#also sorry but why is this show SO good???

[mggslover]

‘spencer’s “first” time showing you his jealous/possessive side’. bau reader and spencer just started dating and are a bit reserved when it comes to showing affection in the office. a new agent starts flirting/trying to get readers attention and for the first time spencer make sure everyone knows who his girl friend is <3 thank you !!!

the first time spencer gets jealous genre: fluff word count: 965 a/n: oh how i love this prompt!! thanks for the request

Spencer Reid wasn’t big on PDA, so it didn’t surprise you when he suggested keeping your relationship under wraps once it became official. You didn’t mind much—sure, it was a little frustrating when he’d pat your hand away at the round table or create distance the morning after a particularly fun night, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you—but in general, you were glad to keep things private. You had no problem avoiding the “no dating between coworkers” policy drama, and it gave you the opportunity to focus on the cases and enjoy Spencer’s company even more when you’d sneak off home together at the end of the day. 

So, when you found yourself chatting with the new addition to the team—Agent Owen Rogers—you didn’t expect the effect it would have on your boyfriend.

“Of course he’s taken an interest in her. That woman makes everyone fall head over heels,” Penelope half-sighed, her voice a mix of awe and envy as she watched you talk to Owen from the office window. Her words caught Spencer’s attention, and he turned to the scene, spotting you mid-conversation. He recognized the looks his colleagues were giving Owen—those same dreamy, admiring glances they'd had for Hotch’s brother whenever he visited the office.

Spencer’s posture stiffened as the understanding sank in. If he were being honest, he’d liked the new agent when they first met, but now, seeing the way Owen was smirking at you as he moved closer, that initial fondness had quickly morphed into distaste. He could still hear his colleagues gushing over the agent as he quickly got up and headed down the stairs toward you.

“So, I was thinking Italian? Do you like Italian?” Owen asked, his voice upbeat.

Before you could even open your mouth to turn him down, you felt the familiar warmth of your boyfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“We love Italian.”.

You stood there, completely bewildered, as your boyfriend not only inserted himself into the conversation but also made the boldest display of possessiveness, wrapping his arms around you without a second thought. It was so un-Spencer-like—especially in the office—but you weren’t about to complain, your hands instinctively resting over his arms.

“Actually, Owen—I can call you Owen, right?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation before continuing. “You know, it’s fascinating how often people pick Italian food for a first date. Objectively, it’s a terrible choice. Think about it: you’ve got these long, slippery noodles—spaghetti, for instance—that are practically designed to humiliate you. The odds of splattering marinara sauce all over yourself—or worse, your date—are alarmingly high. And then there’s the garlic. People convince themselves that a mint will magically erase it, but we both know that’s just a delusion. Why anyone still thinks it’s a good idea is beyond me. Kind of stupid, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip, struggling to suppress your laughter as Owen’s face crumpled. You truly felt sorry for the poor thing—he really was a nice guy—but seeing Spencer get this sassy, especially when it was all because of you, was strangely entertaining.

“I—uh, yeah.” Owen gives a nervous laugh, his fingers awkwardly brushing the back of his neck. “Pretty stupid.”

“But we’d love to have Italian food with you! Right, baby?” Spencer gives your waist a subtle squeeze, his silent cue for you to play along.

You cough slightly, trying to cover your laugh. “Right! Yes, totally—Italian sounds great.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, guys. But, uh, now that I think about it, I’m swamped. You know, being a new agent and everything.” Roger’s voice wavers just enough to betray his weak excuse.

“So unfortunate. Maybe another time,” Spencer replied smoothly. Owen nodded stiffly, forcing a tight smile before quickly walking off.

You scoffed a laugh as Owen disappeared down the bullpen, the shock still lingering. You turned to Spencer, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What in the world has gotten into that pretty head of yours?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a little, suddenly aware of how much of a spectacle he had just made in the middle of the office.

“He was asking you out,” he said quietly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You chuckled, reaching up to adjust his collar. “And I was just about to say no.”

His arms found their way back around your waist, leaning into your touch as if he’d forgotten where he was. His eyes flickered from your hands to your face, his expression softening. “I know you were. But he should know not to ask you.”

You smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, amused by how the man who’s so intent on keeping your relationship discreet in public is now letting his clingy nature shine through.

“You know he can’t smell that I’m taken, right?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Well, maybe we should change that,” Spencer whispered, his voice low as he leaned in, his face brushing against your neck, causing you to giggle.

Unbeknownst to you, the whole team had quietly tiptoed their way down the stairs, and gathered around on the other side of the bullpen. They stood there, wide-eyed, like they were watching an episode of their favorite drama.

“Derek… Am I seeing this right?” Garcia whispered, voice dripping with curiosity as she watched Spencer's face disappear into your neck.

Morgan’s chuckle echoed through the bullpen. “Oh yes, babygirl. You’re seeing it just right.”

Spencer’s grip on you tightened as he sensed the peering eyes, but instead of discomfort, he radiated a quiet pride. He wasn’t hiding anymore—he was proud of what you shared, proud to be yours, and for you to be his, and he wanted the world to know it.

[leucrotta]

A thing! Thanks for the tag!

(I sometimes miss when people tag me in things, but I do try to participate!)

Last song: Uhhhh right now I'm listening to podcasts, but I think I switched it over during the Placebo version of Running Up That Hill. Which, as the first version I ever heard, is the superior version, obviously.

Favorite color: That dark blue-violet shade that kind of hurts to look at.

Last book: Last one I finished was Grady Hendrix's How to Sell a Haunted House. It was pretty good! (I still sold it, though.) After that I DNF'd The King in Yellow (ugh!!!) and now I'm halfway through The Deep by Nick Cutter. Enjoying it so far!

Last film: I... should not have done this on a Wednesday. But because I did, it was my latest Werewolf Watch movie, Beast: A Monster Among Men. It was terrible. Don't watch it.

Last show: A cult documentary, but I don't entirely recall what program it was.

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet and savory, please. Spicy is okay, too.

Relationship status: no thanks

Last thing I googled: "does ibuprofen reduce fever" because I had a fever, and couldn't think straight enough to remember lol

Current obsession: my own writing project, for better or worse. also learning to crochet (why is it so much harder than knitting)

tagging: I AM VERY BAD AT THIS PART. SORRY.

Ten People I’d Like to Get to Know Better

tagged by: @orphiclovers

last song: It’s all been Christmas retail crap or if you count the radio on the drive home playing Avril Lavigne

fav color: this pale seafoam green for things or white for clothes

last book: Eclipse by Wilder (poetry)

last movie: Deadpool & Wolverine

last show: N/A

sweet/spicy/savory: sweet and savory 

relationship status: 4 people proposed to me this year. 1 meant it fr 🥹 (engaged irl) otherwise I have a harem on AO3 going.

last thing i googled: how big is a wintermelon?

current obsession: cooking and Infinity Nikki

looking forward to: I’m planning a road trip with the girls later this week!!

Tagging: @auuwmk, @ssunfish, @ajhaijma, @stoneclaw, @quiteboared, @kiwiandmint, @dgeneralacc, @rex44201, @readingdreaming4951, @thottykunikida

[fancyperfectionsweets]

Astrology Observations 🥀🏚️

💞 This is fucking crazy but I read somewhere that the moon's zodiac in your D9 chart shows the ascendant/sun/moon of your spouse of their natal chart and I checked mine and my boyfriend's and it's literally the same?? His moon is in Capricorn. I'm a Capricorn rising and mine is in Pisces moon in D9 and this man is a Pisces rising?? Tf?? 🤯🤯

⚖️ A debilitated sun represents bad relationships with their father. Sun represents the father in the chart. In my personal observation, fathers or even people who can represent father figures in the libra sun's life (older brothers, uncles) can be hypocritical, take advantage of them or cannot be dependent on for any kind of support. One of the hardest placements fr.

🔅 If your darkaraka has another planet in the same house, your spouse can also have similar qualities of this planet. For eg., sun dk with mercury in the same house means that yes, your partner will be famous or has ego (sun qualities) but can also have "younger" or childlike qualities or they may be younger to you (mercury qualities).

👁️ Neptune first house = big doe eyes (no matter which zodiac).

👩‍💻 It is said that having a stellium in the 11th house can attract online stalking behaviour and it's true 🥲 . I have an 11th house stellium (sun + mercury + pluto) and I've had so many fake accounts and dating profiles made of me that I've given up trying to get them reported. I'll report one account and find another one. Aaaaa 😭 truly annoying.

🌹 Want to know the ideal time to meet a potential partner? Check your 7th house zodiac. When venus or jupiter comes in this sign, this is when you're likely to find romantic interests. I found out that my first relationship was when jupiter was in cancer (my 7th house lord) and I mostly bumped into my boyfriends when venus is in cancer.

🛌 4th house synastry is literally so comforting? You can be the coldest person and still be dreaming of building a home together with this person once they walk into your life

🌟 Weirdly enough, I've noticed that when people have Saturn + jupiter conjunction in whichever house they come across as super assured about those house's themes. If it's in the first house, the native is sure of himself. In the third house, they can be sure of their communication skills and be pretty blunt.

🦋 Libra 10th house, libra 1st house and venus doms: their obsession to be put together in public needs to be studied.

🤑 If you are born in 1997, there is a huge chance that Jupiter is in its debilitation zodiac in your chart (jupiter was in Capricorn that year). So here's two ways the debilitation can be cancelled.

1) Check your D9 chart. If Jupiter is exalted there or is sitting with another exalted planet, the debilitation of your natal chart gets cancelled

2) check if Saturn was in Pisces (which it was mostly that year). Pieces is jupiter's zodiac and capricorn is Saturn's. They are sitting in each other's zodiac according to vedic astrology, making something called parivartan yog. In Parivartan yog, these planets become almost exalted, debilitation gets cancelled and the houses they are in, becomes important. The parivartan yog is always better if none of these planets are in the 6th, 8th or 12th house though. I think the luckiest placement here would be jupiter in 9th, saturn in 11th.

👊 Aries venus men? Why are y'all attracted to women who literally berate you, playfully beat you up and are mean to you??

🍑 I'm sorry but if you are going to involve yourself with a libra woman, know that more often than not, you're going to be "manipulated". This is because a libra woman thinks of manipulation as diplomacy or even a way of getting her way. This doesn't mean it's always negative. Libras understand that manipulation is sometimes done for the other person's good. My best friend is a libra and when I was underweight, she switched from serving me food from a small plate to a larger one to "manipulate" me to eat larger portions of food (more food looks less on larger plates) and I think it's so sweet 🥺❤️. They understand that forcing people to see a perspective is wrong so they try to not come across as forceful. They truly are diplomats of the zodiac.

❤️‍🔥 The 8th house also represents your hidden fears. In my case, I have a lilith there in leo. This sometimes manifests as icking out against leo and scorpio men. I may find them visually appealing but their traits piss me off so much.

[lennadanvers]

The Heartbreak Chronicles

 Edward The Freak Munson was your first love.

(In more than one way).

(None of them ended up well).

High school Edward was something. Jean and leather, band t-shirts and patches. The shiny chains were still there. He had picked up guitar and stuck with it, as you found out at the talent show. His hair and his opinions had grown.

And his big, sad eyes were still there.

He had a reputation now: dangerous, freaky, dark. Maybe it was true. Maybe it had always been. It was just that people took a while to realize. He was the same over dramatic, fun, imaginative boy you had lost. Except that he took his drama all the way up to the tabletops of the cafeteria now.

It was hard not to enjoy the show. It was even harder to wonder how would it be to know him again. He had so much determination and sarcasm, he was so over the way the world worked, so full of disdain and passion… As someone who had served under the Queen’s orders- even if it was a fantasy queen, years ago, in the battlefield that was kindergarten-, you wanted to be loved by him.

How would anyone not want to be worthy of his love?

You knew better, of course. He had distanced himself. And yeah, maybe it had been a long time ago, but why should you give him another chance? No, sir. You didn’t have many things, but your pride was something no one could take from you.

Besides, he had never asked for another chance.

But he was fucking everywhere. He had founded the coolest club in the whole state. His van took up half the parking lot, a lighthouse in the middle of a naked shore. His hair was impossible to miss in the hallway, and your lunches were plagued by him and his stupidly interesting speeches. He even showed up at every party, ready to supply the sheeples with the only best weed in Hawkins.

And not once, in any of those scenarios, were you the object of his attention.

You could have stayed away, of course. It was just a matter of willpower. But your curiosity was bigger. Also, the sheet to sign up for Hellfire Club ended up being taped to the wall right next to your locker. It had to be a sign, if fate could be any more literal: just sign the sign.

It was a terrible idea. Made your nerves skyrocket and your appetite disappear, and your hands were trembling more than usual. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go back if it turned out to be as awful of an experience as you feared.

It was much, much worse: your first day at Hellfire was amazing. You had actual fun- something you hadn’t had in years, if you were honest. The boys were nice in a warm way, talking over each other and, frankly, more excited about the game than you. It was great, because it didn’t make you feel like a guest, but like you belonged.

And Edward welcomed you.

After years without talking to you, without even glancing at you, he smiled and bowed, arms wide as if to show you his kingdom.

“Be welcome to our humble table, mighty lady. Be prepared to face more adventure than you’ve ever heard of, more danger than you can fear and to conquer more victories than anyone can dream.”

He acted that way with everyone. And he lied.

You had heard of that much adventure, sure as hell. Actually, some of his adventures sounded familiar- they were detailed evolutions of childhood games.

But you fell for it anyway. It was good to be back home.

Even if he stabbed you in the back every now and then.

After the first session, as everyone was tidying up, he had cocked his head at you.

“We used to play together when we were kids, didn’t we? You’re not as boring as you look.”

And he had the audacity to wink, as if it would do anything but burn. So you punched back.

“Oh… Did we? I have a pretty bad memory. Sorry.”

Cue innocent and nonchalant shoulder shrug, finished off with a tight lip smile.

The second time Edward Munson broke your heart was worse, because you saw it coming. And you still followed him, like a reflection on a dark mirror, like you had no choice but to help him shatter you.

Second part! The next one is Eddie's POV! Please comment or reblog if you like it, that really motivates me to keep writing! Also, my inbox is always open (not just for requests and ideas about fics, you can also come say hi and tell me about your day or whatever you want to talk about). If you want me to add you to the taglist, just let me know!

Taglist: @arabellagreenleaf , @stylesxmunson , @am0iur

[miange1]

I NEED MORE BRIAN MOSER AHHHH

Brian Moser, with a lover that's "too sweet"

male leaning reader, brian is a freak, being nervous more than shy, arguments, accidental guilt tripping, manipulation(at first), reader gives off innocence but they're not they're just a virgin, fake names, being overly touchy, blow jobs

note: had an idea so i just used this ask as an excuse to finally post it. also if you notice typos no you don't im not fixing them

— You were his first actual relationship in which didn't involve murder or trying to get closer to Dexter. Or so he remembers, he probably had that intention at first yet completely forgot about it due to his own feelings.

— Meeting you felt like a bunch of perfumes and flowers were thrown at his face— you were smiling and speaking with him like he was your long lost friend or your boyfriend, like you knew him since forever.

"Oh! Rudy!" He instantly felt his heart speed up, feeling more nervous than he's ever been in his entire life and you weren't even calling out his real name. He needs to calm down, seriously he's sweating way too much.

"I missed you so much, how have you been?" He felt your arms wrap around him tightly, yet ater the hug your hands took his and held them as if they were the most delicate things in the world, besides you.

The man could barely get his words out, stuttering every now and then and looking away from you often. Your thumb was swiping softly over the top of his knuckles, why were you looking at him like that.

— Getting with you was the most romantic thing he has ever thought of. Taking you out to a place where it was peaceful yet beautiful, and he could confess to you and actually mean it.

— It was the best place he could find, it was hot but lovely. When he confessed, you stayed quiet for far too long and he thought you didn't want him. You were just in so much shock, it's been a bit since someone was this genuine to you.

— Floating on air is what he felt like each time he was with you. When you were able to visit his work, you showed him with kisses each and every single time even after arguments which was something he would have a heavy weight on his shoulders about.

"Debra doesn't at all have a thing for me, what the hell are you talking about!" You were blinking back heavy tears trying to see his side as best as you could, yet everything just went a bit too far. From understanding to a plain bicker.

"It's obvious she does, and she's in your office more than I am!" He rolled his eyes, his fingers on his nose and pinching the bridge. He knew Debra had a thing for him, but what he didn't know was why he lied seeing you fight for him like this. He liked seeing you get jealous.

"Because it's her job." Yet you protested, "I understand that but.." you couldn't get the rest out, starting to cry and you instantly felt embarrassed. "Sorry— shit, I'm sorry.." His upset look rested, sighing as he went closer to you for an embrace.

"No, it's my fault." He admitted, his arms squeezing your frame in a comforting manner as you cried into his chest.

He was so turned on right now.

— Brian had a bunch in which you were a virgin, he just would have never guess he was actually right about it.

— All he wanted was a small make out for a bit, yet it had escalated and you were on your knees. God, you looked so pretty.

"Ah, ah, your teeth.. Good..that's it." He leaned his head back, the warmth of your mouth and tongue working at his girth. For your first time even giving head you were real good at following his directions. You did it just how he liked it. Tongue swirling, spit mixing with what leaked from him, it was heaven.

He jutted his hips forward a bit, catching you by surprise and giving you the urge to wanna pull back, which didn't happen due to Brian's fingers tangling in your hair— and pushing your head back forward. "Doing so well, fuck.." you practically weren't evenoving anymore, and if you were you had just been going ragdoll and moving along with Brian's pulls.

His dick twitched in your mouth as he heard a gargled moan, fuck he was gonna cum just from hearing that alone. Then he'd hear you whine, almost impatiently. "Hush you're fine, just keep on— God, yes.." eyes rolling back, feeling your nose poke at his pelvis the deeper he pushed you down when he came. Letting go of your hair, he let your head fall back a bit before he forced your mouth closed.

"Swallow."

— Sooner or later he would then wonder why you were a virgin in the first place, yet you did date people for long periods of time.

"I don't know, when I asked after break up they said they just couldn't."

— He got the hint for himself.

[inthefoxholes]

So sorry if I’m hijacking the post, I think your points are incredibly valid and well made, I’d just like to add:

This whole nerfing of Solas and consequently of Thedas also rubs me the wrong way politically, at this moment in time. I know, not everyone sees it that way, but for me, dragon age was always (also) about revolution; about the slow and painful realisation that some shit is not reformable, entrenched as it is (slavery, the discrimination of the elves, the plight of the mages, and the ways these are all interconnected).

(This is why DA 2 is my favorite game of the bunch, because while it does a lot of things wrong, it is a great depiction of how fascistic structures just grind you down; how it’s not enough that there are Cullen, and Thrask, who may be called moderate. All the complaining about abuses is just screaming into the Void, so much so that even though the Chantry kind of recognizes that Meredith is out of bounds, they still threaten an Exalted March if the city does not show compliance with her methods. You - and Anders - come to realize that there is no way out. They - the chantry, the nobility, etc. - will always protect their own, and the way out is through. Do I think Anders executes this well? Nope, but it’s a compelling story, and it warms my marxist heart.)

It is so insulting that the writers/devs/whoever is responsible for this go into the OPPOSITE direction with veilguard, and at this moment. Suddenly, we need to protect the status quo, no questions asked. Suddenly, we get told, again and again in almost every companion quest, that institutions (from assassins to pirates to the shadow Organisation that controls the nevarran politics) are inherently good, unproblematic, beneficial. There’s a few bad apples, sure, Illario, Johanna, but they are mad anyway, and if you root them out all’s well again.

Suddenly, Solas is NOT the leader of a popular movement (the elves leaving the cities?) of people who presumably have some issue with the status quo, and who he can give compelling reasons to follow him (otherwise they would not, at least not en masse). Suddenly, he is alone, and drenched in regret and the past, no vision of the future, no revolutionary impetus - even he, we learn, just wants to right past wrongs, his wrongs, so again, a rather private, individual problem, and consequently it gets solved by this weird (and frankly uncomfortable) (psycho-)analyzing of his memories. Suddenly, there’s nothing wrong with the world anymore, just with Solas. The status quo has to be protected at all costs, you guys.

The thing about Solas in DAtV is that because they were fundamentally unwilling to engage with the question of whether or not the Veil should actually come down (which is a symptom of them refusing to engage with anything remotely 'problematic' in the franchise to date: slavery, elven oppression, treatment of both city elves and Dalish etc.) he goes from a character who is supposed to be the embodiment of wisdom to a character who is kinda stupid. And further, it affects our questions surrounding his motives and relationships, his actions in inquisition and how compelling he is.

Like, there's a lot of people arguing ATM about whether or not a romanced Lavellans relationship with Solas was meaningful/if she knew him compared to how Rook knows him/if he loved her more than Mythal. And I think the answer is very tied up in this particular issue with the writing.

Because if Solas is a revolutionary who believes that the veil must come down, not just to fix a perceived wrong he did, but for the good of elvenkind...if we take a Solas who says 'people are always dying, it's what they do' and realise that he's saying that because PEOPLE DIDNT USED TO DIE and the way their lives are now so short is terrifying to him, if we take a Solas who says that the world today is full of those who seem tranquil to him and take that SERIOUSLY, if we get a Solas who is sickened by the way spirits are yearning for the world the way it was but are stuck in the fade without any contact and that's twisting them into demons and those willing to possess others to taste a glimpse of what was denied to them by HIS actions...

Then we get a Solas whose actions don't just make sense but we can see WHY they make sense. We get a Solas who is, yes, committing an act of horrendous violence by tearing down the veil but is doing so to literally save the world rather than just fix a regret or because he's bound up in Mythal somehow and what she would have wanted for the world.

THAT Solas who leaves Lavellan because of his revolution he must lead, who leaves Lavellan after seeing what this world does to those who are left of the people, that Solas...I think that we could then argue more than the relationships he formed in inquisition were real and he was tragically forced away from them by his own goals. That in some way he is doing this FOR Lavellan.

There should be a sort of semi-horror tint to this world for us through Solas's eyes because we can see a world of tranquil walking around like he does, a world where life is too short, a world of injustice and pain and reasons to go ahead with his plan

But Solas....kinda lacks agency in DAtV. I don't hate the Solas Mythal plot stuff I think it's quite interesting, but mix it with us never considering the merits of what Solas wants to do, of EVERYONE unilaterally deciding it's evil with no real debate or queries, with ZERO elves in the narrative siding with Solas or taking what he has to say seriously...THATS where adding the Solas and Mythal plot rubs me the wrong way. I don't want Solas to need to be released by Mythal before he can let go of his evil plan...I want a Solas who doesn't have an evil plan but instead a complex one. I want the conviction of Anders in Solas; that what he's doing is RIGHT and the ONLY WAY to fix a great injustice. I don't want to redeem Solas or even understand him I want him to CONVINCE me and me BELIEVE him. Otherwise the Solas we see in inquisition is more shallow and the Solas we see in Veilguard through Rook...maybe Rook does know him better than the inquisition did.

[joelsprettyprincess]

Taming of the Shrew - Part 2

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Although you've ended your relationship with Arthur, he gets you to agree to one final rendezvous. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.7k A/N: I was not expecting that much love on part 1! I'm so glad yall enjoyed! Here's part 2 and where things get juicy 🤭. And before you ask, yes they had condoms in 1899!! They just weren't very good.. Also, I do not profess to be an expert on pregnancy, I just looked things up and hoped for the best. 😭 Sorry if anything's inaccurate. This chapter contains smut. And as always MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz

Part 1 Part 3

Several days had passed since you told Arthur to never speak to you again.

You didn’t mean it. You couldn’t have. Your love, though short, had burned like a phoenix: though it was currently snuffed, Arthur knew it would soon rise again.

He knew better than to approach you again, though. So he wrote a letter.

My love.

My darling, my princess. I am in pain while writing this. Not because of any physical injury, but because I miss you badly indeed. My heart burns for you, for your touch, your skin on mine, even just one last time.

I am certain you feel the same way. If you do, please meet me at our spot near Ringneck Creek at noon next Monday.

I swear this will be the last time I will contact you. If you don’t show, I’ll know your decision is final. However I know you will. I know our love was something real. Please don’t make a fool of me.

Forever yours,

Arthur

Arthur posted the letter on a Monday, giving you nearly a full week to make a decision. He was on edge after that, wondering if you would actually show. Would you bring your father, or even a bounty hunter, to capture him? Or would you just not show at all?

Thankfully most everyone in camp left him alone; the news of your loud departure had spread fast. There was the occasional ribbing from Micah, but he was like a mosquito buzzing in everyone’s face. Arthur paid him no mind.

Dutch told him it was a waste of time. 

“Women are a complete mystery, son,” he told him Sunday night, puffing on his cigar. “Trust me, you’re better off being single forever.” He didn’t seem to care that Molly was behind him in the tent, hopefully sleeping.

But he didn’t know the inner workings of Arthur’s mind. Didn’t know what he planned to do.

Monday morning, he bathed and trimmed his beard. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was nervous.

He scoffed. Headshotting O’Driscolls barely raised his heart rate, but the thought of seeing you again had him jumpy like that Kieran boy.

Arthur rode over to the spot early. It was a good isolated spot a little ways away from the creek, where you two had slept together a couple times.

He spread down a blanket and cleaned his guns while he waited for you.

About half an hour later, he heard the crunching of leaves and turned around. Your familiar form entered his field of vision; suddenly, Arthur was breathless.

You were here. You’d actually come. And you appeared to be alone.

You hitched your horse next to his, then came down to the blanket. “Hey,” you said, smiling softly.

“Yes, well.” You smoothed your skirts. “Just can’t help m’self, I suppose. But listen, Arthur…this is the last time I’m seeing you. Seriously. I don’t even know why I came here–”

Arthur pulled you down beside him. “You came.” He cleared his throat. “I knew you would.”

“Alright, shh,” Arthur interrupted, taking your hand in his and softly pressing his lips to yours.

“Mm,” you sighed, immediately melting into his touch. He might be rough around the edges, but Arthur surely knew how to treat a woman. You’d already forgotten what you were gabbing on about.

Arthur wasted no time in deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past your lips. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, one hand cupping your cheek and the other on your hip.

You spent a few minutes exploring each other’s mouths and letting your hands wander. Eventually your positions shifted so Arthur was nearly laying on top of you. He spoke again.

“Come back,” he whispered. “I can’t live without you.”

That voice. It was sweet as honey. It made you want to follow him to the ends of the earth.

You avoided his gaze, pursing your slightly swollen, glazed lips. “Arthur, I can’t–”

“You love the bloodshed,” he spoke in your ear. His hand went under your skirt and ghosted over your bloomers. “You crave it. Stop actin’ like you don’t.”

“No–”

Arthur silenced you with another kiss, capturing your lips and claiming them as his, as he had done so many times before. Yet it never got old; the lusty looks and burning touches lit you on fire.

You whimpered as he slipped his hand inside your bloomers.

“We both know this doesn’t lie,” he murmured, barely grazing your folds. He kept his bright eyes steadily focused on you while he used just one finger to tease you.

A quiet moan escaped your lips.

Arthur seemed eager to get on with it. He lifted your skirt and removed your underthings, carefully setting them beside you on the blanket.

“Did my pretty girl miss me?” he breathed, massaging your thighs. You whined just a little, already anticipating his touch.

Arthur traced your bare cunt, enjoying watching you squirm.

“Arthur,” you whispered in a choked voice. 

He shucked off his pants, then laid down between your legs. 

Arthur was gentleman enough to service you first. He put your legs on either side of his face, and breathed in the natural scent of your pussy, again barely grazing the already soaked lips with his finger.

“S-Stop teasing me, dammit,” you moaned. He smiled. It was almost fun to see how quickly he could get you to come undone, begging for his touch.

Arthur started with small licks on the inner parts of your thighs. Your legs immediately tried to come together, but he held them apart and kept licking. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to stay still. 

He traveled up your thighs and paused just before he got to your cunt. Taking two fingers, Arthur spread your lips apart, marveling at the amount of slick already coating your entrance.

“Ah- ah, d-don’t- mmgh,” you cried. His touch was so depraved and satisfying. 

Arthur dove in, pushing his tongue into your warm, sticky entrance. He gripped your thighs with his hands and held them up as he fully ate you out. He got messy with it very quickly, suckling on everything he could get a hold of.

You cried out and gripped his hair hard, bucking your hips. This kind of pleasure was completely unheard of and forbidden for girls like you, and that made it all the more filthy. You loved it. You loved every second of it. No man had ever touched you like this before, and you doubted any man ever would.

He removed his mouth for a second and rubbed circles around your sweet spot. “You’re lovin’ it, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You breathed in and out loudly. “Yes,” you whined shamelessly. 

Arthur pushed his tongue back in, appreciating how your walls tightened around him. He swore he could feel your heartbeat, pulsing in time with his.

You grinded against his face, spreading your juices everywhere, going crazy at the lewd noises being produced.

“Arthur– oh, Arthur, yes, please–”

You were getting close. It never took long for you to cum, but apparently you were touch starved right now.

Abruptly, Arthur pulled back from your pussy, breathing heavily and licking his lips.

You panted too. “Why’d you stop?”

He paused, then quickly pulled off his boxers. Oh.

Arthur pushed you down again and rubbed his girthy, veiny cock up and down your soaked pussy. 

The thick mushroom head was poking at your entrance, and you wanted to let him in, but…

“Do you have…protection?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Course.” He pulled a condom packet out of his pants pocket. A primitive thing, to be sure, but it was part of the plan.

Arthur pulled it on, then nosed his tip so it was just breaching your entrance. You sighed loudly, spreading your legs a bit more.

He pushed in. A creamy noise was produced, but even louder was your pained moan. It was a stretch to fit him in, even when he had prepped you first.

This was only the second time he’d gone all the way like this. There was no reliable way of avoiding pregnancy, so you simply didn’t allow him to do it. But this was a special occasion. After this, you were done with each other, forever.

Arthur sighed and pushed into you even further, watching your pussy lips greedily suck in his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Letting me in so nicely.”

He started to thrust in and out slowly. You threw your head back and panted, whining loudly and mumbling his name.

His cock repeatedly filled you to the brim and you squeezed your tight walls around him. Your juices quickly coated the condom, allowing him to more easily push the rest of his cock in.

Soon he was pushing in and out, all the way to the burst of hair at his base. Arthur groaned lowly, biting your shoulder and holding onto your hips with his big hands, kneading your ass.

After a few minutes of bliss, he shifted positions; Arthur pressed your legs almost to your chest and held them there, hitting deeper and deeper into your sticky cunt. 

You moaned loudly, finding his hair again and holding it tightly. His full balls slapped against your ass.

“Like that?” he muttered. “You like that, you uppity little–” He groaned loudly, going faster and rougher.

“Arthur, Arthur,” you sobbed, curling your toes. “Please, I’m g-gonna–”

With a muffled cry, you came undone on his cock, toes curling, legs shaking, cunt spasming and letting out more of your juices all over his cock and the blanket.

“That’s right, let it out, sweetheart,” he gasped. “I’m close too, baby, shit–”

Arthur pressed himself into you and stilled, panting, eyes tightly shut. You could feel his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm in your soaked through cunt.

His lips collided with yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss, and he slowly thrusted a couple more times before pulling out.

The condom was smeared in your juices.

Arthur sighed. “Hopefully it didn’t break. I tried to get a good one.”

You chuckled nervously. “Hopefully not.”

He helped you clean up, wiping you down and putting your clothes back on. You hoped his smell (it wasn’t a bad one, just distinct) wouldn’t cling to your clothes.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” you told him as you prepared to remount your horse. “But if you ever decide to stop being an outlaw…you know where to find me.”

“I love you,” Arthur said simply.

You flushed, and looked away. 

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

You rode off.

Arthur waited till you were out of sight to smile.

You were really gullible. A condom, seriously? Even pulling out was more reliable. These things broke more easily than a cheap lock. Even if it hadn’t, he’d cut a small hole into the tip that ensured he’d painted your walls white. If it dripped out, you would probably just assume it to be your own juices.

Now it was just a waiting game.

Two months later.

Your maid, Elisabeth, stared at you frightfully as you bent over a bucket for the 3rd time this week, vomiting horribly. You breathed heavily, then vomited again. There was nothing even in your stomach, which made it so much worse.

“Are you alright, ma’am?’ she squeaked, standing by with a towel.

You were too nauseous to answer. You clutched your stomach, head spinning and mind racing.

Your stomach had been in shambles this week and the last, and it was getting concerning.

After a few labored breaths, you grabbed the towel and wiped off your mouth. “Let's visit the doctor.”

Elisabeth gave you some cool water to sip, which helped a bit but not much. You could hardly stand to get on the carriage, and then it was like you were on a merry-go-round with the way it was hitting every bump in the road.

You leaned over the side and emptied your stomach yet again.

It was possible this sickness had a terrifying explanation, one that you couldn't even begin to imagine. Lord, protect me, you prayed despairingly. 

One agonizingly slow and nauseating ride later, you pulled up next to the doctor's office. Elisabeth had to coax you down, and she was clearly scared you would projectile vomit on her. The world was swimming around you and had a hazy feel.

You stumbled into the office and leaned against the cool wall.

“You alright, ma'am?” a voice asked. It was Dr. Williams, an older gentleman who'd been in Rhodes for years.

“I-I think I have a fever,” you whispered, fanning yourself. “Been throwing up everywhere.”

He quickly escorted you to a room in the back, and you collapsed into the chair. 

Dr. Williams examined you, looking inside your mouth and pressing various points on your body.

“Any symptoms besides vomiting?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Don't believe so.”

“When did they start?”

“I'd say…maybe two weeks ago.”

He hummed and thought for a bit while examining you. “Is there a chance you could be with child?”

You started, then stopped, then froze.

No…

“Err,” you stuttered.

He waited for your answer.

“I-I-...well, I suppose it ain't impossible,” you admitted fearfully.

Dr. Williams nodded. “Unless you have some strange fever, it is my opinion that you're suffering from morning sickness.”

Your heart dropped to your feet and started beating like a jackrabbit's. No. No. Lord, please.

“That can't be true,” you said desperately. “It-It- was so long ago…I don't…”

“It takes a bit for symptoms to present,” the doctor explained.

“B-But I can't, I can't be,” you cried, panicking. “You don't understand, my life is over if I'm with child. Over!” You stood up and started pacing around.

“Admittedly it’s still too early to tell for certain,” Dr. Williams allowed. “However, I have seen this many times before. There are options–”

“No! There are no options!” you snapped. “I am the daughter of an oil baron and a society lady! J-just imagining the shame, the disgrace–...my mother will kill me. And if she doesn't, I'll be sent away to the corners of the earth.” 

You burst into tears at this declaration, falling to your knees and covering your face in shame. Dr. Williams hung back, perhaps sensing that you needed a minute.

After you collected yourself and stood up, you said in a quiet, cold voice: “There is no way I am pregnant. I thank you for your expertise, Dr. Williams, but in this case you are incorrect. I simply have a fever. Good day.”

You swept out of the building with your head held high, collecting your maid and getting back on the carriage. 

The two of you had barely left the town borders before you broke down and started crying again. Pregnant? A child? You? It could not be true. It could not. 

And…and definitely not by Arthur, of all people. He was like a firecracker, burning hot and dangerous, the exact opposite of a…father.

Even that word burned acrid on your tongue.

“Do you need somethin’, miss?” Elisabeth asked tentatively.

You sighed, wiped your face, and shook your head sadly. “No…no thank you. I'm alright.”

The ride back home was silent save for your sniffles and forlorn sighs. You refused to accept this possibility.

You felt you would rather be tarred and feathered than even think about telling your mother about your condition. Your outburst at Dr. Williams had barely covered it; your parents were continually telling you to act perfectly, to never step out of line. Even though they were far from perfect.

Your mother was the biggest hypocrite you knew. She thought you didn't see her inviting the help in for "tea". Well, you did, not that you cared much. It was just sickening that she set expectations for you that she herself had never reached.

She'd threatened you with the nunnery before, after catching you with one of the stable boys. Said that “wicked girls were destined for the deepest pits of hell.” Hmph. She was definitely an expert on the subject.

As for your father, well, he wasn't much better. Though he didn't verbally abuse you like your mother, he viewed you more like a liability among his property. You were certain he would marry you off if it would benefit his emerging empire. He would see this…predicament as something that could damage his reputation. If your mother chose to send you away, you doubted he would make much of a fuss.

Thankfully, the churning in your stomach faded on the way home, and only your mind remained in shambles. 

You tried to avoid your mother when you arrived at the manor, but of course she was in the front room, waiting for you.

“What did the doctor say?” she inquired as you put down your things.

“Just a mild fever,” you replied shortly, then power walked to your room. But she followed.

“Are you sure? Do you have a temperature? Did he give you any medicine?” she pressed, following your impatient footsteps right up to your bedroom door.

“Mother, I'll be fine. It's not serious,” you said angrily, then closed the door behind you firmly.

You waited until her heels clicked away down the wooden stairs, then collapsed on your bed and sobbed some more.

My life might be over.

A month and a half later.

Your life was over.

Completely and utterly.

The nausea had not stopped, and in fact it got worse the week after you went to the doctor. That had been the peak of pain, but it still remained for another two weeks afterwards, lurking like some shadowy beast.

Your dresses, tailored exactly to your measurements, had become just a little bit tighter. At first you had brushed it off as an indulgent diet, or just stress weight, but even your mother had commented on how your dress was pulled tight over your torso.

After that, you took care to hide your body under the heaviest dresses you could manage. But it was summer by now, and staying out of sight was a tall order.

Your mother repeatedly asked you to go to the doctor again, and perhaps seek out a second opinion, and you refused, insisting that it was just a fever. But you could tell she wasn’t believing you. She gave you strange looks when you said you felt nauseous yet again.

It was a stormy day in June when you finally had the courage to take off your clothes and examine your body in the floor-length, gilded mirror in your boudoir.

A mistake.

Your blood turned to ice as you saw the unmistakable bump that was forming.

Your breathing accelerated along with your mind, thoughts racing and jumbling and colliding, coming to one stunning, awful conclusion:

I’m pregnant.

You were pregnant. With child. An expectant mother.

What a joke.

You? A mother? What a ridiculously absurd notion. You would sooner be a clown in a traveling circus.

And…that man was the father. The man that haunted your thoughts and your dreams, the man whose scent still clung ever so faintly to one of your riding dresses. The man whose mere name sent shivers down your spine.

Arthur Morgan.

-

You put your clothes back on, then left the room, intending to get a snack, but before even making it to the stairs your mother pounced on you.

“Alright, I simply must insist that you tell me what is really going on,” she declared. “No fever lasts this long, and you have no temperature at all.”

You tried to dodge her, but she blocked your path, clearly dead set on getting an answer from you.

“It’s nothing, Mother, I told you before,” you said, irritated. It absolutely was not nothing, but you needed time to plan your strategy. 

“If it’s nothing, why have you been nauseous for the past…” She paused, then narrowed her eyebrows. 

Before you could step back, she poked your stomach with one finger. You of course involuntarily jumped back.

“What- What are you doing?” you gasped, nervous.

“Let me see your stomach.”

“What?”

She pushed you towards your room. “I said, let me see your stomach, girl. Lift up your skirts.”

You scoffed, heart pounding like a drum. “Why would I do that?”

You were forced back into your bedroom, and your mother closed and locked the door behind her. “I just want to look at it.”

This was quite a pickle.

“I- I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mother-”

She grabbed at your skirts, impatient. You jumped back. “Stop it! Fine, I will.”

She was going to find out eventually.

Your mother crossed her arms and waited with anticipation as you slowly lifted your skirt. The blood was rushing in your ears and you prayed to God that you would survive the next five minutes.

Eventually your skirt revealed the still developing but definitely noticeable bump you had.

The room was dead silent. Your mother stared at your belly in shock, lips slightly parted. 

Then her mouth closed and formed a hard scowl. “Would you care to explain the meaning of this?”

You blinked several times, trying to find your voice, but it was lost and long gone.

“Are you-” She swallowed hard. “Are you…with child?”

She stared at you. Her glare kept you still and pinned you down like a bug on display.

You eventually nodded, wordless and terrified.

“And who is the father, pray tell?”

You just stared at the ground.

“Answer me, girl,” she said sharply.

There was no way you were going to tell her that. It would genuinely be better for her to assume you were so loose you couldn’t even pinpoint the father.

Your mother pinched her nose, and sighed, shaking her head. “We’re going to have a little talk with your father when he comes home. Remain in your room; I have no desire to see you anymore.” With those pleasant parting words, she stomped out, slamming the door behind you.

Once her footsteps faded away, you sat on your bed, numbly thinking of what to do. 

Your father was sure to agree with any punishment your mother dreamed up. He was more like a manager than a father, and he had no qualms about letting a bad employee go.

Or…or maybe he wouldn’t? Perhaps his indifference would work in your favor, and he would tell your mother not to bother? Maybe he’d even pay someone to take care of it.

These were all hypotheticals. There was no telling what would really happen until it actually occurred.

Your father was due home soon. It was just your luck that he was taking a half-day in the office.

Ugh.

End of Part 2.

[floralscented]

the amount of times i've had to address this because she literally will not fucking stop is insane. @artyandink, for the last fucking time, leave me alone <3 stop coming in my inbox anonymously trying to get me to talk about your fics & promote them thinking i can't tell it's you. stop asking to use my ideas even after you've BEEN BLOCKED. stop keeping tabs on me to see what i'm writing for now so you can start writing for it. i'm dead serious it's about to give me a fucking aneurysm.

it is not subtle. and as stupid as you think i am, from the way you did all of this & are still fucking continuing, you sure do like the things i put out! i am noticing it. people are SHOWING me it. move the fuck on. find your own voice! stop trying to steal mine and what i'm writing about. i'm tired of speculating on why you are doing this and just want it to fucking END.

writing clark kent & making bots for him just because i started it is fucking mental. naming people in your fic bonnie & clyde after the au that i made that you asked to use, and still did anyways even if it was private, when i said no is MENTAL.

on this note, anyone that follows me that also supports or interacts with arty, please show yourselves out, too. if you want to know why, look here & here since i've had to address this publicly three times now. but i'm tired of going about my life & pretending that over on her side of the internet, she's not STILL taking my ideas, or using the ones that she already has, because she doesn't have a single original bone in her body.

no! i do not know about your bodyguard & president fanfic, arty! because i did not ever actually fucking read it!

and if by the grace of god, somehow, this isn't you ( which is highly doubtable ) i'm sorry to these anons that this two faced, five identitied grown woman has made me this weary to have to respond like this. i am not usually hostile, i don't think, but constantly having her shit in my dms, having her try to make me promote her shit, is INSANE.

i have moved on. you are the one that cannot keep my name out of your mouth to other people trying to salvage your fall from grace, saying that whatever i'm saying isn't true, and then coming into my messages the one other time within EIGHT MINUTES of me unblocking you, saying that you're so sorry that this is happening and feigning ignorance. go to hell. i tried to handle this civilly and privately and every single time instead you took to your tumblr feed to try and paint me as a bad guy, or discredit everything that YOU PUT ME THROUGH. so truly, go to hell <3 and actually fucking listen to me and leave me alone. i do not talk about you or think about you when you're not actively doing this shit, so stop monitoring my account and especially stop stalking my cai just because i cant block you on there.

and while you're at it, find some creativity on your own. it'd do you some good in the long run to actually make something yourself and not piggyback off of others & their success and THEIR WORKS.

[ghouljams]

Ok, just wanna say that I love your Hephaetus!Nikto.

Just a few things I’d like to say about Aphrodite. Love the way you have them written, I am in no way trying to make you change your interpretation of them.

She is one of the oldest gods along side Poseidon. Their lore dates back way before Ancient Greece and yet Aphrodite still predates him. Aphrodite is not just a soft thing. She started the Trojan war dammit. And she’s been associated with War as well, and not just in the sense that she has a relationship with Ares but of herself (then again haven’t done much research on this part so I could be wrong).

And Aphrodite is of the sea. The sea is no tame thing. It is wild. She is the Goddess of love and beauty and I’m getting a little pissed at Nikto for thinking she wouldn’t find him beautiful when it is her literal job to see the beauty in everything. Like come on dudeeee!!!!

I think the way you wrote him also pairs kinda well with the way you have the other Olympians view Aphrodite!Reader. I’d wonder if Aphrodite!Reader will ever snap on them and show them what it means to be the goddess of love and beauty.

Also fun fact, the ancient Greeks had multiple names for love that all had different meanings. I personally don’t know them all, but from what I recall, Eros is what they call romantic love.

Sorry for blabbing on, you don’t have to respond to this at all, just wanted to vent a little.

Oh no you're fine venting, I think a lot of people often think of Aphrodite in a specific way (pretty goddess of love who just cheats on her husband and is vindictive all the time) and here's what I will say regarding the way I'm writing Aphrodite!Reader:

Neither the reader nor Nikto is a reliable narrator.

Aphrodite sees herself as this wonderful loving force but she still walks the battlefield, taking trophies as often as she takes lives. She views herself as innocent in all of this drama and rumors, but she's done nothing to stop them(It's nice having Ares talk about how beautiful and good in bed she is, y'know?) She loves Nikto but she also treats him a bit like a curiosity, waiting for him to come to her because, well, everyone does eventually.

And Nikto is stuck in his vision of being cast aside by the gods. He's trapped in their mockery of him, why wouldn't he assume his unwilling wife, who begged to be kept a virgin goddess right before their wedding, doesn't like him? Aphrodite forces their way into his life, into his space, disrespecting any boundaries he tries to put up, of course he's wary of them. But at the same time Nikto only sees the parts of Aphrodite that they want him to see, the soft, the gentle, the loving with sweet voices and stroking fingers, so of course he thinks they're a bad fit. He's every bit her opposite.

The Trojan war has yet to happen in the timeline of the hephaestus!Nikto anthology, but I keep thinking about it because it will feel very out of character for Aphrodite to start a war over something as petty as vanity, but that's only because we've been seeing her through her own eyes.

Also I will say I think a lot of my softening of Aphrodite comes from my disbelief at the way goddesses act within Greek mythology. You're telling me every single goddess is vain and jealous, that they can't keep their man from cheating on them, that the Goddess of love can't find anything to love in her husband, that Artemis would turn her back on her desire to remain a virgin because one guy looked at her the right way? Like the way that the goddesses are depicted just reeks of misogyny and that particular brand of ancient Greek hatred for women. IDK So excuse me for making Aphrodite a little out of character from the myths in my attempt to give her the benefit of the doubt where no man ever did.

[prettybiching]

Helloooooooo my love. First of all, happy new year! (although it's coming a week late, sorry about that) I hope this year is filled with love and joy for you!!

Secondly, piggybacking off your last reblog, yes desi weddings are so elaborate ahhh!!! I loved the whole experience despite how exhausting and stressful it was as the sister of the bride. there's pre-wedding events, a week long wedding and then the post-wedding events so yeah nearly two months of dedicated wedding festivities lmfao but it was SOOO fun and I'm moving overseas in a few weeks so I definitely had a winter for the books.

NOWWWWWWW, I'm going to be honest, I couldn't help myself and I gave myself some sneak peeks from all the chapters uploaded because every time I get the notification I get SO excited and lemme just say - YOU COOKED AND I HAVE MASSIVE THOUGHTS

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

Oh god, breaking my heart already. Daemon, I can't stand you at times ughhhhhh. What will it take for my poor girl to not have to beg for someone to love her and be considerate to her.

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

This is either going to end horribly or wonderfully and I don't know how to feel about either.

...while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

GIRL NO!!!!!!!!!

PLEASE STOP TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF EVERY OTHER CHAPTER FOR THE SAKE OF MY WELLBEING

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

And there goes my heart again...I'm so mad at Daemon and the chapter has only just begun. I can't get over just how scared she is of telling Daemon about the baby because he will probably accuse her of incest (which would be so fucking ironic HAH) even though deep down he knows she never did any of that he's just emotionally constipated AS HELL. Even Caraxes is going to be done with his ass

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Alexa play "I Think He Knows" by Taylor Swift

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

😭😭😭 STOPPPPP PLEASE SPARE ME

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

Help, I know this is a deeply serious moment but I can't help but laugh at the fact that Arryk whipped out his sword to defend himself against CARAXES

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

OH MY GOD CARAXES CAN SENSE DAEMONS BABY IN HER TUMMY WE'VE GOT MEDIEVAL DNA TEST SOMEBODY GET DAEMON HERE

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

caraxes and reader's bestie arc better start NOW

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Oh my god Arryk stop tattling on my boy Caraxes like that. He was just trying to show some affection and protectiveness!!! It's not his fault that years of bonding with daemon also turned him a little dense and emotionally constipated like his master

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

The way I 100% believe that the foundation of the brothers' relationship is that daemon will ALWAYS do the exact opposite of viserys tells him so the fact that he told daemon to return to his lady wife, it will lead him to run as far away from her as possible (aka stepstones)

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

THIS SCENE MAKES ME WANT TO CRADLE MY HEAD IN MY HANDS AND WEEP BECAUSE WHAT THEY COULDVE BEEN IF DAEMON WASNT SO DENSE AND THICK AND STUPID AND UGHHHHHHH

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

you're so stupid

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

Daemon "I can never comprehend someone being genuinely concerned for me because I never had a mother, I don't remember my father's love and my brother was an even bigger emotionally constipated idiot who can't show me love so I'm going to mistake your love for you doubting my capabilities" targaryen

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

This is so tragic I've started crying again...

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THIS FUCKER TO RECEIVE THERAPY FROM BRAAVOS OR WHATEVER BECAUSE HIS UNRESOLVED CHILDHOOD TRAUMA AND THE LACK OF PARENTAL LOVE HE RECEIVED IS GOING TO DESTROY THE MC AND I CANNOT STAND FOR IT I WILL DIE

"because I love you."

and im dead. im gone.

"you are mistaken."

"I love you" "It'll pass"

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

FUCK YOU FUCK THE WHOLE TSRGARYEN DYNASTY YOU FILTHY LYING WHORE OF A DRAGON RIDER GO FUCK MYSARIA IN A WIG AND CALL OUT YOUR WIFES NAME AND TELL HER YOU WANT HER BECAUSE YOURE TOO SCARED TO SAY IT TO YOUR WIFE AND GO TO THE SHITTY STEPSTONES SURROUNDED BY NOTHING BUT UGLY LOOKING PIRATES FOR THREE WHOLE YEARS WITH SHITTY FOOD AND SHITTY WINE KJHGRRYVHBEBN LTLV

You nod, "I know."

Author, did you reach inside my brain and find the worst ways to hurt me? BECAUSE THIS HURTS OKAY

BUT IT ALSO FEELS SO GOOD??? WHYS THE ANGST YOU WRITE SO FUCKING GOOD??? IM IN LITERAL TEARS OVER THESE TWO, THE WAY DAEMON MADE HER BEG FOR HIM TO STAY AND IT WAS STILL NOT ENOUGH THE PARALLELS OF HER SAYING IT NEVER SERVES HER WELL ASKING SOMEONE TO STAY

If you're wondering how I'm doing at the end of this, then imagine this - IM IN TEARS and contemplating my existence. But I cannot atop praising you for how GOOD this chapter was. It hit right the spot. Thank youuuuu for yet another masterpiece <3

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[witchygagirlwrites]

Consider Me Gone-Part 1

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader x Jay Halstead/ Gerstead x Reader

You know your guys love you but when a case brings up bad memories and they don't turn to you? That makes you begin to doubt yourself, your relationship, everything.

You could still remember the look on your sister’s face when you told her you were deploying. The fear, the apprehension. She was afraid of you not coming home, afraid that if you made it home you wouldn’t be the same woman that left. You knew the risks that came along with the path you chose, you also knew the risks of not taking it. You had to do something with your life and that was the only path you could’ve taken at that point in your life.

When you were tasked to the 75th regiment you’d nearly questioned your commanding officer. There were men and women in the 68W that had a lot more time under their belt than you but he’d been content with your record and next thing you knew your boots were hitting the dirt in Korengal Valley.

When you reported to duty you were introduced to your unit, the men and women who you would be responsible for keeping alive under fire. Two men stood out amongst them. One with sky blue eyes, the other seafoam blue. Both of them equally gorgeous with smiles that would’ve stopped you in your tracks had you met them under different circumstances. They watched you intently from the moment you said your name and the commanding officer told the unit to be welcoming to you because “She’s gonna keep your sorry asses alive” 

It took all of a half an hour before Jay Halstead and Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz were introducing themselves to you. “Mouse huh?” you asked and he’d given you a grin that showed off a set of dimples “It’s a stupid nickname but I’m the first to admit it” you cut your eyes at Jay “How’d he get it?” he winked at you “Oh sweetheart you gotta earn that story” From that day on the three of you always seemed to find each other. 

One day you had just stepped out of the med tent to catch your breath, the scent of blood heavy in your nose. You had lost someone, you knew it was hopeless from the moment he’d been brought in. You hadn’t told him that. The letter in the pocket of your pants felt so much heavier than a folded sheet of paper. He’d pressed it into your hand and begged you to make sure his boyfriend got it. 

You took a deep breath, trying to find air that didn’t burn your lungs on the way down. “Doc, you feeling ok?” you turned at the sound of Mouse’s voice and forced a smile onto your face “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a doctor Gerwitz?” he grinned “You seemed pretty doctorish to me” you shook your head “Where’s your shadow?” he nodded across the way and you spotted Jay talking to Anderson “We just got back in” “Nice to see I’m not having to put either of you back together” you teased and he shrugged “We try our best to stay outta your way”

“The rest of the unit in one piece?” you asked and he nodded “Yes ma’am” both him and Jay always did that. Why, you weren’t sure. “Good, less people in my tent, the better” he nodded “We’ll be back for a few days. If you don’t wanna be alone” “You asking me to spend time with you? Aww that’s adorable” you teased and saw him bite back a grin “You’re a pain in the ass at times, you know that?”

You grinned “You and Jay wouldn’t hang out with me if I wasn’t and I damn sure wouldn’t have lasted this long in the rangers” he laughed “Ain’t that the truth” Jay started your way and smirked when he saw you “If it isn’t my favorite medic. Feel like giving me a once over yet doc?” you shook your head “I’ll sew your lips shut Halstead” he grabbed over his heart “You’re killing me sweetheart, killing me”

Athena, the only other woman out of your unit walked up and shook her head “Easy boys. The only one spending nights with our medic is me” she slung her arm around your shoulders and winked at you “Isn’t that right sugar?” you grinned “Damn right” and busted out laughing at the look on Jay and Mouse’s faces.

You spent two tours in that place. With Jay and Mouse it wasn’t so bad. They were your best friends, never looked at you like you were less because you were a woman and you felt comfortable around them which said alot.

The day you knew you had to get out was hell on earth. That damn convoy still haunted your dreams. Having to pull your unit out the flames, being forced to move on from the ones you couldn’t save and simply stabilize who you could and pray a chopper got there before you lost them. Mouse and Jay were medically discharged and you took your discharge as well. You couldn’t face it anymore. 

You never would’ve thought that the years spent over there would result in you falling in love with those two rangers who were always such a pain in your ass yet here you were. 

You groaned when you tried to stretch but movement was inhibited by two sets of strong arms wrapped around your body. You slowly opened your eyes to see that Jay was curled up to your back, hands holding your hips and face pressed between your shoulders, while Mouse had his arms thrown over your stomach and his face resting on your breasts as pillows.

At least they were comfortable. You shifted, trying to figure out a way from under the mess of limbs when Jay’s hands tightened on your hips and you felt his erection pressing into your ass “Princess, it’s a little too early for you to be making sounds like that and squirming up against me like that”

You shot him a playful glare “If my boyfriends didn’t act like I was going to run away in the middle of the night maybe I could get up to go get coffee” Mouse’s lips teased across your bare chest “Well if it hadn’t taken us years to convince you to want us maybe we wouldn’t be worried”

You turned your head back towards him and he was grinning up at you from where his head was still laid on your breasts. “You two were flirts then when we got home we didn’t see each other for a while then well let’s not talk about then” he moved up to brush a gentle kiss against your lips “No let's not talk about then”  Jay slipped a hand around your neck to gently tilt your head back to him “Let’s talk about now” his lips were feather light but being in their arms were always like a fire being set inside of you. It had been that way since you finally let yourself give in that first time. 

“We’re all gonna be late for work” you reminded and Jay grinned “I set the clock back an hour so we’d have more time” you shook your head “You’re horrible” he shrugged “We love our girl, what’s horrible about that?”

You felt Mouse’s hand slip down between your thighs and when you let them fall open without thought he chuckled “Looking like you don’t care too much about being late love”

By the time you parked at med Will was already texting you asking where the hell you were at. You didn’t dignify your dear brother in law with a response and simply pocketed your phone and headed inside.

When you passed the front desk Maggie smiled “Good morning” “Mornings Mags. Where’s Halstead? He’s blowing me up like I’m not still five minutes before my shift” She looked behind you and grinned. You turned around and glared up at Will “What’s the rush?” his eyes widened “They have baby nurses from the med school here. If I didn’t have you they’d stick me with one of them” you shook your head with a laugh “Oh honey” 

You knew as much if not more than most of the doctors here but you hadn’t had the desire to get the doctor title. Registered Nurse suited you just fine, besides they knew what you could do here. Most of the time you either worked side by side with Will or Ethan. Neither of them ever questioned your call. You waved a hand “Fear not big red. Your favorite nurse is here. Let’s start the day”

He slipped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug “I don’t know how my brother ever got lucky enough to get you” then pointed you towards his first patient’s room.

_______________

You were just sitting down in the breakroom when your phone chimed with a text from Erin Mollys tonight? Please?? You laughed lightly and texted back I’ll meet you there dear. Let the boys know their choices are either go out with me or I’m going alone

You opened your water and barely got a bite of your sandwich before two texts popped up in the group text thread between you, Jay and Mouse that read We’re coming and Baby, don’t play like that you shook your head and texted back was just giving you options geez

Ethan walked in and sat down across from you, leaning back in his seat. You cut your eyes up “You good Choi?” he nodded “Yeah, just beat” you nodded in agreement. This shift had been back to back. Your lunch break was supposed to be four hours before. You’d managed to eat a pack of the crackers Maggie kept in her desk between running tests but that had been about it. 

“You working tomorrow?” you asked and he shook his head “No, how about you?” you shook your head “No, I’m off for two days? I think.” he looked up “Our schedules sync up then” you grinned “Good, I like working with you and Will” he laughed “That’s just because we both know you’re a trauma specialist you just don’t have the title” you grinned “Exactly”

When you got home Jay and Mouse were already there. Jay was laid across the couch when you walked in and you could hear Mouse somewhere in the house. Jay grinned when you walked in “There’s the sexiest medic that ever walked” 

You shook your head “Easy ranger. Just a trauma nurse nowadays” he reached a hand out so you let him pull you to him, having to straddle his waist to keep from just falling across him. His eyes flickered across you and even in your scrubs, with your hair falling down he looked at you like you were the most gorgeous woman he ever laid eyes on, then again he’d looked at you like then when you wore ACUs.

His hands gripped your thighs gently “I love you baby” you smiled “I love you too Jay” you leaned down to steal a kiss from him and the moment your lips met you heard Mouse “Oh I go to finish the laundry and get left out”

You looked up from where you were on Jay and grinned “He got me time I walked in, sorry” Mouse shook his head “Thought we agreed a long time ago, we both got her” Jay looked up at him “Can you blame me? Look at my view?”

You shook your head and kissed Jay before climbing off of him. You walked over to Mouse and pulled him into a kiss before checking the time “I gotta shower so I can meet Erin and Kim” That was all it took for Jay to jump up off the couch and Mouse to snap to attention “Want some company?” you shook your head, that was what had taken so long finding this place, a shower big enough for three.

“Come on then. No funny business or I’ll kick you out of the shower” you warned, leading the way to the bathroom and feeling their hands teasing you on the way. “You didn’t say no funny business before the shower” Mouse teased, lips close to your ear.

You walked into Mollys between Jay and Mouse. Jay had your hand in his, his fingers curled around yours and Mouse had his fingers hooked in your belt loops. You’d teased them that you looked like a flight risk. They’d replied that they were just keeping a hand on you. 

When the music hit you along with familiar voices you looked around and spotted the rest of intelligence at the end of the bar, well minus Voight and Al. “There she is!” Erin called and you dropped Jay’s hand and pulled away from Mouse to pull her into a hug. She grinned over your shoulder at the two of them “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna keep her”

____________________

“I’m just saying, I have seen a t-shirt and some duct tape save a leg” you laughed and Adam raised an eyebrow “Did you do it?” Jay leaned up over your shoulder considering you were currently sitting halfway in his lap “Yes she did”

You cut your eyes back at him “You weren’t even there sir” he shrugged “No but Anderson told me about it” you shook your head and looked back at Adam “Point is in the moment you’d be surprised what could be useful Ruz”

Mouse walked back up with Kevin and the drinks they’d gone after. He passed you your then handed Jay his beer before brushing a kiss against your lips. You grinned then he sat down next to you. “How did you ever get stuck with these two anyways?” “Watch it Lindsay” they both warned playfully. You laughed “They were already a bonded pair, if I took one I had to take the other”

Everyone started laughing at your response but you made sure to lean back against Jay and reach out for Mouse just in case they took your teasing to heart.  “Is that the trifecta?�� you heard a voice say and your eyes widened. Only one person ever called you, Jay and Mouse that.

You jumped up from Jay’s lap, He was on his feet and Mouse was too as Athena walked up to your group. She looked how you remembered. Five foot nine, honey brown hair tied up and bright amber eyes. You never did understand why the boys went for you while she was there but you were glad they did. She’d been a heaven sent amongst the testosterone during those days. More than one night had been full of laughter in your shared tent.

“Athena!” you hollered, pulling her into a hug. She squeezed you tightly, nodding to Jay and Mouse “Hey boys” Once she let you go she hugged them both. “What are you doing in Chicago? Last time we talked you were in D.C?” you asked because she was stationed at the marshal office there. She nodded “I’m in town working a case. Heard this was a good place to get a drink. Didn’t expect to find my unit here”

“Are we gonna get introduced?” Kim asked and you laughed lightly “Oh Athena this is the unit Jay works in and that Mouse is a tech expert for” you introduced them one by one. She nodded “What about you fireball?” you grinned “You know me, I’m at the hospital” “Trauma specialist?” she asked and you shook your head “Trauma nurse” “Close enough. You know more than any of those M.D.s do”

___________

The four of you caught up a little but then she needed to join the people she’d come with so all of you traded your newest numbers before she left. You noticed Erin and Kim both cutting their eyes at her as she walked off but didn’t think anything of it until Erin whispered “Do we like her?”

You nodded “She’s good” “Are you sure. Cause if you don’t like her, we don’t” Kim whispered and you laughed, making Mouse shoot you a look. You shook your head “You don’t wanna know baby” before telling them both “She’s ok. She was in the same unit as us. The only other woman. She had my back a lot” “Ok” Erin said after a moment and Kim nodded too.

“That was insane seeing Athena again” you laughed, walking into your house. Mouse nodded “Yeah, been a while since we saw anyone out of the unit” “Yeah” Jay agreed.

You tried and failed to stifle a yawn which made them share a grin “I think we need to put her to bed” Jay laughed. “Only if you two come with me” you pouted and they both shook their heads “She’s so damn spoiled. What happened to that medic that used to threaten to sew my lips shut?” Jay asked and you grinned “I figured out I like you being able to use your lip and your tongue and other things”

He cut his eyes at Mouse “I say we make sure she gets a good night's rest. What do you think?” Mouse’s eyes were glued to you “I say that’s a damn good idea”

Two days passed and you didn’t really think too much more about Athena being in Chicago. You ended up pulling doubles at the hospital and Intelligence had just finished wrapping up a drug bust worth a quarter of a million.

You stood at the front desk, rubbing your hand across your eyes. “You good?” Will asked and you looked up at him “Aces” he grinned “I swear you act too much like you’re with my brother at times. You can admit if you’re tired or something” you shook your head “I’m fine Will, really. I need some coffee and maybe some water too then I’ll be good as new” 

He nodded “Do me a favor and add some food somewhere in that mix? I’m gonna get my ass kicked twice over if you pass out on my watch” you grinned at him “Don’t worry if they kick your ass while I’m out I’ll take care of it when I wake up. We have the same base training”

You rotated your neck in a tight circle and got ready to go back to work but your phone started ringing. You pulled it out and saw it was Erin. “Hello?” you answered and her voice was low “Can you talk?” “Yeah, why?” your stomach knotted at her tone. She took a deep breath before saying “They probably wouldn’t want me to tell you but we caught a case that I think may have triggered something for your fellas. I overheard Jay and Mouse talking about Henderson? It sounded like they were arguing and that this case had enough similarities to remind them”

Your hand flew out to the desk to steady yourself. Memories of the shape Mark had been in when he was found flew through your head, how hard you worked to stabilize him and the striking realization that all you had to offer his wife was that after all the hell he suffered he died with a friend at his side. 

You vaguely registered her calling your name twice before April touching your arm snapped you back to the present “Yeah? Um thanks Erin for letting me know. If they start arguing and cause interruptions to the case, call me?” “Of course” 

You hung up with her and looked at April who was staring at you with an unspoken question written plainly across her face “I’m ok April” she shook her head “You know I live with someone who served, right?” you offered her a smile “I promise, I’m ok” she smiled slightly “If you need someone to talk to I’m here and if you need someone who’s been there Ethan is always there for you too” “Thank you” you told her and she nodded “Of course”

She walked off so you slid your phone into your pocket. They would call if they needed you, if not you’d talk to them that night. Mark was a hard spot for all of you. His wife’s cries still haunted your dreams on some nights.

About an hour before you were getting off Jay sent a text in the thread We’re gonna grab a beer after work ok, normally they would have worded that do you want to grab a beer after work. Were they not including you? Just you two? You asked and felt your heart hit your feet when he texted back Thena is still in town so she’s gonna meet us. We won’t be long. We love you 

Was it the memories of Mark’s final moments, the ghost of his wife gripping to you begging you to say it wasn’t true or the slap in the face of knowing your guys were hurting and not seeking you out that forced the tears from your eyes? You weren’t sure but angry hot tears slipped down your face before you could stop them.

“Woah, what’s wrong and don’t you dare say nothing” Will asked and you hadn’t even realized he was standing over you. What were you supposed to tell him? Will loved you like a sister, yeah but Jay was actually his brother. How could you explain you were crying because your boyfriends wanted to get a beer with someone out of their unit? It’s not like they were being sneaky and hid it. They told you.

“Um, bad day Will” you whispered and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “Want me to call Jay?” “NO!” you said a little harsher than you meant to. He pulled back and looked down at you “Are you sure you’re ok?” You nodded “Yeah, just had some stuff trudged up. I just need to make another hour, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry the guys”

“If you need me, I’m here” he reminded you with a smile before kissing the top of your head “I am your favorite brother in law after all” you shook your head “Mouse is an only child” he grinned “Even more reason for me to be your favorite” 

Once he walked away you let your face fall. Maybe you were reading too much into it? That was all? You just needed to focus. You couldn’t split attention at work. Lives were at risk.

You parked next to Jay’s truck and took a deep breath. You wouldn’t push. If they wanted to talk to you, they would. God please let them talk to you. 

You grabbed your belongings and headed inside. You needed to start a load of your scrubs. You went through two pairs this shift alone and they had to be washed separately.

_______________

You walked in the door and they were sitting on the couch, watching the Blackhawks game. “Hey baby” Mouse greeted with a smile. “Hey” you replied, moving past them towards the laundry room. “You ok sweetheart?” Jay called behind you and you rolled your eyes to not bite off a comment you may later regret “I need to start a load of my scrubs. I went through two pairs this shift” 

You heard them moving as you walked into the laundry room and turned to see they were at the door “I washed them love. They’re in your dresser” Mouse told you with a smile. “Oh, thank you” you replied, dropping the dirty bag to the floor and pulling the scrubs out to pretreat.

You saw them exchange a look before Jay asked “Did we do something we don’t know about?” you didn’t look at them and just shook your head “No” “How long have we known you sweetheart? We know what that no means” Mouse pushed so you dropped the scrubs in the washer then turned to face them “Nothing is wrong, ok? I had a long day, I’m tired. You two are apparently aces so I’m gonna go shower”

________________

You started the washer then pushed past them to get out of the room. Both of them reached out to grab you, Mouse around the waist and Jay your arm “Uh uh” “What is it baby?” 

You took a deep breath then said “Erin called me about the case. Said you two were talking about Henderson” “Oh” “Oh” 

You nodded slowly “Oh, so we don’t communicate anymore?” Jay shrugged “It’s not that big of a deal. This case, the victim..he was tortured for information” “It was really similar to Henderson” Mouse added. “Are you two ok?” you asked, looking from one to the other. You knew them. Mouse would need to talk it out when old memories were trudged up and Jay would try to bury it all unless you forced him to talk.

“Yeah, that’s why we grabbed the beer with Thena, talk with someone who was there” Jay explained and he could have punched you dead in the gut and it would have hurt less. “Someone who was there?” he realized his wording and looked to Mouse for help on backpedaling.

“Baby he didn’t mean it like that” you shook your head “Fuck it. I need to shower” you stormed past them, shrugging their hands off your body. “Alone”

________________

You could hear Jay and Mouse both outside the door, trying to talk to you but you ignored them, turning the water on as high as you could get it and sinking to the floor of the shower. “Someone who was there” nice to know everything you went through didn’t mean a damn thing. 

You didn’t even realize you were crying until the salty tears hit your lips. You didn’t try to stifle your sobs. What were they gonna do? Go talk to Athena about it?

______________

When you got out of the shower and dressed you opened the bathroom door to find Mouse sitting on the floor on one side of the door and Jay on the other “What are you two doing?” you asked and Mouse said “Waiting for you, we heard you crying” “I’m fine Greg” you sighed and walked past them to the bedroom.

You crawled into bed, curling up in the middle where you usually slept. They quickly disrobed and climbed into bed on either side of you. “Can we touch you?” Jay asked and you nodded. You felt them slip their arms around you and closed your eyes trying not to let his words play through your head yet again. “I love you sweetheart,” Mouse whispered. “I love you too Greg” 

“I love you princess” Jay whispered and you nodded “I love you Jay” you forced your eyes to close. You desperately needed sleep, maybe you’d feel more clear headed come tomorrow? Maybe you would be able to form calm enough thoughts to approach the whole “Someone who was there” comment without tears or screaming coming into the equation but for tonight you needed sleep.

@desimarie12

@alterna123

[hooneeyydroops]

Don’t you worry about your curly hair <3

Fred G. Weasley x reader

My first post ever here on Tumblr! Sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes, english is only my second language :’)

Paring: Bsf!Fred Weasley x natural curly/wavy haired!Reader

Notes: Just Fluff. Reader is in gryffindor but you can choose the year! Also, reader and Fred are best friends who have huge crushes on each other lol. Oh and reader is insecure about her hair but Fred makes her feel better.

Summary: Hermione helped you style your natural hair. It was the first time you showed off your natural hair in Hogwarts, especially to Fred.

Word count: 1.5k

Enjoy!

“My hair is so poofy again!” you complained, as you were walking to class with your friend Hermione.

It was the month of November so it was only natural that your hair was becoming this poofy; humidity levels were extremely high in winter at Hogwarts.

“I just don’t know what to do, I can’t straighten them everyday, I don’t want to burn it!” you say, pushing your thick, coarse hair behind your ears. The only good thing was that they kept you very warm during the colder weather (but it was hell during the summer).

“Maybe you should try to stop straightening them” Hermione replied. “I know curly hair is a lot of work but it’s so worth it. Plus you can’t always keep on tying them up like you do during summer”.

You knew her hair was curly just like yours, although she was too lazy to always keep them in place, sometimes leaving them air drying or diffusing without any kind of styling done. Yet it still suited her perfectly in one way or another.

“Maybe you’re right” you say, smiling at her “Why don’t you come with me to the dorm this afternoon? I could use some help from you to do my hair” you continued, as you girls had almost reached the classroom. “Sure thing!” she replied, smiling and excited about your proposal as you two entered the classroom for your charms lesson.

You and Hermione were now in your dorm’s bathroom as you were thoroughly and vigorously washing your hair. She was sitting on the toilet as you guys chatted and laughed together.

“Okay so now that I’m done with the clarifying shampoo I have to put this hair mask on my lenghts?” you asked her as you were kneeled down near the bathtub.

“Yes, just put a generous amount on it and leave it on for five minutes” she replied, looking at you as you put a generous amount of that divine-smelling hair mask she lent you on your hair. You then put them up with a claw clip standing up from that uncomfortable position that you had kept through the whole shampoo step.

“Ow, my back!” You said in pain.

Hermione laughed. “I bet the one that will absolutely adore the most your new look is definitely going to be Fred!” She said with a teasing tone as a faint blush crept on your cheeks.

“S-sure…I’m quite nervous to be honest; He’s never seen me with my natural hair, not even once. I only wear them back at home” you replied, worrying about what he’ll say. “Aw c’mon y/n, he’s definitely going to love it. He literally loves everything about you!” she says, trying to uplift your mood a bit.

You rinsed the mask off, as you girls went on with the styling. You brushed your hair then you made sure they were soaking wet as you put on your curl cream, gel and mousse, scrunching your hair with your hands and a towel.

“Looks amazing already” Hermione said in awe, watching your hair “I’ll help you diffuse them”.

Hermione was finally done diffusing your hair. “Now here, give me your hand” she says.

You do as she told and found yourself with some drops of hair oil on your hand.

“Massage it through your hands and slide them through your hair. You can also scrunch a bit”.

You do so.

Then you lifted your head up.

You couldn’t belive your eyes.

Your hair came out so good. Your locks were almost all frizz-free and they framed your face perfectly.

“No way, you look so good with your natural hair! They suit you way more if I have to say!” Hermione said excited as she was looking at you two through the mirror where you were staring at your reflection.

Yet you couldn’t help but think about what Fred’s reaction would be. Sure you looked great, but will he like your new look? What if he thought curly hair were hideous or messy?

Hermione noticed your worried expression. “He’ll love them, I’m sure” she says, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Thanks Hermione”.

“Now come one, put your robe back on, it’s almost dinner time!” she said, helping you out. You watched yourself through the mirror one last time before exiting the dorm, heading towards the great hall were dinner was waiting you two.

You guys entered the great hall taking place near Ron and Harry who had already started eating. You two greeted them but you soon noticed Harry and Ron staring at you. You give them a puzzled look which earned a quick answer from them.

“We’ve just never seen you with your hair like that” Ron started “yeah, they look great” Harry continued. You thanked them as the conversation topic switched to that dreaded potion’s essay you guys had to hand in in three days.

But you just couldn’t focus on the conversation, eyes searching for that tall, ginger prankster who had stolen your heart and that for some reason hasn’t arrived yet.

“You okay y/n?” Harry asked.

“Y-yeah sure” you replied, trying to keep your focus on the conversation.

“Yeah she’s just thinking about her red haired prince charming” Hermione chimed in with a small smirk on her lips. You felt your blood rush to your cheeks as you stayed silent, rolling your eyes.

The ginger twins entered the great hall, sitting down next to you so quickly that you hadn’t even realised they arrived.

Hi guys-“ George said, lips slightly parted and eyes widened as you turned around. “WOAH Y/N, YOUR HAIR” he said, catching Fred’s attention who looked at you with wide eyes and a small blush on his cheeks “I-is there something wrong with it?” You muttered worryingly. “No no no, it’s actually amazing, we just never saw you like this, right Fred?” He said, eyeing his twin with a smirk as the guy was still staring, lost in his thoughts. “Uhh yeah yeah, he’s right” he said quickly, shaking his head “you look beautiful like this, you know?” he said with a smirk as you felt your cheeks redden. Everybody looked at you two, eyes rolling jokingly as they were all thinking about when you’ll both confess your feelings to each other.

The conversation topic switched again from your hair to this mad prank the twins were pulling on Snape before coming to dinner.

You were now focused, lively as always, although you felt Fred’s eyes glued on you the whole time as you ate dinner and talked with your friends.

Dinner ended and, as you guys were all walking to the gryffindor common room, you felt an arm wrapping around your neck. You looked up, seeing Fred’s face smirking at you again as you looked away.

“So, new look uh?” He said. You guys were now walking behind the others.

“Yeah. It is too humid to use a straightener, my hair becomes poofy five minutes after straightening them” you started “so today Hermione helped me with styling them following their natural pattern” you say as you looked up again just to see that Fred’s eyes had widened “so these are your natural hair?” he asked.

You felt worry wash over you.

“Y-yeah…these are my natural hair.” you say, looking forward.

“Woah” he muttered “but why have I never seen them? I mean, you look bloody gorgeous with your hair like this, why won’t you wear them natural more often?” He asked, his cheeks slightly red as he looked at you with his signature smirk, although his eyes were softer now.

“It’s easier to wear it straightened sometimes” you replied, looking at him “plus, I think curly hair makes me look so messy. They just don’t suit me like they suit Hermione.” You said as your expression saddened. You felt Fred’s arm squeezing you making the butterflies in your stomach swarm like crazy. Since your crush started you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks getting warmer or butterflies in your stomach at every little touch. Even if it was accidental.

“I don’t think they make you look messy. They suit you so much” he said, twirling a curl around one of his fingers, focusing on his own motions “you know, I’ve always loved curly hair” he said, his gaze back on your face “I’ve always found them beautiful, especially on gorgeous girls like you~” he said, winking, his smirk back on his face. “Oh shut up!” You said in between giggles as you felt your cheeks redden as he squeezed you more.

“Never, sunshine~” he says with a playful tone, giving a small peck to your already warm cheek.

You thought he had definitely noticed that your whole face was now on fire, as he started laughing hard while his arm was still around your neck, his hand touching your soft, beautiful curls.

You now knew you had noting to worry about them.

[dootznbootz]

I don’t have a link but I saw a post along the lines of “EPIC fans trying to gaslight themselves into thinking Odysseus wouldn’t cheat (he does in the books)” and I nearly had a conniption.

Some people WERE arguing he was assaulted, but other people were saying it depends on the interpretation and saying he has a child with Circe and that he stays on the island with her for a year. I also saw someone say he was just lying about being assaulted on another post about it.

The Odyssey/EPIC fandom is so exhausting I’ve thought about blocking everything sometimes ngl. It’s so hard to filter out posts like that. But there’s so much amazing art and content about it I don’t want to stop seeing it.

No, like that's the struggle of it.

I Love Epic and I technically got into the Odyssey BECAUSE of Epic. But I'm a hardcore Odyssey girly. I adore it so much. I've read 8 translations at this point because I love it so much and it's fun for me! And Epic is in no way a replacement for the Odyssey (Jay even says that it's not! he's simply inspired by the Odyssey) and it feels like high quality fanfiction of the Odyssey (FUN! JOYOUS WHIMSY! I still like it! :3 ).

But holy shit, like, both Epic AND Tagamemnon fans can be so fucking exhausting. (I am a fan of both. I can say this.)

(Obviously I'm not talking about everyone. <3 I've made many friends and have met lovely people in both fandoms.)

Like while yes, Epic!Odysseus isn't coerced/raped by either of the goddesses, that's simply because of the fact that Jay simply felt like he wasn't well equipped to handle such dark topics to that extent. And I honestly respect him for that! He knows his limits with the story he wanted to tell and that's good! And in general I think he did a fantastic job handling the aspects of it he did touch on (Coercion with Circe's threatening in "There Are Other Ways" is done well imo.)

(ngl, I kind of take back what I said about "Not Sorry for Loving You". I think a lot of my reaction was initially from my fear of how fandom would react. But I've been delightfully surprised seeing how (for the most part) Epic Fandom has really come through to show the "fucked up-ness" of that song)

THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT ODYSSEUS IN THE ODYSSEY IS A SHITTIER HUSBAND BECAUSE HE, IN THE ANCIENT TEXT, CANNOT SAY NO TO A GODDESS.

Greek Mythology isn't like Percy Jackson where 12 year old Percy beat Ares. (I was a PJO KID TOO!) It's not "Odysseus didn't try hard enough" fucking victim blaming btw because HE LITERALLY CANNOT REFUSE OR THEN HE'LL (AND HIS FRIENDS IN THE CASE OF CIRCE) WOULD DIE!!!

Like I wrote a whole ass essay on Circe's Situation (I feel so preachy and shitty about having to constantly bring it up but I will as much as I have to to get people to listennnn) and in general, if you can't see what's happening with Calypso, you've got your head up your ass and/or are just looking away because you don't like the actual implications of what's happening. For the main "gripe" I've seen with Calypso with how "He enjoyed her company at first", @lyculuscaelus has a great essay breaking that down.

And before? ODYSSEUS HAS NO LISTED CONCUBINES! And he brings up Penelope often in the Iliad!

And the whole "lying about being assaulted", I'm sorry but if someone is holding the "Men were so sexist that they couldn't possibly care about the women in their lives or have been victims" idea, then why would Odysseus willfully share that he was raped by women? Who, as they say, were viewed beneath him? Why would he lie about something that would put him in such a humiliating light?

Btw, Menelaus (sealy boy!!!) even says that he's being held captive by Calypso with what he learned from Proteus! Menelaus isn't known for telling stories!

I feel bad as like, I used to LOVE going into the tags and finding creators I haven't seen before and cheering them on! Art and Fics and yay! But like... It's sometimes so disheartening going in there and seeing nonsense or bad takes ;~;

Honestly, as much as I DO enjoy Epic, I think that hopefully once the hype dies down a lil, it'll chill out more :') We'll all be okay!

[zepskies]

Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still. 

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.” 

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast. 

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made. 

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry. 

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part. 

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes. 

He’s not leaving you. 

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart. 

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you. 

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand. 

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.” 

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[silver-hwaberry]

ONE: i can see you...

Warnings: bullying, implied eating disorder and mentions of controlled eating but no details

Word count: 4.6k

⭑2016⭑

Yeonghwa let out a heavy sigh as she plopped into her usual seat at the back of the classroom. The School of Performing Arts Seoul was both a blessing and a curse for Yeonghwa, being the youngest member of the popular 5 member K-pop girl group Moonlight. Not only was she the maknae of the group, she was also the main dancer and lead rapper but also a vocalist too, and had been dubbed ‘Koreans sweetheart’ by the media too.

As she gazes around the room, she could feel the weight of the judgemental stares and hushed whispers following her every move. Despite her fame, high school was still a daily struggle for Yeonghwa. Even though she had debuted two years earlier and found success, she was still only 17 years old and had to attend high school in Korea. Her hectic schedule often kept her from attending class on a regular basis and made it difficult for her to keep up with her studies compared to her peers. She was also the only member of her group who was still in school.

The pressure of being a popular idol while also trying to maintain her education was overwhelming. However, it was a requirement set by her parents when they allowed her to move from Yeosu-si to Seoul at the age of 13 to become a trainee. "Don't forget about your education," they told her, and she was determined to make them proud by excelling in both areas.

As she pulls out her textbooks, she feels the weight of dozens of eyes on her.

"Did you see her performance last night?"

“What was she even wearing? It was hideous!”

“Her ass is way too big to be wearing that skirt last night! It would have looked much better on Jinni instead.”

“No way, Haneul would have rocked that outfit! Don’t know why they give it to her!”

“Probably because she would have had a tantrum at someone else being centre of attention. Little Miss Attention Seeking once again!”

"They need to kick her out of the band, Areum is a much better dancer and she can actually rap too.”

The murmurs swirl around her, a constant reminder that she didn't belong here. Her phone buzzes, and she discreetly checks it under her desk. It was a message from Haneul, their leader:

"Meeting with the manager after school. New variety show opportunity for you."

Yeonghwa's stomach clenches. Another commitment to juggle. Another reason she'll fall behind in class. But she knew better than to complain. This was the life she'd chosen, the dream she'd fought so hard for. She'd make it work somehow. She always did.

Yeonghwa puts her phone away and keeps her head down, trying to focus on the lesson ahead. Just as the teacher was about to begin, the classroom door slides open suddenly causing everyone to look over.

"Sorry I'm late!" A tall boy with a kind smile rushes in, bowing apologetically to the teacher.

"You must be the new student transferring into my class," the teacher responds.

"That's me!" The boy grins, clearly excited to be joining the class.

The teacher awkwardly turns to address the class, struggling to remember the boy's name. "This young man will now be joining our class. Let's all make sure to give him a warm welcome."

"He's so good-looking!" Yeonghwa hears from the girl sitting in front of her.

“You can sit over there, beside Aria!” the teacher points at the empty seat beside her

Yeonghwa feels her chest tighten as some quiet laughs are heard around the room. She hated people calling her by her stage name. As he makes his way to his seat, his eyes meet Yeonghwas. Instead of the usual judgement or disdain she was used to, she saw warmth.

The boy slides into the empty desk beside her. "Hi," he whispers, offering a friendly grin. "You're Yeonghwa, right?"

Yeonghwa nods cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But his smile only widens. "Cool! It is nice to meet you! I’m Yunho!"

She blinks, caught off guard by Yunho's friendly demeanour. She opens her mouth to respond, but the teacher's sharp voice cuts through the air.

"Yunho, Aria, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"No, sir," Yunho replies smoothly. "Just introducing myself to Yeonghwa."

The teacher narrows his eyes. "Well, do it on your own time. Now, if everyone can get their textbooks out we will begin with..."

“Oh I don’t have a book for this class yet.” Yunho whisper quietly.

Yeonghwa slowly slides her textbook towards the centre of their shared desks, allowing Yunho to read from it as he thanks her. As the lesson continues, Yeonghwa can't help but glance over at Yunho every now and then. She is both curious about him and apprehensive, wondering if he will make a snide comment or try to take a covert photo of her like everyone else does.

In the middle of class, a wadded up paper lands on her desk. She carefully unfolds it, fully anticipating yet another mean joke directed at her. It had become commonplace for notes to be tossed onto her desk, teasing and mocking her. However, when she opened this one, she was surprised to find a drawing of their teacher with exaggeratedly large ears and the caption: "Do you think he could pick up satellite signals with those? Or is it just me?"

Yeonghwa tries to suppress a giggle as the teacher gives her a stern glance. Yunho shoots her a sly wink, and she feels a flutter in her heart. As the class progresses, Yeonghwa finds herself surprisingly interested and engaged. Having Yunho by her side seems to protect her from the usual judgemental whispers and glares of her classmates.

While the teacher has his back turned, Yunho leans in closer to Yeonghwa. "Do you think his ears are more like a satellite dish or an elephant's?" he whispers.

Yeonghwa stifles a laughter and responds, "Definitely a satellite. I bet he can pick up signals from other planets."

Yunho feigns seriousness as his eyes widen. "That would explain a lot." before laughing lightly.

Just then, the teacher spun around, eyeing them suspiciously. Yeonghwa quickly pretends to be engrossed in her textbook, while Yunho adopts an expression of angelic innocence that was so over-the-top it nearly made her snort.

As soon as the coast was clear, Yunho scribbles another note and slides it her way. This time, it was a rough sketch of the teacher with antennae sprouting from his ears, captioned: "Houston, we have a problem."

Yeonghwa couldn't help it - a giggle escapes before she could clamp her hand over her mouth. The teacher's head snaps up, his gaze zeroing in on her like a heat-seeking missile.

"Aria, is there something amusing about the Pythagorean theorem?"

Yunho jumps in before she could stammer out a response. "Actually, sir, I was just asking Yeonghwa if she could explain it to me later. Math isn't my strong suit."

The teacher's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that's... commendable. But please save your study plans for after class."

As he turns back to the board, Yeonghwa shot Yunho a grateful look. He winks back, then mouths, "Nice save, right?"

She rolls her eyes, but couldn't quite hide her smile. For the first time in ages, she actually felt like a normal high school student. It was... nice.

As the lunch bell rang, the two girls sitting in front of him immediately turned to face him. Their curious gazes were met with a polite smile from Yunho.

"So Yunho, how are you finding SOPA?" one of them asked, leaning in with a smile.

"It's only my first day, but I'm enjoying it so far," he responded confidently. Beside him, Yeonghwa hurriedly gathered her belongings, her head bent low.

“Some students are more skilled than others,” the other girl remarks. Yunho picks up on her tone and notices the glance she directs towards Yeonghwa. “We can show you who they are.”

Yunho's eyes shift towards Yeonghwa, noticing her tense posture and how she has pulled her long hair to cover her face as she looks down. She seems to have retreated within herself, just as she was when he first joined her this morning. Gone is the playful and open demeanour she had displayed with him moments ago. He couldn't help but notice the looks their classmates had been giving her during their lessons as well and it dawned on him that this was a regular occurrence for her.

Yunho responds firmly, "Thank you for the offer, but I think I can manage on my own. Actually, I've already made up my mind about 2 of them." His eyes narrow slightly as he looks at them

The two girls exchange glances, visibly surprised by Yunho's response.

"Oh really?" the first girl asks with a sugary smile, though her eyes betray her true feelings. "And what have you decided?"

"That they're exactly the type of people I avoid," Yunho says cheerfully as he gathers his books. "You know the kind - they think they're better than everyone else because they talk behind people's backs. Jealousy really is an ugly thing."

Yeonghwa's head snaps up, her eyes wide. A few students nearby, who were clearly listening in, suddenly find something else to focus on.

"Excuse me?" the second girl splutters, her cheeks turning red. "You can't just say that! We don't even know you!"

"And thank god for that," Yunho retorts, getting to his feet. He turns to Yeonghwa. "Come on, let's get out of here."

The two girls storm off in a huff as Yeonghwa stares at Yunho, trying to process what just happened as all the students begin filtering out the classroom, Yunho and Yeonghwa gather their things and are the last to leave.

“Are you alright?” Yunho asks, his tone filled with concern as he worries that he may have crossed a line.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, grateful but also feeling guilty.

“I did it because I can’t stand people who act like they’re better than others when they really aren’t,” he replies with sincerity. “And because I really did not like the way they were speaking to you and looking at you.” he adds feeling a slight blush creep on his cheeks

“Thank you for standing up for me,” Yeonghwa says shyly. “And for not calling me Aria either.”

"Well, Aria is just your stage name, right? Here at school, I figured it was better to use your real name, Yeonghwa."

Yeonghwa nods gratefully, glad that he understands the difference. “Yes, I prefer Yeonghwa, especially in this setting. But most people keep calling me Aria and it drives me crazy!” Which Yeonghwa knew was exactly their intentions when they call her it.

Yunho nods in understanding and leans in, speaking quietly. "Can I ask a question? Does the teacher always look like he's sucking on a lemon, or is that just for my benefit?"

Yeonghwa lets out a loud laugh and tries to hide her amusement behind her hand. "No, that's just his normal expression. I don't think he knows how to smile."

Yunho grins and adds, "I'll remember to include that in my 'SOPA Survival Guide.' Right after 'Avoid the cafeteria food at all costs.'"

"That's not even the worst part," Yeonghwa groans. "Trust me, bring your own lunch if you don't want to glow in the dark."

“Well, that works out perfectly because I have no intention of having lunch here anyway,” he chuckles.

“Why’s that?” Yeonghwa asks with curiosity

"My friend attends a nearby school and I prefer to join him for lunch." he explains as they descend the stairs. "He's a slow eater and feels self-conscious about it, so I like to keep him company."

"Oh," Yeonghwa smiles, "That's really kind of you."

“And what about yourself? What do you usually do for lunch?” he asks.

Yeonghwa shifts her gaze towards the floor. "Um.. I actually don't eat lunch at the moment."

Yunho stops in his tracks and turns to face Yeonghwa. "Why?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

“Comeback is in 3 weeks so.. you know, need to make sure everything fits and looks good.” she replies with a small shrug.

Yunho's expression changes to one of disbelief as he processes her words. "Let me get this straight. You're starving yourself just to fit into some ridiculous outfit?"

Yeonghwa fidgets with the strap of her bag. "It's not like that. It's just... you know, part of the job."

"That's bullshit," Yunho says firmly, his voice low but full of conviction. "No job description should require you to harm your own body."

Yeonghwa raises her head, surprised by his bluntness. "You don't get it. In this industry-"

"In this industry, they see you as a commodity instead of a person," Yunho interrupts. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I understand the pressure and expectations. But starving yourself? That's fucked up."

Yeonghwa bites her lip, unsure of how to respond. Part of her wants to defend herself, but another part is relieved that someone is acknowledging the truth. "I do eat, just not as much as most people. And it is only for comeback season, after that I go back to eating normally!"

Yunho rolls his eyes. "That's not healthy! As a trainee, I know my company makes sure we are well-fed and taken care of. Yours should be doing the same for you too!”

Yeonghwa is surprised. "You're a trainee?"

Yunho nods, his expression softening. "Yes, at KQ," he confirms. "Okay, new plan. You're coming to lunch with me and my friend."

"What? No, I couldn't possibly-" Yeonghwa starts to protest.

"Yes, you can," he insists firmly. "I won't make you eat if you don't want to. But just come hang out with us for a bit and get away from this place. And I think you'll really like my friend Mingi too!"

“Yunho, I am not allowed to leave the building until my manager picks me up.” she anxiously bites her lower lip, “Or go anywhere without him either.”

Yunho's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Seriously? Are you Rapunzel or something? This is a school, not a prison."

Yeonghwa sighs. "More like a gilded cage."

"Well, consider me your dashing rescuer," Yunho grins, then immediately winces. "Shit, that sounded way less cheesy in my head."

"My knight in shining armour," Yeonghwa deadpans, though there's a small smile on her face.

Yunho leans in and looks around secretively. "Okay, here's the plan. We create a diversion. Smoke bombs might work, or maybe we could train a monkey—"

"A monkey?" Yeonghwa laughs and shakes her head. "As tempting as your primate-powered jailbreak sounds, I really can't risk it. My company would flip their shit if they found out, not to mention Haneul would probably have an a stroke!"

"Yeah, my leader would probably do the same. Hongjoong's head always looks like it's about to pop off, and there aren't many of us training," Yunho chuckles.

“How many is there so far?” she asks with curiosity

“Only four - Hongjoong, Mingi, San, and myself. San joined us fairly recently.” Yunho answers. “There is someone we are trying to poach from another company as well that others are wanting. Hongjoong wants him badly so hopefully we will have a new person soon too.”

“Mingi? The friend you’re meeting for lunch?” Yeonghwa clarifies.

"That's him! We met years ago at a dance academy, and then we both ended up auditioning for the same company without even knowing it. It was fate," he laughs before frowning and tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, new plan 2.0. We'll bring lunch to you. I'll text Mingi and-"

"No!" Yeonghwa's eyes widen in panic. "You can't do that. If anyone sees..."

"Don't worry," Yunho reassures her, holding up his hands. "We'll be stealthy. Like ninjas. Or really clumsy spies."

Yeonghwa hesitates, her lips caught between a smile and worry. "I don't know..."

"Come on," Yunho nudged her playfully. "Live a little. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You want me to give you a list of all the worst things that could happen with that plan?" Yeonghwa arches an eyebrow.

"Point taken," Yunho concedes. "But consider this: free food."

“I honestly can’t anyway because of last nights performance I wasn’t able to finish my homework for our next class so I am on my way to the library.” she says, “But go have lunch with your friend and we can maybe have a ninja picnic another day.”

Yunho sighs dramatically causing Yeonghwa to giggle lightly. "Well, if you change your mind about our super-secret ninja lunch, just give me the signal."

"The signal?" Yeonghwa raises an eyebrow.

"You know, like..." Yunho proceeds to do an elaborate series of hand gestures that look more like a drunk person swatting at invisible flies than any sort of coherent communication.

Yeonghwa bursts out laughing. "What the hell was that supposed to be?"

"Ninja sign language, obviously," Yunho replies with a perfectly straight face. "Don't tell me they didn't teach you that in idol school."

Yeonghwa lets out a scoffing laugh. "I must have skipped that class," she remarks. "I was most likely occupied with perfecting my polite smile and wave, trying not to look like I'm having a fit."

"Ah, crucial life skills," Yunho nods sagely. "Well, I'd better go before I'm late. Can't have my friend thinking I've been abducted by the SOPA aliens."

As he turns to leave, Yeonghwa is hit with a pang of emotion. Is it regret? Longing? She pushes the feeling aside. "Hey, Yunho?"

Yunho stops and turns back with a dramatic flair. "Yes, Yeonghwa the Magnificent?"

She can't help but giggle at his silliness. "You're such a goofball!"

"It's part of my charm," Yunho grins. "But seriously, what's on your mind?"

Yeonghwa hesitates, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve treated me like a normal person instead of some alien life form or a walking photo op."

"I can see you,” Yunho's face softens into a genuine smile. “…for you! No one else.” Yeonghwa feels her stomach flip lightly at his words, “Beside, I’m pretty sure you’re way too short to be an alien!” and a cheeky grin emerges

"Excuse me?" Yeonghwa gasps in mock offence. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly average height."

"For a hobbit, maybe," Yunho teases.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you, Godzilla," Yeonghwa retorts, surprising herself with how easy this banter feels.

Yunho clutches his chest dramatically. "Ouch! Wounded by the tiny terror!"

"Keep it up and I'll aim lower next time," Yeonghwa threatens, but there's no heat in it.

"Noted," Yunho chuckles. “I’ll see you back in class after lunch and I’ll bring you a little something too!” With a final wave, he disappears down the hallway, leaving Yeonghwa with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth in her chest. She shook her head, trying to clear it. She had homework to do, after all. No time for... whatever this was.

But as she made her way to the library, she couldn't help wonder what it might be like to have a friend like Yunho. Someone who saw her as Kim Yeonghwa, not Aria from Moonlight. Someone who made her laugh instead of want to disappear.

She sighs, pushing the thought away. It was a nice fantasy, but that's all it was. Fantasy. Reality was school, homework, diets, gruelling rehearsals, performing and the constant pressure to be perfect 24/7. That was her world, and no amount of ninja sign language was going to change that.

Right?

But… for the first time in months, Yeonghwa felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she had found a friend in this sea of isolation.

⭑2020⭑

Yeonghwa quickly scans the audience and her fellow idols sitting beside her. The award show is in full swing now, with some awards already handed out and performances from various bands. Moonlight is scheduled to perform second to last, so she and her four bandmates - Jinni, Areum, Misty, and their leader Haneul - have some time to enjoy the show before preparing for their performance. She notices numerous fans filming with their phones focused on her and her fellow idols. Making sure to acknowledge as many as she can, Yeonghwa waves at the cameras, particularly those with her name or the group's name on banners.

She turns her head to the right and locks eyes with someone. Her gaze immediately drops, avoiding those all-too-familiar big brown eyes that have been making her heart flutter since she first saw them four years ago - Yunho.

She knew he would be here with his band Ateez; it was announced weeks ago when the lineup was revealed. But she never expected to end up sitting next to him with only Hongjoong and Haneul between them.

It had been 4 years since that day in the school hallway, when they shared ninja sign language and laughter that brightened her world. But so much had changed since then. They both graduated, Yunho debuted with Ateez, and their careers took them in different directions. What followed that first day was a beautiful friendship that blossomed into something deeper - but now, Yeonghwa is to blame for the fact that there is nothing left between them.

Nearly 2 years has passed since the last time she saw him face to face, the last time she ever spoke to him and it was bad. She said hurtful things, trying to push him away and protect him as he prepared for his debut. Though they never officially labelled themselves as a couple, their feelings for each other were undeniable. Walking away from him was one of the most difficult choices Yeonghwa ever made, but deep down she knew it was for the best for both of them

She can't resist stealing another glance at him. He's focused on the stage now, but when Seonghwa leans over and whispers something in his ear, he bursts out laughing. He looks even more handsome than before, with his boyish features now fully matured into those of a man. Yeonghwa liked how their stylist had picked each of their outfits, but Yunhos was perfect for him. They all looked so much more grown up since the last time she saw them all face to face.

A tap on her shoulder startles her from her thoughts. It's Misty, her best friend in the group. "Your staring is going to be trending on SNS if you don’t stop," she whispers with a smirk.

Yeonghwa feels her face heat up. "I wasn't staring."

Misty rolls her eyes. "Just like you weren't staring at MAMA, or KBS Song Festival, or-"

"I get it," Yeonghwa hisses, sinking lower in her seat. “It is just weird being THIS close to him. At least at the other award shows he was sat at the opposite side, far away from me!”

Misty was well aware of the past between Yunho and Yeonghwa; after all, it was Misty who had Yeonghwa had confided in her about it all at the time. She could only imagine how difficult this must have been for Yeonghwa.

Misty's expression softens. "Have you ever thought about talking to him? Clearing the air? I think if he knew the real reason you did what you did, he would understand."

Yeonghwa shakes her head firmly. "No, that's out of the question. It's been two years, Misty. He's probably moved on by now. And after what I said to him, I'm sure he hates me. As he should."

"You don't know that," Misty argues gently. "Maybe he-"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, ATEEZ!"

The announcement cuts through their conversation, and Yeonghwa's head snaps up. She watches, heart pounding, as Yunho and his group take the stage. Their performance is electric, full of the passion and energy that has made them one of the hottest new groups in K-pop. But Yeonghwa can't take her eyes off Yunho.

In high school, she had always been impressed by his innate dancing skills. He had taught her so much about it back then, but now he moves with a newfound confidence and fluidity that leaves her speechless. His voice, deeper and more mature than it was in their school days, sends tingles down her spine. For a fleeting moment, their gazes lock across the bustling venue, and Yeonghwa is completely captivated, unable to catch her breath.

The performance ends, and ATEEZ heads back to their seats. Yeonghwa avoids looking at Yunho as he walks by, but she can sense his presence like a magnetic force. Memories of their time together flood her mind - the laughter, the secret moments, the way he made her feel alive and real beyond her stage persona - it all rushes back with intense clarity, as if it just happened yesterday.

She remembers the last day she ever spoke to him, the way his face crumpled when she told him she didn't love him. It was the biggest lie she'd ever told, but she convinced herself it was for the best. They had just graduated from SOPA by weeks, Moonlight were about to embark on another world tour, one that would take her away from Korea for 4 months, he was deep into preparations for his debut which included a trip to LA to do in depth training in dance and vocals, and she couldn't bear the thought of holding him back or being a scandal that could ruin his career before it even began.

So she walked away, ignoring the shattering of her own heart with each step. She threw herself into her work, into being the perfect idol, the perfect Aria. But late at night, when the stage lights dimmed and the screams of the fans faded, she allowed herself to remember. To miss him.

Now, standing face to face with him again, it's like a wound she thought had healed has been torn open once more. His voice echoes in her mind from that fateful day, loud and clear over the blaring music in the arena.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

"Yeonghwa, please. I love you!"

"I don't love you. So just leave me alone." With those words, Yeonghwa turns and walks out of Yunho's dorm room, startled when she sees Mingi's cold stare from the hallway. He had overheard their conversation.

“When did you become such a cold heartless bitch?” he asks

Yeonghwa takes a deep breath, his words cutting her deep but she knows she deserves him for the hurt she’s just inflicted on his best friend.

“Maybe it is who I’ve always been.” she says, she knows she needs to keep up the cold facade with Mingi too to make sure none of them come to her again

“I warned him not to trust an idol when he told me about you. Told him they were mostly selfish and out for themselves but he insisted you were different,” Mingi says, walking closer to her. “Then I met you and thought the same. You seemed genuine - funny, kind, and genuinely cared for him. Well, it turns out you were just a gifted manipulator. You fooled all of us.”

Yeonghwa remains silent, her heart heavy with guilty and regret. Mingi’s words sting, but she knows she can’t defend herself right now. She needs to let him believe the words he is saying about her.

"It's probably best if you leave now," Hongjoong's harsh voice comes from behind Mingi as the sound of Yunho's sobs grows louder.

Yeonghwa grabs her bag and walks out their dorm. Her heart shattering into a million pieces with every step.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yeonghwa glances over at him, and catches him laughing with his other members. She starts to look away, but then their eyes meet and she sees the warmth and familiarity that was once there years ago. Everything seems to blur out around the both of them, they may as well be the only two people in this large arena as they look at one another.

But then reality hits her - they are not alone. Yeonghwa snaps out of her daze, remembering that they are surrounded by thousands of fans and cameras that could capture this moment. As she looks away, Yunho gives her a subtle nod and slight smile, causing her heart to race with emotion.

Yunho tries to suppress a wide smile as she looks away shyly from him, the same way she always did when he made her flustered. Even after all this time, the words that had been said, the heartbreak he endured in the aftermath - he can still see her.

[hiroyildiz]

I keep seeing posts, reels, twite, etc... about Ithaca Saga, especially about 'Hold Them Down' that say Jorge is Romanticising the rape (sorry i couldn't censor this bc everyone knows what im talking about) theme, and I am about to lose my mind.

Yes the song is catchy and the artists are doing a fantastic job singing the song. And because the song sounds like it is about rape (I am going to explain, I am in no way saying in the song suitors werent talking about it, gimme a moment) it disturbs people. They know the song is good but the characters are fucking terrible. What they're saying is disgusting. That causes the listener to short circuit, makes them do a double take. It is fucking art.

"Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable."

If the song was just consinstent of ugly noises you would just listen to it and go: "Yeah, this is fucking terrible." You would not think about it no more. Some pople might even pass the song, not even listen it. The way the Epic Crew made this song makes you really get into it and then makes you freeze. How am I enjoying this, this is fucking horrible. How could they say that?

That's the rape culture you idiots! Like the rapists (in theory) will talk about it in such a way, ignorant people will be like: "Yeah man, you're right. She shouldn't have worn that/got drunk/say that/been so unclear(and a bunch of other bullshit)."

Antinous is, just like his kind, HITLER.

I know you're saying: "FUCKING WHAT?!" Let me explain.

He's a Nazi, he talks in such a way he organizes people around him to do terrible thing. I'm not saying the rest of the suitors, and nazis, were good people but unluckily stupid. I'm just saying they were terrible and stupid. What did they think would happen? Would 108 suitors become a super Saiyan and become a king together? Those brainless motherfuckers were just doing Antinous's bidding. Because he was a little smarter than them and he knew how to use them to get what he wanted. He is a leader, he is a terrible person, he knew how to talk, he managed to unionize all of the other suitors to do disgusting, unhumane things, and he got what he deserved if you ask me.

That is why this song represents him so well. He makes what he says sounds good and if we weren't better people- if we weren't people at all but fucking monsters- we would fall for his schemes too. But we aren't, and I am honestly so happy that people are so mindful of this kind of media, because it is so easy to misunderstand it, and someone whithout many brain cells could take this in the wrong way- that the people are starting to like the thing that they do- but we don't.

Because this song is about a man, who is able to make his inhumane ideas look good. The song shows how that can be used as a weapon and how it is so dangerous.

(Although it is true that this song might just trigger people, and that makes me so fucking upset. I also am sorry if I accidently triggered you in this post, i truly am. I just wanted to explain what i think is right about these songs and about the people who produce them.)

I am not sure if i managed to convert my emotions right but I hope you understand that I am never defending rape but the way Jorge decided to represent it in his media.