, the last thing she ever expected from you was compliance. she had completed this cycle with girls before and the fallout was always a mix of yelling and lots of tears, a few had even thrown things. she could have sworn she heard your voice wavering just moments ago but now you seemed fine.
“what?” she questioned. genuinely not prepared for this level of calm.
“I said okay? if that’s what you want I can’t change that,” she was looking at you closely now. your face was hard but not necessarily mad. you looked like an entirely different person than the girl that was laughing on her bed just an hour before. the you standing in front of her now looked miles away.
once you realized she wasn’t saying anything else you began collecting your things you had left around her apartment. in your last breakup amongst the crying and dramatics you had left your favorite hoodie there and you didn’t want that to happen again. ellie followed you to the doorway of her bedroom where you were now grabbing your belongings, her eyes following you still in shock. you felt satisfaction from the way you were rattling her but most of you was just moving on autopilot, shutting your feelings off until you were away from her apartment and could finally burst.
once you had shoved everything of yours into a bag you made your way to the door. as your hand was on the knob you felt ellie’s on your shoulder, the feeling of her touch grounding you back into what was happening, causing your body to stiffen.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. you were feeling it all now, the weight of it was starting to crush you and you feared if you turned to face her you would start crying for real that time. so instead of replying you opened the door and left, letting out heavy sobs as you walked to your car.
ellie stood at the doorway for a while after you left, mulling over everything that had just happened. she knew this was her ideal scenario. she could never have dreamed of a smoother break. especially when she knew you were both starting to develop intense feelings for each other, which was the reason she ended things in the first place. she knew she should feel relief now but the look on your face was haunting her. she realized then that she had taken away your softness. instead of feeling the freedom she desired she now felt an insurmountable wave of guilt.
—
over a month after you and ellie’s breakup, if you could even call it that, you now find yourself sitting on a couch at a crowded house party flirting with a random girl. you had wallowed in the pain of ellie ending things for a solid two weeks and had recently decided you finally needed to get back to being a functioning member of society. after your last break up you didn’t go out for six months afterwards and you were determined to break that cycle.
so now here you were in your little black dress and denim jacket listening to this girl talk about a concert she had just gone too while you made prolonged and flirty eye contact with her. this was new territory since in all of your past relationships you tended to be the girl blabbering away about something instead of being the one pretending to listen. this time around you were going to make sure you wouldn’t be the one getting naively attached.
ellie stood sourly outside of the party dreading whatever would meet her behind those doors. dina had practically forced her to come out tonight and she had absolutely no desire to be there. she expected herself to resume her usual role in casual hookup culture but something had been stopping her.
she had decided to end things with you when one day she realized you were the first thing she thought of when she woke up in the morning. it was a random tuesday and when she checked the clock she remembered you said you had class at that time. that immediate correlation to you was such a foreign feeling that it terrified her. she wasn’t used to caring for anyone but herself and hadn’t been in a long time. she found herself missing the comfortableness of fucking someone and never calling them again. she assumed that's what she’d be doing after you left her apartment that night but found she couldn’t.
in the month that you’d been apart she had done the unthinkable for her. she found herself drafting texts to you and not sending them. she hovered over your number multiple times toying with the thought of calling you but never doing it. she even made it a habit of stalking your instagram. she saw one night you went to a club with your friends and she felt strangely nauseous. she hated it. she hated being the stalker when she was so used to being the one being stalked. it made her loathe you and miss you all the same.
she finally made her way into the house immediately heading towards the liquor table. she knew she needed to alter her brain chemistry quickly if she was ever gonna make it through the night. after downing a drink she turned her head to look for dina and suddenly heard a sound she was all too familiar with.
you were still sitting on the couch but now you were just centimeters away from the random girl. you let out a loud giggle over something she said but you weren’t sure if you actually thought it was funny or if you just wanted to get in her pants. the answer to that question didn’t really matter because you suddenly felt her hand resting on your leg and knew you had succeeded. she slowly leans towards the side of your face adjusting your hair to whisper in your ear “I’m gonna get us some more drinks”
you smile softly at her and nod your head as she rises towards the kitchen. your eyes trail her hungrily when suddenly she brushes past a figure that quickly catches your attention. ellie's standing there tightly gripping her red solo cup staring at you. her jaw is lightly clenched in the way it does when she's mad but trying not to show it. you feel your posture stiffen from it’s previously relaxed position and all the carefree charisma you had been trying to channel all night is instantly sucked out of you.
after a minute of intense eye contact she begins making her way to the couch. your fight or flight kicks in and suddenly you began pulling yourself off of it. you instantly don't care at all about the cute girl in the kitchen pouring you a drink, you want to get out of there now. ellie picks up on your movement and begins following you outside. after making your way through the house you realize you won't be able to get away from her without causing a scene so you eventually decide to just stop in a more reserved part of the backyard, landing the two of you under an oak tree.
“what do you want?” you immediately ask her as soon as she reaches you. the tone of your voice isn't mad, just tired, and it kills her. she would rather you be angry, she wants you to be angry. she just stands for a while trying to think of what to say
“I just… I just wanted to talk,” she finally settles on. she knows it sounds lame but it's the truth. you sigh in resignation, leaning your back against the trunk of the tree while she figures out what to say to you. she isn't used to chasing people and doesn't know how to do it without sounding like a desperate loser. before she ended things you seemed to always be at her beck and call, now you want nothing to do with her. she leans her hand on the wood next to your shoulder, staring down at you before she speaks again, your eyes shifting downward in response, trying to avoid any level of intimacy with her you can. “I guess I just miss you and I want to see how you’re doing,”
you let out a dry laugh which catches her off guard. you finally look up at her and see her eyebrows furrowed in confusion which starts to bring some of your anger to the surface. “I’m doing great ellie. actually I was doing amazing till you decided to interrupt my night with this stupid conversation,” your tone now annoyed as opposed to your indifference from earlier.
“yeah it sure looked like you were having fun in there,” she replies harshly as her jaw tightens like it did earlier when she was watching you.
“what the fuck are you you talking about?” you snap, now staring directly in her eyes. you see in your peripheral vision a couple from a few feet away begin to stare but you're getting too heated to care.
“I heard your fake little laugh from the kitchen. were you gonna fuck her and then fake an orgasm too?” she's inching closer to you now, her grip tightening on the tree.
“are you seriously jealous right now? you realize you’re the one who dumped me, right?” you feel like your head is gonna explode in frustration. you had spent weeks trying to get over her and now she has the audacity to be angry about it.
“which clearly didn’t matter to you at all. does that girl in there know how emotionally closed off you are?” she pushes, remembering how distant you looked standing in front of her in her living room that day.
“are you fucking kidding me? do you realize how insane it is to be upset at someone for not crying when you dump them? have you lost your fucking mind?” you're fully yelling now, not caring about the people around the yard sneaking glances at the two of you. “and if anyone is emotionally unavailable it’s you. I should never have started something with you in the first place,”
ellie knows she's in the wrong. she knows everything you're saying is valid and she has no right to be talking to you right now. she should be leaving you alone to get over her but instead she wants to get under your skin some more and eventually beneath your clothes. she’s quiet for a moment, giving you time to calm down. she’s still staring down at you now watching the way your chest rises and falls as with your breaths you try to calm yourself down.
“look I know I'm a piece of shit, alright?” you roll your eyes at her, adjusting yourself into a cross armed position.
“I’m glad we’re in agreement ellie. are we done here?” you begin to straighten yourself to walk away when she pushes her other hand on the tree, closing you in. you'd normally freak out and push past her but something about her movements are weirdly gentle and the tequila shots you had taken earlier are starting to lower your guard.
“I treated you like shit and I regret it. just let me make it up to you okay?” you're staring up at her through your eyelashes now in a slight pout. your face looks so gentle that she moves to brush a lock of hair out of your face. you hate yourself for it but you lean into her touch. you know her words mean nothing and could never mend everything that happened between you two. but it's late, you're lonely, and you highly doubt that girl would still be inside if you push ellie away.
before you can stop yourself you're grabbing ellie by the back of her neck and kissing her. it takes her no time to kiss back, quickly grabbing your waist and pushing the two of you up against the oak. as her hands explored your sides you feel all the self respect and awareness leave your body. you're no longer acknowledging how gravely stupid you're acting and instead are focusing on how good it feels when she kisses your neck.
as she inches her hands past your dress and up your thighs suddenly the reality sets it, you're very much still in public. you look over her shoulder and quickly realize the people who had seen you screaming at each other moments ago can most definitely still see you now. you quickly push her off of you, readjusting your clothes as she stares at you in confusion. when you're done fixing yourself you point to the rest of the back yard in explanation.
she groans a little and you almost want to laugh at how frustrated she looks, her expression the same as a petulant child when you take away their favorite toy. you gently pull at her shirt and whisper “let’s just go back to your place,”
–
ellie has never been more happy to be sober as she drives you two back to her apartment in your car, a possessive hand resting on your upper thigh as she steers. the reality of what you're doing was starting to set in during the 15 minute drive. you think about telling her just to drive you home multiple times but when you go to stare at her the sight of her makes the words hang vacant in your mouth. why does she have to be so attractive?
she finds herself also sneaking glances at you during the ride. she didn't realized till then how much she missed the simplicity of your presence in the passenger seat. when you two were together previously you didn’t exactly go out on dates or anything. a typical night for you two was driving to a fast food place, fighting over the aux, making out in her car, going back to her place, smoking a little, and then ending off the night fucking. as much as she hated to admit it in the month you were apart she found herself longing for that routine again.
when you reach her apartment building as she moves to exit the car you feel yourself lingering in your seat for longer, contemplating stopping this for the last time. you stare up at the gray brick of her complex and remember how alone you felt exiting her building that day, your tears dampening the clothes you had taken back from her. although this memory should be be a reminder of how she hurt you, instead it makes you get up from your seat. you don't want that to be the last memory you had of here.
you make your way through the empty common place and soon reach her elevator. as soon as the metal doors shut her lips are on yours. you feel the cool metal of the elevator’s handrails pressing into your back as she pushes her body towards you. her hands are in your hair lightly tugging at the back of your head as you grasp onto her neck, wrapping your legs around hers. you hear the ding of the doors and she quickly grabs your hand to lead you to her place.
as soon as you're in her apartment doors she's pushing you towards the couch, articles of clothing coming off of the both of you as you make your way to the plush cushions. you're staring up at her the top half of you naked as she’s removing her shirt when the irony sets in. she's about to fuck you on the couch she had just dumped you on
you move to inch the rest of your dress which is gathered at your hips down when you feel her tug it off of you in one fast movement. she watches as your chest rises and falls once again but this time in anticipation. she quickly grips the back of the couch above you as she begins spreading your legs apart with one hand. you gasp as she reaches your panties, rubbing slow circles into them as she plants heavy kisses onto your neck.
after a few seconds your gasps intensify and she begins pulling the fabric down your legs, leaving your bottom half completely bare for her. your eyes grip shut in pleasure and shyness as she brings her hand back up against you. you feel her stop suddenly as she uses the hand previously resting on the couch to bring your face towards her.
“look up at me,” she firmly whispers as she resumes rubbing into you, her calloused fingers brushing up against your clit as you writhe in pleasure, now staring into her green heavy eyes. you feel her fingers slide into you slowly, quickening pace as you moan beneath her. your eyes follow her as she lowers herself towards you, using her other hand to grip your hips which were now moving with her fingers. you feel your orgasm beginning to build as she starts using her thumb to rub circles against your clit.
as you reach your peak you finally allow yourself to close your eyes, riding the high against her long fingers you had been fantasizing about since you saw her gripping her cup earlier in the night. once you finish she slowly pulls out of you, admiring you as you pant against her couch cushions. once your euphoria wears off theres an awkward pause. I should probably go.
“I-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by one of her hands raking through your hair, which was now slightly damp with sweat.
“let’s go to my bed i wanna taste you,” she whispers and then pushes herself off the couch towards her bedroom. fuck it
you follow
–
you awake the next morning and the only word that comes to your mind is fuck. you're laying completely bare and under ellie’s sheets, her back turned against you in a peaceful slumber.
why the fuck did i do that? what is wrong with me?
as you contemplate just how little self respect you seem to have you feel her shift beside you, facing you with a light smile. you hate how good she always looks in the mornings.
“morning,” she mumbles against your shoulder sleepily. you need to get out of there now. after a few moments you begin to sit up, gripping the sheets around your chest as you try to recall where you had flung all your clothes the night before. she's more awake now and staring at you.
“what’s up? do you wanna get bagels from that place across the street?” she asks, still examining your facial expressions trying to read what they mean. you used to go the bagel place all the time when you would stay at her place.
“ellie no,” you reply, rising from her bed and making your way towards the living room in search of your clothes. she quickly follows, throwing on a large shirt she had laying on the floor of her bedroom as she watches you in amusement while you're picking up your garments one by one across her apartment.
“why not?” she muses, the casualty of her voice driving you insane.
“because. this isn’t a thing,” you say, quickly throwing on your clothes and gesturing between the two of you. “this won’t happen again,”
“why not? you seemed to enjoy it last night?”
“that’s besides the point okay,” you snap back in exasperation, now frustrated and trying to find one of your shoes. “you’re not good for me. no actually you’re not good enough for me,”
“and why is that?” she asks, not offended in the slightest bit which makes you even more angry.
“you fucking know why. you never have been. this has never been more than sex to you and i'm tired of it,” you spit out as you finally grab the missing shoe. that last part makes ellie pause. deep down she knows it's not just sex for her, and in fucked up way she's glad that you haven't picked up on that yet.
“oh don’t act like you’re above that, were you ever gonna talk to that girl you were all over on the couch last night or does the line only draw at casual sex when it comes to me?” she snaps back at you, no longer amused by the back and forth between you.
she's right, you weren’t planning on ever seeing that girl again. but what she didn’t realize was the fact that you were acting that way because of her. how could you be expected to commit to something when your last fling disposed of you like you were nothing?
“I’m leaving now. please don’t text me,”
she rolls her eyes at you as you make your way towards her door. “yeah sure. I’ll see you soon,”
you slam the door in her face, knowing it's probably true.
PART TWO
#Spotify#ellie x reader#ellie x reader smut#ellie smut#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x f!reader#ellie fanfiction#ellie williams fanfic#ellie fanfic#ellie the last of us#ellie x y/n#tlou2 ellie#ellie williams x you#tlou ellie#ellie x you#ellie tlou#tlou smut#modern!ellie williams#modern au#college!ellie williams#college!au#mean!ellie williams#toxic!ellie#lgbtq#lesbian#wlw
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Use me as a cushion
Hello!
I received some requests for fictions with other people than Ona, so here I am trying with Alexia!
It's fluff, literally pure fluff.
I hope you will like it! As always, the reviews are much appreciated :)
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The situation of the Spanish women’s football team was no longer to be explained. After the forced departures of Vilda and the president of the Federation, the fight was far from over. While you naively thought you were going to have a break, you were all summoned to the national team despite the various statements you made.
Like all the others players of the team, you were forced to show up, participate in a few mediation sessions while following the usual training. You were exausted, all of you.
But you know that your girlfriend is even more than you are.
Alexia, as captain of the team, participated in many more discussions than all of you put together. In addition to everything else, she's the team’s anchor for everyone. The one you can rely on, the one you can count on. And it was true, she takes that role to perfection. Like everything she does, in your opinion (not quite impartial tho).
But over the days, you saw her fatigue increase and her condition deteriorate a little more. You told Ona about it, knowing that your girlfriend trusted her completely and that she wasn’t the type to talk further. You were scared for her, scared that she hurt herself on training because of the level of her tiredness.
Ona advised you to continue doing what you knew how to do best with Alexia, to be there for her and take care of her. Even if you don’t feel like it’s a big deal, you naturally planned a small schedule for Alexia tonight.
So here you are, waiting for you girlfriend to come back from an other discussion with some thinking heads of the Federation. You hate them, all of them.
Your game against Switzerland is in two days and you already are in Sevilla. Even if you're together since like a year, you weren't always set up in the same room. Luckily, Alexia found herself alone in her room, allowing you to join her there without disturbing anyone.
Even if it means you two end up in a single bed. You don't mind tho, having a good reason to sleep on the top of your girlfriend all night long.
Lying on Alexia’s bed, you look again at the time on the screen of your phone while continuing to play the mobile game you downloaded. Sighing, you roll sideways, allowing yourself to smell Alexia’s shampoo on her pillow. It's almost 23:00 and still not any sign fo Alexia. Chewing your lips, you hesitate to send her a message but then you heard the door open quietly.
You sit up immediatly, startled Alexia.
"Madre mia" she huffs with her hand on her heart. "What are you doing here? You should be sleeping"
She frowns while gently scolding you, but you make your way to her to hug her. You smile while she melt in your arms, caressing her back tenderly with your fingertips. Alexia is strong, everybody can see that. Everybody know that. But knowing that she trusts you enough to let it go with you is in your eyes the greatest proof of love she can give you.
"I can't sleep without my goodnight kiss" you point.
She smiles and kiss you softly, but you don't leave anyway. Like you said, you have plans for her.
"Did you eat?" you ask her as she takes off her shoes, dropping them to the ground with a thud.
"Not really" she sights "but it's to late anyway"
You roll your eyes before turning on the table behind you. You ordered a meal an hour ago and asked them to find you something to keep it warm. You were pretty sure that she will come back to late to ask the kitchen to make her something.
"What is it?" she asks, approaching the table with curiosity.
Her face lit up when she lifts the lid and you can’t help but smile back. You promised yourself, if Alexia is everyone’s crutch, you’ll be hers.
"Tortilla de patatas" she smiles.
"Con tomato, as you like. Not sure if it will be as good as your Mama's tho"
You shrugs but Alexia made her way towards you to take you in her arms. The hug was longer than before and you play with her hair for a while.
"Thank you" she whispers in your neck before moving back a few centimeters. "But you really should have sleeping"
You roll your eyes once again, before you made her a little smirk.
"If you insist I can go back sleeping with Claudia"
You were teasing, Alexia knew it. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here with her.
"Not funny" she pouts anyway.
You smile again and point to the plate that has still not been touched.
"Why don't you eat while I run you a bath?"
Alexia seems to think a few moments, hesitating between going to eat or spending some time with you. It’s hard to have moments just for you these last few days.
"With bubbles?"
"With bubbles" you answer, laughing at her baby voice.
Letting her eat, you went to the bathroom and do what you said. Waiting for the tub to be full, you get lost in your thoughts for longs minutes, contemplating the foam mix with the hot water. You were pretty tired yourself, but Alexia goes first. You need to take care of her.
You don’t hear her coming into the room though, making you jump slightly when she passes her arms around your waist. You let her lean into your neck, shivering when you feel her smell you.
"How can I thank you enought Amor?"
You turn around in her arms and put your hands around your neck.
"Your love is more than I can wish for"
The kiss she gives you this time is breathtaking. It's like you can feel the love and the recognition she feels for your actions. When the kiss ends, both of you looking for air, she strokes your nose with hers.
"Come with me?"
"Nah, tonight it's all about you"
She pouts again and you bite your lips. She knows that you can't resist her when she does this. And you know that she knows. And she knows that you know that she knows.
"Come on! If it's for me you can be my personnal cushion?"
You laugh at her antics and just give up. Who could deny this to the love of his life?
"Ok, but only because you will use me as a cushion."
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After the almost end of the world, Steve tells Eddie that he can have a shower first.
It feels surreal that they’ve both made it here—that Eddie is standing in his hallway, leaving mud stains on the floor from his boots: remnants of The Upside Down mixed with normal dirt.
Steve almost wants to ask if he can walk around some more, create countless marks as proof of his existence; hell, even take his hand and run it down the beige walls.
Leave a trail, Steve thinks, through a fog of complete and utter exhaustion. So I know it’s real. So I can find my way back to you.
What he says instead is, “Try not to get your dressings wet.”
Eddie pauses on the stairs. Smiles. “Okay, nurse,” he says, and it’s a gentle tease if anything, his voice softened by tiredness.
He’s holding himself a little stiffly while turned to speak, his upper body almost at an angle.
Steve thinks about the jagged line down his side (“If the bats died, like, ten seconds later, you’d have—you asshole,” Dustin had rambled through tears, thumping Eddie on the arm); how Eddie had narrowly avoided a hospital stay. Thinks of the way Eddie tried to reassure Dustin, fiddling with the guitar pick hanging around his neck in a show of nonchalance—but Steve still saw how his hand shook.
“Guess I’m just a lucky son of a bitch, huh, Henderson?”
It shouldn’t have been luck; it should have been a guarantee. Steve should have ensured it.
Eddie makes his way upstairs with slow, heavy footsteps. Steve waits until he can hear the water running, then heads to the phone.
He’s used to this routine by now. Robin and Nancy first, as he knows they’ll pick up rather than their parents.
“Oh, thank god,” Robin had said when she answered the phone after Starcourt. “I thought it was a horrible dream.”
“Thank god?” Steve echoed, laughing.
“Yeah,” Robin said, quite seriously. “It was either I dreamed up everything alone, or we saw it all together.”
And Steve, touched beyond words, had called her a dingus instead.
Tonight, their phone call is much quieter.
“I’m home,” Robin says. “I love you.”
Steve’s hand clenches around the phone. “Love you too,” he whispers, and he ignores the warning sting in his eyes, because he doesn’t have time to—he still has so much left to…
“I’m home,” Nancy says. She adds, “Get some sleep, Steve,” in the fatigued tones of someone who will not be taking their own advice.
Eddie comes downstairs sometime during Steve’s phone call with Mr and Mrs Sinclair. He’s quiet; the only sign that alerts Steve to his presence is the faint smell of mint body wash.
When Steve hangs up, he has to take a breath, still clinging to the phone pointlessly.
“What are you doing?” Eddie asks quietly.
Steve breathes out. “Checking in,” he says.
He dials another number.
It began after Starcourt, the Sinclairs having bought the excuse that Steve had been trapped with Erica in a broken down elevator as the ‘fire’ began—technically true, Steve had thought, just in the wrong order.
Their conversation had been all anxious tones, all, You were there, Steve, what exactly…? Should we be worried that…?
And he gets good at it, at bridging the gap between worlds: keeping the full truth from parents, but giving them just enough information, little things that go beyond the surface level cover story, that somehow help put their mind at ease—cultivating the sense that Steve is the witness, the one being honest with them.
Christ, he’s tired.
The call with Max’s mom is hard. She’s still at the hospital, and technically there’s nothing to really worry about (Max’s arm had a clean break), but that doesn’t change how it all felt, how she shook with pained sobs as Steve tucked her into his side.
“She’s sleeping now. She said you were with her,” Susan tells him, voice low. “Steve, I’m—I’m so grateful.”
But I wasn’t, Steve thinks. Not when it mattered.
He doesn’t realise that he’s still holding the phone after the call has ended until Eddie takes it from him and puts it back in the cradle.
“Hey, can I, uh, use the phone? Wanna call my uncle,” Eddie says.
Steve doesn’t mention the fact that Eddie has already spoken with his uncle, that Steve had overheard him fighting tears in the hospital as he called the plant where his uncle was still working: because even the earthquake-like rumble felt all over town as Henry Creel died wasn’t enough of an excuse to warrant clocking out early.
“Pretend I’m s-someone else calling,” Eddie had whispered, his voice breaking. “Wayne, I-I’m okay. Got stitches, but I’m okay. Fuck. I love you.”
And Steve tried not to think about how it could’ve so easily been him making the call, telling Wayne Munson that his nephew will never come home again.
Eddie pauses, hand hovering over the phone. Then he twirls his index finger in a little circle: turn around.
Steve does. Can’t find the energy to smile.
“Shower,” Eddie says, then taps him very gently on the back, once, twice, like he’s saying off you go.
Steve manages to twist his body so his own fresh bandages don’t get wet, carefully tilting the shower head away from them. He methodically washes away the dirt; the heat of the water is welcome, but it also seems to weigh down his limbs with every drop.
When he goes back downstairs, Eddie is on the phone. He keeps repeating vague little mm-hmm sounds, and Steve somehow is sure that he isn’t on the phone to his uncle.
“Yeah,” Eddie says as Steve approaches. “Yeah, he’s here.”
There’s a little side table next to the phone; Eddie reaches for the notepad, scribbles, then turns it round so Steve can see.
Dustin’s mom
And Steve…
He knows he should talk to her. He knows Claudia will no doubt have questions, even if Dustin’s probably already given his own half-baked explanation about how he hurt his leg—“It’s just a sprain,” he’d insisted, even as Steve hoisted him up, took all of his weight.
The right thing to do, surely, is take the phone from Eddie.
But Steve suddenly can’t bring himself to even lift his hand for it. He feels drained, feels vulnerable and exposed after the shower—that along with the grime being lifted from his skin, it’s also left his stupidly fragile, exhausted heart on show.
Eddie’s eyes flicker over his face like he can see it, see everything, and without so much as an awkward pause, he murmurs into the receiver, “He’s tired. Yeah, he’s—he’s okay. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Yeah, I will.”
He hesitates for a moment, a fleeting sheen to his eyes, and then he says, “Thank you. Goodnight, Mrs Henderson.” Another little pause. He smiles, adds, “Goodnight, Claudia,” and hangs up the phone.
“Is she… okay?” Steve asks. “What did she—is Dustin—”
“All good,” Eddie says. “She was just… checking in.”
The checking you were okay goes unsaid, but Steve can still hear it.
It weighs him down like the shower had done. He doesn’t register that he crosses through to the living room, just knows that he’s suddenly sinking down onto the arm of the couch, that Eddie is sitting next to him.
Steve doesn’t consciously decide to speak, the words tumbling out of him like it’s inevitable.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mumbles.
He can practically hear Eddie frantically trying to make sense of what he’s said.
“Well, yeah, no plan’s gonna go perfectly, man, that’d be—but, hey, we fuckin’ made it, we—”
But Steve is shaking his head. “No, I… I thought I’d figured it out, I—”
He doesn’t know how to explain it; it’s too much to…
It’s something too big to put into words.
The fact that, as Nancy relayed each phase of the plan, he had listened closely, only agreed because at least he was in the group that would be closest to the ‘blast zone.’
That he’d hated leaving Lucas, Max and Erica alone, but had tried to reassure himself that at least they weren’t in The Upside Down.
That once Dustin knew where Steve was going, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, that he’d follow him to The Upside Down no matter what.
And, honestly, Steve would’ve preferred Eddie not getting dragged into this bullshit for any longer than he needed to be—that if it was feasible, Steve would’ve just told him to take the RV and run.
But Steve had seen how he was with Dustin, roughhousing in the grass. Knew that where Dustin went, Eddie would follow, too—a shield in his hand.
And Steve also knew something along those lines was true for him and Robin: that if he thought he could get away with it, he would’ve told her to watch over the kids at the Creel House, but knew she’d choose to be with him.
That all he could feel about going into Henry Creel’s lair himself was relief—not because he thought he was an essential part in all of this, but because he just…
He needed to be there. Just in case.
Because there was a look in Nancy’s eyes that terrified him. It said that if she had to, she’d die with Henry Creel, so long as it would all be over, so long as Barb would be avenged.
Out loud, all he can say is, “It… it was too close.”
“Steve,” Eddie says. “No-one got—”
“You’re not listening,” Steve says, and there’s a scream in his throat begging to be released; he doesn’t let it go. “It was too—I almost—almost had to—”
“Steve.”
“S-someone’s gotta call home,” Steve goes on. “And I—fuck, I was so scared I’d h-have to—to tell them that—”
“Steve,” Eddie whispers.
“But I-I would’ve,” Steve says. His voice cracks. “I couldn’t have just—they would’ve got a-answers, I would’ve—”
“I know,” Eddie says softly, and he’s got a hand in Steve’s hair suddenly, guiding him to his shoulder. “I know you’d—hey, I’ve got you. I know.”
The first sob, when it starts, hurts—feels like it comes straight from his stomach. Eddie holds him through it, almost like he’s afraid Steve might drift away to some unreachable place.
“I’ve got you,” he keeps saying. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
When it’s over, when Steve gives a final, shuddering breath against Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie murmurs into his hair, “S’too late for any more phone calls, Steve. C’mon. Show me where to sleep?”
It’s not even all that big of a thing, when Steve leads Eddie to his bedroom, lies down on the farthest side of the bed. Leaves deliberate space.
“You don’t have to—there’s a guest room,” Steve says, tongue thick with exhaustion. “Don’t wanna—kinda worried I’ll hit your dressings in my sleep.”
Eddie looks at him from the doorway. “You’ve been patched up too, Steve,” he points out.
Steve shrugs.
Eddie steps into the room. “It’ll be fine,” he says, smiling. “We’ll both be gentle, huh?”
Steve nods through a yawn. When Eddie makes to shut the door, he says, “Don’t, leave it open. Just—just in case the phone… I’ll sleep right through it otherwise.”
Eddie’s still touching the door handle. “D’you trust me?”
Steve’s eyes keep closing against his will. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I trust you.”
Eddie shuts the door so quietly that it barely makes a sound. “Okay. ‘Cause I have, like, freakishly good hearing.” Through his lashes, Steve sees Eddie smirk wryly. “Like a bat.”
Steve thinks he makes a noise of acknowledgement—isn’t quite sure as his eyes have closed.
He feels Eddie lie down next to him, feels the covers being drawn up.
“I’ll hear the phone,” Eddie says. “I’ll answer it, ‘kay? I’ll come wake you up, if I need to.”
A gentle hand on Steve’s forearm.
“Promise,” Eddie says.
Steve breathes in. Out.
“Okay,” he replies, and he falls asleep completely: not needing to stay half-awake, not needing to pick up the phone—not needing to do anything at all.
#in which Steve can both be self sacrificial and still worry about anyone else being self sacrificial 💔#steve harrington fic#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#steve and nancy#steve and robin#steve and the party#eddie and claudia#steve and claudia#steddie
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Late night halloween interruptions
Yoo Jimin x Producer!reader
Synopsis: being one of Aespa’s main producers and songwriters meant having to work restlessly to deliver the best track of the year— even if it meant sacrificing a Halloween night out. however, focusing on work turns out to be rather difficult when a certain blonde idol keeps distracting you from your goals.
Warnings: smut, nsfw
Word count: 2.9k
Notes: you better wish I have a great fckn test thursday and friday. plus I didn’t proofread it and I WILL NOT. I still stuck at writing smut and I’m angry. also happy early halloween <3 blonderina lives forever in my mind and now in yours, too. ps: this was originally dom!reader but I changed my mind so it’s just a mess.
You were busy with the computer in front of you when you heard the click of the door, despite your heavy headphones. The soft, almost unnoticeable sound made you turn your chair to face the stranger who disturbed your work and dared to annoy you long after your work hours, late at night at the firm.
It wasn’t a total stranger, though. Staring back at you was Yoo Jimin, looking as angelic as always with her plump, rosy lips and porcelain skin. She had a sneaky smile on her face, tracing your desk with her featherlight fingers as she looked for any signs of dust.
“What do you want, Karina?” Your words came out harsh, unlike you intended to, but you still didn’t apologize. You could feel the tiredness wearing down your bones, the disturbance reminding you of the reason you were up so late in one of the company’s many music studios in the first place: so you wouldn’t be bothered at all.
Yet, she found you. You didn’t expect any less, with Karina hunting you down ever since she first laid her eyes on you, the day you were announced as one of the songwriters and record producers for the group’s latest comeback. Being only four years older, your lack of age made it easy to bond with all the girls: it gave them confidence to join in the making of their songs, too, getting deeply involved in the whole process of their comeback. The four band members trusted you and loved having you around, confiding their feelings and running to you whenever they felt bad or insecure. They all looked up to you— you knew it as much, and because of that, you were always pushing yourself to be the best, hardworking version of yourself you could.
Which was why you were always making sure to listen to their wishes and give them feedbacks on their ideas, so they’d grow as idols and song producers. You might not be as old in age as most of the producers in the industry, but you’ve already had your handful of successful collabs with well-known artists who did nothing but essentially praise you: you were skilled, and knew what you were doing, so it was only natural you exchanged some of your experiences with the girls.
Nonetheless, said closeness allowed the blonde girl to often stare at you like you were the only possible prey for a wolf who’s never eaten in its entire existence. Provocative dances, gifting your coffee orders each morning, stupid questions that kept you busy with her for hours, when you should be working… She certainly made your life difficult, toying with you while you tried as hard as you could not to indulge the idol. It was forbidden for employees to hook up with the company’s celebrities, after all, and you couldn’t risk losing your job.
“Good night to you, too, Y/n.” She greeted you, eyes darting around the place attentively. To make sure you were alone, most certainly. Jimin’s eyes lit up when her assumptions turned out right, happy to see you weren’t hiding some low-class hookup in the room. No, she’d have none of that. “I was just looking for you. You’re missing from the party.”
SM’s traditional Halloween party, currently happening many levels down the recording and mixing room, was one of the many fancy ballrooms hosted by the company at any given chance with intents to show off its supremacy and, of course, hegemony in the musical field. Your friends and coworkers tried getting you to attend multiple times, but you had shrugged them off. You liked hanging out with them, naturally, but not enough to put on a stupid costume and make small talk with preposterous, shallow people for hours straight. So you denied all the invites, knowing your presence wouldn’t be missed at all: they knew how to party by themselves, beyond everything.
As Karina reminded you of the current event, you took some time to take a proper look at her. Wearing a corset that enunciated her curves and the traditional red cape, along with heavy, black makeup contrasting perfectly with her long, blonde hair, Karina was impeccably dressed as Red Riding Hood. She’d even brought the damn basket with her, currently left hanging in the corner of the room.
She’d grown accustomed to the idol life, you noticed as the blonde stared at you with delight and confidence, certainly not innocent nor shy anymore as when she met you, nearly two years ago.
The old Karina would never wear such a thing. It made her stand out too much, and she loathed it, to have all of the attention and the stares focused solely on her. You still remember that same girl at last year’s Halloween party: dressed as a witch, wearing one of Minjeong’s old costumes, observing the older subaenims and idols with curious, scared doe eyes. Innocent, even.
And the young woman who looked at you like she was ready to devour you whole was anything but.
Karina didn’t mind your lack of manners, though. Leaning on your mixing table as if she owned it, she tried again, “Aren’t you coming to the party? Really? Come on, it’s Halloween! Don’t be so boring and live life for once, for God’s sake.”
You scoffed, coughing hard enough that you had to take a sip of your water to cool yourself, “The party’s for idols and shareholders.”
“And employees too, silly head.” She answered just as quickly, with a broad smile, dismissing all the dryness in your tone. This time, the look in her eyes reminded you of the Karina she truly was: tender, cautious, almost delicate. “I have a spare outfit, in case you want to keep the theme. You’d be the wolf, then.”
You turned your computer off, narrowing your eyes at her. Her intentions weren’t subtle: it was just as clear as clear water for anyone to see, but you couldn’t help it. You just had to have her begging.
For months, you’ve imagined what those pretty lips would look like all messed up with your juices, bruised from your bites and kisses. The thought of it being forbidden only fuels you with the need to ruin her even more. It makes you itch with how much you want to carve your name onto her skin, leaving her as nothing but a whimpering mess until no one— not even herself, could please her anymore. Only you would be capable of bringing her over the edge, from then. Your most feverish wish was to ruin her for anyone else.
You wouldn’t do it, though. It was forbidden, as said before, and you could lose your job for that. So, naturally, you wouldn’t.
She was fucking testing you, though.
“What do you want, Karina?” You repeated yourself, tone incisive, and yet she didn’t let go.
She was having fun with her girls before searching for you. It was her first year attending the party as an official idol, just as she’d always dreamed of. Nothing would piss her off, and she would get what she wanted.
And currently, what she wanted was to have the pretty producer everyone was whispering about around the hallways all to herself.
“It’s Jimin to you, Y/n.” She mumbled, brushing her legs over your arms. Her touch was gentle and patient, making you close your hands into fists to avoid pulling her by the ankles and taking her right in the mixing table. “And I just wanted to check if you wanted to have fun.”
“And it is unnie for you, dearest.” You reminded her, making the girl roll her eyes. She always made sure to forget to use honorifics when alone with you. “I am your producer, darling.” You added, pushing your chair a bit further and managing to keep some distance between the two of you. “So drop whatever plans you have and find someone else to toy with. I’m not falling for it, baby.”
No matter how desperately you wanted to bend her over the table and fuck her senseless.
Your words made her irritated, with Karina’s angelic face furrowing into an angry pout, as it often did when people didn’t immediately indulge her wishes.
A Spoiled princess, indeed.
“Come on, drop that superior shit.” She rolled her eyes, laying on her elbows without a care about the number of electronics placed over the mixing table. The angle favored her costume, and her perfect breasts, just as intended. You gulped, trying hard not to stare, knowing you’d be doomed if you did.
It was nearly impossible, though. To not drop to your knees and immediately indulge to all her wishes. Karina had always had this sweet, dangerous nature: with light kisses and faked innocency, she toyed with people as she wanted, making them give her it all, which they’d always gladly do. How could they not? When she was so polite and attentive, making sure to pay attention to whatever shit they were saying as if it were the most interesting matter in the world.
You know her better than that, though. Better than to participate in her game, no matter how fucking hot she looked.
You’ve always been told it was hard to know what went through your mind, since your face was always blank and serious, almost disinterested. Taking advantage of that, you smiled back at the defiant girl in front of you, placing your arms in each of her sides, but careful not to touch her.
The anticipation drove her crazy, you knew that much as you felt her shiver under you.
Karina hated how, at the moment, she was the one who felt like the prey. Although it thrilled her to feel like she was not fully in control of the situation, it also irritated her for a bit. However, she knew she’d get what she wanted in the end, of course, so she didn’t mind playing with her food for a bit.
“What do you want, darling?” You repeated yourself, using the same indulgent tone you do when talking to her and the girls about their new songs.
Patient, sweet, and attentive, just like you were during work hours and outside of them.
“I wanted to know if you were going to have some fun, finally. But I see the years have made you as boring as the others. Come on, unnie! Don’t I look pretty?” She managed to recompose herself, returning your smile with a venomous one.
“I won’t pamper you. If that’s what you want, go to your little followers. They’d be more than happy to tell you lies.” Your face was so close to hers, yet your words stated the opposite of how you felt.
Truthfully, your cunt ached, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid Karina might hear.
That little prey-game aroused you just as much as it did to her. It was a euphoric feeling, one that blew out your pupils and made the blood run through your veins, giving you that good kind of rush. Only Karina could make you feel such emotions without even touching you.
She was fucking gorgeous, and you wanted every single inch of her for yourself.
“So I’m not beautiful tonight?” She batted her lashes, arms resting on her sides like a crystal princess. “I’ve tried my best to look pretty. I’ve always wanted to be Red for Halloween, after all.”
“Do you like to be a prey, Jimin?” You opened a teasing smile, no longer sustaining your uninterested persona. Your fingers teased her collarbone, making the girl drop her head back to appreciate the touch.
You were doomed. Likewise, you knew that the moment she entered the room.
“To be desired.” She corrected, hands comfortably on your arms like she’s been doing this forever. “Chased, even. It’s fun.” She faced you, suddenly serious. “Will we have fun, Y/n-nie?” Those innocent fucking doe eyes of hers, staring expectantly at you.
You sigh, pulling her onto your lap as you inhaled her sickening perfume. Dangerous and sweet, lingering on her skin. You’d soon make it disappear, leaving her whole body drenched in sweat.
Just as she planned for you to.
Grabbing her beautiful corset, you took your time untying the lace before finally looking at her delicate frame.
God, you were going to ruin her little body entirely, until she was writhing and yelling for you to stop. “One time, and one time only. Got it?” She nodded, seaming pleased enough with your answer.
She’d carve her way onto your brain nice and slow, no worries. So, for now, a one-night stand would suffice.
“Just this once.” She hid her face in the crook of your neck, giggling with delight to have her wishes granted.
You finally gave in to your carnal wishes and kissed her, hard and urgently. You’d let her win, just once.
Because it’s Halloween, and she is indeed the most beautiful fucking woman you’ve ever seen.
-
“H-harder, Y/n. Fuck!” Karina moaned loudly, nails scratching your back to the point where thick red lines adorned your whole back. “Deeper, now.”
Like a queen, she demanded, making you roll your eyes. Her face was all fucked out, her hair unraveled and sweaty from the pounding, and she was absolutely sure her hips, ass and thighs would be all bruised from the way you were gripping them, carving the strap onto her as you made Karina your own personal fucktoy.
“You’re sure too demanding for someone someone who was begging to be filled minutes ago.” You taunted, carving yourself into the girl even deeper. Her hands were interlocked on your neck and her legs did the same to your waist, trying to steady herself at the intensity. “You know how much of a whore you are, right? Going up all those floors by yourself with that fucking strap in your basket just so I could have free use of all your holes.”
“Shut up.” She squeezed her eyes, gasping for air as your hands blocked her pulse point, down her neck. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”
You laughed at her brattiness: she’d never give up, truly. Removing your hands from her skin, you opened her thighs so the strap could reach deeper onto her sweet spot— which it clearly did, as Karina announced so herself. Her wetness was nearly drenching the whole table, making the sound of your thrusts even louder as you placed your fingers on her clit, not yet moving but applying just the right amount of pressure.
“Keep acting up and you won’t get to cum.” You told her, your free hand going up to pinch one of her voluptuous breasts. They were so bouncy and pretty, you just wanted to suck and mark them until there was not a visible inch of her milky skin that wasn’t covered in bruises.
Karina opened her dark eyes, being surprisingly gentle as her teeth scratched your lips. She sucked on your lower lip and, before you had any time to acknowledge, she bit it hard. You drew back, surprised, making her laugh.
“Oh, Y/n-nie,” She licked the blood from your lips, smiling at your reaction. With an unfazed gaze, the girl guided your wrist on her clit, urging you to play with it faster and even harder. She gave your cheek a little kiss, too, adding, “You’re damn cute when you think you’re the one in control.”
You hummed, deciding to focus on Karina’s pleasure instead of indulging the silly provocations she so adored to lead on. With that, you did as told, paying extra attention to her little hole as you returned to your pace, circling and toying with the blonde’s swollen sex until her body began to tremble and she collapsed under you, reaching her orgasm unannounced. You fucked her through it, allowing the dancer to gather her breath and enjoy the final hum of sensations.
Even completely flustered, Karina still looked gorgeous: her body all marked and bruised, a piece of art— your art, and her cunt wet and swollen, still all opened and ready for you.
“You look too pretty like this.” You breathed, verbalizing your thoughts before thinking straight, to which she let out a smile, extending her hand so you’d help her hop off the table.
“I know.” The girl playfully winked at you as her arms found your waist, embracing you in an spontaneous hug.
Of course, you should’ve guessed nothing Karina does is ever not carefully planned. In a second, you find yourself sitting on your chair and she was all over you, now taking her turn into marking her territory. Her mouth sucked and nibbled your clavicle until a line of hickeys are proudly shown, along with her scratches. You don’t mind, though. In fact, you love to have her using you as she wishes, her possessiveness heating up your core at each dirty thing she told you.
“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself, too, you know.” Although her tone is light, the murmur that follows is dense and drenched in possessiveness, “We’ll have to fix that, soon. No one can stare at my pretty toy like they currently do.”
“You wish, Karina.”
“I do, my love.” She licked her lips, groping your body like a woman starved. “Now lay down for me, will you? I’m quite hungry, and I need a taste of you.”
You scoffed at her words and the excessive sweetness in her tone, but as always, did as told.
Just for tonight, you reminded yourself. You’d relent to her wishes just for tonight. And only because it was Halloween, and you were working hard. You deserved a treat.
#aespa x you#aespa x fem reader#aespa x reader#aespa smut#aespa scenarios#aespa karina#yoo jimin#karina x reader#karina smut#yu jimin#karina aespa#karina aespa smut#yoo jimin smut#yu jimin smut#yoo jimin x reader#yu jimin x reader#sol writes#sol’s works
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🦌 — aliens exist
summary: some alien!lottie drabbles :3
warnings: fluff, alien!lottie, gn!reader, nsfw themes
you're in the middle of brushing your teeth when you see a flash of blue light up the night sky, and then the sound of something thudding in your backyard.
spitting out the toothpaste and wiping your chin, you curiously walk up to your window and slowly open the curtains. as you look around you see nothing out of the ordinary except for when you see a brown blob run into the shed. you roll your eyes - that damn dog again? you're seriously considering paying your neighbor to have the fence fixed yourself so that mongrel stops shitting in your yard and eating your mother's plants.
you sigh, slipping on some shoes and quietly head towards the back door. you take out your phone and turn on the flashlight, shoulders sagging with tiredness as you approach the shed. you shine light inside, and you drop your phone as you spot an unearthly creature that slightly resembles a woman with antennae poking out of her head.
she curls up into herself like a frightened puppy at your presence, shaking with fear as you move to pick your phone back up. you gawk at her for a moment before stuttering out, feeling as if you're having a fever dream.
"what- who are you?" you ask, making baby steps towards the thing.
her antennas raise in alarm, and you back off, mumbling out an apology as you give her distance. you sit in silence for a moment, pondering what to do. it's not every day that an alien crashes into your backyard.
"can you understand me? what's your name?" you bend down, trying to get on her level to see if that will calm her more.
"lottie."
"hey, listen, uh, lottie," she chirps at you saying her name and her antenna's click together, and you give her a soft smile. "i can sneak you inside but you gotta be quiet, okay?"
the girl gives you an empty look, and you're not even entirely sure she can understand you as you explain that you can help her. she watches as you extend your hand out slowly and she hugs herself tighter, afraid that you're gonna hurt her. she freezes as your hand touches her shoulder and gasps at the contact, immediately melting into the touch as she realizes you're not a threat.
lottie glues herself to your side as you help her up, finding it hard to walk as her feet keep intertwining with yours. you cautiously open the back door and slip inside, trying your best to keep your cool as you walk this alien to your room without alerting your parents. you feel her body hum as she looks around the house, already curious about everything.
once you make it to your room, you look the door and sigh, leaning your head against the door. lottie stands awkwardly next to you and chirps in appreciation, or at least that's what you think it is. you walk her over to your bed and sit her down, raising your arms out as you speak.
"welcome to my humble abode."
lottie sits nice and polite as you set the plate of pancakes in front of her. not to gloat, but they're probably the best ones you've ever made. they're fluffy and just the right amount of crispy, perfect for an alien's first taste test of course.
you drizzle just a bit more syrup on there before giving lottie the fork, and you watch in horror as she picks up the melting butter on the stack and eats it raw. she looks at you and smiles, chewing innocently before swallowing it and rubbing the grease on her lips.
"tastes yummy."
"why don't you take an actual bite of the pancakes?" you snatch the fork and cut up a generous piece for her, handing it back and watching as she scarfs it down. you gloat a bit, smiling to yourself as you watch her antennas twitch with what you assume is happiness. "how does it taste?"
"okay."
"just okay...?" you sit up straighter, scoffing at her.
"mhm." she nods, sheepishly scooting the plate towards you and placing the fork by your hands.
"i'm full."
"lottie, stop it!" you whisper-yell, smacking her hand away as she attempts to play with the mouse and keyboard you're very clearly using.
who knew taking an alien to your college campus would be such hard work.
your mom and dad had their off day today so there was no way you could leave lottie unattended in your room, especially after yesterday's fiasco where she nearly blew up the place while you were using the bathroom.
she pouts, and if her antenna weren't covered with your snapback then you would've seen the way they deflated with sadness. she clings to your arm and rests her head on your shoulder, watching you finish typing your english essay.
you feel a push on your shoulder and get startled, turning around to see your best friend who wears a smirk on their face. they glance to lottie and back to you, raising their brow.
"who's this? you finally get a girlfriend, y/n?"
"uh," you look at lottie who shrinks into you, hiding her face in your neck while messing around with the keyboard you told her not to touch. "y-yeah! totally. i told you i could get some." you cringe at yourself, laughing awkwardly.
your friend hums and says they need to get back to studying, giving lottie one last glance before they leave.
"girlfriend?" she asks, tilting her head.
"yeah, um, kinda like partners or mates?" you respond, busying yourself with your essay again.
"so we are mates?"
you nod at her mindlessly, not even aware of what you just sort of agreed to. lottie smiles to herself, snuggling back into your side and inhaling your scent.
"i think i'm ready to mate now."
you furrow your brow as you hear lottie call out from your bathroom, sitting up on the bed and watching as she walks in wearing nothing but a bathrobe, which is already untied.
you avert your eyes quickly, feeling a crimson blush blossom on your face as you try not to look when she walks closer and gets on the bed.
"what do you mean? we're not...mates." you say mutter, feeling guilty as you catch a peek of her nipple as she slowly drapes the robe off of her body.
"you said we are, remember? i'm your girlfriend." she chirps, settling on your lap, and you swear you're about to have a hot flash.
"i-i didn't mean it like that." you stutter, gulping hard as she grips your chin to face her. "i'm sorry i confused you but-"
she interrupts you with a soft kiss and you fold immediately, hands flying to her sides as you pull her closer. she pushes you back by your shoulders and sighs into your mouth, the little moans of pleasure she lets out making your head spin.
"let me show you how we mate back on my planet."
shout out to @xxz0mb1esl4yrxx for introducing me to alien!lottie i owe u to world
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The Harshest Winters (18+!)
Part 4;;
Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;
Warnings: all of them lmao - dubious consent, canon typical violence, lack of Jacaerys, death, blood and gore, Aemond - who forces the reader into holy matrimony in this one (oh yes it's happening), and of course engages in petty masturbation (it's not THW without him going ham on his own hand ♡)
Word Count: 15k+ (wowza i know)
Author's Note: Low and behold, part 4 is here!! Originally, this was supposed to be a 4 parts series, but that obviously isn't the case anymore. THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I'M SO SORRY - I had major issues with the tag list, and at some point, tumblr wouldn’t let me post this; I unfortunately couldn't solve those problems, no matter how hard I tried, so most of you haven't been properly tagged :") This update is a hot mess, and I haven't actually had the time to read through all the paragraphs that I wrote. I SHALL BE BACK TO EDIT
A huge thank you to everyone who's still following the story, though, and I hope you enjoy!
A war is in its midst.
When everyone else is readying themselves for the following decisive battles, you and Aemond are busy playing house.
Things get heated in Harrenhal, and one must decide when and where to pick their side.
The contact of the hot water upon Aemond’s ivory skin made the man shudder in naught but blinding pain. Achingly slow movements, followed by slow grunts echoed throughout the room – and Lady Tully stilled upon the silken sheets, moving her eyes over the book’s page for the thousandth time since he returned; thus driving all her peace away.
The baths Aemond determinedly took in the raptures of the late-night hours never failed to make her uncomfortable, and keep her on edge. Even so, being forced to hear the pained man move with such little stability and lack of confidence almost teetered the girl to the brink of madness.
Harrenhal had been in shambles since its proud conqueror beckoned his return on dragon back that very eve. Two young maids shouted for maesters, and Alys Rivers nearly caused a scene. As he got off his leather saddle, the Prince all but collapsed from tiredness and blood loss.
'He commanded his features to turn brave and taciturn,' his paramour had told her, 'as to not let a single hint of his condition spread throughout the Keep. My poor Aemond.'
The fool had been reached by an arrow.
An impressive feat, one had to agree – and wonder further on the identity of the courageous shot.
‘Struck right between his shoulder blade and chest,’ she had heard some lost girl utter, ‘It is a miracle he’s still alive.’
… Or the Gods’ cruelest punishment, the Lady compelled within her thoughts.
“Mmhh…” Aemond’s rugged breath deterred the girl to raise her glassy orbs from the confinement of the wilting pages. She schooled her eyes to stay above any level of indiscretion, and gingerly followed the trail of blood mixed with dirt, that seeped into and dirtied the once clear water.
Now that her curiosity was quenched, she could freely look away again.
Half a heartbeat later, she relented and surrendered in the face of his quarrelsome state. The Prince bit the inside of his cheek again, and raised his hand up to allow droplets of liquid to trail past his wounded shoulder… but to no avail.
“You could call in a maid, you know.” Her raspy voice descended upon his struggling body. Sooner than she may have liked, the Bliss of Riverrun closed her eyes, and concentrated on the languid noises that the Prince was making.
Seconds felt like pending minutes, until Aemond One-Eye graced her with a reply.
“I don’t need a maid to help me.”
Then that was that, the young woman soon concluded, returning her attention to the opened book.
'The Philosophies of the Riverlands', however, provided little to no aid to the situation at hand – and her overall station.
For she knew, perhaps far too well, that she had to play a different game than the one they'd engaged in, months prior to her imprisonment in that cursed place.
Insufferable man… she vexed him cruelly inside her head, I hoped by now you would be dead.
She raised one leg from the mattress that embedded her, and shifted it, so as to allow her limbs to hang lowly by the edge of the bed. Her thoughts formed and went as they pleased, but the girl settled on one final reach.
He hadn't even allowed Alys to help him undress. Suggesting her now was a deliberate waste of her time.
Not only that, but she still had to win his trust. Somehow, she promised herself, no matter what it takes, she'd do it.
Forcibly she rose from the bed, and made her way slowly towards his wide basin, fixating her eyes on the stone floor ahead. Her throat closed in on itself, and the girl pursed her lips into a tight line, whilst exhaling through her nose. It took a while for her to calm herself.
"... What about me?" She asked in a leveled tone.
Her gaze met his piercing orb, and the Lady nearly took a small step back. His face long washed the wave of shock from his sharp, Targaryen features – Aemond awaited her next words with a quirked up brow and a slight bite o'r his inner cheek. He seemed more than interested in her meek suggestion.
His wordless approval had left her speechless and, for a while, only her heartbeat emerged in her ears.
The Prince Regent trailed his eye hungrily over her extended arm. He took in a sharp breath as she grasped the rough sponge from his hand, and drained it of the putrid smell. She confidently brought it up to him – and teasingly trailed it over his hard chest, down to his lower abdomen, up again to his slouching shoulder.
"This… will hurt you a little bit." She whispered to him, skillfully averting her face from the man in question.
He gritted his teeth harshly, and almost let out a groan from his parted lips – with his dexterous and long fingers, he gripped the edge of the wooden basin, but dared not to look away from the kneeling Lady – choosing, instead, to focus on singling out her every soft and hard feature.
On her end, (Y/N) dabbed the piece of cloth over his wound gently, chanting inside her head to remain small and taciturn.
He shan't get more of a reaction from me, she promised herself through the span of an agonized huff, as she focused in on the task at hand.
Aemond's white skin revealed itself from the washed patches of dirt, and the Prince sighed a deep breath of contentment, as he felt his body be unintentionally caressed by her. His eye fluttered close, and a slight furrow of his tantalizing brow indicated the uncommon pleasure he took from their sporadic intimacy.
The two remain in awkward silence - the only noise that reached the girl's ears being the rattle of water and the occasional hiss from Aemond.
"... I'm sorry." She strained herself to whisper, whilst her hair fell seemingly out of place. "This looks as if it's painful."
The Prince Protector mirrored her stance, and glanced at her through the thick curtain of long, silver hair – the lilac in his eye complimenting the heatwaves of fire that danced across his marred skin.
"It's not painful." His gruff voice echoed in reply.
"... You –" The Lady began, but stopped on her tracks to level her voice again, by the aid of coughing in the back of her hand.
"You don't have to pretend in my company, you know."
She graced him with a forced smile, one she hoped seemed light enough to fool him. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't make fun of you."
Her eyes trailed over to the harsh stone floor, wrinkling at their sharpened ends – "When I was three and ten," she began, "My youngest brother betted against one of the stable boys: that he could ride faster than anyone on his horse, Middle." Her eyes spasmed close at the memory, and the girl wistfully smiled to herself, "The fool scraped his knees in that dreadful race. Middle threw him right out of his expensive saddle."
As she spoke, she brought the rough cloth over Aemond's shoulder blade, right above his wound, and began scrubbing the dirt that adorned over his skin.
"He didn’t want anyone to know what had happened, so he made me clean it, in the stead of a maester." The Lady let out an airy laugh, as her nose scrunched up with a pang of fondness. "I have never seen a boy get so worked up over a simple scratch before."
Aemond hummed in admission – half relieved by the distraction she was offering, and half worried by the impending pain he would soon feel. He shifted from inside the basin, as if to reach for the sponge in her hand himself, but the girl simply laid her hand away.
Her musings came to an abrupt end. She retreated on her steps lightly, and offered the Crown Prince a quirked-up brow.
"You need to stay put, Prince Aemond. Otherwise, I risk causing you more harm than good." She swallowed thickly, and only shook her head, "Your wound needs thorough cleaning, Your Grace. And it is too far in the back for you to clean it by yourself."
She glanced at his face anew, and let out a tumbling sigh as he nodded his head again, trying his hardest to relax into her touch once more.
Part of him remained put up – the bulk of his chest and shoulders still gloriously hunched over, ready to bolt up at any given moment.
"... I hate to admit it. I thought he was exaggerating then – with the discomfort which he feigned was feeling."
Her lips pursed into a tight line, as she glanced quickly at the laying man, "But how can one make fun of another's state of pain?"
A sympathetic look was shared between them.
Her eyes softened in admission to his furrowed brows and descended features. In that exact light, she couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled her Jace.
"Pain makes us human. And it's a reminder for us: to really cherish our times of incandescent joy."
The break of a cold sweat kissed over Aemond's forehead; droplets of which gathered at the base of his left eye, where his leather eyepatch stayed secured.
The girl pushed down a disdainful puff, as her eyes trailed him over, from the rosy blotch of skin, back to his hawk-like eye.
"Leather retains heat." She murmured before she could catch herself.
The Targaryen Prince expelled a deep breath, and, as her hand came to rest over the buckle that secured his patch into place, he primed his lips into a downturned arch.
"It can't be good for you to always keep it on."
"The sight of it frightens others. I don't want it to frighten you."
"I've seen you without your eyepatch before."
"That was different. This time… is different."
The latter of his words sent a shiver down her bent spine. Nothing is different, she was aching to say. Her lips pressed anxiously together, and the girl offered Aemond a curt nod. Just as she was about to pull her hand away from the nape of his neck, the Prince's wet palm came up to stop her.
His fingers shakily entwined with hers. The deep callouses of his hand scratched the softness of her open palm.
For a while, Time herself froze before them.
(Y/N) came to avert her gaze, but Aemond's eye feverishly searched for the relieving clash of hers. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the Lady of Riverrun nearly choked onto the clogged-up air.
His silver locks curled slightly at their ends – the dampness of the room striking its claim over his perfectly straight strands of hair. In his own right, Aemond could be called beautiful. His striking Targaryen features might have ensured the favor of many young maidens, were it not for his rash and impetuous attitude, the bite that rested in his character – which no doubt spread like a disease over his life at Court.
"Look at me." Against his better judgment, and his innermost turmoil, Aemond allowed her small fingers to trail over the buckle of his blinder again. He drew out a comforting sigh, and, with her hand still in his, gently slid the leather off.
He sucked in a quiet breath, as the coldness of the air enveloped his throbbing eyelids.
The poise in his composure was cracking at the seams, with the passing of each second, during which she settled to remain silent.
Eventually, her hand came to rest over his face again. Her dexterous fingers began to leisurely wipe the sweat from his brow, his eye, by submerging them into the lukewarm water, and bringing them over and over to his clenched face.
"I'm sorry." She settled on to say instead, once the breaching of kind words failed to meet her. "No one deserves to be left without an eye. No one deserves such appalling cruelty."
"You appear to be sorry an awful lot this evening, My Lady." Aemond choked under his breath, taken aback by her gentle movements and sainty utter.
"I spend the better part of my days in the company of my own thoughts." She huskily reminded him, "... It's been increasingly easier for me to reflect on my past mistakes."
Wordless from her hoax admission, and desperate to feel her hands explore him further, the Targaryen Prince rose heavily from the dirtied water – his chest coming directly to her field of vision.
The girl let out a cutting gasp, as she turned swiftly on her heel, refusing to glance at his modesty, not any longer than she'd already had.
Her eyelids fluttered close, and she shifted from one foot to the other, but to no avail. For in spite of her desire to run away, the Lady found herself hammered in place.
The proximity between them laid out to be a problem – Aemond let out a frustrated sigh, and turned her head around with the clasping of his untouched arm. Two of his fingers came to rest at the base of her cheek and chin; the Prince let out a satisfied hum, as her body trembled in slight shock at their change of position.
"Gevie…" He muttered to no one but himself.
His cock stood proudly at attention, kissing over his prominent abdomen, trailing long past his belly button. Every now and then, white pearls pooled to the base of his length, weeping from his angry tip, trailing past his stones in the reach of the water below him.
"Look at me." He breathed again, and his sweet Lady obeyed.
She threw him a dejected look: half harsh and cold, half hardened and scorned. The tips of her ears matched the redness of her pale cheeks. Her eyes cast their curious glow throughout every corner of the room, yet stayed away from the scorn of indiscretion that called out to her, only centimeters below her swollen lips.
Aemond's thumb flicked once over her crimson labium, but the man sighed, seemingly discouraged, and settled upon gripping her dainty wrist instead.
"Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda."
The gentleness that oozed from his voice could have had anyone fooled. But not her. The translations of the words he muttered against the skin of her wrist were lost on her, but the Lady of Riverrun still singled out a most protruding word.
He had never failed to call her 'his tormenting love'.
The girl's breath rose and fell with each agonizing word that befell over her face.
"Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa." Aemond sighed against her wrist.
'I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin.'
Her words rang harsh and true inside her head – and, much like it was back then, her heart harbored no honorable intent towards the Trident's Terror.
He burnt your entire homeland, she chastised herself harshly, He killed thousands. Every day, even more find their end by the breath of his dragon. By the way of his wrath.
The ache in her heartbeat rang loudly inside her ears – her every pore aligned with her wish to run away, and her mind was screaming at her to retreat to a corner.
Comparing him to Jacaerys was a laughable feat.
"Let's… just finish getting you cleaned up, Your Grace" She struggled to finally suggest out loud, through the timid inflection of her outwardly calm voice.
She slithered her face away from his grasp, and began draining the sponge of the dark mud again.
Aemond sighed, and lowered himself back into the cold water – his lone eye never leaving the mould of her smaller frame.
"I heard that conversation… sometimes distracts the ill from the discomfort of the cleaning process, Your Grace."
Now turned to his exposed back, the girl's hand wavered over his punctured shoulder. She waited three, perhaps four seconds, before her arm finally breached contact with the wounded flesh.
Aemond took in a sharp breath, but remained otherwise silent, until she prompted him to speak again.
"How… how did such a thing even come to happen?"
Aemond's chest rose and fell with each labored pant. His eye remained tightly closed, his jaw awfully set. Her question registered into his mind, and a reply formed at the former base of his thoughts.
For a while, however, the One-Eyed Prince remained quiet – weighing the option of telling her the truth rather carefully.
"A Frey company was marching South." He hissed as her light hand came over his flesh, applying soft pressure in its wake. "The fog of the morning masked them from me – but Vhagar's shadow still went right above their heads."
The woman brought her free hand to rest over his lower back, and her fingers rubbed soothing circles into the dampness of his skin. "It was… very lucky that you didn't get more hurt."
She scorned herself inwardly, but kept her curiosity at bay. She wouldn’t ask him whether the company had risen victorious, or if he burnt all those men to the ground.
The latter option, in any case, seemed more than likely.
The Crown Prince tensed visibly, but didn’t scoot away from her soothing touch. A deep sigh parted from his cracked lips, and the man revelled at their sudden closeness.
He ached to talk to her, to plead with her to welcome him inside her heart – and into her bed. He could feel his own beat loudly, and his body trembled in unquenched lust and rage.
Still, he knew it was too soon for that.
Not once during their rash acquaintance, did the girl before he talk with so much interest about his day with him.
His thoughts trailed to Alys, and Aemond wondered if half her new admission was owed to her – if indeed the two women secured a friendship within the last two weeks, if his whore became her confidant, if she breathed in her trust in him.
He would have to talk to her later. Thank her, if he was feeling apt and generous.
(Y/N)'s breath caught in the shell of his ear, and the Targaryen Prince nibbled at his lower lip. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down; the coldness of the water gave him the strength to concentrate, by the sliding of small ripples down his exposed chest and abdomen. The ache of his wound was a small price to pay, if only to feel her knuckles working against his back.
"There we are. All done, Your Grace."
She rose up from her kneeling stance, wincing at the sudden change of perspective, and at the throb of her tired knees. She gingerly presented the clean set of clothes and bathing robes to him. Her head remained turned to the side, and her hand instantly let go of the heavy clothes, the moment his palm came into contact with them.
In the stead of returning to sit idly by their resting place, the woman graced him with a final look, and let out a faint mutter. "I'll leave you to it."
She wavered but a moment, and turned her stare to the ruined clothes; the ones that Aemond had so carelessly discarded on the floor, as he prepared for his undeserved nightly soak.
The shadow of a long-laid plan gleamed beneath her silent gaze.
"I can wash them for you tomorrow – after my bath. It might be wiser to keep the nature of your wounds hidden. The maids needn't worry over how much blood you lost."
Aemond's brows furrowed in slight shock, and the Prince remained wordless in the face of her sensible suggestion.
And yet her eyes spoke with so much sincerity, that he gleefully allowed the pang of hope to warm his unforgiving features.
"As you wish." He rumbled out, while forcing himself to move his stare to the folded clothes before him.
His eye trailed back to his hands' agile ministrations, and Aemond soon began to roll over his linen breeches, covering his half-hard cock with the help of the rough material.
A throaty groan etched from deep within his throat, however, as he reached for the pristine shirt.
The girl stopped in her tracks, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.
The struggle he was undergoing would have been music to her ears – were it not for the solidarity of her position. For the millionth time that night, she reminded herself of her plan and her desperation to escape.
Thus, unbeknownst to her own better judgment, the Lady compelled herself to seek him further.
Although her words failed to assist her, the way she gingerly reached, with her hand wide and outstretched, made Aemond aware of her pending intent.
Their bodies were inches apart. The girl sucked in a hurried breath, and neglected to exhale it as the oxygen hit her lungs.
Aemond was burning up – and whether that was from the lack of fresh air within the confining room, or the first telltale sign of fever, or her – he was lost on saying anymore. His weakened arm slithered into the sleeve of his shirt, though the pain was long forgotten.
And instead of focusing on his poised movements, his glassy eye ran hungrily over her face and hypnotic features.
(Y/N)'s fingertips grazed over the light material. Her tired eyes softened at the familiar feeling. The threat of tears beckoned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them all away in a hasty movement. Melancholy ate away at her, far more often than she knew was wise to allow.
Still she remembered, if only for a moment, the raptures of Jacaerys' warm embrace. And how, in the heat of summer, that very same cloth felt against her heated cheek.
They must have had the same seamstress, the same tailor. Of course, she thought to herself in a bitter manner, after all, they are both Princes.
… Were.
But if she closed her eyes, she could pretend – No, she chastised herself fully, such a thing just cannot be. And you'd be a fool to attempt to it.
The magnetic pull between them trebly pried the two souls together. And it would be yet another minute, until (Y/N) finally took a step back, opening her mouth to announce the end of her intimate task.
Her eyes fell on the stone hard floor, and she carefully turned her back around him.
The long waves of her hair shifted over her modest nightgown, covering her mounds of flesh with a slight shift to the left.
"I'm going to sleep." She pathetically uttered, as the warmth that emanated from Aemond's form not moments prior, still fell heavily over her slight frame.
Mechanically she gripped the satin sheets and engulfed herself with them – a slight comfort came over her, as the coldness of the unused bedding fanned gently over her scorched limbs.
Aemond remained stuck in place, and a heaved breath rumbled from within his chest. The red in his cheeks would have put both their Houses' seals to shame – For once, he was glad she wasn't looking his way.
***
The rest of the night was spent in washed quietness.
And his Lady might have made it up: the dip at the edge of the bed, the smell of fresh pine and wildfire that caressed her in her sleepy state, and the slight "Thank you" that dabbled from her captor's lips.
“You plan to ride on dragon-back again? So soon?” The echo of Alys' voice carried her worry throughout the silent clearing.
The first rays of sunlight caught flame into her raven hair, lighting her features in such a way, that it accentuated her every perpetual scar and wrinkle. The fire inside her eyes could rival the one of a trueborn Targaryen, were it not for her strong outer appearance.
Aemond moved his body at a leisurely pace, not even bothering to throw the woman one of his usual vexing looks.
"Do you think dear nuncle will put a stop to the siege of the Twins, should the word spread about my condition?"
His cutting words rendered the woman speechless, and the Rivers witch simply clicked her tongue, whilst glancing at the green grass below her.
"War awaits no one, my dear." He asserted definitively, as he gripped onto Vhagar's long bridles.
The mighty beast let out a shaken roar, as Aemond winced once his wounded shoulder made light contact with her dark-green scales.
"Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar." He instinctively reached for her, and caressed her lower belly with one of his gloved hands.
At their calm exchange, Alys bit over her lower lip, harshly enough to draw her own blood. "You should stay." She managed to draw out, "At least a while – going in search of your uncle today, instead of tomorrow, won't make a difference to your brother's cause."
But her voice of reason reached deafened ears. For Aemond Targaryen was set on paying the debt he owed. The debt he agreed to take on, the moment his dragon clasped onto Lucaerys, swallowing the bastard whole.
"Everything matters at war, Alys." He hummed impatiently, while snapping his head in her general direction. "What do you think will happen to you, should Daemon reach Harrenhal? Your pretty head will rest near mine, impaled on a sharpened spike."
But if she told you to stay put, you would do just that, wouldn’t you? Her bitter thoughts chewed her conscious away.
Alys spat out a lowly curse, as she shifted uncomfortably in place. "Daemon Targaryen was here once, not long before you. He didn’t kill me then."
"Because you didn't matter back then." The Prince Protector of the Realm hissed through painfully gritted teeth, "You were no one to him. You were a wet nurse who merely spread her legs for him."
The man turned his back to her, as he wordlessly bound Vhagar's bridle over his wrist again and again.
"And last I checked, your cunt failed to inspire him."
Her mouth parted in a silent protest, and her green eyes widened in partial distress. "Still I should remain in luck," She choked out through a breathless laugh, "for it has never failed to inspire you."
"You are perfectly right," Aemond's laughter was humorless and brash, "And it is because of this loose cunt that Aegon nearly lost the support of Storm's End."
The Prince spun around on his heel's end, and trapped the woman in between his hard chest and restless dragon. "Sometimes I think you cost me more than you're worth." He whispered calmly into her ear, while trailing his index finger over the sharp edge of her jaw. "For speaking back to me, I could have you executed."
The finality of his words drew her body closer to the ancient beast, and Vhagar let out a displeased grunt. Amusement pulled at the corners of his downturned mouth.
"Still you should remain in luck," He mocked her with an airy laugh, "I find myself in an exceedingly good mood today."
The back of his hand came to play with a loose lock of her messy braid, and the Prince smiled at her stance and her bewildered look. "But you've been a most useful asset, haven't you, my dear?" He obliged her with a teasing smirk, "Lady Tully responded well to you, hasn't she? Tell me," He paused momentarily, as he trailed his hands to the narrow middle of her waist, and back up again. "Have you kept up your training with her?"
Alys' face fell into a frown, as she staggered a frustrated look. Aemond was toying with her.
"That dull book she pretends to read at night has the maps of three secret passages hidden amongst the latter pages. Two of them lead to that cell into the West Wing – but of course, she doesn't know that. The third one leads to the stables of Harrenhal."
Aemond hummed pleasedly, and the man soon took a wide step back, allowing his paramour enough space for proper breathing. "You did well." He smiled wistfully, "I should reward you well tonight. You may think of something you desire. I will see to it once I return."
"I would very much like you to stay and heal today." She urged him not a heartbeat later, surprising even herself with the intensity of her tone.
Aemond's composure broke with the licks of roaring laughter – one that was empty, and fell devoid of any feelings of fondness or grief.
"Think of something else." He urged her coolly, and dismissively pushed past her, to reach for his dragon's saddle.
"'Tis a good thing you shall never be a wife, Alys. The role of the worried wench doesn't suit you one bit."
"Keep feeding her half-truths and lies." He encouraged the woman with a final reach over her hand. He squeezed once over her balled-up fist – acting as both a promise, and a taciturn warning on what should happen, should she let him down again. "Regarding whatever else she may have to say… you'll report it back immediately."
With that, the Kinslayer of the Trident took off, leaving the promise of bone and ash behind his dragon's menacing ascend.
The Eyrie was, on all accounts, smaller even than Maegor's Holdfast. Inside the stronghold nestled the Arryns, hidden deep beneath the illusion of the smallest stronghold of the main seven Kingdoms. Despite its intermediate size, the Keep of the Giant's Lance deemed itself one of the safest places to be – Hardly a lie, especially now, Cain Waters ineptly hummed, once his wobbly feet carried him over the stoney threshold.
Despite its less-than-imposing size, and lack of sheer volume, (Y/N)'s sworn shield felt himself smaller than ever before.
How would he dare account for his whereabouts? Reason his shortcomings?
How could he hope to explain to his Lord that not only did he return empty-handed, without his beloved granddaughter on horseback – he returned without the notion of a hand at all?
Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, it was Mira Florent who rested loyally by his side – her strength and stability allowing the Waters bastard to lean into her, if only for a fleeting moment, during the ascend of the narrow stairs.
"Take heart," She whispered, "Your Lord is a kind and understanding one. You won't be facing trial for this."
His mere reply was a solitary grunt, and a quick smile, dejectedly thrown her way.
Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, Albar had remained behind. The mute man shrugged his head decidedly when Cain gestured towards the waiting castle, and Mira explained to him that the Vale scarcely left him feeling safe and wanted.
And he understood, perhaps far too well – the feeling of dejection a bastard boy felt, as he stepped foot into the land of his birth.
***
He'd been granted the comfort of a Maester and a hot soak, almost immediately after his appearance at the Arryns' Great Door.
The Lady of the Vale proved to be a kindred spirit, capable of great nurture, despite her lack of heirs to her family's ancestral throne. She gasped loudly at the sight of him. Her eyebrows furrowed in grave distraught, and her lower lip trembled as the healers informed her of the state of his right hand.
Her searching eyes reminded him of the ones of his own mother – neither particularly warm nor cold towards him, but fair and just in their own accord.
She almost decided against calling upon him to the Trouts' Black Council, but the young Oscar Tully had entirely different plans.
His eyes, as they were, were socketed by a deep, but elusive brown. They spoke and reminded him of a whole different tale than the one of his fair, poor Lady.
And it was Oscar's eyes, so similar in shape to hers, who bore ghastly holes into the back of Ser Cain's skull. His arm rose up, as if to cut off the man's retelling – his nostrils flared up in disgust, and his face twisted into a painful scowl.
"So what you're telling me… is that you failed to bring her back."
Cain's eyes hardened at her brother's words, and the knight nibbled on his lower lip, in an attempt to calm himself.
Although a brave and honest man, he dared not look in the eyes of Lord Grover Tully – he dared not see what lay beneath his wilted face. Thus, all his attention focused in on the chirping lass.
"Aye, my Lord." He mustered up to tell him, "I lost her to the One-Eyed Prince. We escaped Harrenhal, and managed to get as far as the Saltpans, but –"
The boy scoffed at his attempt to pardon and explain himself. He nodded affirmatively, and scrutinized Cain with his piercing gaze.
"You returned with an empty hand, Ser Cain. You failed: miserably."
His back straightened in an attempt to appear bigger, and the hot-headed lass rose from his chair in a hurling daze.
"Because of you, my sister is in the hands of that cycloptic freak. Because of you, we don't know anything about her whereabouts. She could be tortured, enslaved, sullied – worse!"
Lady Jane Arryn clicked her tongue in disbelief, and beckoned her guard to guide the boy back into a sitting stance.
"That is quite enough, Oscar." She asserted calmly, "We have no evidence of such a feat."
"Of course we don't!" The young Lordling huffed annoyedly, jolting on the brink of madness, "The deranged cripple wouldn't reply to any of our ravens!"
His face contorted animalistically, the freckles on his face being taken by the deep shade of crimson that coloured in his plumper cheeks. "And with you here, Waters, we don't even have the certainty that (Y/N) is still alive!"
"Oscar." Grover's deep voice echoed a warning through the quietness of the tiny Keep.
As if struck in the face, the youngest of the Tully brothers shifted in his seat again. "My sister's fate is breached unknown," He cried out in a collapsing tune, "She's our family, grandfather, my only sister! Pray tell, why does it look as if I'm the only one who gives a damn?"
The graying Lord and the narrow Lady both leaned towards a perplexing look. But before any of them could reply to his laid-out challenge, (Y/N)'s brother urged them further, as he hissed through his gritted teeth. "It would have been better for you not to return at all, Ser Cain. It would have been better for all parties involved to have sent me in his stead, Grandfather!"
His shoulders slouched forward, and the brazen boy fought with Grover's intense stare. "Had I failed, I wouldn’t have even returned at all." Oscar roared over the silent council, proclaiming his intent with a defying raise. "I would sooner have died, than see her be taken by that monster again."
"What would you have had me do, boy?!" Grover Tully raised his voice in turn, "You fool. Would you have had me send you away for her? Do you think your death would have made you a martyr?!"
Cain's lips pursed into a tight line, as the Riverlords before him bickered further. Even Lady Jane Arryn seemed to be left speechless, unsure of when or how to stop their arguing.
Family feuds were neither one's strongest suit.
"Do you think," His Grandfather uttered, "that if you were to die, anyone would remember you fondly?!" The red in his cheeks matched the one on his grandson's face, and the elder Lord broke out into a coughing fit. "Your sacrifice would mean nothing. And when the dust settled over Westeros, and the war was done, you would just be another casualty. Another body to burn in a communal."
Almost immediately, his eyes softened, and their deep creases faltered on his face.
The Lord of Riverrun grunted in fatigue, but still rose himself securely on his two able feet. He marched towards the huffing boy, and placed a wrinkled hand over his sweaty forehead, urging him to quiet down.
"It's not about glory, Grandfather." He spat out lowly, as his ears began to match his fiery locks of curly hair. "It's about family. Our family. It's about ensuring its survival."
The older man gave the lass a curt nod. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and turned to the knight with a downturned smile.
"There wasn't a knight more fit for the task than Ser Cain." He confirmed his judgment with a tired gesture in his direction. "He was knighted at five and ten. You are over your seven and tenth birthday, boy, and haven’t been even mirthed a squire."
Oscar sucked in a protesting breath, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room fall before him. His brows furrowed in a dangerous quarrel, and his blood ran hot. "Yet even with all the skill in the world, he still failed."
Lord Grover was losing his patience, "Yes, grandson, that he did! He failed, despite all the signs that pointedly told us otherwise – do you think you'd do an equitable job? When you haven't even once crossed swords in a Joust or Tourney?"
Nearby the aching knight, Lady Arryn renowed her position.
She whispered to her waiting guard, and the man took a step ahead, hitting over the chantry with the hilt of his sword.
The noise that erupted grabbed the attention of both grandson and grandfather.
"The turn of events marked by Ser Cain's departure means we need to readjust our plans." She commanded their heed calmly, "It is… unfortunate; that Lady Tully's sworn shield failed to protect her. Yet here we all stand, warming our bottoms on a mine of gold."
Cain should have been grateful for the distraction she was offering. All the displeasure surged upon him evaporated within the click of her tongue, and less conventional language – still, even he had to remain weary on the subject he opened.
"On a mine of gold?" Oscar spat out sharply, feeling his self-control disperse by failing him again. "My Lady, do you think my sister's condition is a situation of great rejoice?"
The Lady's blue eyes cut through the boy deeply, and the young man closed his mouth in embarrassment, before sitting down again.
She reached for the goblet of wine, and wet her lips with it, "Our strategical situation couldn't be better. Not once have we had a spy of Harrenhal successfully return. In truth, we didn’t even think it possible." Her lithe hand pointed towards the bloodied knight, and her eyes glimmered in mischief, "Yet here stands our living proof."
She elegantly rose from her ivory throne, and signaled the man to take a seat at the bent table. As he gingerly followed her lead, the woman spared him with a kind glance, and met his glance with her deep azul gaze.
"From what I gather, you spent the better part of a month undetected in the Strongs' Keep. Is that true?"
Cain nodded stiffly, and rested his bulky hands over his tired knees. "Yes, my lady. That I have."
"And you were knighted at fifteen?" She alluded to what was early spoken.
"Yes, my lady."
"By Lord Hunter Redwyne." She urged him to clarify, through the edge of a quirked-up brow, and the callings of a small smile pulling at her dusted lips.
"Yes, my lady. The very one."
Lady Jane hummed, seemingly satisfied by his short answers. She turned her attention to Lord Grover and his tiresome grandson, and merely asked Ser Cain again.
"And you faced the Kinslayer in combat, cut by a Valyrian blade, and lived to tell the tale?"
"... Aye, my lady."
Oscar's eyes remained unyielding. But Grover Tully glanced at the man before him, and offered him a wordless bow.
"Tell me, Ser, how would you like to command your own battalion?"
"You have to be patient." Alys chastised her deeply, as her luring features turned from flaccid to sharp. "Hardly enough time has passed since your last attempted escape – Aemond is still very much on edge."
The Lady's eyes turned to her. With the bridge of her nose scrunched up, and her fair features molded into a desperate plea, the girl looked more like a lost child, than an able and resourceful Lady.
Alys regarded her as such, and sighed deeply as she grasped onto her shoulders carefully.
"If I wait any longer, it'll be too late. I've already wasted three moon turns in this cursed Keep. I have to return to my family." The Tully spoke decidedly, leaving behind no room for arguing. She took a seat before the tiny mirror, that breached her modest vanity – a recent gift from Aemond, deduced by him to make her feel more like a proper lady.
The image that reflected within it looked at her like a dire stranger. The green silks she was dressed into, the pristine, braided hair that framed her pale cheeks perfectly; She was the vision of a flawless royal, a soft and polite maiden, untouched yet by the spoils of death and war.
'Would this be enough?' She asked herself desperately, whilst gripping the edge of her chair painfully.
Was this what Aemond had always wanted? The proof of her lack of autonomy, finally presented to him on a silver platter, as he returned from war every night?
Was he, perhaps, congratulating himself, every time he glanced at her, thinking himself master of the universe for making her arch and kneel?
Alys shook her head once more, and rested a hand over her bouncing knee.
"Patience is a virtue, Lady Tully. You needn't put yourself through any more unnecessary risks."
The Lady of Riverrun shook her head vigorously, finally snapping herself back to reality; Her actions were defying, and devoid of any capacity. Alys felt herself more confounded by the second. "I'll help you plan this thoroughly." The wood witch adverted. Her head quirked to the side in an encouraging gesture, and the girl nodded feverishly in reply.
Her green eyes widened in fair delight, and Aemond's lover lowered her gaze over the girl's book. "You memorized the passages well enough. Very soon, you shall put your knowledge to practice."
(Y/N) let out a tired sigh, and graced the older woman with a pleasant smile. "I'm lucky to have you, Alys" She played with her rings as she spoke, "Thank you. For everything."
As the elder woman finally left her Quarters in favor of bringing out the order for dinner, (Y/N) let out an aggravated groan.
Her long pretense would surely make her nauseous. But she would be a simpleton indeed, to place all her trust in Alys.
The walls preleened with the doom of silence. A cold breeze dug its way deeply into her spine, and the silent taste of passing and demise left a sour taste in her parted mouth.
***
Aemond began dinner as he wontedly did every day – praying to the Warrior to grant him strength in battle, to the Smith, to mend all that was left broken, to the Father, "to shine his light", and lead their souls out of the brink of darkness.
Each and every time, without fail, the girl would bring the pristine napkin to her mouth, masking the obvious way her lips would quirk into a most unyielding smile. His pious speech, and the way his hands painfully clasped together, begging for the blessing of resolve, made her scoff in blinding wonder.
Was he even aware of the words he mostly muttered? Did he ever stop to assess himself throughout the day, and realize the sin in which he debaucherously bathed in?
As his speech came to an end, the Lady preleened forward, grabbing a hold of the boiled-up stork.
How lovely it was to sit between comfort and chaos.
"You've never been one to speak much during our time spent together." Aemond remarked through the rumble of a solitary hum. "Yet I had hoped this last week softened your resolve, My Lady."
Her eyebrows rose in slight discomfort, as her eyes focused on the leisure movements of his bigger hands.
So he was softening up.
She opened her mouth almost immediately, but her hesitant eyes danced around his blinding stare. Her plump lips pressed into a hard line, and she exhaled loudly through her nose, in an attempt to ground herself.
"Not at all, Your Grace, I assure you." The cluttering of her fork came to a hoisted end, as Lady Tully aligned her head to focus directly on the One-Eyed Prince. "I should love nothing more than to talk to you… Please, do advise me on what you would like most to hear."
She fidgeted nervously with her silver rings – a quirk she developed whilst imprisoned in the Strong's Keep – and gingerly awaited his reply.
Your Grace. Your Grace. Your Grace.
The stillness in her speech and eyes drove the man effectively wild.
"Aemond." He stilled her faction through the reign of a distorted sigh.
She regarded him with a petrified stance. Her hands fell heavy over her legs in the wake of anticipation.
"... I-I beg your pardon?"
"Aemond." He repeated his name again, "We already break bread and sleep in the same bed." His lilac eye rose from his plate, and singled out her reddened cheeks. The man paused a while, as if to weigh his words carefully, and his cold, glassy orb, hungrily ran over her form. "It seems inevitable that we'd call each other by our given names. Yet you never once said mine throughout."
The girl could feel her throat dry up. While still maintaining his awkward stare, she reached for the glass of wine that rested by her left side. She wrapped her hand around its stem, and brought it to her paling lips.
The liquid courage slid down her throat in a quick, though burning manner, and (Y/N) had to swallow down an erratic cough. Her brows furrowed amidst, as she picked her words out slowly.
"I have called your name before, Prince Aemond. Many times throughout the moons, in fact."
He smiled at her perturbed reply, and shook his head in coy distraught.
"Not without the honorifics." The man clarified in a pleading tone, his voice growing hotter now. "... Just say my name." He sighed defeatedly. His hand gripped the edge of the table, silently, as the Targaryen Prince could feel his mind running with a thousand thoughts per passing minute.
The silence ate at him alive. She drowned the wine in a swift swing, and slouched forward to pour herself another glass.
She was too sober for this.
Lucaerys, Jacaerys, Cain.
Part of her wanted to pluck his eye out. Part of her wished nothing more than to make fun of him. Laugh, perhaps, at his desperate indiscretion. Do something – anything – to gauge a reaction out of him.
Any sort of reaction, that would make her pestering feelings for him leave her heavy soul.
Surprising even herself, adamantly going against her own wishes, the woman caught herself breathing out.
"... Aemond."
Unexpectedly he moved, by jumping to his ready feet, fully disregarding the oak chair as it hit the floor in a most perused manner.
The pang of noise alerted her, and seemingly, the guards outside. A while they remained in silence, listening in to the clash of metal that announced their unsure shifting.
But they wouldn’t come inside. The girl was lest aware of that.
As time pressed on, Aemond remained hammered in place, heaving out his weighty breaths and clasping his hands in aching fists.
Her eyes momentarily left his shadow – to turn again towards the poach of wine, and empty another glass in rapid gulps.
The heavy atmosphere inside the room hung lowly over their tired heads. (Y/N) resumed her mellow eating, wincing at the shakiness within her hands. She grabbed another piece of the boiled meat, though Aemond's stare soon made her drop it, and the girl clicked her tongue in disbelief; grabbing it instead with a piece of cloth, and securing it into a tight knot.
This time, it was her actions that had failed her. And perhaps it'd be her ready words that would prevail.
"Aemond." She spoke again, this time more confidently than before. The bitter liquor was burning her throat, her chest, her heart. She felt her limbs heavy – with both anticipation and frustration - borne out of lack of relief. She wanted to slap him, to hit him, to crush him beneath her feet.
She wanted to run away, to stay confined, forever inside this room, forever astute to what was going on in the outside world.
She wanted to feel something.
She wanted…
"Yes." Aemond encouraged her softly, and her attention came back to the raptures of the present tense. "There we go." He worded out, keeping his tone barely above a whisper.
Neither could tell when or how it happened – but Aemond's body was inches away from touching hers. The heat emanating from his beating heart washed over the meek form of the tipsy Lady. His Lady.
She gulped painfully, and the Prince could feel how his hands started spasming with the need to feel her. His nails bit the inside of his calloused palm, leaving deep and angry marks inside them.
His prominent veins shifted with his every faction. His face morphed into hopeful disarray.
"There we go." He repeated gently, "I want to hear your laughter. You never once laughed with me."
Her stare was hard to decipher. And yet confliction danced across her face. Aemond turned serious, and the stammering of his hands came to an untimely end. His eye bared holes into her reddened face; and the Lady humorously thought, if only for a moment, that it was a lucky thing he didn’t still have both his eyes. For such a stare would be embedded in her subconscious, bringing forth her swift undoing.
The corners of her mouth felt painful to bend and break. Shakily she smiled at him, and opened her mouth in shocked reclusion.
A shy laughter erupted from her unquenched throat, and the woman shuddered, surrendering the reins of reason to the drunken thoughts that sieged her.
Her laughter wasn't her own. The languid movements of her hands, that trailed over Aemond's chest, were not her own.
His finger came to caress her cheek. Her nose. Her brow. Her lips. Her mouth. The Crown Prince sucked in a dangerous breath, and secured his left arm loosely around her waist.
"Good girl," He spoke tenderly, his voice going from gruff to rough, "Such a good girl for me." His fingers combed through her messy braids, marking their swift undoing – taking a step back, he could feel the heat leave his head, in the favor of traveling lower, to meet the almost flaccid cock confined in the tightness of his pants. "Say my name again. Laugh again." He commanded in a pleading meowl. His lips twitched in anticipation, and his eyes trailed lower, lower still, from up her face, down to her soaring bosom.
"Aemond."
"(Y/N)."
A solitary look of shame was shared between them. Perhaps pushed forward by the only remaining faction of rationale, the two placed a step in between each other, but even that proved to be too fickle of a barrier to keep them whole apart.
Aemond reached to cup her face with his own trembling hand – on her end, the girl's digits trailed over from his high cheekbones, down to his prominent cupid's bow, in an all but gentle caress.
"Avy jorrāelan." He hissed through painfully gritted teeth, allowing his head to rest in the crook made of her shoulder blade and neck. "Avy jorrāelan." He repeated, the vulnerability in his voice making him lose the hold he had over himself.
"Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao." His feathered breath came into contact with her dainty neck. (Y/N) gasped lightly, as she felt the first of his many kisses being tenderly placed over her jaw and neck.
Her head was pounding, and her eyes were screwed shut, as the coldness of the wall hit her in perused waves. The impropriety of the soft moans and sighs that filled her ears to the brim left her confused and wanting.
The worst of it was that she didn’t know whether they came from her or him.
She felt as though her head was being harshly held below the water, and the girl clawed at her dress to loosen her tight bodice, which seemed to constrict even her erratic breathing.
Aemond's attention moved from her earlobe back to her lips. He felt how her hands contorted sporadically, and he placed his own palm over hers, to put an end to her hasty movements, and give her a sense of calmness. His fingers suddenly entwined with hers, as his form hovered above her. His throat etched with a lousy moan, and his mouth finally crashed with hers.
(Y/N)'s eyes opened at the shocking scene, and her lips suddenly parted, either to beg or to protest against him, but Aemond's hot tongue found entrance into her warm cave – deciding instead to deepen the kiss, and press himself further against her smaller form.
The outline of his throbbing cock molded against the shape of the woman's thigh, and the Prince Protector of the Realm let out a pleasured hiss, once her insistent writhing ended up brushing up his weeping tip. "Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa." He mumbled against her swollen lips, "Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī."
She let out a fatigued whimper, and swiftly turned her head around, putting an abrupt end to their meek and vicious pecks.
"What's wrong, hmm? Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir."
Aemond's lips were soft and tender, leaving behind an almost vivacious bite over her exposed parts. His pace had been filled with an animalistic hunger; the longing inside his eye caught her unprepared, and her lips parted with the desire to feel something – anything – that his palpable mouth would keenly offer.
(Y/N) shuddered with her eyes closed, and grabbed a hold of his long, white hair, leading the man closer yet to her swelling heat.
The way in which he held her should have felt so very wrong. But at that moment, the only thing she could do was extend her arm back up to him, and guide him with an insistent pull over his silky locks: encouraging him to bring forth his descent upon her lips.
She disregarded the way a figment of her psyche screamed at her. To stop her ministrations, to slap his calloused hands away from her. For if she kept her eyes closed, and focused solely on the shape of him, then she could almost pretend that the man before her had nothing to do with her beloved Jace.
She could almost pretend that he was Jace.
Aemond's pupil was left blown wide – so much so, that the lilac of his iris could almost be left neglected. He wrapped his hands around the lady's thighs, and hoisted her up to meet him by his narrow hips. Both moaned into the other's mouth, and the Prince soon found his way into the raptures of the silken bed.
His heated cock kissed the outlines of her soaked cunny. Aemond sighed deeply over the arch of her neck, and pawed away at her untouched bodice.
(Y/N)'s hands rested still upon his eyepatch, and, with a swift and hasty movement, she yanked it off his sculpted face.
"We need to stop…" She moaned, defeated, and felt how Aemond's body stiffened up below her, as the harsh realization finally hit them both.
She had uttered the words aloud.
Half expecting him to blow out fuming, the woman tried to pry herself off his fevered body, but his hands reigned like iron shackles over the inside of her spreading thighs.
"Do we?" He whispered lowly, whilst leaning in to steal another kiss from her again.
"We shouldn’t." She strained herself to say once more, and Aemond nodded, still chasing her lips with his.
She melted into his reluctant touch, and hummed against his beating heart. His hands dug deeply into her resting sides; his fingertips scattered over her translucent spine, leaving their possessive mark. "This isn’t right."
"I know, I know," He gasped, "Seven Hells, I know…"
"Yn nyke istan zarvīzis," He pressed a finger over her swollen lips, "Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis."
With the last ounce of her strength, she bit over his lower lip, dragging a wanton moan from out of his rosy lips.
"Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa..." He chanted, while latched onto her burning sear, "Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī."
His High Valyrian had made her dizzy. And at first, she tried to pay his words her mind, she tried to grapple and understand what he was saying.
A starved meowl left her panting lips.
"You can tell me to stop," The words that poured out of his mouth washed upon her like a rippled tide, "You can tell me to stop… and I will..."
Her body quickly arched against him; her shaky hands came to rest over his hips. She laced her mouth again with his, expecting rough, dominant kisses – but Aemond's hands propped themselves loosely against her cheeks, his thumbs pliantly stroking her with untoward devotion. His single eye drank her in with reverence.
"Please…" He whimpered into her mouth, "Avy jorrāelan." He confessed to her, again and again, trying his hardest not to take her against the cold floor – and not fuck her straight into the messy mattress.
Her limbs felt heavy. Lacking their autonomy. The body she was nestled in still wasn't her own.
"... Why?" She asked him disdainfully, sporadically, as his index finger came to pry open her haughty entrance.
His eye widened in perplexed ruin, but the Prince soon stumbled over his words again.
That bastard Jace must have taught her the gist of that.
"... I wish I knew." Came his sole and sincere reply.
Just like that, her eyes welled with the threat of tears.
His hands, his hold, his voice, his mouth. It was all wrong. In truth none could ever hope to feel right.
Flashes of her old lover, of his baby brother – who was so small the last she'd seen him –, of her sworn shield came into view. All of them, gone as if they never were. All of them, with their memories trampled deep beneath her sprawled-out form.
She wasn't a woman of the Faith. Not after what had happened. Not after the spoils of war that she, herself, felt like angry whips upon her skin. But her eyes fluttered close, and she begged the Mother for forgiveness, whilst a tear rolled off her ticking cheek.
She brought a hand to her wobbly lips, and began to violently rub away any remaining trace of Aemond's presence.
She was disgusted. With him, with herself, with the world, with the image of her Jace – that surged in her mind the second she blinked, the moment that she jolted awake in her misery.
On his end, (Y/N)'s display of pure abhorrence failed to falter Aemond's lustful grief. Why, if she did not desire him, did she fall into his arms again and again?
Love was the death of duty. And longing was the doom of all.
"Fucking cock tease…" The Prince growled, grief-stricken, "How much longer are you going to give into me, just to push me away?"
His patience had been running thin. The ache in his breeches was long forgotten. In its stead, the urgent sting in his heart dragged the man into the pits of madness. "What is it this time?" He groveled over her closed legs again.
Her recuperation had been jovial and quick. Adrenaline replaced the pain and shame, and the woman tried to get off the bed, put as much distance as she knew how in between her and the ravished Prince.
For the first time since he came to be, Aemond would not let her escape his clutches. As she moved backwards, he persisted forward – following her wobbly feet throughout the room with the spare of his predatory eye.
"Y-You said –" She tried ceaselessly to accuse him. "You said you wouldn't –"
"And you're right. I meant every. Single. Thing. I told you." He growled into her frightened ear, as his hands came to cage her, trap her under the seclusion of the hard, stone wall.
"You're mine." He hissed desperately, as he clasped her jaw to face him. "You've always been mine, you fucking harlot. From the moment you stepped foot into Harrenhal, your life belonged to me."
Perhaps Aemond was right, and she was nothing but a harlot. A treacherous swine that hung onto whatever he could give her - so starved and devoid of love and warmth, that she'd dare to stoop so lowly with him.
Aemond descended his unquenched rage over her exposed neck, and began leaving tender love bites all over, in spite of her lackluster pleas.
(Y/N)'s head felt like it was about to explode. She felt sick to her stomach – the wine and the distraught both built up inside of her. All she wanted now was to be left alone. For Aemond's touch felt oddly comforting, and her tired eyes began to close. "You drive me insane." She heard him choke.
She wanted to open her mouth. To urge the Prince to stop; but her word hole was sewn shut, taken over by the grip of feared confusion. While his hand hoisted her up by the waist again, her hand went around him, to grab onto whatever she could find. Finally, she stopped at the dragon-glass dagger, that securely latched onto Aemond's waist. Effectively, she wrapped her fingers around its silver hilt, and sheathed it out of its confinements.
"I swear on whatever God you want me to, I'll slit your throat if you don't stop touching me –" She wailed into Aemond's form, as she felt him stiffen up in tumultation.
His nostrils flared up at her attempt to intimidate him, and yet… his face looked most serene, as the cutting edge of the dagger reached close to his ivory skin. She raised her brows at him in utter surprise; for she expected him to surrender. His arms snaked away from her, and Aemond watched her intensely with his piercing gaze.
She could kill him, consequences be damned. And if she faced trial for this, then at least she'd have taken out a Green and Vhagar.
Her hand was shaking. Her breathing became erratic. She'd held a blade on multiple occasions; she'd fantasized about cutting Aemond's throat more times than she could bring herself to count. And yet…
His lack of movement – of worry – rattled her endlessly. She wanted to scream at him, to push him, to cut him. But for some reason couldn't bring herself to do it.
The realization that she just couldn’t do it made her almost drop the knife from the tight hold she'd kept it under.
"Why aren't you the least bit worried?" She spat out lowly, with her body trembling and her jaw set tight.
Aemond remained quiet and taciturn. His eye fixed her face carefully, and his hand gently wrapped around her quivering wrist. "Come on now…" He whispered to her, and watched how her eyes filled with the endless tears of frustration, how the hot droplets rolled down her reddened cheeks.
It would take another moment for her to drop the blade.
A moment she would forever grow to resent.
"I fucking hate you." She hissed through a breathless sob.
Oh, how she wished to hate him. Hate him as she did when they first clashed swords. Hate him as she did when she heard Jace talk about Lucaerys' death.
"Liar." Aemond rasped in acknowledgment.
And, just like that, the damage had been done. The blade rested back into his hand within an instant, and Aemond hit the wall behind her with murderous intent. "Fucking liar." He whispered again, breathing less and less sporadically, trying to wash his nerves away.
"I have been so good to you. But no matter what I do, it'll never be enough for you. Hmm?" He shook his head adamantly, and dug his fingers into the cold tiles of the cursed stronghold. "I am a patient man. But I will not wait a minute longer."
Her face twisted into a painful scowl, and the girl pushed over his chest roughly, but Aemond was quick to deny her exit. "This is not ideal," He muttered lowly to himself, "Yet you need to be taught a lesson."
"What are you d–"
Her words died upon her lips. Aemond hummed in dissatisfaction, and immediately brought the blade into her view.
She let out a scream of pure horror, but his pliant mouth silenced her with a scorching kiss. Her whole body was shaking, and the Prince Regent let out a frustrated sigh.
"Cease your crying, you hateful woman." He chastised her cruelly, "The fucking Gods sent you to ruin me."
At that moment, she wasn't above pleading. Her knees wobbled in place, and her orbs frantically searched for a way out. For something to grip and swing at the man before her.
Aemond's eye softened at the sight of her. Despite the pang of guilt he felt, a teasing and self-assuring smirk formed at the corners of his upturned lips.
So Jacaerys hadn't told her. He never mentioned their Valyrian way to her.
His triumphant feat soon washed away, as her trembling hands came into contact with his. "Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon." He told her adherently, truthfully, despite the obvious language barrier.
He took a moment to regain his composure. Grab a hold of her balled-up fists and remember the ancient words he'd only ever read about in his history books.
"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sỹndroti vāedroma."
He ripped the sleeve from his linen shirt, and placed it over their entwined fingers.
"Mēro perzot gīhoti. Elēdroma iārza sĩr. Izuli ampā perzī."
The blade finally pressed down, over the softness of his left palm. Aemond winced at the sudden pain, and made a mental note to only nick the frightened girl with it, when the time came for that.
"Prūmĩ lanti sēteksi. Hen jenỹ māzīlarion. Qēlossa ozündesi."
(Y/N)'s eyes widened to a comical amount. Somewhere along the way, it seemed, she grew aware of Aemond's intent. She refused to show her hand to him, placing them both behind her back, and holding on for her dear life.
He let out a disapproving grunt, and reached his bloodied hands to her, yanking her right hand from underneath her strong grasp.
"No! No –!" She kept on screaming, and the guards outside shifted in place, before they fell under their oath of silence once again.
The cold and slick edge of the dragon glass pressed lightly against her writhing palm. Aemond made a smaller cut, and carried on with his rapid mumbling.
"Sỹndroro öñö jēdo. Rỹ kīvia mazvestraksi."
His very fist came to cut over his lower lip. His gory hand then reached for her jaw, hammering her in her place, and a sharp sting reflected on her weary stance. Aemond profited off the moment, to ease the dagger into her waiting mouth.
The metallic taste flooded her senses – the girl saw red before her eyes, and failed to register how his fingers came upon his and her forehead, painting them over with a ghastly symbol.
The Targaryen Prince reached for her hand again, and pressed her wounded palm cohesively with his.
"Following the tradition of my House from before the Doom of Old Valyria, I, Aemond of House Targaryen, bind myself to (Y/N) of House Tully, by blood, by soul, by life –"
"NO!"
" – And I pledge to her: that we are now one flesh, one heart, one body. Now and forever."
As he finally pried his limbs away from her trapped body, Aemond allowed his lips to feathery trace over her twisted mouth. She glanced at him, with wide-set and teary eyes.
"Fuck your fucking pledge."
Some grand venue she received.
A single question hung loosely into the air.
"Are you going to rape me now?"
She scarcely registered her own words as they left her mouth.
Aemond's eye widened at her query, and the Targaryen bit over his lower lip, as a deep grimace morphed the fairness of his features. He looked almost dumbfounded by her made assumption.
As soon as it came, the look of utter betrayal left his face.
"You would slit my throat with the knife." Was his mere reply.
***
Sometime along the night, he left.
The mighty roars of Vhagar registered themselves in the far-away distance.
That night, and only that night, she allowed herself the sacrilege of prayer. And she did so, again and again, pleading to the Seven for a blind arrow to reach his neck.
On the back of Vhagar, Aemond shuddered away from the impossible waves of heat, that licked deliciously at his stiffened cock; whenever her breathing would reach his ears, he felt tortured, trapped beneath the swell of lust and wanton desire.
Despite his abhorrent decision, he knew what their marriage meant. He knew all too well what his cruel bind had done, and yet… he felt no plausible remorse for the situation at hand.
The support of Storm's End, Floris Baratheon, Alys – mere casualties compared to the brink of having her, to knowing that she was finally his, as he was wholly hers.
Eventually, she'd have to love him. Eventually, she'd learn to do so.
A marriage wasn't a marriage until it was consummated. But he would give her, as he had promised, the illusion of choice, if nothing else.
As the cold night's air whipped his face again and again, and as Vhagar's thundering resounded over the burnt trees of the Riverlands, Aemond sighed, and brought a shaky hand to the strings of his breeches.
Scared as she was, his Lady made for a beautiful bride. It was such a shame that he didn’t get to see her wear the traditional Targaryen gown.
The pad of his thumb trailed over the cut he'd made – the same cut that now rested over her extended palm.
The flesh would scar, he thought, well pleased; whenever he looked at her, he'd get to see how she was undeniably his.
A possessive growl etched from his parted lips. Images of her paling skin, of her laugh. Her smile. The way her eyes bore into him, as if she always knew something he didn’t.
Leisurely, he began to pump his cock. Below him, Vhagar let out an anguished roar.
"Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon."
Droplets of precum rolled over his clenching digits, coating his knuckles and the base of his shaft in a translucent, but thick ropes.
He groaned desperately, aching to relieve his frustration deep within her, but alas…
His gruff moans filled the air around him; and Aemond could feel his climax building up, as visions of her flooded his thoughts.
How she would feel underneath him. How she would writhe on the edge of bliss, begging, pleading for him to finally take her.
He could feel her legs wrapping around him, and feel himself sliding inside her with ease, praising her for being so good to him.
He wrapped Vhagar's bridle tight over his arm, and secured himself better in his leather saddle. His grip tightened around his dripping cock, but it was just not good enough.
The pace with which he fucked his hand picked up in a wilding speed. Aemond sighed in pleasure, and felt his hips move to their own accord. His breathing became rugged. His very mind was not his own.
He wondered what other scars her body bore. What the story behind them was, and how many of them came by his swift undoing.
Would she lie down and let him take care of everything? Or would she want to stay on top, jumping up and down on him, each time with a harsher thrust?
His hips rose and fell with his less than gentle pace, and the man pushed his length deeper into his steadfast grip.
He knew that if she let him touch her, he wouldn't be leaving her bed for weeks. He would pull countless orgasms from her, time and time again, until she begged for him to stop. He would have her so full of his seed, so the Gods' help him, that she would swell with his child – his trueborn child – before the rise of the first rays of sun.
Feeling his release beckon, the Prince set on a final rhythm, one that left his loins more in need than ever. With a loud hiss, he pushed himself inside his fist one final time, spilling his seed onto the saddle beneath him.
He panted wildly into the night, and suddenly opened his lustful eye, allowing a tear of ecstasy to roll off his scarred cheek.
"Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra."
He couldn't keep up the charade with her. He would tell her all about it, once things finally settled down.
Word in Harrenhal traveled fast.
First it was her brash arrival. Then her impromptu marriage.
No one dared to talk to her. Yet she was never without the indiscreet eyes that followed her about.
Her situation wasn't without its ups and falls: Aemond felt no need to guard her as stiffly anymore – For where would the former Tully go, now that she bared his Targaryen name?
She was allowed to breach into some castle corners, always in the company of hefty guards, of course, and basked herself in some new acquired perks of freedom.
On the same account, whilst Alys remained loyal to her role as her lady-in-waiting, the tension between them couldn't have been more pain-strikingly high.
"I never asked for this. You must believe me."
She gave the younger woman a domineering stare, and only shook her head, obliged.
"And yet here you stand, inside his bed."
Word in Harrenhal spread fast – like a fire left unattended, like the so-called "Targaryen madness".
But a new, particular rumor gobbled the attention of everyone present.
Daemon Targaryen was to return to the Riverlands. And with him and Caraxes, he'd bring forth the formerly wild dragon, Sheepstealer, mounted by none other than Nettles.
The Lady had been acquainted with the bastard girl before – when the Sowing of the Dragon Seeds reveled in their first borne crops.
Another troubling report came forth. King's Landing had been secured by Rhaenyra.
When (Y/N) heard the news be whispered, she almost collapsed on her knees in glee. This must have marked the end of it. Surely, the usurpers would be put through the sword, leaving all to be well, and right again.
The Greens would die. They would face trial.
The Greens.
Indeed, word in Harrenhal spread fast. And she'd just been made the wife of the cruelest of them all.
Dread filled her insides. Her eyes cast their darkened shadow over the walls of the cursed Keep. A single, fundamental truth raised strongly from her anxious wallowing.
If Daemon Targaryen should find out about her marriage to his nephew, and get to her first… naught of the loyalty of the Riverlords would have a single say in her decided fate. And she would meet her end by the way of his blade, Dark Sister.
Now, more so than ever, it was pivotal for her to escape.
The clock was ticking.
And she was running out of time.
***
Her last day in Harrenhal was spent making plans. She'd rubbed her temples a myriad times, and paced about the room in a dizzying trot.
It wasn’t enough for her to disappear – she had to ensure everyone else thought she was gone.
When Aemond returned, she beckoned his call by jumping to her ready feet. The girl took him in, in his devillished state, and merely raised her brows at him. Whenever she saw him, the nick on her palm and lip itched at her relentlessly.
Neither was willing to recognize aloud what had transpired two moons ago, but both knew the inevitable punishment that would come with Aemond's actions.
He took a seat by the edge of their bed, and took his dagger out to play with it.
In vain he had asked Alys to share with him what she could see. She laid in broken, cradling her forming bump – the one she so desperately tried to hide away from him. The one thing that once meant her protection and raise in rank, now could very well heed out her doom.
Her green eyes raised from the floor below them, and Alys merely shook her head.
"There is fire, my Prince. Fire, and blood, and death."
"Going out to face two dragons is a death sentence." His deep voice rumbled through the silent chamber, "I can't afford that risk anymore with you involved."
And there it was. The silent admission of what he had done.
"We'll have to move from Harrenhal. You'll get to meet Daeron in Oldtown."
Was he sorry for what he did?
"It was about time you got acquainted with the rest of the family."
Aegon's cause was lucky that Storm's End was already too involved. They couldn't turn in their banners to the other front. Not now.
"It's a wonderful idea." She uttered in a glacial tone, barely above a whisper. "When will we depart?"
Sharpened orbs came in contact with the loneness of a purple eye.
The man took in a sparring breath, and hummed at her obedient retreat. The Prince's fist clenched over his cutting wound, and he nodded his head firmly.
"Should we be graced with the Gods' favor, issa jorrāelagon, then on the morrow," He explained, "but no sooner than that."
The girl's brows furrowed in discontent, as Aemond faltered in pressing the matter further. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the aid of two long fingers, and heavily rose from his seat.
"Don't wait for me tonight. I shall return to you in the morning. I have unfinished business to attend to."
Lack of air. And crippling fear.
Her tiny world had been thrown into the arms of chaos. But everything fell so perfectly into place.
As soon as Aemond had mounted Vhagar, as soon as her father of wings died upon the night's first watch, the woman sprung to her feet, and began her soul's ascent into the pits of the Seven Hells.
She started off by breaking in her tiny mirror, placing a goose feather pillow below and over it, to somehow mask the clefty noise.
Her long hair was the first to go. She began cutting it swiftly, using big and brisk movements to chop off as many of her luscious locks as she possibly could.
She ripped the mattress of the bed open with one of the bigger shards, and revealed Aemond's dried-up shirt, that she had tucked well under after washing it, long preparing it for that occasion.
Her stomach churned as her hand went to her chamber pot. Risking her own deniability, she submerged her digits deep within it, letting out a victorious huff as she brushed across a piece of cold felt.
The insides of the sack revealed fermented meat – putrid, more like. She scattered the final remains of it over the stone floor like a mad-woman, and ripped the latter pages of the book Alys had gifted her.
She would take the passage to the stables, and simply hope for the best.
Her eyes searched feverishly about the cluttered room, but the hammering in her heart stilled only as she gaped upon the lower left corner of the wall full of banners.
There it was. Exactly where Alys told her it was going to be.
She tore into the mattress further, spreading the wool around, and grabbed a hold of a piece of wood from the crackling fire.
May she be forgiven for what she was about to do.
Her shaky hands grasped the lumber strongly, and she let it roll in the middle of the room, allowing it to fall with a loud bang.
***
The sound of wailing screams echoed inside her head, scratching at her ears, to the point of making them almost bleed. The heat of the fire she caused fell over her skimpily clothed back, and the disgust she felt with herself was palpable against her tongue.
With every turn she took, she made herself another promise. She would not rest until the war would see its end. She'd never sleep warmly again, and forever remind herself of the sacrifice she had to make – of all the lives that she undoubtedly ended, if only to meet her selfish ends.
For once, this was not just Aemond's doing. This was her fault all alone.
Blinded by rage, and seething with fury, her feet carried her down the crooked set of stairs. The woman brought a hand up to her face, and coughed wildly in the back of it. She'd have to make a bold turn soon. Then the outside world would heed, and she would be free again.
With just a twinge of luck, the guards should think that whatever was left of her room collapsed upon herself inside. Her burnt hair and clothes would create the wanted look – the meat would add the unmistakable smell of rot and death, and the lack of an actual body would take days to figure out.
And she prayed. She prayed, she prayed, she prayed: that no one else knew of the passages that she was threading through below.
Her eyes could barely see in front of her. Smoke rose to unforgiving levels, and the Lady swore it could be cut even by the dullest knife. As she reached the crossroads of the secret tunnel, her hands came to grapple at the breeches' pockets, turning them inside out – trying to find the torn pages of the book she'd just previously carried.
A sigh of relief rumbled from within her throat, as the pads of her shaking digits stroked across the withered, olden pages.
Her relief would be short lived.
Boney hands snaked around her, and the girl nearly screamed – until the familiar scent of mint and wild berries floored her senses.
"Alys?!" Her voice let out in an exasperated high. "Alys, we need to hurry!"
But her able hands still hesitantly clung to the soft material of her shirt, digging so deeply into it, that she could rip it in a downward pull.
"You –" She began to say, but cut herself short as she momentarily closed her eyes.
No matter what, she couldn’t tell the Lady before her that she'd have sent her upon her death.
"You took a wrong turn. This isn't the right way towards the South Gates."
The adrenaline flooded her veins. Her heart was pumping wildly against her ears. Lady Tully only nodded, failing to process that Alys had, in fact, never given her access to such an option on the crudely drawn map.
"This way, (Y/N) – came quickly!"
Two sets of legs descended further into the murky passages of Harrenhal. At one point, the smoke had gotten so very thick, that both women had to feel their way out, by touching the corners of every tunnel that they surpassed.
When all seemed lost, Alys finally spoke, "Over here!" She yelled out to her, and latched onto Aemond's dampened shirt.
They stumble into each other, as the small opening of the stifling cellar reaches the South Gates. The witch stops hastily on her heel, and the young Lady nearly busts their cover.
A raid of soldiers came flocking out, with what then looked like tens of thousands of squealing maids. So frightened by their own demise, they bumped into the oak doors and onto each other – choosing to, instead of unlocking the main Gates, reach and pull at the other's hairs, cursing loud and wildly.
Alys let out a bemused huff at their perused antics, but her reglament was short lived; as one of the smarter lassies reached for the illustrious piece of wood, and opened the doors with the loudest of creak.
"Now's our chance," The Lady of Riverrun whispered to her fellow escapee, grabbing onto her wrist harshly, and dragging her out and into the light. "Mingle in the crowd, Alys –"
"My Lady, do not stray far –"
The older woman let out a staggering breath, as she raised her skirts to follow suit on the trail left by the hot-headed girl.
She is Elmo's daughter alright, she disarmingly told herself, Just as hopeless and reckless as he once was.
Alys almost tackled her to the ground, as Lady Tully succumbed herself deeper into the burnt out forest. She gripped onto her hands with hers, so harshly, that she'd definitely leave her mark. "I thought I had told you not to stray far."
The breathless form of the lost child before her appeared to be enough to soften a tad of her resolve. "When I tell you something, I expect you to do it."
Whilst chastising her deeply for her foolhardy behavior, the woman searched her pockets, and pushed out two quarter silvers into her trembling hands.
"You'll go towards the Rushing Halls and buy yourself a mule from the Half Calf's Inn."
As the younger Lady nodded feverishly at her late advice, Alys clasped her cheeks with her hands, and brought her head further towards her. "You'll keep a straight line to the Green Fork. You won't stop to eat or drink – you won't stop until you reach Hag's Mire. Make sure to cover the cut on your hand with this." As she spoke, Alys pushed a black glove into her resting hands.
The Bliss of Riverrun threw the witch a bewildered look. Her eyes searched adamantly for hers, and the woman panted out in pure wonder. "How did you know I intended on migrating North?
"I've already seen you do it." She shook her shoulders promptly, "I've already seen you succeed."
Her green eyes softened, if only for a blazing moment; but the crackling of the trees behind them snapped her out of her inward trance. "Don't waste anymore time. Your diversion was smart, but he will try to find you."
The girl reached down, to squeeze her hands, perhaps, in a wordless display of gratitude and affection. Her soft fingers interlaced over her boney knuckles, and Alys muttered a faint blessing over the twisted arch of her furrowed brow.
The Lady turned around, but not before pausing and shooting the witch one last fiery look. "Come with me." She offered determinedly, and shook her head strongly as Alys took a step back. "He'll try to punish someone for it. You're his next available girl." She begged her to see to reason.
"My place remains here. By his side."
(Y/N)'s eyes hardened at her thorough admission, but she strained herself to shoot the wet nurse back with a curt nod.
"I shan't forget what you did for me." She promised her elder with a minute smile.
"A heads-up when you next decide to set the whole stronghold on fire would be most appreciated…!" She lightheartedly told her, despite the obvious wabbling of her lower lip.
(Y/N) nodded, but remained hammered in place for another while. Alys' hand reached to cup over her face, but a brisk moment of clarity was quick to change her mind.
"Go, you foolish girl…!" She snapped, "Make good use of that promise you made."
Her feet began moving on their own accord. Her mind was blazing with all of the unfinished tasks at hand.
She would run towards the Rushing Halls. Buy a mule. Retreat towards Green Fork. Reach the Twins.
Her road shall lead to Winterfell. If Forrest Fray remained the same kind fool that he once was, she should have no trouble sending Cregan Stark a raven.
And if she could reason with Jacaerys' friend, take in his testimony of protection, perhaps her life wasn't lost just yet.
The gusts of wind ran through her shortened and unkempt hair. Aemond's clothes hung loosely over her, and the stench of fire and ash filled her nostrils with something else other than hopeless dread.
Never before in her life, did the girl run so fast.
Taglist:
Translations:
Gevie… = Beautiful;
Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda. = Do not worry, my sweet love. I promised you I would be patient;
Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa. = One day you will desire me;
Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao. = The Gods have cursed me to love you;
Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar. = Calm down, Vagar. Be still. Good girl;
Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa. = Gods, you were made for me;
Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī. = Just look how perfectly we fit together;
Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir = Sweet girl… don't pull away from me now;
Yn nyke istan zarvīzis. Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis. = But I've been patient. I've been so good and… so, so patient;
Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa... = You act like you don't want this…;
Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī. = But you want me just as much. You ache for me – just as badly.
Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon. = Don't cry, my beautiful Princess. I would sooner die than hurt you;
Valyrian Wedding Vows: Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows, two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass – the stars stand witness, of the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light;
Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon. = I know Vhagar, I know;
Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra. = The Gods don't listen to men like me. But I would go on my knees and beg them to let me keep you. You were once the bane of my existence… and now, you find yourself the center of it.
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#the harshest winters#aemond imagine#aemond fanfiction#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys strong#house of the dragon#jacaerys valaryon#jacaerys imagine#jacaerys angst#aemond smut#bookcanon aemond targaryen#dark aemond x reader#dark aemond targaryen#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#yandere aegon targaryen#unhinged aemond yep yep
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Jubilance
[ joo-buh-luhns ] Noun.
a feeling or expression of great joy, satisfaction, or triumph; gladness or exultation
In which Emily and Aaron are having a baby, and he immediately gives the game away because of his excellent mood.
-x-
Hi friends,
This was partially inspired by the opening of an episode of Bones. It felt very Hotchniss, and I couldn't resist. I needed to write something soft, silly and hopefully funny to keep my mind off of things, so here's some Sunday fluff for you all <3
As always, please let me know what you think <3
-x-
Words: 3.1k
Warnings: pregnancy, references to infertility/struggling to conceive
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
Emily groans as the alarm goes off, pressing her face into her pillow as she hears a low chuckle behind her, the sound passing from her husband’s chest to hers from where he’s pressed up against her.
“Turn it off,” she grumbles, and he laughs again, lifting his arm from her over her waist to reach behind him and turn off the alarm. She takes the opportunity to turn in his embrace, to press her face against his neck as she snuggles against him, relaxing into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her, “I hate mornings.”
Aaron smiles and kisses the top of her head, running his hand up and down her back for a moment, but he stops because he knows it will lull her back to sleep.
“I know you do, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her head again, “The boys will be up soon.”
She groans, hearing what he hasn’t said, and she rests her chin on his chest to look up at him, “They get the early riser gene from you,” she says, frowning before she stamps a kiss against his lips. She sits up and stretches, her stomach lurching as soon as she’s upright, making her grimace, “Lucas definitely doesn’t get it from me.”
He chuckles at the mention of their two year old, his endless energy and love for his mother’s attention meant that Emily very rarely got lie-ins these days. He knows that despite her grumbling she wouldn’t change a thing. He’d often find her downstairs before he’d even got out of bed, Lucas on her hip and Jack helping her make breakfast, a tired smile on her face as their sons both talked at her.
“Maybe this one will take after you,” he says, reaching out and placing his hand on her stomach, but she bats him away, standing up and furrowing her brows at him.
“We don’t even know I’m definitely pregnant, honey,” she says, walking around the bed, her hands on her hips as she comes to a stop on his side, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
It was a feeling that had settled in three days ago, a level of tiredness she hadn’t felt since just before they found out she was pregnant with Lucas settling into her bones. Then nausea followed, something she had half convinced herself was psychosomatic, her desperation to have another baby making her body play a cruel trick on her. She’d told Aaron how she was feeling and she saw the immediate excitement that had flashed through his eyes before he could control it. They’d been trying since Lucas was a year old, an unspoken acknowledgement that if they wanted to grow their family they had a limited amount of time to do it lingering in every conversation.
Emily had struggled as the months rolled on and they had no luck, and the disappointment only got sharper at Lucas’s recent second birthday, the knowledge that she’d been trying to have a baby for a whole year heavy on her shoulders as she tried to enjoy watching her little boy cover himself with cake. She and Aaron had agreed they’d go to the doctor after their son’s birthday if nothing had happened, and she was due to go next week, an appointment already booked for her with her OBGYN.
Now she was wondering if she’d need the appointment for an entirely different reason than the one she’d booked it for, treacherous hope simmering under her skin even though she was the one consistently calming Aaron down. She’d made it clear she wasn’t going to take a test until she was late, not sure she could cope with the disappointment of looking at another negative test if she could avoid it, and he’d happily agreed, his smile soft and understanding as he leant forward and kissed her forehead.
As of this morning, she was officially a day late.
“I have a good feeling,” he says, reaching out and grabbing her hand, squeezing gently as he smiles at her, and she can’t help but smile back, love for him, for their family, warming her from the inside out.
“Me too,” she says quietly, as if she was worried if she said it too loudly it would ruin everything, that the universe would snatch this from her before she even got to have it. She leans forward and stamps a kiss against his lips before she carries on walking towards the ensuite, “I’m going to go pee on a stick.”
She blows out a steady breath as she closes the bathroom door behind her, giving herself a moment to centre herself before she carries on. She walks towards the medicine cabinet and pulls the box of tests from where she’d hidden them in the back, blocked by tampons and Motrin so she didn't have to look at them every time she opened the cabinet. She tears the packaging open and breathes slowly before she walks over to the toilet, pushing down the pair of Aaron’s boxers that she’d stolen to be her pjyamas as she sits down. Once she’s done, she clicks the lid on the test and places it on the counter, purposely ignoring it as she flushes the toilet and then washes her hands. She sets a timer on her phone and places it next to the test before she keeps herself busy, well aware from experience that a watched test never seemingly came up with a result.
She washes her face, nerves and nausea rolling in her belly as she looks at herself in the mirror and dries her skin. She jumps when her phone alarm goes off, and she huffs out a breath, shaking her head at herself as she turns it off. She closes her eyes as she picks up the test, holding the plastic stick in her hand as she takes in a few shaky breaths, hope and pre-emptive grief swirling through her before she forces herself to open her eyes.
It takes a moment for the small pink cross to register, the positive result bright and unmistakable as it stares up at her.
She gasps, the sound shuddering through her as she covers her mouth with her hand, her gaze still fixed on the test as her vision goes blurry from the immediate tears that press at the back of her eyes.
“Aaron!” She calls out, only aware of the desperation in her voice when he runs into the room like he’s on fire, in his boxers and his shirt for work, the buttons only partially done up as he looks at her with wide eyes.
“Sweetheart?” He says as he approaches her, his face painted with sympathy as he mistakes her tears for sadness, his disappointment burning him as he pushes it down, her feelings always more important to him than his own. He steps towards her, his arms outstretched to pull her into a hug, and she chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh as she shakes her head, “Oh, Em-”
“It’s positive,” she says, turning the test so he can look at it, and he freezes on the spot, his eyes wide as he takes the test from her, looking at it with the same level of concentration he would look at complicated case files, “I’m pregnant!”
There’s a moment of silence before he looks at her, his smile wide as his eyes shine too and he pulls her into a fierce hug, “You’re pregnant.”
They both laugh, delighted and wet as the sound pushes past their happy tears. He pulls her impossibly closer, the positive test still clasped in his hands as he kisses her fiercely, everything he always told her and everything he’d never been able to put into words pressed against her lips.
“I love you,” he says, barely pulling back to speak, “I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too,” she replies, resting her forehead against his, her chest aching with happiness. She places her head on his shoulder and angles her face so she’s looking at the test he’s still holding, the two of them staring at the result like it might disappear, “I can’t believe it,” she says, swallowing thickly, “I…I was half convinced I was imagining things.”
He kisses her cheek and then her nose before turning her head with his hand on her cheek to capture her lips in another kiss, “We’re having another baby.”
She nods, her lips pressed together as she tries to contain her happiness, still not used to feeling this way after all this time with him, “We’re having another baby.”
They let themselves sit in it. They enjoy the moment they’d wanted for a year, one that she’d half convinced herself they’d never get. She knows there is still a long way to go, but she starts to imagine what their lives would be like with another kid, how much more beautifully chaotic their life would soon become. Their bubble bursts as they hear Lucas yell from his room, his voice carrying down the hall and through the door,
“Mama!”
They both chuckle and Emily kisses her husband one more time before she pulls away, “Duty calls.”
She winks at him and leaves the room, a bounce to her step she hadn’t had earlier, happiness and joy and something close to relief flowing through her. She smiles as she enters her son’s room, smiling at how adorably rumbled he looks sat up in his bed as he rubs his eyes, his hair askew just like Aaron and Jack’s would always be.
“Morning, Lukey,” she says, smiling as she walks over and lifts him up into her arms, kissing the side of his head as she settles him on her hip, her mind already wondering what their baby would like, what they would be like, “Did you sleep okay?”
He nods and smiles at her, “Pancakes?”
She chuckles and starts to walk out of his room. Pancakes were usually a weekend food, but that never stopped either of her sons from asking for it during the week.
“I have a feeling Daddy will make whatever you want for breakfast today, sweet boy.”
___
He was so happy he could burst.
He could feel it vibrating through him, his skin fizzing with the knowledge that they were going to extend their family. It was a feeling that was chased by relief. He’d seen how months and months of not getting pregnant were affecting Emily, how she’d started turning in on herself, blame that she turned inwards simmering in her eyes even though she’d never vocalised it. He was happy for them, happy that their family was growing, that his sons would have another sibling to grow up with, but he was also happy for his wife. She wanted this so much it made her ache, and she was such a good mother. She was the centre of their family, the glue that held them all together, and he already had images of a little girl who looked exactly like her floating through his mind, her face not entirely clear but her smile and her laugh a mirror image of her mother’s.
Emily had taken the boys to school and daycare, leaving him with a kiss and a wink as she bundled their sons into her car and a promise that she’d see him at work. They’d decided they weren’t going to tell anyone about the baby, not for a few weeks. They’d done the same when they were having Lucas, both of them enjoying having a secret that was just for them. By the time Aaron gets to the office, he knows his wife won’t be far behind. He’d stopped off at her favourite coffee shop to get her some tea that had always settled her stomach when she was pregnant with Lucas. When he was there, overcome with happiness and his good mood, he’d the whole team coffee too, their orders permanently engrained in his mind after so many years working together.
He walks through the glass doors and smiles as he spots the team all standing around Spencer’s desk and he puts down the coffee carriers on Emily’s desk.
“Good morning,” he says, smiling at them as he starts to pick up the coffees whilst they all reply, reading the descriptions scrawled on the side by the barista, “that’s Emily’s tea,” he says, placing it on her desk, “And a black coffee for Reid, Morgan and Dave,” he says, passing them out, missing the way they team all looked at each other through the side of their eyes as he looks back down at the remaining drinks, “And a sugar-free vanilla latte for JJ, and a cold brew for Garcia.” He finally looks up and he furrows his brows when he sees them all staring at him, various stages of confusion painted across their faces, “What?”
Derek speaks first, his coffee still in his hand as he narrows his eyes, “What’s put you in such a good mood?”
Aaron clears his throat and slips his hands into his pants pockets, trying to play it cool, “What do you mean?”
“The coffee,” Dave answers, holding his up before he points over to Aaron, “The smiling, it’s unsettling.”
He rolls his eyes at his friend, “It’s not that rare.”
“Spence,” JJ says as she narrows her eyes slightly, a wry smile on her face as she turns her attention to Spencer, “When was the last time Hotch bought us all coffee?”
“Two years and eight months ago,” he answers quickly, his smiles pressed together, “Around the time that Emily was-”
“Oh my god, is Peaches pregnant?” Penelope squeals, coming to the same conclusion and cutting over Spencer.
Aaron doesn’t get a chance to react beyond his mouth falling open, a desperate attempt to say something failing him as the glass door opens again and Emily joins them, her smile wide as she walks over.
“Good morning,” she says, the same air of happiness flowing off of her that was surrounding Aaron. Her smile slips slightly when she sees how everyone is staring at her, and she turns to look at her husband quickly before she looks back at her friends, “What’s going on?”
Penelope pulls her into a tight hug, “You’re pregnant!”
Emily sighs and rolls her eyes as she steps back from the embrace, her eyes narrowing as she looks at her husband, irritation licking at her insides, “Really? You didn’t even last thirty minutes?”
“I didn’t say anything!” He insists, his hands on his hips as he looks back and forth between everyone, and Dave just laughs.
“He was in the best mood I have ever seen him in since you two told us you were having Lucas. It didn’t take much to connect the dots.”
Aaron frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, “It’s not that rare for me to be in a good mood.”
Emily presses her lips together and shakes her head, placing her hand on his arm and squeezing as any irritation she’d felt melts away. She loved that he was serious, and she loved that their boys were too. Frowns that matched their father’s whenever they were sad or annoyed, an edge of sternness to them that she thinks a 9-year-old and a 2-year-old shouldn’t be capable of. She liked to gently make fun of Aaron for it sometimes, her tongue pressed up against the back of her teeth as she smiled when he was grumpy for no particular reason, but she always felt protective if someone else was to comment on it. Her love for him an armour she’d always use to keep him safe, even from well-meaning jokes from their friends.
“It’s very sweet that you think that’s true, honey,” she says, before she turns back to her friends, sighing as she speaks again, “Yes, I am pregnant-” she’s cut off by Penelope squealing but she carries on, “- we just found out this morning, I haven’t even been to the doctor yet. So, please keep it to yourselves,” she looks at Penelope specifically, “And please don’t get carried away.”
Penelope nods and clears her throat, her smile suppressed as she agrees, “Yes, of course.”
Aaron clears his throat, “Now that’s out of the way, we probably should start work for the day.”
Emily smiles as the team all nod and settle back at their desks, all offering soft congratulations. JJ sneaks in a quick hug and tells her how happy she is for her, the only person outside of Aaron to whom she’d confided her concerns about not getting pregnant again, Emily places her bag down on her desk and picks up the drink Aaron had left there. She shakes her head lovingly when she sees that it’s the tea she’d fallen in love with during her pregnancy with Lucas and she turns to look at him, her smile soft as their eyes meet.
He nods towards his office and she follows him, ignoring how everyone watches them go, and as soon as they are in the room, the door closes behind them, he blows out a breath, clearly annoyed at himself as he rubs the bridge of his nose.
“Sweetheart, I am so sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to give it away.”
“I know you didn’t,” She presses her lips together and steps closer to him, wrapping her arms around him and smiling when he looks at her, “And I can’t exactly be mad that you’re so happy you couldn’t hide it,” she says, shrugging slightly as her smile gets wider, “It’s sweet.”
He raises his eyebrows, clearly having expected a different reaction, “Really?”
She nods and leans in to kiss him, a quick thing against his lips, “Really,” she says, kissing him again, “Besides, this is something I can embarrass her with when she’s older,” she says, dragging his hand to her flat stomach, “I can tell her all about the time her daddy was so excited she existed that he accidentally told everyone about her before he meant to.”
He smiles, his cheeks aching with it as he leans forward to kiss the tip of her nose, “Her?”
She feels her cheeks go pink, her skin flushing with happiness and something close to embarrassment as she shrugs again, “Yeah, her. It’s just a feeling.”
He wraps his arms around her and hugs her close, “I have the same feeling too.”
-x-
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three’s a (choi) charm! ˙ ⋆ . ˚ ☆
09. KISS ME PLZ.
warnings: profanity, a little surprise, written, angst ☹️ (i’m sorry beomgyu i will always love you)
11:57 A.M.
you abruptly wake from your sleep at the sound of commotion being made in your room. well, you thought it was coming from your room. you look down at your phone, seeing a familiar face present on your screen, talking to someone.
yeonjun. he stayed on the phone this whole time? your heart flutters at the thought. he’s obviously talking to his roommate, about whatever because he’s gone on mute after seeing you shuffle in your sleep. he soon pays his attention back to his phone and checks if you’re awake.
“y/n?” he asks in a hushed voice, hoping to not wake you up if you aren’t already. you smile at his voice, shuffling around once again and setting your phone up on a pillow, in front of your face.
you wave lazily as you begin to rub the tiredness from your eyes. he smiles at you, tilting his head in awe. “you look silly,” he says with a small giggle. you groan in half hearted annoyance yet also tiredness, “ugh, shut up i’m still tired.” he laughs softly at your response, clicking his tongue in the process.
“did you schedule the lesson already?” you ask, stretching out your arms to make your body work properly. he smiles at the fact that you remembered and nods his head proudly.
“i scheduled the one for 2:30, we’ll have time to get ready,” he says as he shoves a fork in his mouth. “what’re you eating?” you ask, he smacks his lips and swallows quickly before answering.
“some yogurt bowl, my roommate made it.” you nod and tell him that you’re gonna go eat as well and then hop in the shower. he says okay and bids you a farewell before you leave your phone to charge and go look for something to eat.
you look over to yunjin’s side of the room and see that she’s not even there. shrugging your shoulders, you walk up to your room door and open it. as you open it, you open it to all 4 of your roommates standing in front of it.
all of your eyes widen in shock, being completely caught off guard by the sudden abruption. taehyun is the first to speak up per usual, “sooo, you’re going on a date with yeonjun and you decided not to tell us?”
you sigh, staring at yunjin in defeat. “what??? i couldn’t keep this to myself for the life of me.” you softly chuckle at her response and nod your head.
ryujin and huening kai seem to be confused, looking at each other for some sort of clarity. “what happened to beomgyu?” huening asks, voice laced with concern.
“yeonjun convinced me that i should go on a date with him instead, i feel bad but at the end of the day i don’t think beomgyu will care anyway.” ryujin’s brows furrow in shock and huening scoffs.
you’re caught off guard by the two’s sudden reactions, making your mind full with confusion.
“he was able to convince you or did you never care from the jump?” ryujin asks, a small ounce of venom lacing her normally sweet tone. yunjin looks over at her, face now contorted into a mixture of confusion and scared.
“what are you talking about, ryu?” taehyun asks, face representing a whole different level of emotion. ryujin scoffs in response, rubbing her temple with two fingers. “i mean, think about it really, y/n’s usually very hard to persuade, right? so it couldn’t have been easy unless she’s never cared about how he’d feel after finding out, isn’t that right y/n?”
your brows furrow in offense, “why are you assuming i never cared? before all of this i stated that i liked all three of them, which, may i remind you, they have no problem with! so why, all of a sudden, do you care about how they feel? huh?”
huening kai finally steps in, “because we actually care about other people’s feelings? are we in the wrong for that? for caring when you obviously don’t? we just think it’s a real asshole move what you’re doing, y/n,” he says, shrugging his shoulders to basically say that he doesn’t care what you’re explanation for this is.
you look at both of them dumbfounded, at a loss for words. clearly confused on what to say next, the three of you decide to leave it at that. you walk away to the bathroom, shaking your head in disbelief, causing ryujin and kai to scoff in response. as expected, they also walk away to their rooms, wanting their space. leaving taehyun and yunjin alone, trying to comprehend everything that just happened this early in the morning.
“i’m confused,” taehyun says quietly. yunjin looks at him, brows softly turned outward as a show of her concern. “you and i both, you and i both.” she adds before running a quick hand through her hair. “i’ll go talk to y/n and you go talk to them, deal?” she asks holding her hand out, “deal.” taehyun says, shaking her hand before quietly going their separate ways.
you’re in the bathroom doing your hair before you hear a knock on the door. “come in,” you say, irritated. yunjin steps in with a shy smile, clearly trying to keep the tension down. “you okay babe?” she asks, rubbing small circles into your back.
you nod softly, smiling back at her in response. “i don’t even know what the hell that was, in all honesty.” she nods as well, clearly not knowing what it was either. “maybe they’re just not having a good morning, give them some time. taehyun is talking with them right now,” she says, trying her best to keep you level headed.
“okay, i don’t want this to mess up anything.” you say. she sighs, “it won’t babe, how about this,” she pauses, looking around slowly.
“how about, you take a shower and then i’ll make you food, i’ll have your clothes ready and do your makeup for you? how’s that sound?” she says with a warm smile. you smile fondly at her suggestion and sigh, “i’d love that, yunjin.” you say, welcoming her into a warm embrace.
she pulls away with a smile and rubs your face softly before walking out.
with yunjin’s lovely suggestion, you decide to just do your skincare in the shower and deal with any other problems later. you need to get ready.
-
1:52 P.M.
you and yunjin are in your shared room while yunjin is feeding you small, yet filling portions of your food as she touches up your face and hair. “he said he’s on his way,” you say, taking a short deep breath. yunjin pulls back for a second to get a view of how you look. she smiles, before saying she’s done and letting you check yourself in the mirror.
you smile at your reflection, loving how yunjin’s dressed you and made you look. “cute?” “cute.” you both begin laughing, filled with joy. “thank you yunjin, really.” she smiles at you with fondness, hugging you softly. “anything for you babe.”
your phone pings, lighting up with a text message.
yeonjun (tinder boy #3)
you and yunjin both look at your phone, looking back at each other shortly after. “tinder boy number three? really?” she laughs, “i didn’t know what to put it as,” you say, whining slightly. she shakes her head lightly, rubbing your shoulder softly.
you check the message from yeonjun, reading:
i’m outside :)
you smile softly in response, quickly typing back a short message before being on your way. “okay, he’s here,” you say to yunjin who’s laying on her bed, “alright, have fun!” she says before blowing an air kiss to you. you blow one back in response before seeing yourself out.
you walk out of your room into the living room, seeing taehyun sitting alongside ryujin and huening who just look at you as taehyun gives you two thumbs up with a smile. you mirror him and grab your sweater before walking out.
you quickly get to your apartment lobby, walking outside and seeing yeonjun looking down at his phone, leaning against his car.
you smile at his appearance and begin walking towards him. hearing sudden footsteps, he looks up to see who’s coming. he greets you with a big smile, hugging you as you do the same. “you look pretty,” he tells you, causing you to smile widely and say thank you. he nods as he opens the door for you, motioning you inside.
he closes the door behind you once he sees your comfortable and quickly runs around to the other side. he seats himself carefully, running a quick hand through his hair before putting the key into the ignition. “ready?” he asks quickly, fixing his mirrors and putting a hand on the wheel as you nod with a smile.
he smiles back at you, pressing his foot on the gas after he checks his side mirror.
“it’s around a 16 minute drive but, i was thinking we could stop for food if you want?” he suggests, making you smile. you nod softly, watching as he mirrors your expression while still keeping his eyes on the road.
he asks you to type what you want into his gps because he can’t look away. you type in the closest fast food restaurant and make yourself comfortable as he continues driving, you shoot him small glances watching as he drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear stick.
at some point he catches you staring and he smiles widely, “you wanna play music?” he asks. you nod your head yes as he reaches a stop light and picks up his phone while cautiously checking the light and his phone. he hands his phone to you for you to play music and you begin typing away and putting whatever song comes to mind first.
he begins nodding his head to song that you put on and somewhat singing the lyrics, “you know this song?” you ask in surprise. he smiles and nods, “i used to play it everyday when i was a trainee, i even used it for my dance evaluations,” he says with a proud tone. you smile widely in response and nod like a proud parent.
he begins pulling into the fast food drive-thru and asks for your order, which you tell him of course. he orders your food first and then his, asking you to get his wallet from the dashboard. pulling up to the next window, he pays for it with a smile and asks the worker how they’re doing. he makes small conversation with them and ends it off with a kind goodbye and pulls up to the next window and waits patiently.
“the place we’re going to is gonna teach us contemporary dance, is that okay with you?” he mentions quickly, tapping his fingers on the wheel rhythmically. “yeah, i love contemporary, i used to do it when i was little,” you mention as his face lights up at the fact that you’re familiar with the genre. “then we should be good, if we go consistently, they’ll teach us different styles. would you be up for it?” he asks once again, causing you to nod profusely.
he laughs at your response, quickly turning his attention to the worker handing him the food. he says thank you and places the drinks in the cup holders and handing you the bag with food so you can quickly retrieve yours.
he soon begins his drive to the dance studio, not paying attention to his food. out of kindness, you offer to feed him his food as he drives. he smiles at the kind gesture, saying he’s fine with it.
you begin feeding him his food while also taking bites of yours. you alternate between your food and his, and his drink and yours. soon clearing the bag of food, you also reach the dance studio.
he parks the car and takes the garbage, throwing it out once he finds a spot to park. he opens the door for you again, making you smile at the small act of kindness.
he takes you inside, quickly signing your names and walking to the dance room. you both see a bunch of other people who yeonjun seem to be familiar with as he greets them with a smile and a hug.
the lesson is quick to start as the teacher announces that you’ll be starting off pretty intensely with stretches today. she also announces that she notices yeonjun has a partner today as he usually comes by himself. he smiles and welcomes you with his hand holding yours. you smile and greet everyone, happy to see that they’re all very welcoming people and will be happy to help you if there’s anything you need help with.
during the partner stretches, yeonjun tries tickling you and you tickle him back. the air fills with laughter and joy, making you both extremely happy with each other.
the teacher announces that it’s time for the real part which causes you and yeonjun to get serious. there’s a certain part of the dance that requires yeonjun to run his hand down your arm and dip you quickly. the whole class follows and so do you and yeonjun. he runs his arm down your shoulder slowly and dips you from the nape of your neck, once that move is out of the way, he’s supposed to hold you closely to him and look the other way, but he doesn’t.
he holds you close to him and stares deeply into your eyes. you and him are both lost in each other’s eyes as the tension grows thicker, losing track of the dance and not realizing. all the dancers around you ooh and ah at you two’s obvious attraction to each other.
“yeonjun, let’s make sure you and your girlfriend stay on track, ‘kay?” the teacher says, winking at the two of you once she’s gotten your attention. you both pull away from each other, trying to remain focused but you both keep sending glances at each other.
-
7:43 P.M.
the class goes over the dance a few more times before taking a short break and heading right back into it. it’s almost as if every time you both do the dip move, you can’t pull your eyes away from each other. yeonjun’s eyes dart down at your lips and quickly look back up and he spins you around, carrying on with the dance as if he didn’t do so.
feeling the tension, you both say no other words for each other and the dance lesson comes to an end. you and yeonjun both get water and prepare yourselves to leave.
after you get water, you go back to the room to say your goodbyes and hug everybody while thanking them for helping you out today.
you soon reach yeonjun’s car as he opens the door for you and closes it behind you without saying anything. he quickly comes in from the other side, putting the key into the ignition once again. you stare at him quietly, watching his lips open and close with no words coming out. he feels your eyes on him as he looks over at you and makes eye contact.
you both let the flame within you ignite and do what you’ve been trying to hold back from doing. you both reach over the gearstick and let your lips blend with each others.
the kiss isn’t rushed or forced, it feels natural. passionate. yeonjun holds your face in his hands, deepening the kiss and making himself more comfortable. you tangle your hands in his hair and allow him to deepen the kiss. as if to stop you both from doing anything else, your phone buzzes with a notification and scares you both. you pull away from each other, yeonjun being clearly aware of the situation.
you read your phone with wide eyes.
beomgyu (tinder boy #1): are you with yeonjun?
you show your phone to yeonjun and his eyes widen before putting the car in drive and trying his best to get you home quickly.
he tries to get you home quick but also safely, making sure to stop at every red light and not go over the speed limits. the ride home was extremely silent, almost filled with guilt and shame within yourselves.
he reaches your apartment building sooner than usual and bids you a farewell. you wave back at him and take yourself inside your building, filled with guilt.
what did you just do?
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A/N: oh no y/n… what did you do… (ik i’m very late with chapter don’t hate me 💔)
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The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 33
Feel free to yell at me...
Series Master List
Chapter 34- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 6.2k
“Catfish! Catfish, where the fuck are you!?”
The hellish crackle penetrates his hazy mind, making his body jerk and tip over on to the cold floor. He blinks and scrabbles for the noise, Pope’s voice, on his waist. Shoving himself upright he shakes his head as he snaps the radio off his belt and finds the transmission button.
“Catfish here, over,” he mumbles, his tongue thick in his mouth. Slowly his brain is turning back on and ice hits his veins as he realizes he fell asleep on his post.
“Get down here, get to the rendezvous, FEDRA is all over the place, we’ve got to fucking run! Over!”
“On my way. Out,” he says, his voice clearer as he staggers to his feet. Below him, down on the street, gun fire erupts and he stumbles back towards the door, still finding his balance. There’s a back door, they scouted it before they came up to the apartment, and shaking his head violently to clear the cobwebs, he quickly makes his way down the stairs, sweeping his gun around every corner. He hears FEDRA kick the front door open as he slips out the back, hurrying across the yard and dodging into the next alley, out of sight.
He hears sporadic gunfire from behind him but it’s not directed at him and he can only hope the others are ok. The protocol is to maintain radio silence unless there’s an emergency, and anyway, only Pope has a radio. He moves quickly, dodging into another alley when a FEDRA truck rumbles past. He ducks into a doorway, breathing heavily, cursing himself under his breath as he waits for the search light to sweep the alley. The truck moves on and he’s plunged into darkness again as he peeks out.
“Fish!”
The whispered call comes from across the alley, a window is cracked open and he sees a blacked gloved hand wave at him. Quickly he crosses over and scrambles through the opening, Pope’s hand grabbing him and pulling him through.
“C’mon, let’s move,” he says, “through the back.”
“Where’s Benny and Will?”
“We got separated, I had to dodge to get away from a patrol,” Pope replies, slipping through another door and Frankie follows. Into another building and down into a lower level where they pause, Pope glancing out through a broken window. .
“I fucked up, Pope,” Frankie whispers, grabbing Pope’s arm. “I fell asleep, I fucking fell asleep, I didn’t hear them coming.”
“Fuck, Fish…” Pope sighs, looking back at Frankie, “I thought you had trouble sleeping, and now you fall asleep on a fucking balcony?”
“I…I took…something to take the edge off,” Frankie stutters, trying to keep his eyes on Pope as he sees his friend’s disappointment. “I fucked up.”
Santi shakes his head, “We got ratted out, Fish. FEDRA knew the trade was happening, they turned up with two patrols and two trucks. We’d be in this shit even if you didn’t fall asleep.” He glances back at the street and then throws a look back at Frankie, “But when we get out of this shit, I’m fucking kicking your ass and telling your wife.” He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, “Fuck, Frankie, you’ve got to get past this, man.”
“I know,” he mumbles, “I don’t know how many more chances she’ll give me.”
Pope looks away from the window and looks at Frankie, appraising him and the state that he’s in. They’ve all thought he was slowly moving in the right direction but that it was going slow, too slow. And now he realizes that Frankie’s been hiding the small signs well, but they’re all there. The stumbling, the red eyes, the drowsy tiredness, hiding one addiction with another, trying to get the side effect to cancel each other out.
“She’s always said she’s in it for life with you, Frankie, she’s never shied away from your darker sides. But sooner or later even she will realize that the only thing left for her is to leave.” Santi lets his words sink in, he sees Frankie flinch under the truth of it, "Don't let it get that far, hermano, I’m not sure you can survive without her now.”
Frankie swallows down the guilt that’s threatening to drown him and nods. Santi nods back and glances back out through the window.
“I should’ve known you weren’t ok yet, I shouldn't have asked you to do this.”
“I wanted to, Pope, I thought I could do it,” Frankie says, “I wanted to help you guys out, you help me and her out all the time even though I can barely do shit to help you.”
Santi looks back at Frankie and puts his hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, “Frankie, you’re my brother, she’s my sister, we’re all family, you know we’ll always do anything for you and your girl.”
“And I fucked up your trade, I’m really fucking sorry, Pope.”
Santi sighs and drops his gaze, glancing back out of the window as he thinks. “I’m not mad about the trade, Frankie, all you could’ve done was to give us a few extra seconds heads up anyway. I just want you to get clean, that’s what matters to me, to your girl, and to Will and Benny. I love you, we all love you, and you’re risking that.”
Frankie doesn’t know what to say, guilt is gnawing at his heart, all he wants to do is get home and tell her everything, and hope she still stays. How many times hasn’t he done that? Can he do it one more time and still be lucky enough to keep her?
He nods and Santi claps his shoulder, looking back out the window.
“Alright, all’s quiet, let’s move.”
They cover another two blocks, nearing the rendezvous, when the searchlights of the FEDRA truck slices the street in half. Frankie grabs Pope’s arm and yanks him into an alley just as the light hits them. Running down the narrow back street, hoping the sound of the truck masks their heavy footsteps, they look for a way out, cursing as they’re met by a dead end, a solid brick wall.
A locked door blocks the only exit but Frankie points to a small warehouse window high up on the wall, “Up there, give me a hand.”
“Check for infected before you drop down,” Pope reminds him, giving him a leg up. Frankie turns on his flashlight and lets it sweep across the room, spotting another doorway and a staircase.
“Good news, there seems to be a way out, bad news is the door is blocked from the inside by rubble, I can’t shift it.”
“I can reach the window from the dumpster if you give me a hand,” Pope tugs at the heavy container.
“Pope, look out!”
“In the alley! I’ve got eyes on one of them in the alley!” A soldier yells and raises his rifle. A burst of gunfire rings out and Pope dives behind the dumpster with a curse.
“Come out with your hands where we can see them!”
Frankie risks a glance through the window and the search light of the truck illuminates the alley, just as he pulls his head back he sees a large group of soldiers advance down towards Pope, crouched down behind the dumpster.
“Pope,” he hisses, “Jump, grab my hand, I’ll pull you up.”
Pope looks up at him and gauges the distance up to the window, dumping his backpack. He takes a short running start and jumps, Frankie reaches out as far as he can, their fingers brushing but gunfire erupts around them, bullets pining off the dumpster, taking chunks out of the wall.
“Shoot to kill!” comes the shout from the FEDRA officer in command and more bullets hit the wall as Pope ducks his head behind the dumpster.
“Fuck!” He looks up at Frankie who’s trying to avoid the hail of bullets and glance down at Pope.
“Just fucking run, Fish, get to the rendezvous, get the others,” Pope calls over the din of the gunfire. “Get the fuck out of here!”
“I’m not leaving you, Pope!” Frankie yells, “Jump again, I've got you!”
“I’ll be fucking dead before you’ve haul me up, just fucking run, Fish!”
Frankie frantically looks around the room, anything useful, and back at Pope when he finds nothing. Down the alley he can see the soldiers closing in, as they see him in the window they open fire, bullets narrowly missing him as he yanks himself back.
“We’ll come back for you!” he calls, “I’ll get the others! Don’t let them fucking shoot you!”
“Stay safe, hermano!” Pope calls. Frankie jumps down from the desk he’s been on and takes off at a run, out the other door.
Pope takes out his gun and slides it out from behind the dumpster, into clear view of the advancing soldiers.
“I’m unarmed!” he calls, “I’m unarmed!”
The soldiers' heavy boots crunch along the alley, rifles raised and aimed at him as they round the corner where he’s crouched down, arms raised.
…
Frankie kicks open the front door of the laundromat he finds himself in, smashing the glass in the process. The loud crash echoes through the street and he takes off at a fast run, praying he won’t run into another patrol. He covers a few more blocks, his lungs starting to seize up with the exertion, and he’s breathing heavily as he stumbles down the stairs into the half hidden old metro station. He gives a gasp of relief when he sees Benny and Will waiting, lowering their guns as they spot him.
“Pope got caught by FEDRA, we need to go back and get him,” he huffs, bending double and putting his hands on his knees.
“Fuck!” Benny curses in a hushed voice, pulling his backpack off the floor and swinging it onto his shoulders. “What happened?”
“We got caught in a dead end, a patrol spotted us,” Frankie straightens up, trying to catch his breath, “I climbed through a window but before I could pull Pope up they saw us and opened fire. He told me to get you, to get him out.”
“We’ve got to hurry,” Will says, “They’re going to hang him if they decide he’s a smuggler, they’re doing trials and executions in one day now, we need to get him out now.”
The unthinkable thought spurs all three of them into action and Frankie leads the way back towards the laundromat.
They hurry towards the alley, quickly circling around so that they come up behind the FEDRA patrol, crouching down behind a car and peering over the hood. A group of soldiers is coming out of the alley, another from around the corner where the laundromat is but there’s no sign of the truck.
“No sign of the other man, sir!” one of them says to the officer in charge, “We searched the whole building and the surrounding blocks.”
“Pull back to HQ,” the officer says, “we got one of them at least and busted their trade.”
“Fuck,” Frankie hisses, “we’re too late, they must’ve taken him back to HQ on the truck already.”
“Let’s get out of here, we need to regroup somewhere safe and work out a way to get him out, your place is closest, Frankie,” Will says, tapping Benny’s shoulder. Quietly the three men back away and start making their way towards the apartment.
“What happened, Frankie?” Benny asks as they jog through back streets and alleys, moving quickly to avoid more patrols, “You never radioed, didn’t you see them coming?”
“Someone told FEDRA,” Will growls, “I think either our contact got double crossed by someone, or he was in on it too.”
“But he showed up, but I guess he could’ve done that just to not make it look like he was in on it.”
“Whatever happened, we’ll find out and deal with it,” Will says, “but for now, we need to get Pope out and then lay very fucking low.” ,
Frankie stops, pulling off his cap and shoving a hand through his hair, “I fucked up, I feel asleep,” he confesses and gives the two other men a pained look. “I told Pope, I...I took something to steady my nerves, and I fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until Pope radioed.”
“You’re still using?” Will asks, his voice low, “I thought you were getting over it.”
Frankie shakes his head, trying to keep his eyes on Will but failing, they drop to his boots as he rubs his hand over his neck.
“I couldn’t do it, it got too hard,” he mumbles and he feels both men’s eyes on him.
“You’re telling your wife when we’re done with this, and we’ll figure out how to help you,” Will says, “but we need to get Pope out first. Let’s keep moving.”
“Fuck, Fish…” Benny sighs as they take off at a jog again, “you should’ve talked to us.”
Frankie shrugs and keeps his eyes on the ground in front of his boots as they move through the dark alleys. He can feel Benny’s eyes on him, guilt making his body tense up. But Benny just gives him a clap on the shoulder, a gentle squeeze, and when Frankie glances at him, Benny flashes him a quick smile.
“It’s alright, man, we’ve still gotcha.”
Will looks back at the two of them as they slow down, coming up on Frankie’s apartment building.
“Yeah, Fish, we’re not giving up on you that easily.”
…
The military trial is summary, the judge, a FEDRA officer, listens to the arresting officers statement, looks at some papers in front of him, before he lifts his gavel.
Pope stands stock still, his hands uncomfortably shackled behind his back and the cut on his eyebrow stinging, but he’s focused solely on keeping his breathing calm. He knows what his sentence will be, it was a risk they all took, but it doesn’t make this moment any easier.
To hear it out loud.
“Santiago Garcia, you have been found guilty of transporting contraband into the quarantine zone in breach of FEDRA regulations. You have been found guilty of entering the quarantine zone without the proper screening procedure, thus endangering the population of the Boston QZ in breach of FEDRA protocol. You have been found guilty of aiding the terrorist organization known as ‘The Fireflies’ by supplying them with weapons and ammunition.”
The judge glances up from the papers and looks down his nose at the man standing in front of him in the middle of the room, handcuffed and shackled with armed guards on either side.
“All three of these violations are serious threats to the safety of the citizens of the QZ. I have no choice but to sentence you to death by hanging.”
The gavel drops, the heavy thud reverberating through the small room.
Santi bites down on his jaw, biting back the bile that’s threatening to rise in his throat. He barely notices as the guard yanks on his handcuffs and forces him to move, leading him across the room and out through a backdoor into an enclosed yard. A truck is waiting, two men and a woman already seated in the back. The woman is silently weeping, her whimpers shaking her body, the man in the back corner is cursing under his breath, raining hellfire on FEDRA.
Santi stumbles as he climbs into the truck, the shackles around his ankles making him clumsy. The canvas flap is pulled down behind him, the truck rumbles to life and leaves the yard. He sinks his head into his hands, praying to a god he no longer believes in, that his brothers will somehow manage to get to him, break him out of this. But it’s been so fast, less than twelve hours since he was caught, the trial already over. The truck lurches through the QZ until it comes to an abrupt halt. A few moments of silence and he can hear the murmurs of a crowd through the thin canvas. The flap is thrown open, momentarily blinding him as he tries to shield his eyes from the sharp spring sunlight. Fear fills his every vein as he sees the scaffold, four nooses in a row.
…
You don’t think you’ve ever been this tired in your life, but adrenaline keeps you on your feet. The hours have passed in a blur since you were woken up by Frankie crashing in through the door, Will and Benny right behind. You spent the night crying and cursing, panicking, while the men went through every possible angle, any way of breaking Santi out of FEDRA lock up, getting to him when he’s being transported, attacking the courtroom and killing the guards, storming the scaffold.
Anything.
Anything to get their brother out and away from FEDRA, to avoid the inevitable death sentence.
Then they’d left a few hours before the curfew lifted, heading for FEDRA HQ. You didn’t even ask if you should come, one look at Frankie’s face and you knew it would be pointless. So you’d paced, back and forth, for hours, the panic ever present in your chest. You wanted to run down to FEDRA HQ and scream until they let him out. Take him and run, escape the QZ, kill everyone who stood in your way. So violent and vengeful were your thoughts that you tasted blood in your mouth as you bit down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. Breathless you’d stood by the window, watching dawn break.
Hours after the curfew had lifted they finally came back, but their dark faces told you everything, there was no possible way. It was hopeless. A suicide mission.
“If we had a week and time to plan, get supplies, then maybe,” Will had said, “Get the Fireflies on our side and bomb the HQ guard station. But just the three of us? We’d be dead or captured in five minutes.”
“Then we fucking try anyway!” Benny had shouted, his rage simmering under the surface and now he let it out. “We take as many of them out as we can and if we fail, we go down together.”
“And you think that’s what Pope would want us to do?” Will snapped at his brother. “Get ourselves killed on a suicide mission? Would you do that to Eve? Because I’m sure as hell not doing that to Diana!”
Frankie sank down on the couch, his head buried in his hands. He’s told you what happened, confessed and watched your face fall in disappointment before he had to drop his gaze. You didn’t say anything, but he felt your heart break as your fingers clutched at his hand.
Benny and Will left to go home, to tell Eve and Diana. Frankie begged you to stay behind when it came time to leave, to not witness this. But the very idea of not being there, to not let Santi know that you were there, made tears well up in your eyes again. And Frankie took your hand, tight in his own, and together you walked to the main square.
…
Now you’re here, in the murmuring crowd, and the truck has just pulled up. There are soldiers everywhere, circling the scaffold, a barrier between the crowd and those condemned to die. Their impassive faces scan the citizens of the QZ, rifles held in their hands, a tight row, a show of FEDRA’s power and deterrence to the Fireflies.
You can’t make your tears stop streaming, Frankie’s arms are tight around your chest as he stands behind you, you can feel his fingers digging into your arms. Eve is weeping next to you, Benny next to her with his arm around her shoulder, his brother close by. When you glance up at Benny you see fat tears drop down his nose. Joel and Tommy stand behind you, grim faced and silent, Tommy’s head bowed, fighting back tears.
As the truck flap opens the crowd goes silent. This is no jeering execution crowd, these are silent, grieving witnesses to FEDRA’s cruelty.
He steps out first, his face pale, dried blood on his cheeks from a cut on his eyebrow. He scans the crowd and Will raises his hand, holding it high and you see the moment Santi notices. His face softens, transforms into regret and grief and then he’s pushed forward by the guard, stumbling forward up the stairs and onto the scaffolding.
You whimper as the noose slips over his neck. Santi is standing so still, his hands tied behind his back, head held high, as he looks at his brothers with a steady gaze. You all raise your hands over your heads, a greeting and farewell, and he locks eyes with Frankie. You can see it, his eyes fixed just over your head. Frankie’s body shakes behind you, trembling as he fights to push back the sob that’s forcing its way up through his throat. Santi gives him a weak smile, a nod, like he’s sending a message.
And then the hood is pulled over his head and you close your eyes, picturing Santi’s smiling face in your mind, his mischievous grin, warm brown eyes that sparkle when he teases you, his strong arms in a hug as he calls you hermana. Forcing yourself to remember him that way, and not like this. Frankie’s arms pull you tighter and you turn, burying your face in his chest as the officer reads the sentences, his heart is thrumming hard under your ear and his shirt is wet with your tears.
The officer goes quiet and the square is silent but for the open weeping heard from the men and women around you. You add your own to the chorus, your shoulders shaking under Frankie’s tight grip, his own tears dripping down into your hair.
And then the clap as the trap door falls open and four bodies drop, the creaking of the rope and the thump as it stretches. You hear Will’s strangled cry and Frankie’s choked gasp as he sobs into your shoulder, burying his face. You hear Benny stumble to his knees, roaring, the sound of an injured animal making your heart break. Frankie lets go of you and crouches down next to Benny, grabbing hold of him as Will does the same, the three men holding on to each other as Benny roars. Eve grabs hold of you as Diana wraps her arms around you both and you glance up towards the scaffold.
The fourth man, at the end, hangs still and lifeless, his head bent under the hood.
…
You all lose track of time, you can’t say how long you stand there, holding each other. Frankie stands up and pulls you into his arms, Eve kneels next to Benny and holds him tight. At some point a soldier comes over to Will and hands him a set of dog tags and Santi’s backpack, everything of value removed. Will lets the tags slip into his pocket without even looking at them, the backpack stays by his feet.
There’s nothing left to say for now, as the sun shifts across the sky, your tears dry up and you’re left with a hole inside you. When you meet Frankie’s eyes you see the same numbness. He’s lost his brother, his best friend, and his eyes are empty, red rimmed and swollen as he sinks down into darkness.
You try to find some words, to say something, anything, but nothing comes. You can’t even put your own grief into words, it’s just an open wound in your chest. Part of you wants to scream until your throat is raw and you run out of breath, the other part just wants to just curl up on the dirty asphalt and forget everything, sink down and follow him.
Around you people are moving away, the square empties and you can’t comprehend how they can go home, make dinner, mundane tasks that seem pointless. All you can do is hold Frankie, bunch his shirt in your fists and keep breathing.
At some point Will shakes himself into action, pulls Benny to his feet and tells Frankie to take you home.
“We’ll meet tomorrow…empty his apartment,” Will pauses, looking over at Frankie, the older man’s head bowed, his arm tight around your shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Frankie,” he says, “It wasn’t, we knew the risks, Pope knew the risks.”
Frankie doesn’t reply, he tries to meet Will’s eyes but he can only hold them for a second before he shakes his head and drops his gaze to his boots.
“Take him home,” Will says, looking at you, “don’t let him do anything stupid.”
…
Frankie feels every hour pass that night, on his back in the bed, the QZ dark outside the curtains. But at some point he must've fallen asleep because you’re gone when he wakes up and the sun is high in the sky. You’d barely talked to him when you’d both come back to the apartment, after it was all over. It was as if there was nothing to say and you were deep in thought. Frankie felt numb, grief throbbed deep in his chest, making breathing hard, but it was as if he’d locked it up in there for now, refusing to let it out until he knew what you were thinking.
You’d sought him out in bed at least, last night. Curled yourself into a small ball and let him wrap his arms around you, taking his hand and pulling him closer. But now the bed is empty and as he searches the small apartment he sees your boots and coat gone too. He paces back and forth, trying to will his brain to function, to run through every possibility and rank them, trying to decide what he should do. He ends up in the same spot every time; in front of the toilet, his hand closed tight around the last pills. He wants to flush them, he even holds his hand out over the bowl a few times. But he’s scared, he knows the nightmares he’ll face if he doesn’t have them. Now more than ever.
He turns around, stuffs them deep into his pocket and stands by the window, the sky is getting dark. The curfew is in effect and you’re not home yet, he didn’t realize it was so late. The day has slipped from him and the familiar spark of panic hits his stomach, he touches on the idea that maybe you’ve left for good, it’s always his first reaction and he forces himself to remember all the times you’ve said you’d never leave.
But maybe this time…
There's a heavy knock on the door and it makes him jump, almost instinctively he pats his pocket and makes sure the pills are out of sight.
Joel’s outside and he pushes his hood back as Frankie opens the door.
“Joel? What are you doing here?” Frankie pulls the door open and lets the other man inside, closing it behind them.
“I need to talk to you,” Joel doesn’t bother with his boots, he walks into the living room and looks around.
“I have a message from your wife,” he says, turning to Frankie, “She came to see me this morning and asked me to take her out of the QZ, to that car we hid.”
Frankie feels his skin go cold as his stomach drops and Joel continues, “She’s there now, waiting for you. If you’re not there by morning, she’ll leave. I gave her the keys to the car and checked that it still works.”
“Why?” Frankie chokes out, he can feel his nails digging into his palms and panic is definitely taking hold of him now.
“She said, and I agree, that you need to leave the QZ. So she’s forcing your hand.”
“You left her alone outside the wall? My wife!?” Frankie suddenly feels anger and fear bubble up inside him and Joel holds up his palms.
“Calm down, she’s safe, for now. We cleared out the building next to the car, she’s bunkered down there until morning. But I can’t guarantee she’ll stay safe for very long once she leaves.”
Frankie groans and hurries across to the closet, yanking open the door and pulling out his backpack. Now he sees that hers is already missing, along with some of her clothes. And he bets supplies are missing from the box in the kitchen and in the hidden space under the bookshelf.
“She made me promise to not tell anyone else, only you,” Joel says. “Do you want me to come with you out to the car?”
“Get me outside the wall, I know the rest of the way,” Frankie replies, stuffing his pack, grabbing the photo of Lucía from the bedroom. He glances at your side of the bed, the photo of you and him is missing.
“Did she say anything else?” he asks, sticking his gun into his pants and checking that he’s grabbed all the ammo.
“No, only to not tell anyone and to get you.”
“I should get Will and Benny,” Frankie says, thinking out loud as he pulls on his boots.
“You won’t have time, she’s leaving in a few hours,” Joel nods to the short May night outside the window. “She planned it that way, I don’t think she wants to involve them or she would’ve asked them to take her outside.”
“They would’ve stopped her, Will would’ve physically restrained her before he let her go outside alone,” Frankie says, “She came to you because she knew you’d do it.”
Joel nods and follows Frankie outside the door, “She was right, and I also agree with her that you need to get away from the QZ.”
Frankie locks up and they head out the backdoor. The curfew is still in effect so Joel quickly leads the way through the dark QZ, ducking into a building and following an underground passageway until they pop up on the outside, some way away from the wall.
Joel stops and turns to Frankie, “You know the way from here right?”
“Yeah, no problem. Anything new I should know about?”
“Be careful around that old gym we used to cross through, I took down a runner there last time, might be more around.”
“Ok, good to know,” Frankie nods and adjusts his pack before he sticks his hand in his pocket, closing it around the key to the apartment and the bag of pills. He pulls both out.
“Here, give the key to Will, in case we don’t come back. And…” he hesitates, looking at the pills, his fingers starting to curl closed around them, but before he can make up his mind, Joel reaches out and snatches the bag from him.
“I should’ve told her about Tess selling you the drugs. Tell her I’m sorry for not telling her.”
Frankie shakes his head, dropping his shoulders as he watches Joel stuff the bag into his shirt pocket, “I don’t know if it would’ve made a difference, to be honest. I just would’ve gotten better at hiding it.”
He glances up at the sky, it’s starting to lighten, the short May night almost over, “I need to get going, thanks for taking me out here, I’ll see you around, Joel.”
“I hope I don’t, Frankie,” Joel says, “Listen to her, and don’t come back.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’ll tell you, listen to her.” Joel gives Frankie a wave and turns around, “Stay safe, Frankie, and don’t come back.”
Frankie watches Joel’s retreating back for a few moments before he pulls out his gun and moves forwards. The lightning sky makes it easier to see where he’s going but it spurs him on, hurrying through the broken city towards where they’d parked the car.
…
You hear his footsteps on the stairs just as you’re starting to think that you might have to wait another day. You’ve been waiting all night, counting the hours, even the minutes, as the sky got lighter. Your plan is to leave, really leave, if he doesn’t turn up and you’d told Joel to tell Frankie that you’d leave at dawn, you wanted him to panic. But in truth, you were petrified, the very idea of going outside alone made you panic. Getting in the car and driving away from the QZ, from Frankie, would be impossible, but you’d have to do it if all else failed. And you needed him to get scared, really scared, this really was his last chance.
You open the door to the small office at the top of the stairs as he comes up, you see his shoulders drop the second he sees you.
“Cariño,” he whispers, taking a few long strides and grabbing hold of you, and you have to steel yourself. He’s warm and solid, his arms always such a safe place, it’s so easy to just melt into him and forget your resolve. You let yourself hold on to him for a few seconds before you put your palms on his chest and push him away.
“I’m giving you a choice, Frankie,” you say, locking eyes with him as he drops his arms from your sides, “Either you leave with me now, or I leave alone and you go back to the QZ without me.”
Frankie takes a step towards you, reaching for your hand and you back away, “Cariño…”
“You have one more chance, Frankie,” you interrupt him, “I’m not giving up on you, but whatever I have been doing, clearly isn’t working. And now Santi is dead.”
At the mention of his name you choke, you’ve pushed everything down, ignored the pain in your chest but now it breaks through and you sob, covering your mouth with your hands. Frankie puts out his hand but you pull away again, his eyes are filling with tears and his jaw is tight.
Across the dim room you look at eachother, and you can feel the impasse in front of you both, the fork in the road; trust Frankie and leave with him. Or he lets you leave and never sees you again.
The very thought makes your heart physically hurt. That option is never going to be possible for you. Not when Frankie is standing in front of you with teary eyes, his hands twitching at his side, looking at you like he’s about to break if you take one more step away from him.
“I need to get you away from Joel. From Tess,” you whisper after a long silence, “From every other person that’s prepared to let you sink further into this fucking pit in exchange for a few ration cards, Frankie.”
He nods, taking a small step towards you and you don’t back away, “I’ll go wherever you want, cariño, you know that.”
“I know, but I don’t know if I should let you,” you look back at your pack, your gun, all ready to go, without him. He sees the pain in your eyes, the way tears are dripping down over your lips and you wipe your hand over your face. He reaches out for you again, he needs to touch you, he feels like you’re going to run if he doesn’t, and you let him close his fingers around yours, soft hand under his calloused grip.
“I can’t say anything to make a difference,” he whispers, his voice low in the room, “I failed them in the worst possible way, I-I failed all of you…” he stutters and trailers off, his eyes growing dark, “and Pope died…I got him killed.”
You can’t take it, as his chest heaves under the weight of his grief you close the small gap between you and wrap your arms around him, burying your face against his neck. But you can’t say anything to comfort him, this pain is his to use to break through, to get to the same point you’re already at.
He fights to control his breathing, to stop the sobs, this is not the place to break down. You feel him tense up under your arms as he straightens up, inhaling deeply and swallowing back another gulp of air that’s threatening to escape.
“We go back and get Will and Benny,” he says, firming up his voice, making a decision, “then we leave, go find that farm we talked about.”
“No, only you and I go,” you shake your head, pulling back so that you can look at him, “We can’t all fit in the car, and we’re not asking them to choose between helping us and leaving Eve and Diana behind.”
“Cariño…I can’t leave them, we can’t, we have to at least give them the choice,” Frankie tries to make you understand but you shake your head, steeling yourself for what you have to say.
“Santi died because of your addiction, Frankie. I’m not letting Will and Benny risk anything more, it’s just you and m-me n-now,” your voice breaks over the last syllables, Frankie’s face has fallen, you can see the guilt your words give him and you bite your tongue to not take it back. But he nods, taking a deep breath, as he squeezes his eyes shut for a second.
“You’re right, fuck…I can’t ask them, we have to go now.” You feel his hand close around yours, taking hold of it as if he’s never letting it go again, “Where do we go?”
“I don’t know, we just go, Frankie.”
Chapter 34
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Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.
Chaeri's Masterlist
Take it too far
❒ words: 1.1k+
❒ summary: In which Namjoon is concerned about Chaeri's health
❒ prompts requested: 29 "When was the last time you ate something?"
❒ warnings: Weight loss; neglecting
Early 2021
Chaeri stepped off the scale, pleased with her results. She had never been fixated on being very thin; she had always eaten healthily and exercised often to achieve a body that she was proud of. But due to her role as the lead in the TV series 'My Name,' producers asked her to lose a few pounds. 'Our leading character neglects herself and is obsessed with revenge. Her physical appearance should reflect this idea' they said. Chaeri thought it was fair; actors frequently take drastic measures to best portray their characters, such as shaving their heads, gaining weight, slimming down or growing beards. Shedding some pounds wouldn't hurt her.
But as the filming began, she realized that losing weight wasn't the only thing she had to sacrifice for the role. Long hours on set coupled with her busy schedule as an idol left her with little time to eat. She often forgot to have meals or skipped them altogether, and it wasn't long before she started feeling the effects of it.
Yet, she refused to acknowledge the impacts of her actions as if ignoring them would make them go away.
She had lost count of the number of times they had rehearsed Butter's choreography, but it didn't matter because they still weren't perfect. Sweat poured down her face and stuck to her neck as she took a swig from her water bottle in the corner of the practice room. She couldn't believe how tired she was, and they hadn't even been there for two hours yet.
"Let's break for lunch and then try again" Hobi suggested as he picked up his gym bag from the floor and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his face.
Chaeri nodded, her stomach growling as if in agreement. At that moment she would've eaten anything.
"I just hope all this sweat doesn't fall into the bowl" she joked, taking a playful swipe at Taehyung, who was walking past her.
Taehyung playfully dodged Chaeri's swipe, laughing. "Don't worry, we'll get you a bib" he said, grinning.
As they made their way to the cafeteria, Namjoon walked up beside Chaeri. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, noticing the tiredness in her eyes and the way her hand rested protectively over her stomach.
Chaeri offered him a smile "Yeah, just a little hungry."
Namjoon raised an eyebrow, "That's all?" he asked skeptically, knowing that there was more to Chaeri's exhaustion than just hunger "You have been working very hard lately. Don't tire yourself out"
"I'm fine, really. Just need some food and I'll be good to go"
Namjoon didn't look convinced, but he didn't push her further. Instead, he decided to keep a closer eye on her from then on.
By then, Chaeri’s meals were often interrupted by someone from the staff reminding her of her obligations. She would apologize to everyone at the table for having to leave, insist they save her plate, only for it to be thrown away the next day. This became a frequent occurrence, as did being woken up at all hours by her manager since most of her TV series filming started before sunrise due to her grueling idol schedule that kept her active until late into the night.
"How long have I been asleep?" he had heard her say sleepily to her manager.
"Forty minutes sweetie. I'm so sorry to wake you up, but we have to go."
"Don't worry, just give me a couple of minutes."
Namjoon watched as Chaeri struggled to keep up with the demands of her busy schedule. He noticed how she had lost weight since filming began, and her energy levels seemed to be at an all-time low. He had to help her.
As they rehearsed their routine, Chaeri stumbled and nearly tumbled to the ground. Namjoon caught her in time, and her frame leaned into his body. "I'm sorry," she spoke weakly. As he clasped her arm to hold her upright, Namjoon felt a deep sensation in his gut upon feeling how light she was.
"Let's take a break, ok?"
Chaeri nodded, following him as everyone dispersed to make the most of those minutes of break time.
She sat on the floor, resting her back against the huge mirrors in the room, her breathing laboured. Namjoon crouched beside her, his hand resting on her leg. "Chaeri, have you been eating well?" he asked gently. "Because if you're only eating what I see, I'd say you're really not"
Chaeri bit her lip and nodded slowly, her eyes cast downward. "I have been trying to," she admitted in a voice barely above a whisper, "but it's hard with everything going on."
"When was the last time you ate something?" he asked gently
Chaeri furrowed her brows, trying to remember. "I had half a sandwich yesterday morning" she said after a few moments.
Namjoon frowned, concern etched into his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself as he watched Chaeri’s fatigue deepen with each passing moment. In that moment, he knew what he had to do "That's not enough" he began, squeezing her leg reassuringly "You need to take care of yourself, Chaeri. You can't keep going like this"
Chaeri sighed, leaning her head back against the mirror. "I know, but it's difficult. I don't always have time to sit down and eat a full meal. And when I do, it's usually something quick and easy, like a protein bar or cup noodles."
Namjoon took a deep breath, watching as Chaeri's eyes began to droop and her body grew even more tired. He knew he had to do something to help her before things got worse.
“I’m going to make sure you’re eating better, okay? I’ll bring you food and make sure you have time to eat properly. You can't keep going like this. It's not good for you." He spoke with a firmness that belied the warmth of his gaze as he made his way towards the door. "I'll bring you something to eat right now," he promised, "and after we finish rehearsing, we'll sit down and have a proper meal together."
Right as Namjoon was about to leave the room, a man from Chaeri's staff came barging in. Without skipping a beat, Namjoon turned and pointed his finger at him, "Don't you dare try and bother her. She's on a break."
The man seemed startled at first, but then regained his composure. "I apologize, Namjoon-ssi, however we must speak with Chaeri urgently."
Namjoon's eyes narrowed as he took a step closer to the man. "Whatever it is, it can wait. Chaeri needs some time to rest and eat."
The man hesitated for a moment, but then nodded reluctantly before leaving the room.
Namjoon slowly shifted his gaze to Chaeri. Her face was tired, her eyes were rimmed in a deep red, and there was a look of deep appreciation in her expression. "Thank you, Namjoon," she said softly. "I'm not sure what I would do without you."
He smiled reassuringly at her "You won't ever have to find out, I'm here for you now and always"
taglist @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @ycuvi
#bts 8th member#bts imagines#namjoon imagine#namjoon drabble#bts scenarios#bts drabble#namjoon#namjoon x reader#kpop female member#bts female member#bts eighth member#kpop female oc#bts female addition#bts x reader#bts addition#bts
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Pierced [Hotch x Reader]
Photo credits: Right (@shallyne) Center (@sillyhotchsgirl) Left (Google)
Prompt: The reader gets a new piercing and sends Aaron a picture of it while he’s on a case. To say he’s flustered is a bit of an understatement.
Category: Fluff
Word Count: 2.5K
Content Warnings: Piercing (tongue), implied sex (at the end), minor language, canon typical unsub behavior (unsub is a bomber)
A/N: This is for my love @sadgirlzluvdilfs. She had mentioned a new piercing and Aaron, and well, I had to oblige. Full transparency, I don’t have any piercings of my own (but I do have ten tattoos), so I would not recommend following any advice for aftercare mentioned in the story. I hope you like this darling. The reader is a non-BAU member and there is an established relationship. If you like this story, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! I hope you all have a good start to the weekend. Love Levi.
List with all stories
_y/n_ = your name
Aaron’s personal cell dinged in his back pocket, and he pulled it out. He turned on the home screen and saw that _y/n_ had sent him a message and a photo. He looked over at the team who were scouring hundreds of files for a clue on the current unsub who was on a bombing spree in Michigan. Firmly Aaron said, “Excuse me for a moment,” to the team. Rossi looked over to Aaron as he walked away. Hotch found a quiet spot in the hallway of the bustling precinct. He swiped up on the message from _y/n_. The text read: “Good morning, Aaron. I’m missing you extra hard today. Please stay safe and let’s call tonight if you have time.” Hotch smiled and felt that familiar warmth spread through his body at hearing _y/n_’s desire for him. He then looked at the attached photo. It wasn’t what he was expecting. It was a photo of _y/n_’s face, but just the lower half. She was smiling and had her tongue out at him. Aaron wiped the tiredness from his eyes, as he looked at the picture again. Then with a snap, he noticed the obvious. There was a piercing on her tongue, and the area looked a bit red and swollen. Hotch had totally forgotten that _y/n_ was having this done today, though she had let him know that it was happening. Due to the case and frenzy of the team, the thought had completely slipped his mind. Aaron took a moment to like the picture and replied, “That looks great sweetheart! Does it hurt?” As he waited for a response, his mind momentarily wandered lightyears away from the case and the unsub, as he imagined kissing _y/n_ with this new addition to her mouth. For a second he imagined that it would be cool against his own tongue, but then he realized that the metal would be warmed to her internal temperature. Either way, it would be a new sensation for him. He’d never had a partner before that had a mouth piercing. He looked forward to seeing what that felt like. Then there was the thought of her mouth, her piercing on another erogenous zone of his body. The twitch in his pants told him that this was something he was certainly going to have to explore once he got home.
Hotch moved to the men’s room and turned on the cold tap. He splashed some water on his face to metaphorically and literally cool down his mind and body. Aaron righted himself and pulled some paper towels from the dispenser, patting his face dry. The door opening caught his attention, and he saw Rossi enter. Dave leaned against the door and asked, “Is everything alright?” Hotch cleared his throat and said, “Yeah. I just needed a minute. Let’s get back to the team.” Rossi looked over at Aaron. The older man could see that something was up but didn’t ask further. Dave knew that Aaron, even as a close personal friend, was private about most things in his life. That in keeping certain parts of himself hidden, there was comfort and control. And with the job they had, having those two things could be a lifeline. Just as they got near the briefing room, Hotch’s phone dinged again. _y/n_’s reply was simple, saying, “My pain level is fine, but my tongue is a little tender, and my jaw is a bit stiff.” Aaron smiled. Knowing that _y/n_ wasn’t in much pain made him feel better. He quickly replied, “Good to hear. I’ll call tonight if there’s time - A.” With that, he recentered his attention on the case at hand.
That evening in the hotel room, Aaron collapsed onto the mattress. His body was tired and aching from being on his feet all day. The bomber had led the team on a few wild goose chases around the city. The team and JJ in particular were good at not following false leads, but this unsub was smart with their disinformation. They knew how to make a false flag seem to need immediate attention. Hotch pulled out his legal pad and jotted down: Disinformation? Possible groups affiliated - China, Iran, Russia. Ask R. for patterns in text and call G. for more info tomorrow. When he had finished writing, he rested his upper body back down on the bed and pinched the skin between his eyebrows; worry and exhaustion tugging at his insides. Hotch decided he was going to take a nap for an hour. Yes, the case was pressing and needed his focus, but he knew that he wouldn’t be giving his best if he was this tired. So he would compromise by sleeping for a bit and then diving back in. Aaron found his phone at the bottom of his work bag and detailed _y/n_. After the first ring, _y/n_ answered and he said, “Hey, _y/n_. I don’t have a lot of time, but I just wanted to hear your voice.” _y/n_ replied, “Hey back at you. Are you doing okay? How’s the team?” Aaron let out a breath and then said, “I’m good. Tired though. And the team is well. They're in their usual form. They’re so sharp. Sometimes it amazes me.” There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line, and _y/n_ replied, “Well you are too, Aaron. Don’t forget to give yourself some credit.”
Whenever _y/n_ said things like this to him, he felt a warmth dissipate over his chest and radiate down his body. He knew _y/n_ meant it when she said things like this. She wasn’t one to just give him an ego stroke for the sake of it. If she said something, she was being honest. That was one of the many reasons he found her so attractive. To find someone willing to be genuine was rare, and Aaron cherished that part of their relationship. Hotch thought for a second that he had heard the smallest lisp in _y/n_’s voice as she spoke and remembered again about the new piercing. He commented, “So, how’s your mouth. Are you taking care of your new jewelry?” _y/n_ responded, “It’s fine. I’m on some Advil, but other than that I’m all good. And I’m following all of the aftercare steps the clinician told me to. It’s healing surprisingly fast.” Aaron gave a little hum of acknowledgment and said, “Well I look forward to seeing it in person. Listen, honey, I’m going to have to go now. But I love you and I’ll text you when I’m on my way back, okay?” There was a momentary pause and _y/n_ replied, “Alright. Please be safe, Aaron.” To which he responded, “I will.” Before _y/n_ hung up, she softly said, “I love you.” Hotch could hear the worry in her voice, even as she tried to hide it. Whenever he called her on cases she sounded this way. At least until he had let her know that he was heading home. He couldn’t blame her. Due to the nature of the BAU’s work, he couldn’t share details about the cases he worked on, and _y/n_ was very aware of the dangers of the job. But she did her best to not put her concern on him too. She understood that his job was important to him, and she knew that being overly concerned, or heaven forbid, babying him would make that job any easier. Aaron thought of this as he set an alarm for an hour on his phone, started said alarm, and turned off the lamp by his bed.
The case wrapped up in three days, and Aaron was headed home. He planned on meeting up with _y/n_ the day after he got back. When he arrived at her apartment, he knocked on the door and _y/n_ happily let him inside her space. He moved inside and closed the door behind him. When this was done, he took her hands and said, “Hey beautiful,” before he leaned down and kissed her softly. When they separated, Aaron asked, “What would you like to do today? I’ve got some ideas, but I want to know if you had anything in mind?” _y/n_ smiled up at him and said, “Maybe we could go for a walk along the river? And that record store you’ve been eyeing is finally open today, so we could go there too…” _y/n_ hesitated for a moment and Hotch said, “I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.” _y/n_ let out a laugh and replied, “But… I’ve missed you. Could we spend an hour or two hanging out here before we go out?” Aaron smiled and leaned down again to kiss her temple saying, “Of course, darling. I’ve missed you too.” _y/n_ moved to the side of the room and put on their favorite album on her record player while Aaron grabbed them a glass of sparkling water. They settled next to each other on the couch, and Hotch turned to face her asking, “Can I see your piercing? I’ve been thinking about it since you sent me that photo on Tuesday.” Hearing this, _y/n_ reddened slightly, but stuck her tongue out at him like a teenager before quickly retracting it back into her mouth. It gave Aaron just a glimpse at the new addition to her body. Hotch looked at her unamused, and y/n_ laughed again before actually sticking her tongue out for him to see. Aaron looked at the gold bar in her mouth that matched the rest of the jewelry that adorned her figure. He took a moment and touched the warmed metal in her mouth. Her tongue looked more healed than the first photo she had sent him. Aaron removed his hand and asked, “What’s this type of piercing called, and how long is the standard healing time and aftercare routine?” She moved her hand to rest on his thigh. She loved it when he looked out for her. Even in the small things. She replied, “It’s called a midline piercing. My piercer and the aftercare instructions state that it can take four to six weeks to heal. But honestly, it feels pretty good. I read something online about saliva being a natural disinfectant, so maybe that has something to do with it? Aftercare is just simple stuff. Using a new toothbrush, keeping the area clean, all that jazz.” Hotch chuckled at her tone.
Aaron had considered getting a tattoo once and voiced that thought to Hailey. He wanted something related to Jack, but she had shut down the idea, and so his body remained untouched by either tattoos or piercings. However, he loved that that _y/n_ expressed herself with her jewelry and clothing. He remembered something that _y/n_ had said the first day she got the piercing; that her jaw had been stiff. Because of this, he moved both of his hands up to her jaw and started massaging the area with a firm, yet tender touch. _y/n_ was taken aback and asked, “Aaron, what are you doing?” Hotch swatted her hands away as they moved to grab his hands. He continued to move over the area and replied, “Well you said your jaw was stiff the other day. I’m just making sure you get some relief.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “It’s not really stiff anymore love.” Aaron hummed and said, “Well consider this me making up for lost time.” _y/n_ settled and let him dote on her for a bit. The feel of his warm hands on her jaw made her relax into his touch. Really anytime he made close contact, her body reacted to him. After a few minutes, _y/n_ more intentionally moved his hands up and away from her face. She didn’t give him a chance to protest this time, as she moved to kiss his lips. They were soft and warm under her touch. Hotch made a small sound at the contact and moved his hands to her hips. He pulled away for a second. He then kissed her a few more times. The kisses were chaste and quick. He was teasing her, and she knew it. When _y/n_ had had enough of his tomfoolery, she moved her hand to his hair and took his short locks in her hands. She gave the strands a gentle tug, as she held his head in place for her to more passionately kiss him. Aaron gave a little groan at his hair being pulled. _y/n_ knew that Aaron liked to make her work a little for his affection. Not all of the time, but when he was having fun he sort of made it a game for her. And she knew how to play. Aaron nipped lightly on her lower lip, and she opened for him. Hotch moved slowly over her tongue. He explored the the piercing in her mouth, first at the top of her tongue, and then below. The new sensation of the metal in her mouth excited him. Momentarily he remembered the feeling of getting flustered at the precinct in Michigan, and he felt a familiar tension growing in his pants. Aaron pulled away for breath. _y/n_ looked him over and noticed the growing bulge in his pants, and she gave him a wicked smile.
_y/n_ got onto her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, saying, “Well someone’s excited.” Aaron let out a breath and said, “Are you surprised? You’re so hot and the new piercing just adds to the pleasure.” _y/n_ hummed and felt her body warming and pooling with desire. _y/n_ leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. Hotch closed his eyes and his hands moved up under the back of her shirt to her back. _y/n_ lightly kissed both of his eyelids. The sensitive skin fluttered slightly under her mouth. Her lips and soft breath moved to his chin and slowly down his neck. She was taking her time. If Hotch had teased her, she would teased him right back. It was when she started undoing the button of his shirt and sucking and kissing his sensitive skin that he couldn't take it anymore. The new feeling of the piercing only heightened his senses. He made a noise of desire. It came from a place deep inside him. From a place of need and want. A little breathlessly he asked, “Bedroom?” _y/n_ pulled away from his chest and nodded. They both got up and moved hurriedly toward the bedroom. _yn_ was still fiddling with the buttons of his shirt as they closed the door behind them. After a few moments, there were more distinct sounds of pleasure that settled in the air. As Aaron looked down at _y/n_’s form, he felt drunk on how good she made him feel. He moved down to kiss her again, his tongue hungry in her mouth. The feeling of the metal on his tongue ignited a new passion in him. Having a partner like _y/n_ made him feel younger and he reveled in the feeling.
#criminal minds#ssa aaron hotchner#cm#aaron hotcher#fluff#aaron hotch x reader#david rossi#reader x hotch#hotch x y/n#for my lovely mutual#reader insert#hotch fluff#hotch drabble#criminal minds x reader#comfort fic#hotch is flustered#girls with piercings#hotch loves you#fanfiction#just for fun
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enemies to lovers hc's | rf
a/n: im not sorry for this. these came straight from the gc with @lt-natrace and @rhettabbotts and bc im too lazy to write a fic, here's some headcanons we came up with during this mornings brain rot <3 also reader's callsign is yankee bc im self projecting and from ny. i also got really carried away and this is so long i’m sorry. thank u to @mayhem24-7forever and @topguncortez for beta-ing this too!
~ no one understands how you could possibly hate bob. its bob. he's a total sweetheart, the quiet one. but not to you.
~ to you, he's snarky, and there's just something about him that gets under your skin.
~ you're no picnic to him either. he tried to befriend you, a fellow WSO, from the start. but he was met with a blank stare and a scowl. two can play at this game, he thought.
~ it all started one of the very first nights at The Hard Deck. already unamused with the pissing contest between hangman and rooster, you've stuck to phoenix's side as you've flown with her before but aren't paired together for this mission
~ you've heard of her backseater's reputation, and were eager to meet him. someone at your level, who understands the role and loves it just as much as you do. and by the looks of it, he looked like he might be different from the male pilots you've worked with in the past
~ and not to mention he's really fucking hot.
~ but as soon as he cracks a distasteful joke, one that rubs you the wrong way and somehow takes a jab at your ability to fly like him, you're done. so you give him the cold shoulder and think to yourself, he's just like the rest.
~ but that doesn't stop you from trying to impress him, because for some reason you may have developed a crush on him. but after a while, that crush turned to nothing but pure hatred.
~ bob makes your life a living hell. he makes it a point to criticize every little thing you do, and soon enough it became a battle to see who the better wizzo would be.
~ "god, you're fucking insufferable. you really can't keep your mouth shut, can you? you're clogging the damn radio Yankee." he spat. "Bob." Phoenix piped in, but was ignored as you responded. "I've got to get Coyote's attention somehow, asshole. back off."
~ the rest of the squad is used to your bantering, but it never went passed jabs at each others abilities, or other meaningless characteristics.
~ none of it went unnoticed by phoenix, though. she could see right through the snide remarks and icy glares. she knows you. she remembers the blush that crossed your face the first time you laid eyes on bob, and she remembers the way your face fell after his joke went over your head.
~ she knows bob. she knows that he thinks highly of you and is impressed with your work. and that he has the dryest sense of humor known to man, and that he thought you were stuck up after you didn't laugh at his joke.
~ she sees the longing glances bob gives you when you aren't looking. the ones where he stares at you, laughing with fanboy, in that beautiful sundress that flows so perfectly around your curves. and he's angry with how beautiful you look, and how happy you are in that moment, and he's angry because he wonders why can't i be like that with her
~ he wasn't good with feelings. and you were mean to him, so he was mean back. but maybe one night he takes it too far.
~ you've mentioned in passing and in group that your parents struggle with your line of work, and it's taken a toll on your relationship with them. so after a long day of flying and picking fights with each other, you're both exhausted. and of course that tiredness turns to anger, and anger is an emotion you and bob know best with each other.
~ bob's fed up. fed up with himself, and flying, and mav's drills, and you. it's always you.
~ "god after missing that target, it’s no wonder your parents aren’t proud of you” he regrets it as soon as he says it. a surprised "woah" is elicited by rooster, as you stop in your tracks. “you’re a real asshole, floyd” you say, voice shaky, before you turn on your heel and dart away.
~ phoenix grabs bob's arm, pulling him back as the rest of the pilots move along. "what the fuck was that, bob? you know, this little rivaly you and yankee had was cute at first, but it's gotten out of hand lately. coming for her like that? brining her parents into it when you know what their relationship is like? that's a low blow. especially coming from you. you need to take some time and think about whatever this little thing means, because its obvious you've got something else going on." she says, leaving him standing on the tarmac. he waits there for a minute, ashamed. bob feels his jaw twitch before he heads back inside
~ he knows he has to man up and apologize. he didn't mean it, he was frustrated. frustrated with his feelings, and the mission. but his words shoot to kill when he's mad. he has a lot of regrets about that. (thank u to jay for killing me with that)
~ the next day, as he plans to apologize to you, he approaches with caution. he waits for you to say something, anything, but the moment never comes. you don't say a word to him, just leave him with a second long look, full of pain and something else he can't place.
~ it goes on like this for the next few days. no more snide remarks, scowls, or fighting. just stolen glances that don’t go unnoticed by your teammates.
~ in between drills, bob walked past an empty classroom put paused when he heard your voice.
~ “i thought he was different, javy. i don’t know. i’ll get over it.”
~ bob couldn’t help but feel yet another pant of jealousy. he knew you were talking about him. and to confide that in coyote? you were a lot closer than he thought, and he felt stupid for how much he hated that.
~ he decided to stay on base a little later than usual that night, catching up on some reading and drill planning. as he was packing up his bag, he heard some yelling, a loud clatter, and a scream that sounded all too familiar. running into the hallway, he bounced his head around until he found the site of the incident. his heart dropped to his stomach as he spotted you, crouched against the wall, shaking, blood dripping down your face mixing with the tears that were also falling. there was broken glass next to you, a shattered frame. he ran faster than his feet could take him, stumbling before he landed on the ground next to you.
~ startled, you look up through teary eyes to see the last person you’d expect to come to your rescue. bob looks at you with an expression you can’t decipher, one of concern mixed with rage. he reached gently to wipe your tears, uttering a soft, “who did this to you?”
~ "no one, just some new recruits ran by and knocked me into the wall, the picture fell down and hit me on the way. i'm fine." you said, breathily. "no, you're not or you wouldn't be crying and bleeding. let me help you." bob said, standing up and reaching his hand down to help you up. rolling your eyes, you took his hand to stand up, ignoring the fluttering in your tummy as your hand clasped his.
~ he led you into an empty locker room, grabbing the first aid kit. "i'm fine, bob, really. you don't have to help me, just leave me here." "i'm not going to leave you with an open wound. just let me see it."
~ he grabs a piece of gauze, lightly dabbing your temple to clean off some of the blood. "ow." you wince, pulling your head away. bob sighs, "you're so stubborn. sit still and let me clean it, will you?" he looks at you, those fucking big blue eyes boring into yours. "ok, sorry." "thank you."
~ as he cleans the cut, his hands are slightly shaking. his hands are calm and steady in a fighter jet, but they can't be still while he's cleaning the wounds of the prettiest girl he knows. bob's trying to be gentle, but you're so close to him, sitting on the counter in between the sinks and his knee rests between yours.
~ you're looking up at him, and he's fighting every urge he has to not look down at your eyes, and your lips. breaking the silence, you say, "did you learn this one as a boy scout?" bob chuckles. "i'll let you have that one." an uncomfortable silence overcomes you, and he finishes by putting a bandage on.
~ as you go to leave, you turn in the doorway. "hey, bob?" "yeah?" he replies, looking at you. you stare at him for a second, lips parted. "thank you, really." bob gulps, nodding in respone. "yeah, um, of course. and hey, y/n?" surprised at him calling you by name, you answer. "yeah?" "i'm uh, really sorry for what happened, the other day. it was wrong of me and I shouldn't have said that."
~ giving him a soft smile, you respond by saying, "s'okay, bob. it was the heat of the moment. we've all said things we didn't mean."
~ things go back to normal after that, except you and bob no longer seem to have it out for each other. the other pilots notice, but the mission comes along at last. as the news breaks that the dagger squad landed one of the most successful missions in naval history, the decision is made to establish a permanent task force.
~ and just like that, the rivalry picks right back up. "are you fucking kidding me, bob? you can't go one second without taking a stab at me. it's fucking never have i ever. you don't have to single me out." you yell, stomping out of the room where everyone was sat hanging out, making your way to your barrack. bob followed, trying to diffuse the tension. "oh come on, yankee it was a fucking joke. nothing you aren't used to."
~ you finally reached your room, bob somehow managing to follow you in. "get the fuck out of my room floyd. jesus, you can't leave me alone for one god damn second. and to think we were starting to get along, you can't give me a fucking-" he cut you off by grabbing your arm, spinning you around and pulling you flush to his chest. "you make me so fucking mad." he growled.
~ before you could respond, he pulled you even closer, pushing his lis against yours. stunned, you let out a gasp, but your eyes fluttered shut and you kissed him back just as hard, your free hand reaching up to tug at his hair. the kiss was hot and heavy, and you broke apart, gasping for air.
~ “why the fuck did you just kiss me?” you say. “because you’re insufferable. i love you so much for it. since the moment i met you. you make me so mad but in the best god damn way possible.” bob replies, at a volume so low you're not even sure you can hear it.
~ things get stranger from there. no longer are the heated arguments, only light banter that's filled with enough sexual tension to drown jake's and bradley's out. you don't speak of what bob said in your room that night, but instead of fighting, it's just kissing.
~ the usual banter was still banter, but now it was more flirty than it used to be. one day, you showed up to a meeting with a hickey bob gave you not fully covered. “didn’t peg you as the kinda girl to let someone mark you up like that, yankee.” rolling your eyes, you retaliated. “you wish you’d given it to me, bob.” coyote and phoenix made eye contact across the room, knowingly.
~it went on this way for the next few weeks. you and bob maintained your rivalry by day, but your nights were full of stolen kisses and make out sessions.
~ everything was fine, until it wasn't. you couldn't control your feelings for bob any longer. so you start to pull away. and bob picks up on it. one night at the hard deck, you finally break. running out of the bar, bob chases you. "y/n, hey. stop running would you? what's wrong?"
~ "just, fucking go, bob. leave me alone." "not until you tell me what's wrong". you turn to face him, crying. “you can stop messing with me now, ok? i know this doesn’t mean anything to you. you don’t have to pretend this means something. because it does mean something to me and i can’t take it because my feelings are real and i know this is all just a joke to you to spite me.”
~ you turn to go to your car, but bob grabs your hand and stops you. his hand comes up to wipe gently at your tears. "honey, hey. look at me. look at me. it’s not a joke to me. it never was. i’ve loved you since the moment i met you. but all you saw me as was just another cocky pilot, so that’s what i became. i never wanted to hurt you. i just wanted you to notice me. but nobody ever notices the real me.” he confesses.
~ you look up at him, astounded. could he really love you, after all this time? after how horrid you've been, and the things you said? he'd seen the worst of you. he can't love you after that. "no. no. bobby, you're being mean. stop it." you say, pulling away. he stops you.
~ "i'm serious, y/n. I have loved you ever since i have known you. I can promise you that. i’m telling you the truth, i swear. id do anything for you. i’m sorry i made you feel otherwise.” he loves you.
~ and you believe him. because you love him too. you don't love him because you'd been rivals, you love him despite the fact. because you'd seen the worst in each other, and after almost two months of misunderstanding, it was finally worth it.
~ and so you kiss him this time. one that's full of passion, and you can feel just how much you love each other, uttering those three words after you break apart.
tagging: @marvelandotherfandomimagines @sailorscuttle @writercole @rosesvioletshardy @2manytabsopen @purelyfiction @deadratio 💗
#emmie writes#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd imagine#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd#top gun imagine#top gun headcanons#bob floyd headcanons
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Flyboy and the Florist-7
Bob Floyd x F!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, lil bit of Angst, minor cursing
Word Count: 757
Author's Note: Here's our first bit of angst for Bob and Flora! I hope you guys are ready for it!
It had been a week since your wonderful date with Bob and it feels like you’ve been floating since. Everything seemed perfect and nothing could bring you down, except one thing. Prom, it was right around the corner so you haven’t had time to talk to your lovely WSO. The number of corsages and boutonnieres you’ve had to make was endless. Your fingers have been throbbing from the number of times you’ve accidentally poked them with pins.
What was worse was the mothers. If you got a dollar every time a mother yelled at you for picking the “wrong” shade of pink or purple, you would be rich by now. They were ruthless and didn’t care that you were only human. Your assistant, Quinn, was at the same level of tiredness as you. They would come in daily with your regular order from the cafe down the street to ensure you were alive. You looked like a zombie on the outside but on the inside, you were still on that high from the date.
Bob hasn’t texted since but you weren’t worried. During the date, he talked about having to do a small deployment for three weeks so that contact would be low. While you weren’t used to this, you knew that if you wanted to continue this blooming relationship you had to understand what comes with dating a man from the Navy. Yet, that didn’t mean you didn’t miss your conversations with him. He always had such a way with words that it made you feel like a schoolgirl in love, which hadn’t happened in a long time. Quinn would joke that you always had “heart eyes” when discussing or thinking about him.
They said it was obvious that this man from the Navy differed from your previous relationships. This was true, no one had treated you like Bob did. He seemed to worship the ground you walked. He cared about your comfort zones and if you were enjoying yourself. It made your heart flutter when thinking about it.
While attempting not to prick your finger the thousandth time, a jingle of the door was heard. Quinn greeted the customer and asked what they were looking for.
“Actually, I’m here to talk to her,” a deep gravelly voice said.
Recognizing this voice, you froze. It was your ex, James. One of the few men who thought that he could use you as an experiment girlfriend based on your looks. People sometimes tell you that you dress differently. Even though Quinn had simply explained your style was more on the whismigoth style. James was part of the group that deemed it weird and childish.
When you were dating, he kept trying to change how you acted, dressed, talked, etc. He thought he was doing you a service, but in reality, it just tore down your self-esteem.
Turning around, you put on your best customer service smile and walked over.
“Hi, James. What can I do for you?”
You wanted to keep this interaction short.
“Oh, nothing much. I was just seeing if you still were attempting to have an “actual” business,” he replied unbothered with his hands in his pants pockets.
This comment made you pissed. How could he judge your life when he wasn’t even in it anymore? Either way, he had to leave sooner rather than later so you had to cut this interaction short.
“Well as I appreciate the concern, I do have a lot on my plate. So, it was nice to see you again, James, but I must say goodbye,” you said with a tight smile on your face. The man had only been here for five minutes and you wanted to beat him with a bucket.
“Of course, wouldn’t want to take up too much of your precious time,” he said sarcastically. “I hope you enjoy making useless shit.”
“What did you just say motherfu—” Quinn began to say until you put a hand on their shoulder to stop them from picking a fight. They looked back and saw you shaking your head.
James simply smirked and walked out of the store with zero care. He knew had won this battle, but that wasn’t what you were worried about. Why did he show up out of the blue? Why did he “check-up” on you? What was his intentions?
While you didn’t have all the answers, you knew one thing. This probably wasn’t the last time you were going to see him. Now you had two things that were bringing you down.
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TBB S3 E12 Reaction
Alright, this was the last episode that was truly represented in the trailer. I can’t wait to see Hunter kick some Juggernaut butt (why does that sound so bad lol)
- Hemlock wipe that damn smirk off your face
- Again with the shoulder shoves dude
- No why is CX-2 just walking away? We need to follow him and find out who he is!! *low-key screaming in frustration* lol
- I love how Hemlock is so arrogantly confident and uncaring that he comes across as almost respectful in how he takes the time to explain things to other people
- Come on Emerie, you’ve come so far! Don’t keep playing into Hemlock’s hand! You know Omega isn’t safe here and neither are you
- Lol he’s too busy to even wait for the test results. Bitch
- I do wish they had given us Crosshair telling Hunter and Wrecker about Omega. BUT I was very much correct that Hunter would not waste time being angry
- Every time Crosshair says something more about Tantiss it just keeps getting worse and worse 🥺🥺 don’t make that man go back there! Dee’s vocal inflections and the way he talks about Nala Se and Tipoca City is so regretful
- The trust and vulnerability he’s willing to show though with his hand shaking and admitting he doesn’t want to go back he’s so traumatized 😭💔
- No WAY they are bringing back Admiral Rampart! Kudos to those who called that one
- PHEEEE and AZZZZ
- Cross goes from pointing his rifle in Phee’s face to straight up telling her they’re taking her ship 🤣
- Okay, it finally happened. I finally teared up. Phee and Crosshair immediately sass each other, then she drops the fact that she and Tech were close and talked a lot and he TOLD HER ABOUT CROSSHAIR (and in a good light) and we got a BROWN EYES 👁️ 👄 👁️. I was in a puddle on the floor 🥹🥹🥹
- The way she treats all of them like family and helps them and puts her life on the line for them. It is just so satisfying to see her relationship with the Batch continue to develop like this. Truly family to all of them.
- More Andor vibes with this labor camp
- Of course Rampart is still a dramatic bitchy asshole. Prison hasn’t changed him AT ALL (except for the beard. Sorry guys but I’m just not seeing it 😆)
- Aw Wrecker giving Mel a little pat. He’s so sweet
- “Oh relax. I expect you to know a stealth approach when you see one” 🤩🤩 TECH you need to come back and marry this woman RIGHT FREAKING NOW
- Gosh they were so made for each other 😭
- That entire maneuver was insane and incredible
- Hunter’s helmet float 😄 at least one of them was having fun
- As others have pointed out I also really appreciate that they animated Phee with so much aging and tiredness and lines and wrinkles showing on her face. She’s a real woman who’s seen and done a lot of things and she’s incredibly gorgeous and badass and caring and intelligent and she doesn’t need perfect skin or a youthful glow to be completely amazing
- When are we getting the “day in the life of a storm trooper” workplace comedy? I need it Star Wars!
- It’s so good to see the boys working together like this
- The textures and lighting in this episode are just so real looking
- Wow Wrecker really just sucker punched that guy
- And he actually remembers plan 55 😁 so proud of him
- The music when they saunter in 😂 and we got a “how touching” too?!
- Rampart’s face is in the dictionary next to the word offended
- “Hunter, they’re sealing off the bridge!” Hunter: drives faster
- And he was giving Phee a hard time for her flying?? Boy is approaching Evel Knievel levels!!
- I need to see Hunter in a dirt bike rally now 😧
- Pretty sure Hunter is firmly in his Joel Miller Era. He does not care what he has to do or who he has to kill at this point
- “Not exactly a stealth exit boys” such a great line
- “We’re all in this together” sure Rampart sure let’s see how chipper you are about that next episode
- Emerie and Omega’s glances at each other 🥺
- “This is your new home” yeahhh I don’t think so
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PrinceZam, quote: "I just had a dream that Jumper Who had found this base and i had no reaction at all".
1k words, Zam&Jumper, TW: Blood, suicidal ideations, implied deaths
When it all ends, he is – to his own surprise – still alive, wounded and covered in blood up to his throat. At this stage, it is difficult to say where whose blood is – Mid's and 4C's, killed by him almost instantly, Jumper's, Minute's, Mapicc's, who was covering his back, or Zam's himself, who found himself on the verge of death so many times today that the very fact that he was still alive felt undeserved.
Once alone, he stops smiling. He stares at the spawn for a while. He checks on his teammates – everyone is safe. He tries to wipe the blood, at least from his face, but it has already dried up – ugly, in many layers, stroke by stroke – and he eventually gives up. Then he tries for an indecently long time to decide whether he wants to blow himself up on TNT minecart so as not to go home on his own, but in the end he just can't get his hands up.
So he swaps his chestplate for elytras, pulls out rockets, and dives up.
He feels sick and nauseous in flight almost immediately, but he is too skilled to crash because of something like this. The sky above him is indecently blue – the gaping mouth of a monster seeking to devour him entirely. He's flying, and he thinks he's going to die now, and his vision blurs, and his heart skips a beat, and the wounds that have already healed are aching, but all this is bearable. And he flies, and flies, and flies, until he opens his eyes and finds himself very close to the base.
He moves mechanically, more out of habit than thinking about anything. He goes inside, hides the elytras, removes the battle kit from the inventory, and takes off the armor. He doesn't feel much other than tiredness, but he knows he won't be able to sleep. The whole day seems pointless to him. Why does he still have as many hearts in his chest as he had?
To keep his hands busy, he returns to the routine. He rereads the signs, but quickly gives up in an attempt to figure something out - he still feels sick. He trades with the villagers. He eats and drinks. He tries to wipe off the blood again, but several layers of dried blood stand even under water pressure.
And then he walks through the main hall of the base, and he turns around, and there's a Jumper in front of him.
– Hi, Jumper, – he notices her presence and returns to what he was doing, as if there is nothing strange about it. It's like he's not at his secret base. It's like she's still his teammate. Or maybe he just doesn't care too much, because her presence here won't change anything.
Jumper laughs nervously.
– Zam?
He turns around, looking completely uninterested.
– Yes?
She looks uncomfortable in this situation. Something new.
– Is that all you have to say? – her emotions hide both irritation and, for some reason, fear.
Zam blinks. He focuses his gaze on her. He is enlightened.
– Ahhh. You found my base. It happens. Congratulations, I guess, – with a shrug, he turns around and walks away, counting in his mind whether he has enough levels for another fully enchanted pickaxe.
He returns to the villagers, and she follows him, for some reason looking much more uncomfortable and anxious than at any of the meetings. Something about Zam's current attitude was deeply uncomfortable, which threw her off balance.
– I found your secret base. Doesn't that bother you at all?
Zam laughs back, and this is the first familiar trait she sees in him now.
– And what will you do? Will you kill me? So go ahead. Will you ban me? I'm ready to take you to my bed and put a spawn in front of you. Will you catch me and lock me up? I'd like you to try.
Today was a mess, full of violence and murders, and at the end of the day, he just couldn't find the strength to be interested. The real hatred for Jumper had long passed him by, and there was nothing she could do to him that was important.
He wasn't afraid of any of them. He didn't have to hide his base at all – there was nothing truly valuable in it. Even his spawnpoint, no matter how key it seemed, did not seem to him to be too high a priority for concealment. Even if they did, wouldn't they confirm the idea of the impossibility of a truly peaceful end?
– So, – Jumper asks with a grin that masks her anxiety, – Can I just stay here to live?
Zam stretches out his arms.
– Of course,– he replies with a smile, the craziest of the craziest. – I'll even arrange a room for you, if you want. But I'm afraid I should warn you – I have a dog, and it bites very painfully. Maybe one day he'll rip your head off.
Jumper chuckles nervously.
– And you're threatening me again, Zam.
– Threatening? – he is surprised, – not at all! I don't want you dead anymore, but I know that Mapicc wants. I will not stop him from achieving his goals.
– His goals are killing for killing's sake and destruction for destruction's sake, – she shakes her head disapprovingly.
– Just like mine! – Zam remarks with a laugh, – God forbid Mapicc to kill people on the Kill People SMP.
Jumper rolls her eyes, saying exactly how much she regrets ever starting a conversation with him. At the same time, there is nothing ordinary in her behavior – she is tense, dumbfounded, and, it seems, even scared, which seems counterintuitive. It's like she's expecting TNT traps under every tile and full team of the Players at every turn.
– We would never have made allies, Zam, – she says a little resignedly, and he smiles.
– Oh, why not? Make yourself at home.
And, like a distant memory from another life – icy hands and merciless snow, proud peaks of towers, and a blown-up foundation. Mapicc, staring at him from the horizon. Sickening horror, interrupting hysterical panic. Mad and reckless determination to stick to his land, maddening, knocking the air out of his chest, breaking in half. And a decorated bedroom in the middle of the secret room.
You whisper to Mapicc: she is here
#lifesteal smp#princezam#lifesteal#I put spoilers in the first place because I'm not sure if it's clear from other povs that he even has a base...#fanfiction#d.fics
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HOME WITH YOU
genre. fluff. inseong as a dad.
warnings. a toddler (great heavens). mention of overworking.
pairing. husband!inseong x nurse!reader.
wc. 1.1k.
request. no.
a/n. inseong is so very dad coded :( along w youngbin also but i decided to write for inseong first probably gonna have that youngbin dad fic soon tho
“You messed it up, daddy!” You heard muffled squeals from the other room. It was still the first week of kindergarten for your 4 year old daughter, Mina. She wanted to wear pigtails every day for school, and your husband had been trying to oblige her request every day where you needed to sleep in.
You worked late shifts at the hospital, especially during the flu season that was just starting. It was exhausting, but coming home to Inseong and Mina always made it worth it.
You forced your eyes open enough to check the time on your phone, groaning when you realized it was still before 7 am. You hadn’t gotten home until past 2 last night, and you were definitely feeling the effects of continual loss of sleep. You needed a break.
The high pitched giggles from your daughter’s bedroom mingling with the deeper raspier chuckles from Inseong brought a small smile to your face. You were happy to be able to hear their joy. But a bittersweet feeling panged your heart as you were once again reminded that Mina was growing up, and because of your work, you were missing out on her childhood.
There really wasn’t much you could do. You couldn’t ask for less shifts— the hospital needed all the nurses it could get, especially since it was already short-staffed. You couldn’t quit your job, either. You needed the money to be able to support your family. The only thing you could do was keep going, with the small hope that the workload might lessen with time.
It was almost time for Mina to get to school, so you heaved your body up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You didn’t bother changing— you would probably find yourself falling back to sleep after you said goodbye to her, anyway— but you tried to rid any traces of your tiredness from your face. Though Mina was little, she was very observant. She didn’t understand complicated concepts like overworking, understaffing, and responsibility. But she did understand that if mommy was grumpy, it probably meant that she was tired; and mommy was only tired because she was never at home.
You walked into Mina’s room after you had deemed yourself presentable and immediately smiled at the sight before you. Your daughter adorned 2 lopsided pigtails tied with bright pink scrunchies. They were definitely messy due to your husband’s inexperience in dealing with hair— some loose strands of hair escaping them at the bottom, but they looked cute enough. The teachers at the kindergarten would probably redo her hair if it got undone anyway. Given the bright grin on your daughter’s face, and the way she was smiling up at your husband, you figured she was pleased with her new hairstyle.
“You already for school, Mina?” You asked, kneeling down to be on the same level as her.
“Yes!” She squealed, running up to you to give you a hug. You held her for longer than a normal hug with a toddler would last as you didn’t know when the next opportunity to hold her would be. Though she squirmed a bit, she hugged you back until you separated from her.
“You look very pretty today. Did your dad do your hair for you?” You tilted your head as you admired the messy masterpiece that Inseong had created on her head. The scrunchies matched her pink outfit, altogether making her look twice as cute as usual.
She hummed happily, holding a pigtail in each hand, “It doesn’t hurt when daddy does my hair.”
You laughed, “Of course. He doesn’t want to hurt your precious head, does he? I wonder how long they’ll stay in, though.” You murmured the last part, amused at how the left pigtail was already slipping. Inseong had gone to pack Mina’s little bag, and was now back with it in his hand.
“It’s time to go, princess.” He ushered, taking Mina’s hand and slipping the backpack on her back. “Breakfast’s on the table— coffee on the counter.” He called back to you as he lead her out the door.
You sighed, half happy and half exhausted. Seeing your daughter always energised you, but the high only lasted so long before the crash you always experienced. You were feeling it now, and although your brain and body wanted nothing more than more sleep, you chose to go find the food that Inseong had left out for you.
You smiled at the plate of pink dyed heart-shaped pancakes on a plate waiting for you. You got your cup of coffee and sat down to eat, checking your phone for your next shift in your schedule. Your eyes widened when you read it.
Y/n L/n and Park Sunhwa’s shifts covered for the next 2 days. New locums hired for the second week of September.
You hadn’t had a 2 day break in what felt like years. You wanted to laugh, or maybe cry. You had been so, so exhausted this past month. You finished your breakfast just as Inseong returned from dropping off Mina to school. He picked up on your elated smile quickly, and it quickly triggered his own.
“Why so happy, hm? You looked tired this morning.”
“I’m off for the next 2 days.” You told him happily as you loaded your dishes into the dishwasher.
“Really? That’s amazing, love. You deserve the rest.” He smiled, pulling you into his arms. You sighed as you leaned your head onto his chest and circled your arms around his waist tightly, letting all the exhaustion and frustration slowly release from the embrace.
“It’s been so exhausting. Missed you so much.” You mumbled, savouring every second you could feel being so close to him. The gentle squeeze of his arms around you, his calming scent reaching your nose, the soft thump of his heart in his chest. You were so glad to be back in his arms.
“You should go back to sleep while you can. It’s hard to sleep when Mina’s back from school.” He suggested, swaying you back and forth in his arms.
“Want to sleep next to you.” You responded, not objecting to the idea, but hugging him a little tighter just in case he might try to escape.
He laughed, stroking your hair, “Okay. We can sleep next to each other.”
Getting back into bed, this time cuddled up next to your husband, felt like home. It was quiet and intimate, and drowsiness quickly took over your body. You said I love you’s in hushed voices, and Inseong pressed light kisses to your head, reminding you of how hard you had worked and how proud he is of you. You fell asleep before him given your tiredness. He held you in his arms for a long time, listening to your steady breath and appreciating the feeling of you so close.
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